Chapter 8
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Brontë Sisters
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The Brontë Sisters
I froze on the spot.
My tongue went dry with fear.
‘A ghost?’
A ghost would have been better.
I could have just chalked it up to another piece of this bizarre situation.
But if it was a person, that was a different story.
Someone wandering the school alone in the middle of the night couldn't be ordinary.
They might even know the secrets of this mysterious school.
“Who's there?”
I rushed out into the hallway.
But no one was there.
‘...They disappeared?’
As I looked around, something glinted on the floor.
[You have acquired Ink.]
It was ink.
Lying abandoned right in the middle of the hallway.
I blankly picked up the ink and glanced back toward the stairs—the way I had just come.
‘Was this here before?’
I thought back to when I first entered the fourth floor. The hallway had been empty.
But now, there was ink on the floor.
Placed blatantly in the center of the hall, as if begging to be picked up.
There's no way I would have missed something like this.
‘In that case.’
Someone must have left it behind.
While I was in the art room.
[Ink]
【Red ink. Used for writing in a diary. The surface feels warm.】
I checked the ink's detailed description.
Sure enough, the message was slightly different from the one for the item in the lost and found.
This confirmed it.
The female student watching me through the window wasn't a ghost, but a person.
‘I have to find that girl.’
I ran down the fourth-floor hallway.
She had to be somewhere around here.
I headed for the classroom closest to the art room.
-*Clack*
Locked. I tried the other classrooms, but it was the same story.
-*Clack*
-*Clack, clack*
All of them were locked except for the art room. I had no choice but to return.
‘So I'm supposed to solve this place first...’
If this situation were a Tsukuru game, the school would be the background map.
Given the linear progression typical of Tsukuru games, exploring the entire school freely was impossible.
In other words, you clear one classroom to move on to the next.
Just like how I went from the classroom to the main entrance, then the teachers' office, and finally the art room.
To search the other classrooms, I first had to find a clue in the art room.
‘Is there even a clue here?’
I wasn't sure, but I had no other choice.
Sink or swim, I had to try.
I bet everything on this slim possibility.
Just as I was about to step toward the threshold of death.
‘Wait a minute.’
An idea struck me.
I had been overlooking the most important thing.
‘Why did I only just realize this?’
For a moment, a chill ran down my spine.
I hurriedly opened my item window.
And took something out.
.
.
.
[Your journey so far has been recorded.]
‘I forgot to save.’
That was a close call.
Saving isn't an option; it's a necessity.
Now I had nothing to fear.
Is it really saved?
I checked the diary again.
Yep, it worked.
I struck a cool pose once more.
It was a bit pathetic, but what could I do?
I have to survive, too.
I resumed my search of the art room, which I had paused earlier.
The art room was filled with paintings. Still, if I searched thoroughly, I might find a key.
I searched every nook and cranny for anything I might have missed.
I went to the back of the art room, an area I hadn't searched properly because I was distracted by the paintings.
Near the edge, I found a small door.
A sign that looked like a warning was posted on it.
[Supply Room]
[Authorized Personnel Only]
It was clearly a room with something important inside. I blithely ignored the warning and turned the doorknob.
-*Clack*
Locked, as expected. In that case, I had a good idea of what I needed to do in the art room.
Find the key to the supply room.
I was starting to get the hang of this school.
‘Let's find it quickly.’
There's no time.
I had to catch that mysterious girl before she got away.
I immediately began searching the art room.
As I was examining the paintings on the wall again, I felt a sense of unease.
The window I had mistaken for a portrait of the girl a moment ago had vanished in the blink of an eye.
‘Huh?’
I retraced my memory to find the spot. Since it had just happened, I didn't have to think for long.
‘It was here.’
I pointed to a spot on the wall.
Masterpieces I'd seen at least once in my life hung there.
If my memory served me right,
between the 'Mona Lisa' and 'Guernica.'
There was definitely a window there.
But where I pointed,
[Branwell Brontë - The Brontë Sisters]
a painting I had never seen before was hanging there.
‘Shit!’
This time, it's a real ghost.
Startled, I scrambled backward.
I grabbed a nearby chair as a weapon and took a defensive stance.
Ghost or whatever, just try and come out.
I'll smash your head in.
With grim determination, I prepared to attack.
But the painting remained quiet.
No ghost jumped out.
Eventually, I slowly put the chair down.
I approached to check the painting's condition.
‘It's a real painting.’
It wasn't a ghost or a hallucination.
It was a physical object, housed in an old-fashioned frame.
I carefully took down the frame. Only then did the window hidden behind it reveal itself.
Where did this come from...?
Trembling, I examined the painting.
It was a portrait of four women gathered closely together.
The quality of the painting wasn't very good.
It was crooked and the proportions were off.
But this crudeness somehow created an alluring atmosphere.
The style even looked subtly sophisticated.
Curious about what it was, I checked the title.
[Branwell Brontë - The Brontë Sisters]
I'd never heard of the artist before.
And of course, it was my first time seeing the painting, too.
‘Brontë.’
Seeing the artist's name, it seemed he had painted his own family.
This Branwell fellow must have had a lot of sisters.
Four of them.
As an only child, I had no idea what that would feel like.
I think it was around middle school.
I used to think it would be nice to have an older sister, but that fantasy shattered after visiting a friend's house.
It was then I realized being alone was more comfortable.
I found a piece of paper tucked behind the frame.
‘An item?’
I tried to remove it, but it was firmly attached and wouldn't come off.
It didn't shimmer like other items, either.
It seemed to be just a piece of paper stuck to the back of the frame, with no special meaning.
So I just flipped the frame over and read its contents.
A quick glance showed it was an explanation of the painting.
