Episode 11
Next, it was time to check the second floor. I climbed the central staircase from the main lobby and stepped onto the upper level.
There were nine rooms in total. The one at the far end seemed to have been a nursery, filled with a crib and baby supplies. The rooms nearby also showed signs of past occupants. Quite a few people had once lived in this mansion.
And it doesn’t seem as old as I thought.
Though dust and scratches covered the furniture, most of it was still usable.
As I surveyed the rooms and ran my gaze over the sofas in the large second-floor lobby, a creak echoed behind me.
What was that sound…?
I froze mid-motion, still brushing dust from a sofa. The sound had clearly come from the nursery. I slowly turned my head. The dim corridor of the second floor stretched out before me, and at the far end, the nursery door was slightly ajar.
Was it always half-closed like that?
I was sure I had left it wide open when I checked the room earlier.
I stayed frozen there for a while.
Creak.
The sound came again—definitely from the nursery. I took a cautious step forward. After all, I needed to find out the source. It was my house now, after all.
Creak. Creak.
The noise continued, as if something inside were moving. I swallowed hard and took another step.
Thud.
But I misjudged my strength, and my own footstep echoed loudly down the corridor.
Squeak—
The noise from the nursery stopped instantly. My body stiffened.
Scary!
I’d seen this exact scene in countless horror movies. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. I had to make this mansion into a proper shelter.
Right. Compared to virus monsters, a ghost is nothing.
I gritted my teeth and moved quickly. Then, I flung open the nursery door.
Sunlight streamed in through the open window, and the curtain fluttered in the warm breeze.
Creak.
The rocking chair in front of the window shifted slightly. It must have been the wind.
“You scared me!”
I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and exhaled sharply.
Damn it. How is this a romance novel? This is just a survival horror story.
I was the only one stuck in the wrong genre. Again.
After calming down a little, I examined the nursery more carefully. That’s when I noticed the name “Segrave” etched into the rocking chair.
It was a family often depicted as heroes or guardians in fairy tales, so their name often appeared on baby supplies. I had also seen the Segrave family mentioned in today’s newspaper, which made the room feel strangely familiar.
An empty nursery still felt eerie. Standing there, I couldn’t shake the strange vibe.
I need to clean this place immediately.
Feeling unnerved, I hurried with the cleaning. I figured that discarding all unnecessary furniture and thoroughly cleaning the rooms might make things feel better.
Maybe I should call for help…
One call to Harrison would bring people to this rural village in an instant. With enough manpower and money, the mansion could be transformed into an excellent shelter in no time. But if the mansion became optimized for survival, it would attract everyone’s attention. And I, Cherry Sinclair, would inevitably become the center of scrutiny.
Could I even handle taking care of others? I’m barely surviving on my own.
I was not the type of person to lead or make decisions for others.
That can’t happen.
Resigned, I focused on cleaning. I swept the floors vigorously. Cleanliness was essential for survival, after all. And the mansion was filthy—beyond imagination.
Some rooms still had beds and furniture. I discarded the bedding, dusted and wiped everything down, and they were now usable. Of course, I’d still need to buy a bed for myself.
In the nursery, I dragged unnecessary furniture out into the garden. One advantage of having superhuman strength: moving furniture alone was no problem. I wiped my hands and admired the piles of furniture neatly stacked outside.
Next, I would need to refill the empty rooms with furniture, which meant a trip to the nearby city.
That can wait for now.
After clearing the furniture, I grabbed a mop and focused on the marble floors and surfaces that my hands touched directly.
Thankfully, I still remembered my past life. My previous self wouldn’t have even bothered mopping the floor in a crisis. Could this be considered self-inflicted suffering? Either way, I knew I had a grueling road ahead.
After one round of cleaning, the mop was blackened with dust. I kept a bucket of water nearby, but even that quickly became dirty, meaning I had to fetch more from the well repeatedly.
Damn it.
The real problem: after a full day of cleaning, I had barely managed to finish half the mansion.
“Damn it. This is endless!”
Endless!
Endless!
…!
My shout echoed through the empty mansion like a ghostly cry.
XX. This isn’t right. No human should have to do this.
I slumped in the only restaurant in Brunel, sipping orange juice. Cold droplets slid from the corners of my eyes—not tears, but sweat.
Surviving was too difficult. Survival hadn’t even properly started, yet I was already worn out… Should I just tell Harrison everything? Damn it.
I had this thought dozens of times a day. I imagined being trapped in a hospital during the apocalypse and groaned, clutching my head.
“I can’t let that happen!”
“Why not?”
Eden asked, sitting across from me, leisurely reading a newspaper. I gave a hollow laugh.
“Um… aren’t you going home?”
Eden folded the newspaper, placed it neatly on the table, and smiled faintly.
“This is my home now. Isn’t the Brunel police station my duty post? I’m on official business.”
Official business? He looked like he was slacking off. What kind of “official business” was that?
“Of course, sure. Keep up the hard work.”
I answered perfunctorily, avoiding his gaze. Eden was skilled at coaxing information, and I had no intention of revealing anything, so pretending to know nothing was my safest bet.
Should I try to turn him to my side?
Eden was one of the most formidable men I’d ever met in terms of survival and combat. Having him as an ally would be valuable.
Still… that would be too much trouble.
Sigh.
There’s still time before the apocalypse. I’ll hold off on that plan.
Just then, my orange juice arrived. And the person serving it looked familiar.
“Oh? Ms. Ruskin.”
Vanilla Eddy Ruskin, the former owner of the mansion. A reminder that having a three-part name in Greydon signaled nobility, like Eden Duncan Lancaster.
“What are you doing here?”
Vanilla balanced a tray on her side and replied firmly.
“I’m working part-time.”
So she wasn’t nobility? I swallowed the question; it might have been rude.
“H–Hang in there.”
She nodded in response.
But she didn’t leave even after the pleasantries. Curious, I looked at her. She pinched her thumb and forefinger together and said:
“You didn’t give me a tip.”
I blinked at her playful gesture. Did I mishear her name? Vanilla Ruskin… or was it Vanilla Eddy Ruskin? And tips weren’t even a thing here—they were from the neighboring Briwood Kingdom.
I fished some money from my pocket and handed it to her. She accepted it gratefully, then looked at Eden, who quickly did the same. Rich as both of us were, money wasn’t an issue.
“I really like you two.”
Vanilla smiled brightly. I hurriedly stopped her as she turned to leave.
“Wait a moment, Ms. Ruskin.”
Perfect timing. I quickly unfolded the mansion blueprints I had brought along just in case.
