Winter Wolf - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lysithea woke up to the sound of curtains being drawn open. The winter sunlight cast a glow on her red hair, which was spread across the floor.

She wrapped the torn hem of her skirt around herself like a makeshift blanket. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, feeling the ache throughout her body.

Terrence has been having sex with her relentlessly since yesterday morning until the early hours of the morning. She lost consciousness a few times, only to wake up and find him on top of her again, continuing to have s*x with her.

She had lost her sense of hunger and pain. As she struggled to stand up, afraid he might return, she noticed Terrence was neatly dressed, in contrast to her disheveled appearance.

She watched him put on fur-lined boots and asked, “Terrence, where are you going?”

The sunlight illuminated Terrence’s face as he turned to face her.

“The snow has stopped, Lysithea,” he remarked.

Terrence stopped using Lysithea’s titles after he fired the gun at her. Lysithea observed him and noted the slight changes in his behavior.

“Well, then, as I mentioned before…” he began.

“Winter was coming to an end, and we needed to retrieve the horses.”

He was correct. The sky outside the sunlit window was bright.

“I should leave while the sun is still out. I’ll be back for lunch tomorrow,” he said, walking past her with purposeful strides.

She interjected, reminding him that what they discussed still stands.

Pausing in the doorway, Terrence turned back to her at her abrupt remark.

“What did we discuss?” he inquired.

“I mentioned we should leave together. Don’t you remember?” she replied.

With a quiet “Ah,” Terrence uttered as he opened the door.

Before leaving and closing the door behind him, he added, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Lysithea was left alone in the dimly lit room, still undressed.

Lysithea gathered her clothes and found the snow globe Gray gave her. It was undamaged and shimmering.

Lysithea dressed quickly and went out into the third-floor corridor. She saw Terrence riding away on a white horse through the window on the landing.

As she watched him disappear, she felt disappointed. His departure was unavoidable.

“He’ll return,” she murmured to herself.

 He would, of course. Lysithea proceeded to the kitchen with determination, intending to shake off her unease and continue until his return.

***

Although Lysithea tried to adapt, her efforts were only partially successful. She took pride in preparing her meals. She also took pride in patching up her clothes and organizing her room. However, after completing these tasks, she found herself with little else to do.

Leftovers were few and far between, so she was rationing them in anticipation of Terrence’s return, assuming she would take care of lunch. She couldn’t practice shooting without a long gun, as Terrence had taken it with him for his trip. Although she had a revolver for self-defense, it had only a few bullets remaining.

Terrence took the map with him when he left, leaving her with only the herb book for distraction. Gray’s snow globe was now her only source of entertainment.

Lysithea lay on her bed, turning the snow globe over in her hands. She admired its beauty and the luxury it represented, even for someone of nobility.

She wondered if Gray had given her the valuable item because he knew she was a runaway, but his behavior didn’t support that assumption. It seemed like he didn’t care if the snow globe stayed intact.

“He knew who I was,” Lysithea concluded. Gray Hoflander was a skilled detective, adept at manipulating information to his advantage.

Lysithea recalled Gray’s inquiries about the happenings on the third floor. He had asked if anything unusual had occurred.

Lysithea wondered if Gray had heard the same bizarre thing she did. Her mind was fixated on the mysteries of the third floor, which Gray had mentioned before.

“He mentioned 287 steps on the third floor,” she recalled.

Gray emphasized the importance of the third floor of the mansion, suggesting that it contained crucial elements, particularly regarding a hidden confession. Despite claims that the hallway from the first to the third floor was uniform in length, Gray maintained that the third floor held key rooms. These rooms included the drug dealer’s room, which is now in disrepair, as well as the rooms with mirrors, beds, and nooses. Most chillingly, there was also mention of a torture room.

Lysithea considered Gray’s intentions. She felt uneasy. Was he trying to obtain confessions for torture? Or was he, like her, experiencing something unexplainable on the third floor?

Lysithea engaged her detective instincts and searched through her memories of Gray’s cryptic remarks just a day or two before. Gray had admitted that he lacked the courage to go deeper into the third floor, and his words echoed in her mind, adding to the mystery surrounding their shared experience.

