Just as she was about to ask whether it had succeeded, Ayesha quickly stopped herself.
If the method the spiritualist had proposed had worked, she would not be here.
“……It did not succeed, then.”
He nodded.
“It was a Rottweiler I had raised from a puppy. The whole family adored it. But its natural temperament was fierce from the start. When we placed the evil spirit into it, the beast lunged at the spiritualist and clamped its jaws around his throat. It had been trained as an excellent hunting dog, you see.”
Good heavens.
The aftermath that must have followed rose before her eyes.
Far from driving out the evil spirit, the spiritualist would have found himself worrying about his own life.
In the end, it must have begun with a grand start and ended without finishing anything at all.
The scene would have been drenched in blood, the spiritualist’s life hanging by a thread—and in the midst of that, who on earth could have dealt with the evil spirit?
“……What happened to the spiritualist?”
“A hunting dog, once it bites, will never let go until breath leaves its body.”
He died, then.
Perhaps it was her imagination, but a metallic smell of blood seemed to drift through the air.
Ayesha looked down at the table with a troubled feeling.
They were supposed to be having a serious discussion about the evil spirit, but every time the plates were cleared and new food brought out, the conversation broke off awkwardly, so he had ordered all the food brought out at once—and the table was filled with a diverse array from appetizers to dessert.
Fresh vegetables and tomatoes, a red goulash simmered for a long time with beef and served, duck confit garnished with beans and red cabbage, a steak seared crisp on the outside with a reddish grain preserved inside, and even a cake baked with a generous topping of berries from somewhere despite the season having passed—this time as well, the food of Langfield Manor was excellent.
But now she could not taste a thing.
Somehow, there was an unusual amount of red on this table.
Even a dark red wine resembling blood sat to one side.
At the noticeably slowed movement of her cutlery, the man apologized with an apologetic face.
“My story has interfered with your meal. I am sorry.”
Ayesha managed her expression with effort.
“No. It was something I needed to know as well. And I ate a lot at lunch, so I am not very hungry.”
When she finished eating, Kirix no longer touched the food either. He rang the bell to summon the servants. Ring—the bell sounded sharply. The servants, who had been waiting outside the dining room for the meal to end, entered with careful steps, and at his nod quietly lifted the plates that were barely emptied and carried them away.
Where do all those dishes go?
The chef of Langfield Manor brought far too much food to the table where only Ayesha and Kirix—barely two people—sat down together. It was surely a display of the family’s wealth, but to Ayesha, a commoner unaccustomed to waste, it was a scene very hard to get used to.
As she blankly watched the servants recede with half worry and half curiosity, Kirix suddenly called to her.
“Ayesha.”
“Yes?”
“Do you have any plans scheduled after this evening?”
“No, not particularly yet……”
“Then shall we look around the manor together? I will guide you.”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
Excellent.
Ayesha quietly celebrated.
She had intended to use various pretexts to look around Langfield Manor anyway, but having Kirix, who knew the manor best, accompany her made it all the more convenient.
“Just a moment. Let me stop by that room for a bit. There is something I need to bring.”
First, she needed paper and a quill pen. She intended to take notes on the past story she had just heard, the atmosphere she sensed while touring the manor, and the interior structure of the house. If she said she was searching for traces left by the evil spirit, it would not seem particularly suspicious.
“Let us go up together.”
He politely escorted Ayesha to her bedroom. Of course, like a gentleman, he stood at the door instead of entering the room and waited for her business.
As soon as she entered the bedroom, Ayesha crouched down on the floor and opened her suitcase.
Where did I put the new quill pens?
Following the memory of having packed a bundle while preparing her luggage, she rummaged through the bottom of the bag, and soon became disheartened. The spare quill pens she had brought were all snapped in two.
“Ack, what is all this!”
A scream burst out on its own.
Today really was a day when fortune did not favor her.
“……No. It was bound to be like this.”
The journey had been rough, after all.
Especially on the day of the downpour, how much had she been jostled by people? Even after boarding the carriage, she had set the suitcases down with thuds as she moved seats, so the light and fragile quill pens must have taken considerable shock. It was a great relief that at least the extra ink bottle she had brought separately was safe. If the ink bottle had broken, her clothes would have been stained black and she would have had to throw them all away.
Moreover, the real problem was something else.
“What is the matter?”
Startled by her scream, Kirix had immediately rushed into the bedroom.
Ayesha instinctively glanced at the papers scattered on the table. They were the papers on which she had been drafting the article. The traces of correction—deletions of sentences, additions of expressions—remained intact.
Because the servant assigned to the room was illiterate, and because people other than the servant did not enter the bedroom without permission, she had let down her guard somewhat.
If she hurriedly cleared the papers away now, it would surely draw his attention. Kirix, being a gentleman, would soon turn his head to protect her privacy, but even a few words catching his eye would be a disaster. Her identity would be exposed on the spot.
Moreover, the draft caused by the door being thrown open made a thin sheet of paper flutter and fall.
There was no time to deliberate. Ayesha plopped down on top of the paper.
“Are you all right?”
Kirix held out his hand to her.
“Ah…… yes.”
But Ayesha could not bring herself to take that hand and rise. It was because, in the course of plopping down on the floor, she had knocked over a vase, and the beautifully arranged hydrangeas had toppled onto their side.
The vase was one thing, but the sight of hydrangeas—cherished enough to be used as the symbol of House Eseldor—scattered carelessly on the floor was utterly embarrassing. She hastily gathered the spilled blooms and held them out to Kirix.
“What am I to do? I am so sorry. You arranged them with such care.”
But Kirix did not immediately take the bundle of hydrangeas.
If she had sensed a subtle distance in the gaze with which he stared at the flowers, was that an illusion? Ayesha tilted her head.
“Do you not like hydrangeas very much? I heard they are the symbol of your family.”
“Of course I like them. I think they are beautiful and elegant flowers. It is just that the smell of blood is a little…… well.”
“Ah, because of the grassy scent……”
It seemed the grassy smell unique to fresh flowers felt metallic to him. After all, some people in the world like the smell of cucumber as fragrant, while others find it pungent and dislike it.
Taking advantage of the moment when the hydrangeas briefly drew Kirix’s attention, Ayesha quickly crumpled the paper and hid it in her pocket, then slowly dragged her suitcase so that the article drafts on the table would not catch Kirix’s eye. She had to make him stand with his back to the table.
As she intended, Kirix naturally turned direction. Ayesha secretly swallowed a sigh of relief.
“I am fine. It really was nothing. The luggage I brought is just a bit of a mess.”
“Was it that thing’s doing?”
“Pardon?”
“Did that thing touch Ayesha’s belongings as well?”
He pressed urgently.
“No, it was not!”
Ayesha hurriedly waved her hands.
“It was my mistake. It was nothing, and I suppose I made a fuss over nothing.”
So that was why he had come running at once. Because an ominous presence was wandering the manor, he had wondered whether she had been harmed.
She had caused needless worry. She was grateful to him for his concern, and sorry as well.
“I am sorr—”
But before she could properly get out the first word, the man cut in first and blocked her apology.
“You did well. Even a small problem should be made a fuss over. At least in this manor.”
Ayesha nodded unconsciously. Well, if it was an evil spirit that could even harm people, it was entirely understandable that the man would be cautious to the utmost, and…….
No, wait a moment.
Ayesha pulled herself together as she was inadvertently about to be persuaded.
I am a person who does not believe in spirits. Yet as I listen to the man’s story, I keep being drawn in without realizing it.
Why is that?
