Chapter 212

Chapter 212. The Door and Choice

Ever since our encounter in Misty London in 1870, Liam and I have made all our life choices through doors. I crossed over through a door, vanished through another, and Liam Moore returned to me, here in the present, by crossing through yet another.

In Misty London, at least, doors as objects and choices as concepts were deeply familiar. The entrance to Greenwich took the form of a door, and even the way into Liam’s mind was through a door. Lucita and Plurititas’s dwellings were filled with countless doors.

So when faced with time and space divided by doors, and situations requiring a choice among many options, no one in our group should feel confused.

At least, that’s how it should be.

“…”

Yet the moment the door closed behind us, we found ourselves immediately lost in this circular space.

We couldn’t identify which door we’d come through! Which one was it? Try as I might to retrace our steps, how could anyone remember the exact appearance of a door they’d just walked through? People rarely pay attention to doors themselves, too focused on what lies beyond them.

Jonathan, startled, yanked open the door right behind us. Beyond it stretched an unfamiliar corridor. While we were clearly above ground, this passage looked exactly like one leading down to a dungeon. The gloomy walls were devoid of light save for dried torches hung at irregular intervals.

“…This isn’t where we came from.”

Jonathan muttered. Lucita shrugged while fidgeting with her musket, her expression suggesting agreement. I sidled up to Saint-Germain and nudged the old man.

“Do something, quickly.”

“This isn’t exactly my field, you know.”

“…What about Lucita?”

Lucita smiled apologetically.

“I’m more comfortable with information gathering and assassination.”

So that’s not her specialty either. I furrowed my brow and heaved a deep sigh.

We had plenty of talent, but the problem was that everyone’s abilities had developed in completely different directions. How was it possible that among all of us here, not a single person could take the lead and guide us through this predicament? Liam who had lost his magic, me who had bid farewell to Truth, Saint-Germain and Lucita with their different specialties. Jonathan would be more comfortable fighting with his fists or guns…

Ian remained our only hope. I carefully glanced at him and opened my mouth.

“Ian, perhaps you…”

“You’re wondering if I can break through these doors?”

“Ah, yes.”

Ian snickered. His expression was full of confidence. He looked just like Owen Cassfire used to when he’d boast that there was nothing he couldn’t do. Just as I broke into a wide, gummy smile, relieved by that expression—

“Aunt, what do you take me for?”

“I knew our Ian would—”

“I can’t do it either.”

Ah.

It was my fault for having expectations. Everyone here was truly useless. Not one of us could cast a useful spell to find the real exit among all these doors. Why couldn’t we? Aren’t magicians supposed to summon objects and control flying carpets and do things like that?

And Liam too. How could someone who usually boasts such sharp observation skills fail to remember which door he came through?

I grumbled endlessly to myself, but there was no other way. We’d have to try the direct approach and check each door one by one. They say life wouldn’t be interesting if everything were easy. This is karma for always trying to choose the convenient path.

I looked around again. For some reason, it suddenly seemed manageable. …Was it because there weren’t many doors?

But why had I felt so overwhelmed earlier? There were only six doors, and Jonathan had already opened one, so just five remained.

I tilted my head briefly in confusion but soon accepted it as it was. I must have panicked at the thought of suddenly losing our way in an enemy stronghold.

Five doors to check. It’s almost embarrassing to call this “being lost.” Think positive. We’ll find our intended destination soon enough.

“To save time, why don’t we each take a door and open them?”

Only then did the others look at the doors with somewhat dazed expressions. These people didn’t usually act so scatterbrained—had they all been enchanted by something?

Anyway, except for Jonathan, we each stood before a door and began turning the handles one by one on cue.

Liam opened his door first. It led outside to a garden where shrubs had grown wild beyond recognition from neglect. The mosaic tiles of a fountain, worn and broken, preserved the passage of time, and weeds grew ankle-high. There was a small pavilion in the distance, but no other notable buildings or structures.

“Not this one, right?”

“Probably not.”

Next, Saint-Germain opened his door. It appeared to be a study, cluttered and clearly abandoned for a very long time. The books on the shelves had all turned yellow from excessive sunlight, their covers barely maintaining their shape. Trying to remove any book would surely cause the cover to crumble. Not this one either.