Gray admitted that he lacked the courage to explore beyond that point. Detectives are expected to possess resilience, but encountering unexpected sounds in an abandoned mansion can be unsettling.

Lysithea felt a strong desire to uncover the truth, which outweighed her apprehension. She quickly left the room, driven by her curiosity about the events that had transpired in the torture chamber while daylight still lingered.

***

Lysithea cautiously stepped into the torture chamber. The room was still crimson, and she held a snow globe in her left hand and a revolver in her right. She was prepared for whatever she might encounter.

She surveyed the strange devices lining the walls and closed her eyes briefly, listening intently for any sign of disturbance. Despite her heightened senses, all she could hear was the whistling of the wind outside.

Lysithea suppressed her unease and resolved not to abandon her investigation prematurely. Drawing inspiration from the detective novels she had read, she focused on sharpening her observational skills.

She recognized her limited deductive abilities and instead relied on her physical senses. She placed the snow globe and revolver in the center of the room and inspected the wall, which was decorated with hideous instruments of torture.

Lysithea hesitated. She was uncertain of what might occur if she made contact with the instruments of torture. Nevertheless, she gathered her courage and began to carefully handle each item, methodically placing them on the floor. It felt like an archaeological excavation, unlocking the mysteries of the room.

She tried to change the room, but it remained the same. Doubt started to creep in. Was her effort pointless?

She began to doubt her actions but then felt a cold sensation brush against her foot.

“Ow!”

Lysithea cried out and pulled back. She felt something unexpected touch her foot, causing her to stumble. She managed to steady herself against the wall. Lysithea looked down to see what had caused the sensation.

To her surprise, she saw the snow globe she had placed in the center of the room move on its own. It rolled slowly toward the wall, just out of her reach.

Lysithea was puzzled by the snow globe’s actions, so she picked it up and looked at it closely. As she did, she felt increasingly uncomfortable.

“Why did it roll all the way here?” she asked. She looked back and forth between the snow globe and the motionless revolver on the floor.

Lysithea decided to investigate further. She carefully returned the snow globe to its original position in the center of the room. Then, she stepped back cautiously and watched it intently, unsure of what to expect.

Lysithea noticed the snow globe moving towards the wall, causing her to widen her eyes in astonishment. She wondered if the floor was slanted, making the snow globe roll.

She felt uneasy and examined the torture room floor, trying to detect any signs of tilt or unevenness.

Lysithea picked up the revolver and snow globe and stepped into the hallway outside the torture room. She kneeled to inspect the floor, hoping to judge its levelness in comparison to the floor of the room. However, she couldn’t make a conclusive assessment.

As she put her globe back on the floor, she noticed that the snow globe she had placed there was not standing still. To her surprise, it started to roll slowly down the hallway. This caused a new wave of confusion and anxiety.

***

Lysithea stood up and began to track the snow globe’s path as it rolled down the hallway. Initially, she assumed it would come to a stop at a reasonable distance, but to her surprise, it picked up speed, prompting her to quicken her pace to keep up.

Lysithea quickly grabbed the snow globe as it slowed down, indicating the end of its tilted path. She noticed the central staircase nearby.

She became more and more upset as she realized what it meant. The mansion seemed to be tilted, sloping from the torture chamber at one end of the east hallway to the stairs in the main hall as if it were leaning halfway.

Lysithea speculated that Terrence might possess a master key to the mansion, similar to those used by innkeepers or brokers for their clients’ convenience. She questioned why Gray had not inquired about this key from Terrence, especially considering he had given her the snow globe, indicating a level of trust.

Lysithea considered the possibility that Terrence might not have the key to the locked room, given Gray’s apparent fear and lack of courage to investigate further. Despite this, she decided to take matters into her own hands and try to unlock the door herself.

Returning to the locked room, armed with a mace from the torture room, Lysithea contemplated the weight of the weapon, comparing it to a horse saddle she had once lifted. Lysithea reflected on how her life might have been different if she had chosen a different path. Perhaps she could have avoided her entanglement with Terrence and getting caught by Gray’s surveillance at the harbor.

