Surviving in the Cursed Mansion

Chapter 24: The Painted World (1)

[I did it. I am now the Duchess of Arkaden. If anyone embodies the phrase “a life turned upside down,” it’s me, isn’t it?]

The opening of the diary overflowed with a self-centered desire to flaunt. 

The shaky handwriting bore traces of overwhelming elation, as if the sheer excitement had made her hands tremble uncontrollably.

[Everyone looks up to me. Those who, just a day or two ago, considered me their equal now can’t even raise their heads in my presence. That person must have enjoyed this view for so long. Too much, really…]

It conveyed just how ecstatic she was about the reality of rising from a mere servant to become a duchess.

Asche felt an unshakable sense of nausea as she read.

[Should I completely redecorate the room? Let’s erase all traces of the past. I’ll tie gold threads to the curtains, place a crystal-carved chandelier on the ceiling, and use the finest ebony wood from the Magic Realm for the desk. The mirror frame on the vanity should be adorned with emeralds.]

Glancing around the room, Asche observed that the diary’s descriptions had indeed been faithfully realized.

Back when the emperor had showered her with affection, Asche had indulged in luxury herself. 

Yet the duchess’ room made even her extravagance seem insignificant, as if she were a mere child from a small tribe.

[Ah, right. Should I start by dealing with that insolent woman who always picks fights with me? She still glares at me as if we’re equals. Pinning some false charges on her, beating her, and throwing her out wouldn’t be a bad idea. After all, I have plenty of subordinates now.]

The sinister tone of the words was unmistakable. This was a woman who should never have been granted absolute power, yet she had become a duchess.

[My husband has no interest in the manor and spends all his time in his workshop… This vast mansion is entirely mine. Oh, I had so many things I wanted to do once I became a duchess, but now that I’ve achieved it, I can’t seem to remember them all. Well, I have plenty of time to figure it out. For now, I should focus on removing anything—or anyone—that bothers me…]

The husband mentioned here was surely Helaise Arkaden.

Asche recalled the Helaise she had encountered in the Painted World. While he did spend much time in his workshop, he hadn’t struck her as someone entirely indifferent to the household.

Had something happened to change him?

Later entries, dated months apart, revealed her frustrations.

[Damn it, even as the duchess, I can’t control that man. How dare a mere servant threaten me? Even when I tell my husband, nothing changes. Has he been blackmailed? He clearly dislikes him, too… How am I supposed to handle this…?]

It wasn’t until half a year later that the duchess appeared to find a solution.

[…Ah, I found it. His weakness! He’s been pretending all this time not to care about “it.”]

The diary concluded with furious handwriting.

[I’ll destroy everything. Him, his precious things—everything. I’ll shatter it all into pieces and make this mansion entirely mine.]

Asche closed the diary after reading the final page.

Placing the diary into her leather pouch, she gazed absentmindedly at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“This… is a duchess?”

It was hard to believe.

While appearances couldn’t always be trusted, the gap in this case was far too wide.

A person who spent their days scheming to bury others was something she had only seen in her eldest brother. This level of malice could only come from a deeply cruel nature.

“Ugh… Just thinking about sleeping in this place gives me chills. I should’ve let my sister have it. This room suits her perfectly.”

She wanted to storm over to Belnacien’s portrait and demand answers—perhaps even yell at her for misusing such a noble face.

Leaving Arsente behind, Asche stepped out of the duchess’ room, where she was greeted by the butler, standing rigidly nearby.

“Did you sleep well, Asche?”

“Yeah.”

“You seem particularly alert today.”

“My sleep was ruined, thanks to someone.”

She grumbled, and the butler, drawing on general reasoning, deduced the cause of her frustration.

“Perhaps Lady Arsente tossed and turned frequently?”

“No, that’s not it, but… wait a second.”

“Yes?”

Placing her hands on her hips, Asche leaned closer to the butler.

“Why do you call her ‘Lady Arsente’ but just call me ‘Asche’?!”

“Hmm…”

How old was Arsente? Judging by her appearance, she was likely in her late twenties. Considering nobles tended to care for their beauty, she might even be in her thirties.

Meanwhile, Asche’s youthful features were clearly those of a teenager.

The butler crafted the most logical and concise explanation he could muster.

“Because… Asche is a child.”

“A child? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“…Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

The butler suppressed a sigh.

His brief exposure to Korean culture had revived countless memories—some of them entirely trivial, like colloquialisms and trends.

“How old are you, Asche?”

“Me? I’m seventeen.”

“I see. Does the Empire group children born in the same year as being the same age?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that’s right. It’s not the case in other countries, is it? Weird, huh? I guess you wouldn’t be used to it as a foreigner.”

…Not quite as unfamiliar as you might think, he wanted to say.

