Chapter 01

The carriage reached the manor’s front entrance after pushing through the storm, arriving well past the appointed time. One of the manor’s servants, who had been standing at attention with nervous expressions, pulled out the white towel he’d been holding and carefully offered it to the visitor who entered the foyer, dripping wet.

“Thank you.”

The wrist of the gloved hand that accepted the towel was as white and pale as the towel itself. While the person who had widened their eyes at the unfamiliar politeness hurriedly composed their expression and returned to their position, others approached to take the coat and hat that had become heavy from being thoroughly soaked.

When he wiped away the bangs that had fallen over his face from the fierce wind and been drenched by rainwater, blocking his vision, the face of a young man who appeared somewhat malnourished was revealed. His delicate features made him look almost like a boy still going through adolescence at first glance.

The man brushed off his clothes and dried his face and hair with the towel while stealing glances at the interior of the manor he’d entered. The entrance hall where he stood was decorated in a style that made it difficult to pinpoint the exact era, filled with the kind of ostentatious ornaments typical of old manors. But what drew the eye most of all was the chandelier decorating the ceiling above the stairs—gorgeous yet reverent in feeling. Its black frame gave the overall atmosphere a heavy, solemn quality, making it feel like entering a chapel and unconsciously prompting one to straighten their appearance.

As the man looked around like this, seemingly forgetting his dignity, he heard a small clearing of throat nearby. There stood a butler who looked like something from a painting. After making eye contact with the man, a few seconds passed before a subtle change in expression—barely perceptible—quickly disappeared. He spoke while bowing his head.

“Welcome. Mr. Ian Hale, his lordship is waiting on the second floor.”

At the butler’s words, spoken in a grave, low voice like a whisper, the man nodded and climbed the marble stairs in the center with heavy steps. Whether it had already been arranged, among the servants nearby only one person followed—a tall butler whose white hair and gaunt frame made him appear even larger.

The rest watched the retreating figures of the man and butler with tense expressions. And it was just as the man placed his foot on the smooth wooden step that suddenly a creaking sound echoed from above. The man, already feeling intimidated by the atmosphere, craned his neck to look up at the upper floor. But he could only see the brightly shining chandelier; beyond that was invisible.

The servants unconsciously held their breath. The man, looking up with a reluctant expression, stepped onto the stairs again. Then something fell from the sky with a thud, striking his wet shoulder.

“Ahhh!”

Along with the man’s scream, it rolled down to stop at the feet of the gathered people. Everyone’s attention focused on the fallen object. It was a single shoe, small enough for a child to wear. Everyone looked up toward the ceiling.

The butler who had been leading also looked up briefly. A slightly troubled expression flickered across his grave face. The butler addressed the man.

“…It appears the young master upstairs has had an accident.”

The man rubbed his shoulder where the shoe had hit with an embarrassed expression.

“…Th-that can happen.”

Though he nodded while speaking, his wide eyes looked up several more times. He seemed afraid that next time it might not be a shoe but something else that fell, though he didn’t appear particularly angry.

As the man who had been looking up began climbing the stairs again, among those watching from behind, only the expressionless head maid, who alone had shown no sign of surprise throughout, picked up the shoe that had fallen to the floor. The maid who received the shoe suddenly thrust at her silently slipped away through the crowd and disappeared somewhere.

Seeing this, the butler climbed the stairs with surprisingly agile steps—contrary to his appearance—and led the man to the room where the master of this manor resided.

From the windows lined along one side of the second-floor corridor, rainwater streamed down endlessly. The man, who had stopped walking and was staring blankly at this, moved his steps slowly. To others it might have looked like he was touring the manor, but it was actually closer to hesitation.

As the distance between the man and the door at the end of the corridor shortened, the butler who had been standing by the door first knocked on the ornately carved door, waited a moment, then flung both doors wide open and entered.

The room visible beyond the doorframe was so large that only part of it could be seen. Though the butler stood outside the room watching the man with unreadable eyes, the man didn’t notice this as he examined the room’s interior, took a deep breath, and slowly walked inside with a reluctant expression.

In the spacious room, beside the large bed that first caught the eye, stood a middle-aged man. He was a figure with a fierce face, short thick neck, and a robust physique boasting wrestler-like muscles. The man’s face was framed by neatly groomed long sideburns, and the delicate spectacles perched above them reflected the light from nearby candles.

Gale Hardrock, lawyer for the Walton family—the man Ian had met a few days ago.

“Welcome. Mr. Ian Hale, I’ve been waiting.” “It’s been a while. Mr. Gale Hardrock, I’m later than scheduled because of the sudden rain.”

Responding to Gale’s dry greeting, the man carefully approached the bed. As he drew closer to the bed that had seemed empty, he could see someone there. Rather than lying down, it might be more accurate to say they were merely placed on the bed.

He looked like a skeleton with barely any skin stretched over it, his eyes half-open but the whites yellowed and the pupils clouded and murky. On top of that was the foul smell that seemed to emanate from rotting flesh.

Gale showed no reaction, as if his nose had already gone numb. But the man who had approached closely had to step back and cover his mouth and nose with his palm. The person lying in this bed was Arthur Walton, head of the Walton family, who Ian knew would meet his end in just a few minutes.

Perhaps sensing a presence, the cloudy eyes that had been looking into space turned toward Ian. His mouth moved very slowly, but only rough breathing came out—no voice emerged. Before long, the chest that had been rising and falling very weakly stopped.

