The Curse of Belle Epoque Mansion

This, I hadn't seen coming.

Patton admitted to what he'd done in the basement of Belle Epoque Mansion without a moment's hesitation. But what he'd killed wasn't a person. It wasn't a demi-human, either. It wasn't even a slave.

He'd simply picked up a young demon child, locked her in the basement, used her for his amusement, and then disposed of her — or so he said.

"I've got a mansion to sell, so having something that creepy hanging around wouldn't look good, would it? That's why I boarded up the basement entrance and nailed it shut. Look, it's true I killed that demon brat down there, so if you want to bill me for the repairs, I'll pay. We done? I'm a busy man, so send me an invoice or don't — I don't give a damn. Now get lost."

Patton's attitude was one of complete ease. To him, this was only natural. Demons were humanity's ancient enemy. Targets of extermination. You could condemn the cruelty of it, certainly — but you couldn't actually charge him with a crime. Demons existed outside the protection of the law.

And yet, for some reason, I couldn't accept it.

The hallucinations the mansion had shown me — the visions the ghost of that child, presumed to be a demon, had forced into my mind. Every emotion that had flooded through me in that horrific experience had been no different from a human's.

Could Patton be lying? Had he killed a person and simply claimed they were a demon...? No. If that were the case, he would have denied the whole thing from the start. There was no reason for him to admit the truth so readily, then stand there asking what the problem was — he'd killed a demon, after all.

"Just what..."

I was at a loss. What even was a demon, to begin with? I knew only that they were a race led by the Demon King. I had never actually met one, never fought one. All I had was the knowledge that had settled into me as naturally as breathing: that they were humanity's age-old nemesis, the enemy a Hero was meant to slay.

Back at the guild, I spoke to Tina.

"It looks like the ghost in that mansion was a demon."

"A demon..."

Tina seemed a little surprised, but she didn't say anything more. A question occurred to me.

"There's something I'd like to ask you about demons."

"Yes?"

"They're different from monsters, right?"

"That's right. If I had to put it into words... they're closer to demi-humans living under the Demon King's influence."

Closer to demi-humans, she'd said. Meruru the beastkin was a demi-human too. She spoke like a person, thought like a person, cried when she was sad and laughed when she was happy. The lizardman I'd seen at the guild once was a demi-human as well. He probably spoke and thought and cried and laughed just like anyone else.

Those demi-humans might face discrimination for being a different race, but nobody grabbed them off the street to torture and kill them. And yet it was fine to cruelly torture and murder a demon? Why?

It wasn't that I couldn't understand. It was common knowledge that the wars with the demons had driven the humans of this land to the brink more times than anyone could count. To the people living in this world, the idea that demons were the enemy was as self-evident as the sky being blue.

And yet...

Was it because I had come from another world? No matter how I turned it over, it sat wrong with me. Especially those hallucinations I'd endured at Belle Epoque Mansion. Silphy had told me as much herself — while I was trapped in those visions, I had felt fear and sorrow so overwhelming I couldn't control them. Thinking back on it now, those emotions hadn't entirely been my own. They had been a reproduction of what the mansion's ghost had felt while she was still alive.

Was it truly all right to torture and kill a child that terrified, that heartbroken, just because she was a demon? I understood it intellectually. But having experienced that demon's emotions, even secondhand, I simply couldn't accept it.

Even in war, you don't touch civilians and children — that's common sense. Hell, even when you slaughter an animal, you don't torture it half to death first. Patton Noia wasn't an adventurer. He wasn't even a strong man. If a demon was so weak that someone like him could grab her without a fight, was there any need to torture her and kill her?

"...I don't like it."

"Pardon?"

The words had slipped out before I knew it. Tina had heard them.

"No, it's nothing."

"Do you think the request will be resolved?"

Tina asked. Whether the request would be resolved... I wasn't sure myself.

"I'd like to go back to the mansion first."

Belle Epoque Mansion was as unnerving as ever on my return. Tina and Silphy had come along, since this was an extension of the original request, but this time I intended to go in alone.

"Senior... are you really going in there by yourself?"

I nodded quietly at Silphy's worried gaze.

I didn't know a thing about the ancient, festering relationship between demons and humans. I wasn't even a human of this world to begin with. That being the case, I had no choice but to judge by what I saw and felt — in my own way.

First, I wanted to know what kind of child the demon who'd died in this mansion had been. Whether the act Patton had so proudly confessed to could be justified — that, I would decide afterward. More than anything, I couldn't stand Patton's face: that smirk of his, the way he'd sneered, She's a demon, so who cares what I did to her?