Then Lucita opened her door. The handle was so stiff that it finally creaked open just as she was about to break it, revealing quite a sight inside. The room was filled with hunting equipment that must have belonged to the mansion’s former owner. There were weapons and rusted traps. Spears and swords filled the display cases, and one wall was decorated with bear pelts and mounted deer heads.

Jonathan licked his lips slightly at the sight of the weapons.

“Should I take one?”

“Come on, Jonathan. You’re joking, right?”

…His fierce expression suggested he was very serious.

Despite already having every type of gun imaginable, he’d been eyeing Lucita’s musket the entire way here. What made him so greedy for weapons? I didn’t know what hardships he’d endured in the 19th century without me, but Jonathan had developed a tendency to try solving every problem with violence.

While I was busy trying to stop and watch over Jonathan, who now seemed ready to grab a barbed spear among the classical weapons, Ian turned his door handle.

But the door wouldn’t open at all. Whether locked or blocked from inside, it remained stubbornly shut despite repeatedly pulling and pushing the handle. Even when Lucita and Saint-Germain came to help, it wouldn’t budge. Despite being made of wood, it had been treated with something that prevented it from breaking even after Lucita struck it repeatedly with her gun barrel.

Could that be the one? Or perhaps the door whose handle I was holding?

“I’m opening it.”

After watching them, I took a short breath and twisted the handle sharply.

Unlike the tension we’d felt, the door opened ridiculously easily. Beyond it lay an ordinary corridor. It looked identical to the hallway we’d come through.

‘So which way should we go?’

People gathered around me as they closed their doors one by one. Jonathan frowned as he peered down the corridor through the doorway.

“Could this be the door we came through?”

Lucita glanced toward the locked door Ian had tried, murmuring.

“Then that door must lead to the place Miss Jane saw?”

Saint-Germain voiced his opposition.

“I think going down this corridor is the right choice.”

Thus our group’s opinions split in two. One side argued we should go out to the corridor and explore elsewhere, while the other insisted that since we’d come this far, we should investigate behind the locked door, even if we had to shoot it open.

Then Ian raised his hand. He looked like he had something to say. Liam, who had been silent all this time, spoke up.

“Go ahead, speak.”

Ian hesitated before saying,

“I think we shouldn’t open that door.”

“Why is that?”

Jonathan asked carefully. I too looked at Ian, equally puzzled by his suggestion to not even check it. Whether due to the dim candlelight, dark shadows fell across his face.

“…I can hear insect wings fluttering inside.”

A sudden chill ran down my spine. Seeing my expression turn sour, Ian nodded and continued.

“And it doesn’t sound like just one or two. Think about it, Aunt. No matter how big an insect is, it’s still an insect, right? So how many would there need to be for humans to hear their wings through a door?”

Though I didn’t particularly want to imagine it, horrifying images kept playing in my mind—swarms of flying insects filling the room, clinging to the ceiling in writhing masses…

“And it would be just as bad if there weren’t many insects in there… If they’re making that much noise with small numbers, just how big must these insects be?”

My shoulders involuntarily shuddered as I imagined moths the size of my palm.

“…Ian, your aunt respects your judgment. You’re so clever, I wonder who you take after. Your quick thinking is remarkable. You really are the best.”

Ian twisted his lips into an awkward smile at the flood of praise pouring from my mouth. He probably hadn’t wanted praise for something like this, but I was incredibly grateful just for helping us avoid a terrifying encounter with either a cloud of insects or several giant ones.

Once Ian opposed it with such reasonable explanation, opinions quickly unified.

In truth, we only had one option left. It was as if all other choices had been eliminated one by one.

It’s been a while since I’ve encountered a riddle with such an obvious answer.

Though an uneasy feeling keeps nagging at me, I suppose this is inevitable when infiltrating a villain’s lair.

We proceeded through the door I had opened, into the corridor.

Judging by the direction we’d come from, we were in the western building. If we cross to the eastern building through this corridor, we should be able to find the clues we haven’t discovered yet.

I don’t know why, but I’m certain of it.