Leaving my room meant that I had accepted a hellish pact. I'd rather stay inside and erase myself from this world in one go. It's cruel here, and I'm frightened by what lies outside.
Who is the owner of this game? Were they too cowardly to open the gates for me? The audacity to steer clear of the manor must mean they're too afraid to take part in the action. Though, I suppose scientists would not want to breathe the same air as their lab rats either.
A knock on my door interrupted my clouded thoughts.
"Lady, Y/n? It's Melly, er, Miss Plinius."
I slowly opened it, averting my eyes.
"Ah, Miss Plinius... Is it already time to go?"
"There's no need to be formal here, and we'd rather not establish close relationships anyway. It's easier to refer to me as Melly."
I once again followed her through the endless routes in the manor. There were many rooms, which seemed to hold over 30 guests. Yet, there was only one room where everyone would gather at the same time. Not because they wanted to interact, but because they were forced to. What did they do when they weren't participating?
Half of the four miserable seats in the dining room were occupied. One was taken by a handsome gentleman who twirled a pocket watch between his fingers. Beside him, a younger gentleman wearing a mask, assessing the objects in his briefcase.
"Each day, you can expect the possibility that a letter will have slipped under your door," Melly explained. "It indicates that you have been chosen to partake in a match. There are two per day, and they're often sent when you awake or after luncheon. While you spectate today, you'll get the chance to see how we collaborate against a hunter."
She then pointed to a curtain on the other side of the room, revealing nothing but an empty seat.
"That's where the hunter would abide. Who the hunter would be is not up for us to decide, so we have to be proactive."
"If I may ask, what is your ability, Lady Melly?" I asked out of the blue.
While I could barely see her face through her mask, I could sense she was surprised by the question.
"Well, I'm an Entomologist. The bees and pterygotas, being my only companions, can help "entertain" the hunter for a few moments."
"That's quite fascinating," I assured with a hint of glee. So this is how this game is played. It's not simply running around and defending yourself. Certain people have different ways to assist their teammates, creating an equal chance of survival.
She chuckled. "You suppose so?"
"Indeed. While my occupation is unheard of, I can conceive a few ways to support myself."
"Interesting. What do you do?"
"Hmm, I'd say I'm a 'Puppeteer.' I used to entertain young children with my handcrafted dolls and sold them to new mothers at times," I explained. "That was... until I became a social pariah. I was forgotten and shunned by my neighbours. No one wanted to acknowledge me, let alone accept my gifts for their children."
Melly considered consoling me, attempting to place her hand on my shoulder, but it must have made her uneasy. We'd hardly reached that level of intimacy, so she withdrew.
"I was already seen as odd because of my innocent crafts," I continued, "but I had to face even more humiliation when... my fiancé was arrested."
Shyly, I reached into my purse and presented a small doll. It was made out of thin yarn, paint and wood to allow the flexibility of its limbs, making it a little limp when held.
"I modelled this little nobleman after him. He was my source of comfort whenever I left my residence. If I left the residence that is. Most of the time I remained there, rarely coming into the sun to get my necessities."
Melly gently took the puppet out of my hands and observed it.
"He's quite a charming fellow," she complimented, brushing her fingers through his yarn hair. "Is it appropriate to ask why was he arrested?"
"He was framed," I whispered, playing with my fingers to deter my aggravation. "He was accused of murder. His goals were torn apart when his "mentor" accused him of scheming and robbing his ideas. He fought head and heels to get to where he was and that mentor treated him like he was nothing but dirt. Balzac was an honest man and would never sacrifice his passion in such an act!" I seethed.
Realizing my rising tantrum, and the eyes that shifted in my direction, I recoiled.
"Forgive me..." I whispered, burying my face in my hands. "The memory continues to haunt me."
Melly seemed to feel a tinge of empathy from my frustration. She responded with a small sigh. She must have had a similar experience of the sort. She inspected the puppet further, eyeing his design. Her body stiffened as if something clicked in her mind.