At the same time, Arthur’s lifeless body glowed with an eerie, indescribable blue light that filled one with dread. Though the light soon disappeared, Ian seemed to be the only one who noticed it—the solemn butler and Gale, who watched the situation with a calm expression, showed no signs of surprise.

Ian, observing the two, bit his lips tightly and wiped the cold sweat from his palms onto his trousers.

‘It’s even stranger seeing it for real.’

The man standing here, Ian Hale, was a young man distantly related to the Walton family—a scholarship student studying law at an academy in the nation’s capital, dreaming of becoming a lawyer. Then one day, suddenly, a representative of Arthur Walton, master of Raven Manor and the Giles estate, came to offer him the position of next family head. With his chronic illness worsening and death imminent, Arthur Walton’s only son was too young, and there were no other suitable relatives nearby.

‘Originally, he would have arrived at this manor with an excited expression.’

This greenhorn immediately accepts the proposal and wraps up all his affairs. Then he comes down here, to this quiet rural estate far from the capital, arriving at the grand manor on a stormy night. Next, he becomes the family’s new master in place of the head who died fighting illness, inheriting this cursed manor. Afterward, strangely fearful of something, he holes up in his room and spends years drinking, until eight years later he dies while trying to kill Arthur Walton’s grown son.

That was Ian Hale’s role.

‘That’s why I wanted to avoid coming here at all costs…’

Jung Ian, a young man from Korea slightly older than the body’s original owner, sighed quietly.

The transmigration happened suddenly without any special warning signs. When he came to his senses, an unidentifiable foreigner was looking down at him. Jung Ian, who had been working as a logistics employee at a large mart, sat up in shock and shouted:

“Dear customer, how may I help you?”

As it turned out, the foreigner looking down at him was his roommate Jason. Though somewhat of a layabout, he was kind hearted and showed the kindness of even calling a doctor after seeing his friend’s condition. He even cared for him based on the quack doctor’s diagnosis of temporary memory loss due to malnutrition. During this time, Jung Ian desperately tried to figure out what world he had transmigrated into and who the original owner of this body was.

What he learned was that this world had neither magic nor dragons that would typically exist in fantasy worlds, and that the body’s owner was a scholarship student who had absolutely nothing. Fortunately, he could automatically understand the foreign language and comprehend the writing. Both were named ‘Ian,’ so though the pronunciation was somewhat different, it wasn’t incomprehensible.

Just as he was returning to daily life and adapting to school, a lawyer came looking for him. That day, as he headed to the dormitory building at the sudden summons of the dormitory supervisor, he caught an elderly professor who almost fell down the stairs. The old professor, who wore thick glasses due to poor eyesight and walked with a cane, expressed his gratitude in the characteristic voice of an elderly person.

When he entered the dormitory and went into the guest reception room, seeing the fierce-looking man sitting in a chair made him wonder if Ian Hale had some unknown debt, making him feel dizzy.

“Good day. I’m lawyer Gale Hardrock.”

At Gale Hardrock’s words as he extended a hand as thick as a pot lid and identified himself while looking at him with businesslike eyes, Jung Ian, slightly relieved, extended his hand to shake it.

“Ah, yes. Hello.”

That relief was short-lived—he jumped up at what Gale told him while presenting documents. Gale seemed slightly surprised but soon returned to his expressionless state. He seemed to regard the reaction before him as that of a greenhorn surprised by a sudden proposal.

When he heard that it was about the Walton family inheritance, he was bewildered, not understanding the situation, but when he heard the words ‘Raven Manor,’ something flashed through his mind.

Secrets of Raven Manor A horror mystery genre game released recently. With decent graphics, an eerie story, and an attractive protagonist, it had been a hot topic even before release. Jung Ian had it because a close friend had sent it as a birthday gift, half as a joke.

Though he hadn’t completely cleared it, he knew the early content he’d played. So Jung Ian realized then that he had transmigrated into that game’s character, Ian Hale.

“I-I don’t understand why this is happening. Suddenly asking me to become the Walton family heir? I lack ability, and I need to focus on my studies, so it would be difficult.”

His body trembled violently. Even if he could become the heir to a noble family and master of a grand manor, anyone would decline if they knew the fate of becoming an alcoholic and dying while trying to murder someone.

Gale, who couldn’t know such a fate, looked down and seemed to fall into thought for a moment, then organized the documents in front of him, put them in the bag he’d brought, and said:

“Perhaps this is too sudden a proposal. If you change your mind, please contact me here.”

After looking at the business card extended before him, he shook hands again and saw Gale off. As soon as he left, Jung Ian crushed the business card on the desk in his hand.

Though it had been a bewildering visit, since Gale hadn’t been particularly forceful, it seemed unlikely he would ever set foot in that cursed manor of his own accord. Though he wore old shoes and shabby clothes, life at the academy wasn’t too bad. Originally, he hadn’t been able to set foot on a university campus due to difficult real-world circumstances, so his plan had been to continue school life until he found clues to return to normal—but now it became a place to escape Ian Hale’s fate.

But the next day, Jung Ian experienced the same classes as yesterday, the same summons from the dormitory supervisor, the same professor stumbling on the stairs, and the same meeting with the lawyer. Of course, his answer was still refusal.

When the same thing happened the day after that, Jung Ian left school and randomly entered the nearest bar, ordering beer that he didn’t usually drink much. The server, for whom this wasn’t the first student heading to a bar instead of school, set the beer on the table with a pitying expression.

Jung Ian downed it in one gulp. As the lukewarm beer went down his throat, he suddenly missed with tearful longing the cold canned beer he used to occasionally buy at the mart after work.