Chapter 62
Chapter 62
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: The Ghost Mansion #2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I asked,
"Wasn't the Draco family also involved in dragging down Demon King Solomon? So why does it count as not betraying the Angmar family?"
"My grandfather, Arabes Draco, certainly made a great contribution to slaying Demon King Solomon Angmar. But that doesn't mean he betrayed the Angmar family."
So what was the reason?
"May I ask what that reason is?"
"...That's a story that has nothing to do with you, commoner."
No, how could it have nothing to do with me? I'm the last descendant of Angmar.
Should I just reveal it outright?
No.
Thinking about it calmly, that would be far too dangerous.
I didn't know what it meant that the Draco family hadn't betrayed the Angmar family. But the head of the Draco family had definitely been there when the Demon King died.
He had been there when the Demon King's body was torn to shreds and burned.
Why these people turned their backs on Angmar.
If I couldn't uncover the 'trigger' that made the Draco family betray us, I might end up torn apart myself.
As those thoughts raced through my mind, the door to the drawing room swung open with a clatter.
Stepping inside was an undead draped in a black robe, with long white hair cascading down.
━Hallow.
For a moment, I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice.
An undead.
No matter how many times I saw one, I could never get used to it.
That man was probably Aleister Draco, who had once been Lady Mirna's father.
He scanned the room with cold, piercing eyes, then parted his parched lips.
━Woo’ri Dda’l Gan’sic Nyam Nyam.
Then he brought in a plate of dessert and set it on the drawing room table.
It was cake. Cheesecake drizzled with dark chocolate syrup—it looked delicious.
There were two forks, so it seemed meant for Mirna and me to share.
Who knew Mirna Draco knew how to entertain guests.
I was calming my startled heart with that thought when Lady Mirna bristled her hair as if truly furious.
"Who told you to bring in dessert on your own? Doing things I didn't ask for! Get out, rot away!"
━Bul’ Jak.
Of course, the undead only muttered incomprehensible words of the dead. His blue eyes gleamed, and then he left.
Lady Mirna let out a sigh at the sight.
"Let's call it here for now and take a break."
"Is it that you can't control the undead well?"
"......"
Mirna fell silent.
As expected, Mirna Draco couldn't control the man who had been her father—now a high elder lich named Aleister.
"Are you taking dead language classes for that reason too?"
"You ask a lot of questions, commoner. But yes. There are still many stories from my father that I haven't heard. I'm learning the dead language to understand them."
"Ah, I see."
Learning the dead language would let her understand what the undead say. But it also meant drawing closer to the mysteries of magic and truth.
Just as the minds of great archmages who surpass the 6th circle break down.
Who knew if the mental state of necromancers who reached certain heights remained intact.
Especially those who dealt with death— in any medium, their sanity was always questionable.
Perhaps Mirna Draco's descent into madness as a necromancer, facing off against the protagonist villain hunter party, stemmed from her research into this dead language?
No....
Even before that, this mansion—devoid of sunlight and oppressively silent—was far too heavy. Staying in a place like this would naturally drive anyone insane.
If a girl had to live alone in such an environment, it wouldn't be surprising if her personality split in two.
The thought suddenly made the Draco twins seem just a little pitiful.
Serves them right for betraying the Angmar family.
While spouting nonsense that they hadn't betrayed Angmar.
The Draco family deserved a good thrashing—that's what I was thinking when—
"Since we have dessert for once, let me teach you dining etiquette now, commoner."
Mirna Draco picked up a fork and delicately sliced the cheesecake, slipping a piece into her small mouth.
The refined way she chewed made it clear: this was proper etiquette for eating dessert.
But I couldn't do it like that.
My forkwork only mangled the cake mercilessly.
"Why are you so awful at it?"
At Mirna Draco's rebuke, I showed her my right hand wrapped in plaster and bandages.
"My right hand is smashed."
"Managing your body in optimal condition is one of the key virtues. Ruining it like that. Utterly pathetic?"
It was bad enough being injured, but now this scolding too.
Then Mirna Draco grabbed my right hand firmly and tore off the plaster and bandages with her fork.
"What are you doing?"
I startled at the reckless act and tried to pull away, but she held it tight, leaving me helpless.
"Stay still."
Finally, Mirna Draco gripped my shattered right hand firmly.
Crack, crunch— it felt like the bones in my palm were reassembling, piecing together. I couldn't help but tear up and scream.
"Eek...!"
Crunch, crackle, snap.
It really felt like my hand was being disassembled and rebuilt.
But it was only for a moment. I realized my right hand's bones had been perfectly healed, restored to wholeness.
"What in the world...? My hand is fine now."
Flex, flex.
As I clenched and opened my right hand, Mirna Draco hid her face behind her blue-feathered fan and said haughtily,
"The Draco family specializes in necromancy and spirit arts. Fixing and healing bones is child's play."
"Oh."
Just moments ago, it had throbbed terribly. Now it was as if none of that had happened—perfectly cured.
Incredible.
