The Marquis smoothly placed Zachary before me and left the room. Because of that, only Zachary—bandaged from head to toe, chilling just to look at—and I remained, stranded together in the room.
In that suffocating silence, my eyes rolled restlessly toward the door, as if to check whether he might return, but there was no sign of the Marquis coming back.
Indeed, even before leaving, the Marquis hadn’t given much of an explanation. He had only told me to invent a new name to call this one by, and instructed that outside he must keep his face completely covered.
Other than cautioning me to remember he couldn’t speak—because his mouth had been disabled—there was nothing more…
“All things will center around you. Because he was made for you.”
With that cryptic, incomprehensible statement, the Marquis had smiled and left the room.
But his eyes, beneath that smile, had been darker than before, the flesh drawn in as though he had lost weight. His complexion was bloodless. Already pale by nature, now he looked like a corpse. Somehow, I felt it was all because of Zachary.
But alone with Zachary, I had no room left to think of the Marquis.
Because the instant I turned my gaze, I found myself face-to-face with Zachary.
“……”
Though I wondered if it could even be called face-to-face.
As my eyes wandered, not knowing where to rest, and neither of us spoke, silence only thickened.
Should I say something?
Since he could not speak, I felt an obligation that perhaps I should—but to open my mouth recklessly felt dangerous, so I only stole glances at him.
That bandaged figure before me—was it truly Zachary?
In this world, unlike my previous life, hair colors came in many varieties. Black hair, in fact, was rare. Not absent entirely, but hair as deeply black as Zachary’s, like polished ebony, was almost nonexistent.
I had never seen a servant with hair so black, nor one so small in build—most were larger than me, unless they were women. This figure was different.
So there was no need for doubt. By circumstance, it had to be Zachary. And yet, the atmosphere around him was so unlike what I had known, it frightened me.
Never once in the mansion had I seen a servant bound like this, wrapped head to toe in bandages inscribed with golden characters. As if sealed, his body was wound tight everywhere but the hands, neck, and face. No skin at all was shown. On the bandages themselves were crowded writings—whether Chinese characters or hieroglyphs, I could not tell—but clearly some kind of sorcery.
Still, Zachary did not move at all. He stood there, exactly as he had when he entered, and the sight pressed down on my lungs until I looked away.
But even turning my head aside, I could not shut out his presence. With a sidelong glance I checked to see if he would move.
“……”
Even when I feigned distraction, he did not stir. No movement at all—other than the trembling of his fingers that had not ceased since earlier.
Wasn’t it exhausting to stand so still? How could he remain frozen like a doll?
In the end, I decided to move first. Without lowering my guard, I stepped toward him.
One step. Another. The closer I came, the larger and more intimidating he seemed. I couldn’t shake the fear that if I drew too near, he might suddenly lunge.
Soon, only a single step remained between us.
I closed even that last step, until I was right before him, close enough to brush noses. Close enough that any normal person would have flinched back.
“……”
Still he did not move.
Perhaps he couldn’t see? But that was impossible, not with that paper mask marked with eyes.
The “Eyes of a Ghost,” it was called. A talisman drawn in the blood of a monster with one hundred and two eyes; even when covering the eyes, it allowed the wearer to see. The world would appear in black and white, but it could be seen nonetheless.
The Marquis used them to cover the servants’ faces. Most had ghastly appearances, their eyes slackened under the effect of heavy sorcery. It must have been considered too hideous to look upon.
Then Zachary should be able to see me. So why no reaction? Can he really see at all?
As if testing, I leaned even closer, until my nose nearly touched the raised ridge of the paper pressed over his sharp nose.
Even so close, I could not hear the sound of his breathing. It made me wonder if he was breathing at all. Still, his hand trembled minutely.
Ah. Up close, the smell of blood was strong.
The talisman with its sinister eyes gleamed slickly, reeking of fresh monster blood. No doubt it had been newly drawn today. That peculiar stench, beastly and foul, twisted my stomach, until I finally sighed and stepped back.
I wanted, desperately, to peel off that paper and face Zachary properly, to speak with him. But I knew I could not.
He could report it.
The servants, no matter how much they obeyed me, ultimately gave their deepest loyalty to the Marquis.
Zachary, brainwashed as he was, would be no exception. Anything I asked him, anything I said, could be carried straight back to the Marquis. So I could not strip that talisman away and ask him outright if his body was all right, or if he had truly lost himself. And that was maddening.
“Zachary.”
Still, this much I could risk. The Marquis had forbidden me from calling him by name, but I whispered it softly.
As expected, Zachary did not move. No response, other than the trembling of his hand worsening. Cautiously, I looked at his face, then slowly lifted his hand.
I could still remember the way he had once refused to take my hand. But now, he let me grasp it without resistance…
“I’m sorry.”
In the end, I hadn’t saved him.
If I hadn’t collapsed that day, would anything have been different? I whispered my apology, but of course no answer came.
What on earth were these bandages?
They were wrapped so tightly, so meticulously, that even his fingertips were wound. And the trembling still did not cease.
Why did his hand keep shaking like that?
A side effect, perhaps.
To have endured until he became like this—it must have been impossible to keep his sanity intact. Watching his hand spasm endlessly made my stomach ache with helplessness. I let go of it and ruffled my own hair.
With a small sigh, warmth surged again through my body. I turned away to the window as if to flee reality, my throat itching with the urge to cough.
Though I had recovered much since my last collapse, my health was far from good. Clearing my throat again and again, I looked out. The world was white, as though snow had fallen yesterday.
Branches were heavy with snow, frozen solid. Long icicles hung, glittering in the sunlight, yet showed no sign of melting. Gazing on that dazzling view, I let out a bitter laugh. I hated winter. However beautiful its scenery, it was the season I could never step outside.
When would winter end?
Though it had only just begun, this winter already felt longer than most.
I must return Zachary to himself.
I had sought to cool my head, to shake off the suffocation, but instead my chest only tightened further.
But I couldn’t just sit down, blaming myself as useless for not being able to change anything. I resolved to steel my heart.
Of course, even without me, Zachary would one day break free of the sorcery on his own.
But I could not remember exactly when. Only that, suddenly, he would awaken to power, snapping House Serpentine’s leash and going berserk. And after his merciless slaughter, he would fall into a madness he could not control.
I must stop it before then.
I had to break Zachary’s sorcery first.
That had become my new goal.