"Are you implying that your fiancé is Professor-"
Her sentence was interrupted by the creaking of a door and the ominous steps that had entered the room. No one was breathing at the moment, let alone moving. A faint hum of devious excitement echoed from behind the curtain.
"We'll have to discuss this later. The hunter has arrived."
Melly hastily returned the doll and ushered me out of the room.
"We have these matches in various locations, and today we'll be brought to the Red Church. The coaches are expecting us outside, so I shall meet you there. If I manage to escape, that is," she assured with a dry chuckle.
I nodded as she shut the door. My thumb brushed upon the smooth puppet's face as I processed my thoughts. I was troubled and terrified of what I would have to witness, but as long as he is here with me, I'll rest assured. I gave the doll's small head pat and was about to stroll away when a new voice emanated from the closed doors.
A voice that sounded all too familiar.
The voice that I thought I had forgotten.
"It p-pleases me that I get to team up with you once more, Melly dear. I overheard that you brought in the n-newcomer. Are they going to s-spectate our match right now?"
No. It can't be.
The wish. My hopes.
They weren't supposed to be fulfilled.
Shoving the puppet in my bag, I dashed back towards the room, desperately beating against the door.
"Miss Plinius! Please open the door! It's urgent!"
I set my ear against the door and realized that the room was empty. I almost stumbled over my feet as I headed towards the exit, bashing the doors open only to see two carriages already running along their route.
All but one was left behind.
Biting my thumb from distress, I hopped into one that was left and commanded the coachman to ride as fast as possible. Though, with his hollow eyes and sullen visage, I don't think that he would have taken demands from anyone if it killed him. He lashed his horse, and the carriage moved at its average pace.
The impatience that simmered within me was agonizing. I had to remain calm, but my heart was suffocating me, pleading for an answer. I slowly began to take deep breaths and soothe my nerves. If it were not for the muddy roads from the night before, I would have rushed through the path and followed the vehicles myself.
I jumped out of the cart as soon as it set foot in the Red Church. A part of me wanted to inspect the atmosphere and prepare myself for the terrible things that would occur, but other matters silenced my rationality.
My head whipped around in circles before I spotted them. The masked man and the gentleman with the stopwatch were the first to come out of their cart.
And there he was.
His dark chestnut hair was still tied into a ponytail, and his eyes remained exactly how I remembered them: imaginative and shimmering with pride. How I missed those eyes and his confident smile, but my heart sank as I saw his black eye. I never bid him a proper farewell after the accident, as the guards refused to let me. I did all it took to embrace him and kiss him one last time, but it was too late. He was condemned to hang, and those guards had no repentance for lashing at the one person who cared about him the most. My tears couldn't mend the scars they had carved on him,
But he was here. Right in front of me.
The realization begs the question: why?
Why didn't he return to me when we needed each other the most?
How was he suddenly bailed out?
Why is he here playing this game, and how long has he resided here?
Did he... still love me?
My heels moved on their own as my thoughts shifted elsewhere. "Lucas!" I cried with tears wetting my cheeks. As Melly came out of the cart, I threw myself onto the man who was brutally ripped from my arms.
"H-huh? H-hey, now... n-no need to mourn." I heard him console in my ear.
With my overflowing tears, I wept onto his striped shirt, "There are many things I can't fathom right now, but none of it matters now that you're with me. Please, never leave my side again!"
Suddenly, Melly embraced me from behind, and she chose to abruptly detach me from Lucas. My instincts got the best of me before she could reply, and I held onto Lucas even tighter.
"Just what are you doing!?" I screeched and even contemplated kicking her off.
"Please, Miss Y/n! There's something important you must know! Release him before he convulses!"
"Convulses!?"
"Let me explain once you let him go!"
"I don't-"
My words were cut off as Lucas began to quiver vigorously. His shivering led me to believe I'd harmed him, and I let go almost immediately, collapsing on top of Melly.
"I-I'm sorry-" I apologized before being stunned by the ear-splitting shriek emanating from my lover's lips.