Chapter 15: A Villainess Fantasy Simulation? (6)

So… do they order just enough ingredients each day and throw away anything left over?

“That’s the kind of extravagance you’d expect from someone who orders fried chicken just to eat the crispy skin and throws out the meat…”

Muttering nonsense, I moved on and opened other cabinets and cupboards. Most were filled with cooking utensils. I only found one storage container with various spices inside. Even those were pristine, none spilled, none opened, all tightly sealed like they’d just been stocked.

A few places, though, caught my attention. For example, a drawer beside the glass cabinet neatly housed several tins of tea leaves.

Could any of these be poisoned? I wanted to examine them, but the problem was, I didn’t know what kind of tea this body typically drank. Honestly, to me, all the tea served here tasted equally fragrant and nutty. I guess that’s the limit of someone who only ever drank instant coffee and cheap green tea bags.

Well, I doubt they’d leave poison lying around in plain sight anyway. I decided to just take mental notes of the labels and logos. As I studied the tins, trying to memorize their brand names, my eyes grew tired, and I glanced toward the corner where I saw something I hadn’t noticed before.

“A picture frame?”

A black frame stood propped in the corner by the window. Blended into the shadows, its silhouette was barely noticeable unless you looked directly at it.

But as I got closer, I realized I was mistaken.

“It’s… a door?”

That’s right. It was a small black door. Compared to the other doors in the house, it was much smaller, like a hidden back door leading to a storage closet.

A secret little door? That was just begging to be explored. Heart pounding with curiosity, I opened it. It swung inward smoothly, well-oiled, and revealed a small room.

The first thing that caught my eye were the chairs. A dozen of them, scattered across the floor. They didn’t match, different shapes, different colors, but they were arranged in a circle, facing one another.

And then, a bunch of very unexpected things.

“Photos?”

The walls were covered in pictures of people. Most were black and white, with a few color ones and even some portraits. One portrait showed a student in a school uniform, which made me tilt my head and scan the others.

Then I spotted a black-and-white group photo, familiar-looking uniforms, like the ones worn by the staff here, though these looked a bit more sanitary in style.

“Aha, I get it.”

These photos must be of the kitchen staff! I nodded to myself. The chairs, the photos must be a private break room for the staff. That’s why the photos are stuck up everywhere like that. It warmed my heart.

Now that I looked more closely, their stiff expressions were oddly endearing. They reminded me of those old-fashioned portraits where no one smiles. I smiled as I studied each frame, then suddenly froze, realizing this might be an invasion of privacy.

Wasn’t this basically the same as a boss secretly stalking an employee’s private social media? If I got caught in here, it’d be like accidentally liking a photo of your part-timer on vacation with her boyfriend…

“Yikes.”

Nope! I hastily backed out of the black door.

Phew, good thing I realized in time. I wiped the cold sweat from my brow and casually returned to the drawer like nothing had happened, letting out a quiet sigh.

That’s when I heard a door open behind me. I turned my head, and as expected, my handsome fiancé had returned. Seeing my awkward posture, he looked a bit puzzled.

“Rose?”

“Oh, there was a door over there, so I just…”

Still wearing a confused expression, he looked where I pointed, then shrugged and said,

“That’s not a door. It looks like a picture frame. The shadows must’ve caused an optical illusion.”

“Huh?”

I was about to say, ‘But it’s actually a black door that looks like a frame…’ but then thought better of it. No need to explain there’s a private break room in there. I didn’t plan on going back anyway.

Nothing suspicious inside, just photos and chairs. There wasn’t even a place to hide evidence of a poisoning attempt. 

So I just shrugged and said, “Must’ve been. Shall we check out the next room?”

“Ah, I’ll actually send this off by post first. I realized it’s the perfect time since the staff are out; it’d be a shame to wait.”

Now that I looked, he was holding a brown envelope, likely the one with the teacup inside. I nodded.

“Sure. I’ll look around a bit more in the meantime.”

“Understood. …Please don’t overdo it. Once you’ve finished the first floor, could you wait for me at the front entrance?”

“Of course!”

“I’ll be back shortly.”

With a smile, he headed for the front door, and I returned to my exploration of the first floor. Let’s see: if he’ll be gone for about thirty minutes, that should be more than enough time to finish up down here. I clenched my fist with determination and began quickly opening the rest of the doors.

Click. A guest room. Another guest room. Oh, a small study. Click. …Why is there a harp in this room? And a piano in the corner? Maybe I used to take music lessons. Okay, next room… another guest room.

After checking out most of the first floor, I got the general idea. Aside from the kitchen and dining room, the entire floor was basically made up of guest rooms and tutoring spaces, places meant for entertaining visitors. In other words, not much trace of the people who lived here. Nothing particularly revealing.

I did spot a few black doors in those rooms like the one in the kitchen, but when I peeked inside, they all seemed to be staff break rooms full of chairs and photo frames. After seeing two or three, I didn’t bother checking any more.

“So this is the only one left, huh.”

I stood in front of an old wooden door and muttered, arms crossed. It was tucked away in a corner near the stairs, at the end of a long, winding hallway from the kitchen, exactly the kind of unassuming door that looked like it led to a storage room.

But if it’s a storage room, you know what that means. Classic story beats! Maybe I’ll find an old diary the owner wrote as a child, or some document hinting at a secret birthright!

Yes, the answer must lie in the storage room. Without hesitation, I threw open the wooden door. A cool, musty air hit my nose. In the light from behind me, I saw stairs leading downward.

“Ooh.”

This was getting exciting. The storage room must be in the basement. That made it feel even more secretive!

Buzzing with anticipation, I grabbed a lantern from one of the guest rooms and started down the stairs. Of course, I wasn’t about to fall into a ‘trapped in the basement’ cliché, so I left the door wide open.

As expected, the staircase didn’t go too deep. I had imagined a messy storeroom full of junk, but the basement was surprisingly neat. Except for a few barrels and cabinets, the room was mostly filled with rows of wine racks. Looks like it was used as a wine cellar. The cool air was perfect for it.

I glanced over a few bottles without much interest. The barrels were empty, and the drawers just held a neglected ledger listing the wine inventory.

Meh. Kind of a letdown. I smacked my lips and shrugged.

“…Rose? Rose!?”

“Oh, Lord Moore! I’m down here!”

I shouted back up at the voice from above. Soon enough, my fiancé came racing down the stairs at alarming speed.

Wow, he didn’t even take thirty minutes. Just like last night, he’s incredibly fast. But while I was calm, he looked unusually anxious.

“Why did you come down here?!”

“Huh? I was just checking out the first floor and noticed the stairs. I figured I’d take a quick look, and I left the door wide open.”

Hearing my perfectly reasonable explanation, he gave a small smile.

“I see. If you’re done, let’s go back up. It’s chilly down here. We won’t have enough time to explore the rest otherwise.”

“True. In that case, maybe I’ll grab a bottle of—”

“The wine here doesn’t seem particularly good. I’ll order a better one for you.”

“…Well, sure.”

Fine by me. As he briskly walked up the stairs, just shy of running, I followed close behind, silently wondering: Does he have claustrophobia or something?

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Workplace Guidelines: 

10. There are no black doors in this mansion.

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