“I don’t know my life’s full story,” Lysithea thought to herself. She smirked and gave the mace a powerful swing, causing the door to cave in slightly with a resounding crash, her arm shaking from the impact.

Realizing that breaking through the door would take time, Lysithea took an oil lamp from her room to illuminate the dimming surroundings. As the sun began to set, she continued her relentless attack on the door, each swing of the mace chipping away at the wooden barrier.

After much effort, Lysithea tore away a sizable chunk of wood, creating a hole. She reached in and unlatched the door. The door swung open with a creak. She extended the lantern to illuminate the room beyond. Her hold on the lantern almost slipped in her exhaustion.

Lysithea was pleased to find out that her deductions, aided by Gray’s guidance, had been correct. Apart from a sturdy ladder in the center, the locked room had nothing else noteworthy. She drew her revolver and cautiously approached the ladder, her eyes fixed on the dark space above the ceiling.

Lysithea discovered a secret chamber. Her heart raced as she hesitantly placed her foot on the ladder. Her hand trembled as she touched its dusty edges. She noticed footprints in the center of the rungs, evidence of recent activity. She pushed the thought of Terrence’s face away, refusing to believe it.

She tightened her hold on the revolver as she stood frozen halfway up the ladder, unable to continue. In the past, she would have plunged headfirst into such a revelation, but now she was exercising caution. Lysithea remained motionless, listening intently to the eerie sounds coming from the dark void.

The wind whistled and echoed through the narrow space. Then, there was a thud and a scratching noise. Lysithea gasped and raised her revolver towards the black hole. She was on high alert as she detected something slowly moving on the floor below.

A scratching sound, not a snake, caught Lysithea’s attention.  She waited for the source of the sound to reveal itself, but the movement stopped suddenly. She took cautious steps up another step of the ladder.

 A hoarse, groaning voice reached Lysithea’s ears, barely audible. She recognized it as the same voice that had caused her panic earlier. The voice pleaded for help.

Lysithea shouted, “Who are you?” while holding the oil lamp up to light the darkness above. The man’s agonized cries confirmed his presence. Lysithea couldn’t see beyond the opening, but her intuition told her that the man was in a weakened condition.

Lysithea climbed the ladder with a revolver and lantern in hand, driven by curiosity and compassion. Her heart pounded with every step.

“Ugh….”

Lysithea emerged through the hole in the ceiling, causing a cloud of dust to rise from the ladder. She straightened herself up with a groan.

As suspected, there was a large secret room between the third and second floors. The room was at least two meters high, giving her plenty of headroom. She was about to lift her lantern when she noticed a nearby sack.

Lysithea wondered if the black powder resembling charred seeds in the sack was what Gray was searching for. She reluctantly looked away from the sack and raised her lantern to illuminate the expansive chamber. A lifeless figure lay sprawled on the floor, about ten steps away.

Lysithea approached cautiously with her revolver at the ready, her finger poised on the trigger, prepared for any potential threat.

The man collapsed and gasped for air. His body was covered in blood and filth, emitting a foul odor. Lysithea observed the torture marks etched into his flesh, and her heart sank. He appeared emaciated, with his bones visible protruding from his skin, and his hands and feet were bound with rusty chains, reminiscent of those used on slaves, suggesting they had endured severe abuse.

Lysithea was initially afraid, but she couldn’t help feeling empathetic. She approached the man cautiously and offered words of comfort. She asked, “Can you hear me? I’m here to help. Can you stand?”

The man appeared small and frail in his captivity, looking up at her with bloodshot eyes. He looked at her for a moment, then said her name, sending a shiver down Lysithea’s spine.

“Lysithea?”

Her voice quivered as she asked, “How do you know my name?”

It was evident that this man was a stranger to Lysithea. Even if she had known him previously, his current condition made recognition impossible.

Summoning her courage, Lysithea asked the question that, despite her reluctance, weighed heavily on her mind.  “Who are you?”

The man struggled to speak, his voice strained. “I’m Terrence… Cadas.”

As the lantern flickered and extinguished, enveloping them in darkness, he uttered another fragmented sentence. “I was your broker. How did you survive?”

His words left Lysithea speechless.