37. Is It Wrong to Try Shoveling in a Dungeon? (9)
37. Is It Wrong to Try Shoveling in a Dungeon? (9)
"...It's creepy."
Karina rubbed her arms as if she had goosebumps all over. Reni didn't say anything, but she frowned too, clearly not fond of the third floor's atmosphere.
Honestly, I felt the same.
The second floor had only been a graveyard, but the third was an ominous temple. We stared at the blood-soaked altar in the middle of a room that looked like a cultist temple straight out of a game. The gray altar radiated a sinister air, as though demanding a sacrifice.
"Whoever designed this dungeon must have been out of their mind."
"I'd like to give the master of this dungeon a purifying baptism..."
Perhaps the heresy had gotten to her, because Karina looked slightly worked up, which was unlike her. Reni stood beside her with a hand on her sword, surveying the area. There was no need to worry about Karina. I strode straight toward the altar.
Five bowls were placed on the altar, as if waiting for offerings to be made.
Were we offering sacrifices again?
"Millia. Do you happen to remember anything?"
...Millia?
When no answer came, I looked down at Millia hanging from my waist. She was staring at the altar, her face drained of color. Judging from what had happened on the second floor, the third floor...
"Millia. Are you all right?"
"I-I'm o-okay..."
Millia’s voice shook so badly that it was hard to describe. Fear and anguish mingled in it, making it painful just to hear. I placed a hand on her head to calm her, and her trembling traveled into my palm. I turned to Karina. When our eyes met, she quietly came over and took Millia into her arms.
"There, calm down, Millia..."
Karina held Millia close and soothed her with a gentle, compassionate smile.
"Yohan, where do we start the search?"
"You take the left side. I'll take the right."
"Okay."
We immediately split up and entered the corridors on either side. Long hallways extended from both sides of the temple, with doors lining their walls. I opened the nearest one.
Creeeak—
A spine-chilling creak echoed through the silent temple. I winced at the sound scraping against my eardrums. It got on my nerves.
"...Is this a storage room?"
The room was stained all over. A doll lay in the center, torn to shreds with stuffing spilling out. I picked it up and examined it from every angle.
The doll looked as though, if it had been human, its skin would have been torn off and its entrails left spilling out. Its head was as red as blood. Was this supposed to be Millia? I swept my gaze around the room. An old bed. A desk cracked and broken in places. A quill with most of its feathers missing rolled across it. Beside it sat a notebook so old that it looked ready to crumble at the slightest touch.
I walked to the desk and carefully brushed the dust from the notebook. It was the sort of small notebook one could find anywhere. What could have been written inside it? My heart pounded. It felt like finding a clue to a hidden story in a horror game. Afraid the notebook would fall apart, I opened it carefully. What greeted me when I turned the page with my heart racing was a diary.
Crooked, clumsy handwriting. Had a child written it?
[Month X, Day XX
Daddy always called me a dirty child.
I wash clean every day, so why am I dirty?]
[Month X, Day XX
My big sister showed off her doll to me. I’m jealous.
I want one too.]
[x Month xx Day...]
The diary was filled with sad complaints. The contents themselves were not remarkable, but they gave me a sense of how Millia had been treated. I quietly closed it and left the room. I looked down the corridor. Four doors remained. I opened the next one at once, and it swung open without resistance with the same grating noise.
"...What kind of family was this, to have a room like this?"
What kind of family had kept a room this horrific? I stared at the iron cage and the doll beyond it, identical to the one in the first room.
Judging from the first room, the doll probably represented Millia. I didn't think I could retrieve it this time. The cage door had a keyhole, and I had no key. Did that mean I had to find one somewhere to solve the puzzle? I looked away from the cage and down at a small table. A brown stain remained on the wooden chair beside it.
It was obviously dried blood.
I picked up the whip lying on the table. This family had been completely messed up. Brown stains marked the whip as well. It looked as though they had beaten her with it. I tossed it back onto the table and left the room. There was no other useful information to be found there. I'd have to return after finding the key. Still, before leaving, I decided to test one thing.
I gripped the cage bars. They felt cold and rough beneath my palm. Then I activated my Skill in a low voice.
"Craft."
...As expected, there was no response.
So they had anticipated even this. The bars had looked flimsy enough that I thought another exploit might work. Disappointed, I left the room. Next was the third door. What kind of horrific sight would be waiting for me there?
After settling myself, I turned the knob of the third door.