No matter how much of a demon she'd been, it didn't change the fact that he'd done something monstrous to a child too weak to even fight back.

But would the mansion's ghost even talk to me? Would I just end up watching those horrific hallucinations again and walking back out? Or this time, would she do something even worse?

The Narration spoke up inside my head. So the mansion's ghost had no malice, then. And there wasn't a single lunatic in this world who'd walk back into that mansion after seeing those horrific hallucinations.

In that case, I'd be honored to serve as lunatic number one.

There was no need to hesitate any longer. I stepped into the mansion alone.

The mansion's interior was still a wreck. Tables and chairs lay scattered about, and dirt-caked footprints were stamped across the filthy carpet. Standing in the empty house, I raised my voice.

"Hey! Can you hear me? Ghost! I don't know your name, so that's what I'm calling you!"

My voice rang through the hollow mansion. There was no response.

"I know you're a demon, too!"

I shouted again. All at once, the surroundings began to darken, a slow fog creeping in. The sound of wind rose, and the windows rattled in their frames.

So it was starting.

But the Narration had been clear: this ghost harbored no malice. Before the hallucinations could grow any worse, I shouted once more.

"I don't care whether you're a demon or not! I want to know what kind of kid you were!"

Rattle. Rattle. Rattle.

Creeeak— creeeak—

"I want to talk to you!"

THUD!

In the gathering storm of hallucinations, I waited for the ghost to show some kind of reaction. And then, just as before, my vision began to blacken from the edges inward.

Ah. Was I going to have to watch those horrific basement hallucinations again?

The instant that thought crossed my mind, the world before my eyes flared bright, and the mansion's interior snapped back to normal.

"You..."

A small, half-transparent figure had materialized before me. A tiny girl who, had she been human, couldn't have been more than ten years old.

The translucent child stood still, watching me. Looking closer, I could see a pair of small horns sprouting from her head. And though they were so tiny they were nearly invisible, it seemed she had wings on her back as well.

So this was the demon ghost bound to the mansion.

"Uh... nice to meet you. What's your name?"

I asked her carefully. The scenery of the mansion warped, and unfamiliar scenes began to pass before my eyes like a panorama — fragments of memory, projected directly into my mind.

Shari. That seemed to be the ghost's name.

Instead of answering my question with words, the child replied in a remarkable way — by showing scenes directly inside my head. Shari continued to show me vision after vision, letting her own emotions trickle through in small waves. It felt like watching several films in the span of a few moments. I could see what kind of life she'd lived before being captured and brought to this mansion — even what she'd thought. Everything Shari showed me, everything she let me experience, was her life itself.

Those memories flickering through my mind were her answer to my question — what kind of child she had been.

Sharing Shari's memories, I became certain of one thing. At their core, demons were not so different from humans. Regardless of race, I believe you don't touch children. Killing and being killed is business enough for the adults.

Having shown me everything she meant to, Shari looked at me with a downcast expression. What the hell had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Patton done to a child that small, that precious?

"Shari, want me to get revenge on that bastard for you?"

I asked her. She shook her head. So she didn't want revenge. Shari was so small, so insubstantial, that she looked as though she might slip away and vanish at any moment.

"The truth is..."

I explained to Shari why I had come to this mansion. How her hallucinations had turned it into a cursed house. How I had taken the request in order to claim the mansion for myself. I left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nothing out. Shari listened quietly to every word. Then she delivered her thoughts directly into my mind.

"...You're sorry? And you won't do it anymore?"

She nodded. She was a good kid.

Shari had merely wanted someone to know the terrible things that had been done to her. That was why she'd shown hallucinations to everyone who came to the mansion. The visions had simply been so horrific that every last one of them had fled.

The turmoil that had been churning inside me settled. Kidnapping Shari, torturing her, and killing her with such cruelty might not officially constitute a crime. But I, at least, could not forgive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him.

The mansion's curse was as good as lifted. Shari would no longer show those horrific visions to anyone who came here. But I wanted Patton to be punished. Shari had no interest in revenge — but I couldn't stand the thought of a man like Patton sleeping soundly at night.

"Shari, there's something I'd like to ask of you..."

I explained my plan to Shari, the little demon ghost. Once she'd heard the whole of it, she nodded and gave me a shy, bashful smile.

The sight of it was so endearing that I reached out to pat her on the head. But my hand touched nothing — only a wash of cold air.