game chapter 8

***

Finally free, I left the room, feeling utterly exhausted. The hallway was dark. It was well past midnight, and there were no servants about. The evenly spaced lights only added to the eerie atmosphere.

Good heavens, it’s already one o’clock. Rubbing my tired eyes, I turned a corner.

Thud.

Something blunt bumped against my shoulder.

“Oh!”

Then came a slightly sharp voice. I looked up from the impact to see Yansi blinking her large eyes.

“Yansi?”

“…Ren, hello. What are you doing here so late?”

“I just finished training.”

“At this hour?”

“Yes.”

An uncomfortable silence fell, similar to the ones I experienced around Scior. I wondered why I felt so uneasy in this situation. Her scrutinizing gaze felt strangely familiar.

Why is she looking at me like that? Our interactions had been filled with inexplicable tension from the very beginning.

“First Raphelt…” Yansi glanced at the room I’d just exited, her face contorted in disgust. “…and now Scior? You’re quite something.” She scoffed and turned away. “What’s the point? The ending is already written. I don’t understand why you bother.”

As she spoke, a buzzing sound filled my ears, and a dull ache pulsed through my head. Like the fleeting images from our first encounter, a jumble of unfamiliar voices echoed in my mind.

– Ren Maharani, struggling is pointless. You brought this on yourself. It’s entirely your fault he was hurt.

– If you want to improve your situation, keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.

– Whenever you interfere…

– Already two…

Each voice had a different tone. There was no room for rebuttal. They possessed a strange power, blocking out all rational thought and holding me captive in their cacophony.

What is this? I pressed a hand to my chest as a sharp pain washed over me. An erratic thumping resonated beneath my fingertips.

Yansi, leaving me with that single, cryptic remark, drifted past. The hallway behind her was as dark as a bottomless cave.

A chilling wave ran down my spine. The pain in my chest subsided as quickly as it had come. Leaning against the hallway railing, I tried to recall anything relevant from the original story, but nothing came to mind.

Is there something I don’t know? Frustration gnawed at me. I must have bitten my lip without realizing it, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth. The sharp sting helped to ground my scattered thoughts.

Creak.

The sound of a door opening came from below. The mansion had a circular, two-story design with an open central atrium, the stairs and hallways wrapping around it. This meant anyone entering or leaving through the main entrance on the first floor was visible from the second-floor hallway.

Like now.

A tall figure emerged below. Sensing my gaze, Muscalt looked up, our eyes meeting.

“….” I recoiled as if caught doing something wrong, a purely instinctive reaction.

“What are you doing still awake?” he asked calmly, seemingly accustomed to my odd behavior.

“Ah… training finished late. You seem to be returning at dawn every day lately. Busy?” My behavior was a clear attempt to avoid him. Muscalt had simply returned home and happened to see me. Feeling a pang of guilt, I leaned over the railing. Our eyes met again.

“You’ll be busy soon, too.” He was still wearing that strange mask, making it impossible to read his expression. His voice was low and even, as always.

“Well, I suppose so.”

“….”

“You must be tired. I kept you up too long. Go on in.” He studied me for a moment with an unreadable gaze, then, realizing I wasn’t going to continue the conversation, turned away.

“Goodnight.” I offered a polite farewell, though I didn’t expect a response. And I didn’t get one.

Just as I was about to leave, a voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Ren.”

It was the first time he’d addressed me by name. Was it my imagination, or was Muscalt acting differently?

He asked if something was wrong.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” This time, I was the one to retreat. I could feel his gaze lingering on me, but I was too exhausted to analyze its meaning. All I wanted was a hot bath and my bed.

Returning to my room, the maid, who’d been waiting up for me, greeted me with concern. “Miss, are you alright? You look pale. You must have overexerted yourself today. I’ll draw you a warm bath right away.” She brought a robe and towels, then asked, startled, “Should I fetch your sleeping draught?”

“No, it’s not necessary.” Wiping my damp forehead, I hurried to the bathroom, eager to wash away the remnants of the night.