Clue (4)
Adeline had no idea why she was feeling such fear. From the moment she sensed the dungeon’s aura, she had unconsciously known it was something both deeply familiar and terrifying. A familiar fear. A learned terror.
Adeline pressed a hand to her heart, which was pounding as if it would burst, and drew a ragged breath. The malevolent energy of black magic coiled around her entire body. All she could do was cling desperately to whatever she could grab, trying to hold back the suppressed memories that threatened to surge upward.
Who… are… you….
Someone’s hand was gripping her tightly. She had felt that touch before, yet Adeline could not recall its owner’s name. She could only hope, again and again, that the hand would not let her drift away amid the pain and fear.
Adeline curled into herself even more tightly and clung to that hand. Her hypersensitive perception was drinking in everything the dungeon had to offer—the air thick with black magic, the stench, the wicked presence. She could not even resent her sharpened senses; she could only let the fragmented memories rise to the surface in broken pieces.
“What impudent eyes. They do not please me at all.”
Whose voice was that? It was too familiar, too warm, and at the same time so cold it froze her blood and so terrifying her limbs trembled. The energy Adeline felt crept slowly up her body—over her legs, her torso—until it seized the nape of her neck and forcibly dragged the sealed memories back into the light.
It could not be. Even though Adeline realized the voice’s identity, she kept denying it. The Count would never speak like that. She repeated the thought like a mantra.
“Let us see whether you can still turn those eyes on me once you can no longer look at the world with them.”
The pain the memory carried became real. It struck Adeline like a physical blow. Her eyes burned as if they were on fire. Perhaps they truly were. It felt like boiling water being forced into them, like a red-hot iron searing across her corneas. The agony was not limited to her body. It sank deep into her bones, into her soul, carving its brand there.
“Obey my words.”
“Kill the enemy.”
“Become a puppet.”
“It… hurts…”
The words slipped from Adeline before she could stop them. The hand that had been holding her so firmly was now trying to release her. She clung to the departing fingers. Don’t go. Don’t leave me. The unspoken words circled helplessly inside her mouth.
“No… don’t…”
The hand vanished. In its place came a chill mixed with malevolent energy that wrapped around her. A stench rose—an oddly familiar reek.
“You have been defeated by me.”
“Now, with those eyes that cannot see, look only at me and serve me.”
Memories and pain she should never have recalled kept tearing through her. Yet within that chain of nightmares, another voice wedged its way into her ears.
“Adeline.”
The violent waves of memory began to calm. Very slowly, something else covered the horrific voice and the pain. The sensation of something covering her eyes once more. A hand cradling her trembling face.
The tidal wave of recollection stopped.
Adeline floated in a darkness like an empty void. From within it came a voice she had heard somewhere before.
“Sorry. Just wait a little longer.”
She felt that hand withdraw. Yet the memories did not flood back. Adeline drifted across the sea of consciousness like a small boat that had outlasted a storm.
Then another sound reached her. Adeline steered her awareness toward it as if it were a lighthouse beacon. The ring of a sword striking something. The focused breathing of a knight deep in combat. The scrape of footsteps across the floor. The sharp whistle of a blade slicing the air. The heavy dominance of killing intent.
The sounds her senses captured became weapons against the monster called memory. Adeline used the noise of Arsen swinging his sword to erase the memories trying to rise. Each time steel cut the air, the agony faded a little more. Only emptiness remained where the monster had been. Whether that place had always been empty, or whether the monster had devoured something that once occupied it, she could not yet tell.
Adeline unconsciously sought a steady rhythm of breath. The horrible stench of rotting corpses drifted up. For now, she welcomed it. The stronger the external stimulus, the faster her mind returned.
Consciousness rose like a fish hooked on a line. Her hand gripped a sword hilt. The right hand, senses restored, slowly expanded her awareness throughout her body.
“Haa…”
Having regained control of the senses that had been rampaging on their own, Adeline—now able to perceive her surroundings again—first noticed the familiar presence of a knight standing amid the space reeking of corpses.
With her mind still half adrift, Adeline spoke his name.
“Arsen.”
The still-unfamiliar name left her lips, and she heard his footsteps. Not the clean sound of boots on stone, but a sickening noise as if he were treading on lumps of flesh. The presence drew close. Before Adeline could speak, Arsen’s voice reached her.
“Are you all right?”
His voice did not tremble, but exhaustion colored every word. He did not seem injured. Adeline straightened the sword and leaned her weight against it. She had not expected to feel relief at hearing that voice.
“…Yes.”
“You don’t sound completely fine, but at least you’ve regained your senses. That’s a relief.”
Only then did Adeline realize that every sensation she had unconsciously perceived—the sounds, the protective presence—had all come from Arsen. It was a strange feeling.
She pushed the doubt aside and asked, “What happened?”
A soft thud sounded as Arsen sat down on the floor. Adeline flinched, wondering if he had collapsed, but his voice followed at once.
“As you probably sensed, we’ve entered the dungeon. After I knocked the mage unconscious, I detected someone approaching the room. I tried to leave the way we came in, but the entrance wouldn’t open. I’m currently looking for another exit.”
He added, almost as an afterthought, “With luck, we may also find those research materials.”