The hinges screeched, and brilliant light washed over me.
"...What?"
Wondering whether my eyes were playing tricks on me, I looked back at the corridor and then into the room again. Unlike the previous rooms, this one was almost excessively bright. It had yellow wallpaper, warm sunlight streaming through a window, and the lavish air of a room fit for a noble young lady. A plush-looking bed stood beside a table in one corner, where three dolls sat on three chairs.
The dolls looked older than the ones in the previous rooms, perhaps around middle-school age. I immediately examined the table. Three teacups held yellow, vermilion, and red liquids. I lifted each cup and inspected it carefully without spilling anything.
"Nothing special about them. Do I need to use the stuff inside after all?"
I couldn't act recklessly. If the liquid played an important part in the puzzle, using it incorrectly could mean an instant game over. I decided to leave it alone for the moment. I carefully set the cups down and approached the bed, pressed the soft-looking mattress a few times, and pulled back the covers. Naturally, there was nothing there.
"If you were going to hide something in a bed, where would you hide it..."
I lifted the pillow, but unfortunately there was nothing beneath it. I'd thought it the most likely hiding place. Perhaps that was exactly why nothing was there. Next was under the bed. I took out a lamp, set it on the floor, pressed my face close to the ground, and peered underneath. The faint light illuminated the space, but all I saw was the floor and wall on the far side.
After that, I searched the entire room diligently. Under the table, the undersides of the chairs, a vanity in the corner, and so on. I rummaged through all sorts of places, but I didn't find a single thing.
Did I have to do something with the teacups after all? I returned to the table and examined them again.
Three cups filled with different-colored liquids, and three dolls. I looked at their hair: red, yellow, and orange. Had I been overthinking it? I placed each cup in front of the doll whose hair matched its color.
It was simpler than I had thought... or not. Why was nothing happening?
What was I supposed to do?
Was there something else I had to do? Or...
That was when it happened.
I clearly heard something fall. I immediately looked down and found a notebook beneath the table.
Where had that come from? There had not seemed to be anywhere beneath the table for a notebook to hide. I tilted my head, picked it up, and studied its familiar cover. Was this another diary?
I opened it at once and began reading the first entry.
[x Month xx Day
I’m happy. So this is what happiness feels like.
I want to live like this forever.]
...What had happened between her miserable childhood and this point?
[Month X, Day XX
Father said he was sorry for everything so far and gave me a new room. I'm so happy!]
The more I read, the more questions I had. I continued through the diary, though it was only five pages long.
The conclusion I reached after reading to the end was simple.
"...For some reason, they started treating her better."
What had caused that change? I thought of the altar and the five bowls resting on its bloodstained surface. Even with my mediocre brain, I could make a rough guess. Maybe it was...
"It's too early to be sure. I should find more evidence."
Jumping to conclusions led to mistakes.
I looked around the room again. It had become messy because of my search, but its bright, girlish atmosphere still made it seem peaceful, even though everything inside was worn, rotting, and pitiful.
"...I can check now, right?"
I smelled the yellow liquid first. It was fragrant, perhaps some expensive variety of tea. The vermilion liquid smelled like black tea. And the last cup...
"...Blood?"
I'd thought it looked like blood because of the color, and now I caught a faint reek of it as well. Whose blood could it have been? Probably not Millia’s. I set the cup down and touched the doll I'd been reluctant to handle. Unlike the small stuffed dolls in the other rooms, this one was nearly a meter tall. When I examined its face, I saw that its mouth was slightly open.
As if asking me to pour something into it.
As a test, I poured the contents of a teacup into the doll's mouth.
Some of the blood missed its mouth and ran down its chin, making the doll look as though it were bleeding. Once it had swallowed the entire cup, it began to shudder as if having a seizure.
I immediately stepped back and adjusted my grip on my shovel.
If worse came to worst, I intended to smash it. But after shuddering for a moment, the doll spat something out of its mouth and collapsed limply.
Whoever had made this place must have been determined to turn it into a horror attraction. I picked up the object covered in sticky fluid. It was a key.
"Is this the cage key?"
I wiped the key on the blanket, stuffed it into my pocket, and grabbed the doorknob to leave the room. And then...
"Huh?"
What the hell? Why wouldn’t it open?
Scrraape.
Every hair on my body stood on end. It was a familiar sensation, and a fucking awful one.
Of course a place with this theme had to pull something like this. I gripped my shovel with both hands and swung at whatever was lunging toward me.