…Somewhere to go?
With a bewildered face, I looked at my mother. But it seemed she, too, had not been told where or why we were going. All she did was arch her eyes and add, “Come along,” without offering further explanation.
“Then let’s go.”
At the Marquis’s words, the servants, who had until then stood stock still, immediately moved. Some began clearing the table, some followed behind us, and some bowed their heads deeply as if to guide the way and opened the doors ahead.
The way the servants moved in perfect unison at that single word was still eerie. As though their brains were linked, they snapped into action as if they had been waiting.
“Oscar.”
“Sorry.”
While I had been lost in thought, the two of them were waiting for me farther ahead. I quickened my pace and hurried to stand by my mother’s side.
“Oh, my dear. I noticed earlier you were only picking at your food—was the meal not to your liking? And why does your face look so pale today?”
“It must be that winter is almost here. I think the change of season is making me unwell.”
The moment I stood beside her, Mother’s hand brushed my cheek. I had grown tall enough that my eyes now met hers, yet she still always treated me like a child.
I quietly rubbed my cheek against her hand and grinned foolishly, and Mother, unable to endure it, burst into laughter.
“Why is it you never seem to grow? Hm?”
The things I often did as a child had become part of me, ingrained as habits.
Especially this—Mother loved it whenever I nuzzled her hand like this. And since I didn’t dislike being doted on by her, I acted spoiled, following quietly behind the Marquis.
Just how deep are we going?
Quite a lot of doors had been opened already.
Isn’t this the Marquis’s workshop?
This was the place where the Marquis carried out torture or laid his sorcery.
The walls were lined with books so densely it was no different from a library. The workshop had six doors in total. It was said he used only the first when handling ordinary business, but went beyond into the sixth and last when dealing with the most secret and complicated matters.
Already the third one.
I had been here before, but never this deep. Because this was a place even the Marchioness, my mother, could not enter without the Marquis.
Of course, I had secretly come here at times. Wishing to teach me about sorcery and suggestion, the Marquis had secretly called me here and told me stories. Even so, his boundaries were strict—never once had he taken me beyond the second door.
Now the fourth.
Looking back, I saw that we had already passed the fourth door. The servants were closing them as they followed behind.
The further we went, the more my skin crawled.
The damp, musty smell. The patches of dark stains that could not be fully scrubbed away.
Creak, slam. Creak, slam. As I listened to the mechanical, rhythmic sounds of the doors, before I knew it, we were standing before the sixth.
“……”
The Marquis, arriving first, stood before the door and stared at us.
The servants all withdrew, leaving only books and candlelight around us. Mother, seemingly entering here for the first time, looked around curiously. But I stared at the Marquis, swept by an inexplicable unease.
Nervous?
From the morning I had sensed something off, but thought it was just my imagination. It wasn’t.
The Marquis had been visibly tense all along.
“And what is it you mean to show us by leading us so far in? I find this place unpleasant. It is damp, and it smells.”
My mother, fearless as ever, only looked annoyed.
No doubt walking this far in uncomfortable shoes had frayed her patience.
Normally, the Marquis would have soothed her. But not today. Today he only stared grimly at the flickering candlelight and spoke with a sigh.
“I have already written to Erhan about this matter… but the more I think on it, the less I believe it can remain a permanent secret. I worry that if you were to learn of it later, your safety would be at risk, and so I tell you now.”
…What on earth?
This was the first time I had seen the Marquis like this. Despite his gloomy, timid appearance, he had always been clear and decisive in everything. Yet here he was, still hesitating, his unease plain.
“I will explain in detail inside.”
At his words, he pushed the door himself. Every door until now had been opened by the servants, but from here, none approached. As he heaved the heavy door for a long time, a grating sound of iron scraped our ears. At last, the door opened.
Until that moment, as my face twisted at the awful noise, I never once imagined that from this day on, my life would be so violently upended.
…A person?
Yes, I never once imagined.
The person placed in the center of the room was startling enough, but what seized my eyes was the horrific scene spread before me.
The first thing to greet me was the oppressively dark red floor. I couldn’t tell if it was naturally that color or stained with blood, but it looked thick and sticky. Lifting my gaze from it, I saw strings dangling down from above, as if thrust from the ceiling.
Curious about the talisman-like charms hanging from the strings, I craned my head back—and saw they were cords hung to retrieve books crammed into the ceiling.
Were they truly only for that purpose?
Why, then, were all the cords red, as though drenched in blood? They were so numerous and overwhelming, they looked like rows of human bodies hanging.
“What is this…?”
I was not the only one shocked by the sight.
My mother was a woman of strong nerves, who cared little for the family’s darkest affairs. At most she would complain they seemed uncultured, but she considered them matters she could not interfere in. Yet now even she was visibly shaken, her eyes wide.
That was how shocking the Marquis’s innermost chamber beyond the sixth door was.
It reeked of countless deaths, as though this was where he had truly risen to his rank.
They hadn’t avoided coming here.
I now understood why the servants had not opened this door.
Though those who had undergone “education” surely had no capacity to betray secrets, still they had not laid a hand on this door.
Fear.
Every one of them must have passed through this place.
I did not know their pasts, but I had heard they were recycled from vicious criminals and informants. Their mouths should have been heavy, yet if they had been broken into obedience and stripped of information, the torture must have been unspeakable.
It was not that they had not come here—it was that they could not.
From their unconscious minds, fear had rooted itself, and they could not even imagine entering again.
Then that person must be a criminal too.
I looked at the one who sat there, the one who surely would not leave intact. From earlier he had tried to seize my gaze, but I had unconsciously rejected him.
But contrary to my expectation of some vile criminal, he was very small in build. Perhaps because he was curled up and crouching, he seemed all the smaller. As I tilted my head in puzzlement, the Marquis stepped toward him.
And the moment I saw the Marquis’s face—so complicated, more than I had ever seen—I realized. This child was what he meant by something that might one day threaten our safety.
“The reason I tell you this is because of the fear that, because of this one, someday the family may be thrown into turmoil. Therefore, whatever you see here, you must keep silent. If you wish, I can erase your memory.”
The child crouched on the ground had his limbs bound. His hair was so tangled it was impossible to tell its color, and his skin so filthy that it was hard to find a clean spot.
The Marquis carefully took hold of the child’s face. Surprised, I watched—for the Marquis normally liked all things tidy. And then he spoke.
“This is a prince of the Thaddeus Empire.”
“My God.”
Seeing the boy’s young face, my mother clapped both hands over her mouth. Her face turned white.
One of the imperial family chosen solely to serve the god Lumina, able to wield sacred power.
Thanks to the god’s blessing, the Holy Empire possessed fertile lands, had stood at the continent’s summit for centuries, holding other kingdoms beneath it. And now, before us, sat its prince.