Adeline asked the question that had been tormenting her nostrils the entire time. “There was a battle?”
“Nothing serious. Dungeons are like this. I only took care of a few synthetic monsters.”
Arsen spoke casually, but Adeline knew the number had not been small. The overwhelming stench of decaying corpses that saturated the space proved it. Why had he done this? He could have simply left her here. He had no need to risk himself fighting every monster. She had been protected by him.
Having reached that conclusion, Adeline pressed her lips tightly together. She could not understand why Arsen had chosen to guard her to the end instead of abandoning her. Yet at the same time she felt she should not ask. Her mind was still too chaotic—the pain that had pierced her eyes, the voice, the commands that still ruled her body.
“The stench is too strong to sit here idle. Shall we move?”
Adeline lifted her head at the voice calling her.
“Can you stand?”
She could not see the hand, but from his presence she knew Arsen was hesitating, reaching out to her. For some reason it felt as though this had happened long ago. Normally she would have ignored the offered hand and used her sword as a cane, but now she could not bring herself to disregard it.
Carefully she extended her own hand and took his. The touch was not familiar, yet it was unmistakably engraved in her memory. Using his steady strength as support, Adeline rose to her feet.
Once she was standing, Arsen immediately described the layout. “There are three doors ahead. Two staircases lead downward, one at each end. The monsters came up from the left staircase.”
Adeline nodded and extended her senses. No traps remained. The subtle flow of air, previously masked by the stench, brushed her cheek.
“There are no traps. Judging by the air currents… I believe descending the left staircase offers the best chance of finding another exit.”
Arsen’s hand released hers. Adeline’s fingers twitched at the sudden emptiness; to hide the motion she reached for her sword.
“Let’s examine the doors.”
When Adeline tilted her head in question, Arsen shrugged. “Since we’re already here, we might as well investigate while searching for an exit. A place like this is illegal by its very existence—they can hardly complain if we turn it over before we leave.”
His voice carried a faint, excited edge, as though he intended to vent his anger thoroughly. Adeline let out a small, resigned sigh.
“Understood. I don’t know how much time has passed, but escaping before dawn would be ideal.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m aiming for.”
Arsen began to move forward. Adeline followed the sound of his presence. The moment she took a step, a damp, heavy mass of flesh met her ankle. They crushed the lumps underfoot as they made their way to the door at the far end of the chamber.
Maxim rubbed the doorknob and frowned. The complete absence of anything detectable felt far more suspicious. He glanced at Adeline. She seemed slightly uncomfortable after walking across the scattered flesh; the corners of her mouth were tight.
Maxim studied her quietly. The curse pattern etched over her eyes. Her demeanor suggested she still knew nothing. Should I tell her?
He bit his lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. You are cursed. The Count has deceived you. The true target of your sword is the Count’s throat.
“This is the door on the left.”
He could not say it now. Not until they escaped this damned dungeon. Not until he found clues about Christine. Maxim clenched his teeth again.
“Do you sense anything?”
Adeline shook her head at his question. “No. This may be the most intact space inside the entire dungeon.”
“Everything beyond those three doors is…?”
She nodded. Maxim lowered his gaze and gripped the doorknob. If the room beyond was a research area, they would not have installed magical traps. No one would want to accidentally destroy a space full of research materials.
“I’m opening it. Just in case…”
“I’m ready.”
Only after confirming Adeline had assumed a combat stance did Maxim twist the handle. A musty rush of dust and mold washed over them, quickly swallowed by the pervasive stench behind it. The room’s layout was almost disappointingly ordinary.
“It really is just a laboratory.”
A desk, a chair, a simple cot. Papers scattered everywhere. A bookshelf crammed with tattered old tomes. Maxim picked up a fallen sheet. Formulas and terms he could not decipher were scrawled in atrocious handwriting. He frowned and set it back on the desk.
“Is there something there?” Adeline asked.
“It’s clearly a research facility. What exactly they were studying will require further examination…”
Maxim leafed through the papers on the desk. His brow furrowed deeper. Black magic, biological synthesis, monster control, compatibility issues. The disturbing keywords flashed before his eyes. Suppressing the urge to rip every page to shreds, he folded a stack of documents and slipped them into his coat.
“Most of it concerns biological synthesis. Nothing else stands out.”
The languages on the old book spines were indecipherable to him. I must not grow impatient. Maxim bit his lip.
“Let’s check the next room.”
The second room yielded no significant findings either. It resembled a storage area, packed with miscellaneous items whose purpose he could not guess. Maxim sighed as he grasped the doorknob of the final door. Despite telling himself not to rush, anxiety gnawed at him again. He deliberately gripped the handle hard, using the motion to steady his thoughts.
“Here…”
A room stacked with piles of documents. It was simpler than the previous two, yet its purpose was even harder to discern. Maxim scanned the space.
“What kind of room is it?” Adeline asked.
He made a low sound and approached the desk covered in paper stacks. “Piles of documents. We’ll need to see what kind they are…”
Maxim pulled out the topmost sheet and turned it over. The cover read Research Report. He began reading the title to determine the subject and froze.
Experimenter: Alen Marco
Subject: Christine Watson