Chapter 08

When I opened my eyes, the room was shrouded in darkness. The lamp that had been dimly illuminating the surroundings on the bedside table had long since gone out. A bone-chilling cold that thick blankets couldn’t block came flooding in. Actually, it wasn’t just the cold—what woke me from my light sleep was the spine-chilling sound coming from outside.

I don’t remember when it started, but after I’d grown accustomed to manor life, that sound began. Several times I thought it was just terrible nightmares, but I soon realized it wasn’t a dream. When I asked the manor servants about it, they all looked puzzled.

But there was definitely a bizarre scream-like sound that could never come from a human throat—like scraping metal with a sharp point—that echoed through the entire manor in the dead of night. After that scream was heard, the sound would mockingly disappear for several days, then return just when I’d started to feel safe.

When that scream sounds, I mustn’t leave my room. The moment I step outside, the sound stops and I can’t return to my room. I’d be walking down a straight path only to suddenly hit a wall, going down only to find myself going up, going up only to find myself going down—endlessly wandering the manor like a purgatorial maze.

That’s not all. All sorts of bizarre, grotesque things that cry, laugh, crawl, and walk chase the strange intruder. I’d be chased all night, and some days I’d finally be caught and torn apart by them. I’d feel alive as sharp claws, talons, and teeth ripped my insides to shreds, eating and drinking as if it were a feast, then regain consciousness at the dim dawn when roosters crow. I’d crawl along corridors filled with dawn light, writhing like a worm before finally coming to my senses.

Even when I don’t go outside but curl up small in bed and pull the covers over my head, that indescribable sound doesn’t stop. Before I know it, my whole body is unpleasantly soaked in cold sweat and my clothes stick to my skin. Even when I deliberately drank heavily before sleep to be thoroughly soaked in strong liquor, the moment that scrapes at my threadbare nerves still comes.

Stop, please stop… A weak, breathless voice that doesn’t seem like my own comes and goes by my ear. Tears I thought had dried always flow down my face.

I shouldn’t have come to this hellish manor. Jason, you’d make a ridiculous expression and ask why I didn’t leave long ago. But I couldn’t help it either. Ridiculously, I had the mindset of needing to salvage something. Like a gambler who can’t leave the gambling hall trying to at least break even, circling around penniless… I endured with the thought of at least receiving payment for managing the manor until my gloomy nephew, sent away to boarding school, returned as an adult…

But at some point, my will to leave was exhausted. The bedroom that lets no one in became dark year-round with drawn curtains (the crows loitering around made me feel awful), a mess of liquor bottles and trash. Daily life where I couldn’t survive without emptying liquor bottles.

A face that looked almost sick—though it didn’t give off a rotting smell (or did it really not smell of rot?)—I was becoming similar in appearance to the previous family head, and finding it hard to look at myself, I covered everything that reflected my face with cloth. Even writing this letter to you, I don’t know if I can really send it.

I want to see you, my only friend, but I’m afraid to let you know about myself like this. Perhaps you’ve forgotten me while spending ordinary daily life. Maybe you briefly remembered me—someone who left after settling everything upon hearing about a title and estate, then never contacted you again after our close friendship at the academy. The pillowcase grows cold with tears.

Meanwhile, the screaming gets closer. They’re cunning. Now they pound on the door as if they know I’m here, as if they’ll break it down. Mixed with the screaming comes giggling laughter. Someday they’ll break down that door and come for me. Like a rat trapped in a cage, I’ll jump around this filthy room before finally being caught.

Sometimes I wake from afternoon naps hearing screams like those at night, but that sound was coming from my own mouth. Though I sometimes shouted curses at servants knocking on my door when I screamed, now no one comes near except when the butler brings meals.

When my nephew returns, will I be able to leave this manor? I can no longer imagine leaving this place. This room now feels like a coffin perfectly fitted to my body. I don’t think my nephew will show me any kindness in my current state. He might throw me out with nothing but the clothes on my back, seeking revenge for dumping him in that shabby boarding school.

What should I do when that time comes? Optimistic you might grab my hand and tell me I can start over. And perhaps after seeing this letter, you might come running to me. But I think the only place left to lay my body is here…

I shouldn’t have entered this manor. I should have read that lawyer’s contract more carefully.

Ian Hale—no, Jung Ian—woke from restless sleep. It felt strange, as if he’d truly become Ian Hale and experienced it himself, yet also like he’d simply seen it with his eyes or only heard about it. His heart pounded unpleasantly.

He slowly got up and approached the washstand by one wall. He poured water that one of the servants had brought into the basin, washed his face, and dried it with the prepared towel. The soft, well-dried cloth felt good against his damp face. Only after slowly wiping his face with the cloth did he feel the dream’s aftereffects fade.