But instead, he swallowed his words and responded with a standard reply.

“I see…”

Seventeen years old.

He recalled his final winter in his homeland, back when he, too, had been seventeen.

Thankfully, he thought, “If I had found Asche attractive, I would’ve been an even bigger piece of trash than I already am.”

The memory of Arsente accusing him of being attracted to Asche sent a shiver down his spine.

“So, Butler, why were you asking about my age? Don’t tell me you’re interested in me.”

A chill ran down his spine. His arm hair stood on end.

“That will never happen, not in a thousand years!”

“Whoa! No need to shout like that, Butler.”

“…I apologize.”

Asche found the butler’s rare outburst amusing. Normally, he remained calm unless being chased by a hunting dog. Seeing this side of him was unexpectedly entertaining.

As she chuckled at his flustered reaction, she suddenly remembered her original purpose.

“Oh, right! I didn’t come out here just to chat. Butler, I found another diary in the room.”

“That’s good news. May I read it?”

“I’ve already finished it, so go ahead.”

Asche handed the duchess’ diary to the butler, who handled it with great care. It was too valuable a document to risk damaging.

However, as he read through the pages, the butler’s eyebrows occasionally furrowed in disbelief.

When Asche received the diary back, she noticed his gaze unconsciously drifting toward the staircase.

“A ridiculous diary, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, yes, it is.”

“Butler, do you remember when you first saw the duchess’ portrait? You looked dizzy and staggered.”

“I do.”

“Maybe you have some kind of trauma related to Belnacien?”

At first, he thought she was joking.

But Asche wasn’t merely teasing—she looked genuinely serious.

“What happened to the Asche who used to mock me as a lecher obsessed with Maid B?”

“Oh, shut up! I can’t believe you’re complaining when I’m worried about you!”

Asche stomped away with a sulky expression, her steps loud and deliberate. 

The butler quickly followed, fearing she might get snatched by one of the mansion’s malevolent paintings.

Just then, the door to the duchess’ room creaked open.

Perhaps disturbed by the commotion outside, Arsente emerged, rubbing her eyes.

“What are you two doing so early in the morning…?”

“It’s not that early, actually.”

Judging by the sun’s angle, it was already well past the time for the world to awaken from its slumber.

Arsente glanced at Asche, who stood some distance away, and opened her mouth as if to speak, but quickly stopped herself.

The butler immediately deciphered her intent.

“Do you need assistance?”

She had likely intended to ask Asche for help, as she had done the previous day. But after their fallout, she probably found it awkward to make such a request.

“…Yes.”

Arsente admitted reluctantly.

“Then I’ll…”

As the butler stepped forward to offer his service, Asche darted between them with surprising speed.

“I’ll help you, Sister!”

“What?!”

“I said I’ll help. Or would you rather show your bare skin to a foreign butler because you’re feeling lonely?”

“Cut the nonsense, will you!”

Asche’s biting remark snapped Arsente out of her grogginess.

It seemed Asche harbored the same racial prejudice as Arsente. The butler made a mental note of this troubling detail.

“…Hmm.”

Yes, imperialists were distasteful.

That was his honest opinion.

By the time the sun reached its zenith, the sisters’ bickering had gone on for far too long. Still, necessary tasks awaited.

The butler summarized the contents of the duchess’ diary for Arsente.

Arsente’s only comment was a curt observation: “What a two-faced woman.” Beyond that, she refrained from speaking further.

With the tension between the sisters slightly abated, they were able to begin exploring the mansion.

“Let’s see…”

Asche inserted her finger into the surface of a landscape painting. The image rippled like water around her touch.

Retrieving her finger, she shared her findings.

“As expected, every painting in the mansion is designed to allow people to enter.”

“Ugh… That’s so creepy. What kind of mansion is this?”

Ignoring Arsente’s grumbling, Asche continued.

“The condition for accessing the third floor might involve finding and entering the right painting, don’t you think?”

“It’s highly probable. Let’s focus on finding a painting connected to a significant part of the mansion’s history.”

“Agreed.”

Asche’s eyes sparkled with confidence, while Arsente appeared less certain.

Unlike Asche, who had a wealth of historical and artistic knowledge, Arsente’s understanding of such subjects was shallow at best. She could only follow along quietly.

“Oh…”

Amidst their search, Arsente let out a sudden exclamation.

“This one—it’s just like the painting in the palace!”

She approached a dark-toned landscape painting. It depicted a foreboding forest stretching beneath a pitch-black sky.

[The Magic Realm]

Arsente read the title beneath the painting, her gaze dropping momentarily to the plaque.

It only took a second—just enough time to read two simple words.

Grab!

From within the painting titled The Magic Realm, small, black hands reached out, clawing toward Arsente.