I felt a yawn coming on right from the start. But thinking it might be a clue, I forced myself to read on.
[The Brontë Sisters]
【The figures in the painting above are all women of the Brontë family and authors.
The works of the Brontë sisters are still noted in the history of English literature for their unique worlds and somber settings.
Their representative works include *Jane Eyre* and *Wuthering Heights*.
Incidentally, the Brontë sisters are known to have had a rather unfortunate family life.
As if to support this, all of the Brontë sisters died at an early age.
Furthermore, Branwell, who painted their portrait, also died young at the age of 31.
For these reasons, some refer to this work as a cursed painting.
Perhaps that's why. 'The Brontë Sisters' had a chilling nickname.
The Haunted Painting.
The reason lay with the sisters themselves.
While the painting 'The Brontë Sisters' depicts four women, there were actually only three Brontë sisters.
One extra person was painted.
In the portrait of the Brontë sisters.
Many have debated this, but even after all this time, nothing has been clearly established.
Currently, the prevailing theory is that the artist mistakenly painted an extra person, but even that is riddled with mystery.
How could he mistake the number of people while painting his own siblings?
Many refuted this, but even they couldn't offer a proper answer.
And so, the matter was left unresolved.
'The Brontë Sisters' was concluded to be a case of the artist mistakenly adding an extra person.
In the end, this ghost story never surfaced, remaining a mystery for all time.
What could her true identity have been?
For what reason did she hide in the painting, pretending to be one of the Brontë sisters?
Some say.
The woman in the painting is—】
The next sentence is torn off.
Thanks to that, the entire ending was gone.
‘Of all the places to cut off.’
It was just getting interesting.
It felt like watching one of those TV shows that summarizes a movie plot.
It was so vivid I felt like I should run out and pay to see the rest right now.
Putting my disappointment aside, I turned the frame back over. 'The Brontë Sisters' reappeared.
‘There really are four of them.’
I counted, and there were indeed four women in the painting. I was inwardly impressed.
To think such a crude painting held such a profound story. I could see why people go to art museums.
‘That aside.’
Am I supposed to find the ghost in this painting?
I absentmindedly fumbled with the frame.
I had no idea what I was supposed to do.
Considering the puzzles I'd encountered so far, this painting was definitely a clue.
Just as I was deep in thought, wondering what kind of puzzle it could be.
Suddenly, red liquid started flowing from the painting. I quickly put it down.
The liquid, its source unknown, drenched the painting.
At the same time, a coppery smell filled the air.
‘Ugh.’
I quickly pinched my nose.
The liquid seeped past the painting into the frame, leaving words on the glass surface.
[A liar is hiding among them. Find and kill the liar.]
‘A liar? Do they mean the ghost?’
Then, the painting changed grotesquely.
The sight was so bizarre I nearly fainted.
Their expressions were all tearful or terrified.
The ambiguously poor drawing style made it feel even more unpleasant.
‘Haha... So I have to find the ghost.’
Breaking out in a cold sweat, I brought up the detailed description.
A long message, different from before, scrolled into view.
[Charlotte: Emily is my sister.]
[Emily: Anne is a woman of the Brontë family.]
[Elizabeth: One of Anne and Charlotte is lying.]
[Anne: What Charlotte and Emily said is true.]
...So it was this kind of thing.
A ghost who only lies is hiding among the sisters who only tell the truth.
I have to find that ghost and kill it.
*Fwoosh!*
The painting began to turn red.
It seemed to indicate a time limit.
‘You could at least give me some time to think...!’
I screamed internally.
I had to find the ghost quickly, before the entire frame was painted red.
‘Uh, so... if Charlotte is lying, then Emily isn't her sister...’
My head felt like it was about to split open.
The thought of having to solve it within the time limit made me anxious.
If anything, my thought process slowed down.
‘Then is Charlotte the ghost? No, that contradicts what Anne is saying.’
My mind was a chaotic mess.
I couldn't even guess who the ghost was.
‘Emily and Anne's statements are compatible, so those two aren't the ghost... Then who's left?’
Time flew by.
Before I knew it, the painting was so smeared with red that its form was unrecognizable,
and finally, a message announced the end of my time.
[The liar has survived!]
The message turned to red text, and no further interaction was possible.
Time's up. The Brontë Sisters was painted over in crimson.
Immediately after, I felt a sudden wave of dizziness.
‘What's happening?’
It felt like all the strength was draining from my body.
Even holding onto my consciousness was a struggle.
I tried desperately to cling to the thread of my reason.
“Uuurp...!”
My stomach lurched, and I threw up.
Even though I hadn't eaten anything, I wretched up everything inside me.
It was hard to breathe.
My head was spinning, and my body wouldn't obey me.
Lying prone on the floor, I could only gasp for breath.
‘Is it because I failed the puzzle?’
My gaze shifted to the frame in the corner.
There was no trace of the Brontë sisters.
Only the red-painted picture remained.
‘The painting?’
The painting was red.
Crimson red.
Facing that red painting, I approached the frame as if possessed.
It felt like not just my mind, but my very soul was being sucked in.
‘Is it telling me to go into the painting?’
I looked at the painting on the floor.
Inside the red-smeared painting, someone was welcoming me with a wide, ear-splitting grin.
I have to run in there quickly.
There's no time to hesitate.
Ihavetogothererightnow.
Ihavetojumpinrightnow.
rightnowrightnowrightnowrightnowrightnowrightnowrightnowrightnowrightnow
*Splash!*
With the sound of plunging into water, I was sucked into the frame.
A cozy sensation, like diving deep into the ocean, enveloped my entire body.
Soon, my consciousness began to fade.
[Branwell Brontë – Lee Hyeon]
[You have died.]
[Restarting from the last checkpoint.]