Only then did he realize that what he’d just experienced wasn’t real, and he felt his roughly beating heart calm down. Then, suddenly remembering, he carefully called up the system window he’d forgotten about for a while.

“System.”

When the system window appeared before his eyes, he opened the character status window. Seeing that the fear level beside the madness level had risen higher than he’d ever seen, he sighed and closed the window.

‘It must have risen because of the ruined Ian Hale’s memories…’

Come to think of it, there had been a scene in the game where the protagonist discovered a letter Ian Hale couldn’t send to his friend. Like the Ian in his dream who regretted it, he too remembered not being able to contact Jason.

‘He really took care of me during my time at the academy dormitory, but I completely forgot after coming here…’

Just as he was thinking he should definitely write and send at least a letter saying he was doing well, the moment he turned around, a dark, messy room with liquor bottles carelessly piled and scattered flashed before his eyes.

Dizzying sensations arose. As he staggered from momentary vertigo and leaned against the wall, the sound of knocking came from the door. All the curtains before his eyes were open and the room was clean as usual. Just as it had been before sleep.

Ian looked behind him. Light sweat beaded on his pale forehead.

“Master, are you awake? It’s time for your meal. Shall I tell them to wait a bit?”

It was Clayton, who had come because Ian, who would normally have come down by now, hadn’t appeared.

“I’ll change clothes and come out soon, so please wait.”

Ian took a deep breath that expanded his chest and answered no differently than usual. And just as he’d said, he changed clothes and left the room. Though he tried to come out calmly, perhaps he looked different than usual—the experienced butler raised one eyebrow.

“Are you alright?”

“…Yes, I just had some strange dreams. I’m really fine. Shall we go eat?”

Starting to answer simply, then remembering his experience of being unable to leave bed for a week at Clayton’s concern, he nodded and smiled similarly to usual. Whether that worked, the butler nodded as if understanding and began walking ahead. Ian followed with an inward sigh of relief.

He’d thought it would be fine as long as it wasn’t the room the previous family head had used. But actually seeing the dizzy ‘Ian Hale’s room from the dream made him feel uncomfortable about using the same room. Since there were many unused rooms in the manor anyway, they’d probably let him change if he asked… Then a chuckle escaped.

Changing rooms because of feelings—he thought he’d completely adapted to the manor now. The room he was currently using had also been so large he couldn’t adapt at first. Though he didn’t know about moving from a small house to a large one, he’d heard that moving from a large house back to a small one was hard to adapt to. Returning to a cozy studio apartment would probably feel cramped and stuffy.

Briefly recalling his small room like that, Ian sat in his seat. Thanks to asking them to close the original dining room and set up a small table in an appropriate place near the kitchen, he could now sit closer to Ash in a more intimate space than before.

Ash, who had been sitting first at the small table, rolled his eyes around.

“…Brother, is something wrong?”

“Huh?”

“…You look tired.”

Ash’s careful question brought him to his senses. He seemed to have gotten lost in unnecessary thoughts and not given his usual greeting. Meeting those worried violet eyes looking at him, Ian smiled and shook his head.

“No, let’s see what we have today?”

He naturally turned the conversation to the dishes placed before them. Today’s breakfast was scrambled eggs, cooked vegetables, and braised beans. Seeing Ian eating no differently than usual, Ash also began eating the dishes placed before him, seemingly reassured.

Though he’d had a strange dream, the meal was delicious as always. The portions had been appropriately increased, so his stomach felt comfortably full. The traces of the bad dream had long since disappeared.

After finishing the meal and before getting up, Ian suddenly remembered and took a piece of bread from the bread basket that was still there. Seeing this, Ash, who had been getting up from his seat, looked puzzled. Ian made what sounded like an excuse:

“For a snack later…”

At those words, Clayton coughed knowingly from behind. Ian had the feeling the bread basket might have more bread in it from now on. Ash, who seemed to understand Ian’s behavior of saving bread despite having snack time in between, quietly followed suit and took a piece of bread.

After finishing the meal and returning to his room to sit at his desk, the sound of tapping at the window came. It was the same sound he’d heard recently. He’d once asked the servant in charge of cleaning the study if they’d seen a crow tapping at the window, and the servant, who seemed momentarily flustered not knowing he was being addressed, soon answered they’d never seen one.

It was so smart that it usually didn’t come around, but appeared when Ian was in the study. Ian took the bread he’d saved and approached the window where the crow was tapping.

The crow, which had been continuously making loud cawing sounds, saw Ian and tilted its head curiously. When he opened the window with one hand, seeing it hesitate and step back, he took the bread piece from his pocket and placed it on the windowsill.

“You rascal, did you come again because you’re hungry?”

The crow that had been stepping back stopped as if it had heard Ian’s words. Its eyelids, which closed differently from humans, blinked several times as if flustered.