Mirna Draco had healed my arm.
"Thank you. You've saved me months of suffering."
"It's just repayment for the fan."
I see.
Maybe Mirna Draco was a better woman than I'd thought.
How did a girl like this end up as a mad necromancer?
She was haughty and prickly, sure, but she didn't seem the type to dig up graves, slaughter innocents.
"Prayer time. One moment."
I watched Lady Draco kneel in the corner, praying alone, and pondered briefly.
The Draco family had too many secrets.
* * *
I learned all sorts of things from Mirna.
How to walk like a noble.
How to speak like a noble, breathe like a noble. Even how to blink or swallow like a noble.
"Do I really have to go this far? Swallowing like a noble?"
"When raising an objection, do it like a noble, commoner."
"......"
Did it really need to be this extreme? Mirna Draco wasn't just picky—she seemed determined to remake me from the ground up into an entirely new person.
"Good. You're not slow to learn. Even as a former slave, your court experience helps quite a bit."
"Thank you."
Still, I followed along well. Pretending to be a noble felt natural enough.
Before I knew it, time had flown, and darkness blanketed the world.
I thought sunset was still hours away?
Because the mansion sat on the outskirts amid a vast cemetery, the windows showed twilight casting long shadows over eerie tombstones.
"Better stay the night, commoner. I'll give you a guest room."
"If I hurry now, I could make it to Ark. No need to—"
"No."
Mirna Draco was firm.
"Stay the night."
"......"
Her commanding presence—or was it sheer force of will?—left me nodding silently.
And soon enough, I'd have to admit her suggestion was right.
━Hoooow, hooooow—.
When she showed me to the guest room, the world outside had plunged into pitch blackness, impossible to see even a step ahead.
No streetlights or torches—just utter darkness. If I'd left earlier, I'd have had to traverse that void.
Even with my magic, walking a unlit cemetery late at night alone was too much.
Click, click.
As Mirna Draco checked the numerous locks and bolts inside the guest room, she casually warned me.
"The mansion at night is full of dangers. Nothing that would specifically harm a guest like you. But still, don't wander or touch anything carelessly."
"Understood."
"And absolutely do not go near the room in the far left corner of the third floor. Never."
The far left corner room on the third floor?
I committed the keyword to memory and nodded.
"Got it. I won't go anywhere near."
"Never approach it, never open the door. It's locked anyway. Even if it's open, don't go in."
"Yes. I won't."
Why emphasize it so strongly?
Mirna Draco wasn't done.
"Someone might knock on your door too. But never open it or answer. Understand?"
"Why?"
"Every day at 8 p.m., I enter a vow of silence and fasting. No reason to visit a commoner's room. Even less to speak."
It didn't make sense.
"Alright. I'll lock the door and not respond."
"Remember: I'm under vow of silence and fasting. No one should speak to you or approach. Just keep that in mind."
With that, Mirna Draco left the guest room.
Creak, slam.
The door shut, leaving me alone.
I had to kill time sitting in a chair.
Plenty of hours until morning—maybe sort my thoughts?
"Hmm."
Summarizing: The harvest from the Draco mansion was realizing they had many intriguing secrets.
Mirna Draco had excellent bone-setting skills, able to realign a broken hand in seconds.
And the mansion was deeply unsettling.
"Hoo."
To calm the unease and clutter from my talk with Mirna, I steadied my breathing.
Then someone knocked on my door. Knock-knock.
"......"
My eyes darted to the clock.
Still 7:50 p.m.
Knock-knock.
But Mirna had warned me earlier: never answer or open for anyone knocking. A chill crept up my back.
Knock-knock.
Before 8 p.m., so maybe okay?
Then a voice from beyond the door.
━I skip dinner for my fast, but I've prepared a guest meal in the dining room. Come eat if you're hungry.
It was Mirna Draco.
Ah, perfect— I was hungry.
I prepared to step out for food.
━If you don't know where the dining room is, I'll guide you. Get ready and come out, commoner.
"Thank you. Let's go together."
Creak.
I opened the door to speak to Mirna Draco, but in the dark corridor, no sign of her anywhere.
"What the hell."
Muttering to shake off the creeps only echoed my small voice back, filling me with regret.
This mansion is off.
Me, spending the night here?
Just then, the corridor grandfather clock chimed.
Dong-dong-dong-dong-dong-dong-dong-dong-dong.
Exactly nine times.
Nine o'clock.
Turning, I saw all the corridor clocks pointing to 9:00 sharp. Cuckoos called here and there.
Cuckoo.
Exactly nine times each.
"What."
Startled by the impossibility, I spun and grabbed the desk clock in my guest room.
It showed 7:50.
But then I realized something shocking.
"Damn it, it's broken...!"
The guest room clock was stopped.
Frozen at 7:50.
Now I saw the spring wasn't wound—it hadn't been working. Since when?
That meant it really was 9 p.m. now.
So who had knocked and told me to eat? Hadn't Mirna vowed silence after 8?
A chill sank into my blood.