The door to the cellar swung shut. He had fallen to the floor at some point, unable to bear the stench of blood. The Maid stood behind Him, her arms wrapped around His shoulders.
The Maid's voice was chillingly gentle.
— That was quite horrific, wasn't it? Are you feeling unwell, Master? Oh my. You're shaking, Master. Fear not. I assure you, the beast will not come through that door. I am here for you, and I will continue to hold you for as long as you need to settle your nerves. Oh dear. You feel like you might freeze in my arms? Am I really that cold? I cannot tell my own temperature, hehe… You wish to know what happened to Bestia after that? I could open the door once more and show you… Hehehe… But I have no intention of knowingly tossing you back into that den of horrors. He lost the rest of his humanity, becoming wholly beast. But, hmm… To tell just a little more of the tale, it is my understanding that an entire village was ravaged shortly thereafter. He was a bewitchingly talented swordsman. Not a single person living in that village could stand up to himself. In the woman's memories you saw, he was a gentle man, yes? But even the mildest of men and change. Though personally, I believe that without an element of monstrousness buried somewhere within, a man cannot become a beast–regaredless of what may push him in that direction. Do you follow? Hehe… Now tell me, Master, have you remembered anything? Oh dear. I was afraid of that. I am a remarkably patient maid. I shall accompany you for as long as you require. So do please find your memories. Now, let us head to the next door. The mansion is quite large, so hold onto my hand. We would not want to get separated.
He and the Maid traveled down the dimly lit hall, passing by the mirror once again.
The light from the candle in the Maid's hand was the only thing that reflected in it–the Main herself did not appear.
However, just as He was about to avert His eyes…
He thought He caught a glimpse of white hair.
He heard a voice echo in the darkness.
And when He turned to face the mirror again, the glass was the color of obsidian, as if it had been painted over.
The voice seemed to be coming from beyond the mirror.
The Maid did not turn back, evidently having not heard anything.
He extended His hand toward the darkness overrunning the mirror.
The second His hand brushed against the surface, the tips of His fingers sunk into…
and the next thing He realized, His whole world was sinking into darkness.
He could hear a voice…
I am… the witch…
…..
— It's getting foggy. Looks like it might rain… Maybe we should take a little break. You want to keep going? Oh… all right, then.
…..
— This deep in the forest? Thank you… very much. You must be tired after such a long journey. This is… the mansion I am looking for, yes? He could have said something. Oh well. I should get going, I guess. Does no one live here? But if that's the case… then why was I…? Such a big door… Please open… It's not locked, I guess…
…..
— I wonder… if the windows open. Darn… not a hint light. Hello…? Is anyone there? Please don't tell me it's actually abandoned. I suppose I can't know without looking around a bit more. What do we have here? Drapes? I see a little light beyond–...! It's so pretty… It looks like an angel? Why would someone cover this up? It's beautiful. With a little more light, it'd be–
— Please do not touch the drapes. Or the windows.
— U-Um… I-I'm sorry for coming in uninvited… But, um, I did announce myself… Is this, um… your mansion?
— It is.
— Thank goodness… I was afraid it was deserted.
— I suspect you would have preferred it if the house were abandoned.
— Oh, not at all. I would be scared to death staying in this dark mansion all by myself. Ah… I'm sorry. No ill will intended. But I do think it could do with some light. That way, you could see where you were walking. And I'm sure this room would look splendid illuminated.
— Not necessary. I make do perfectly well as things are.
— How can you see when it's so dark?
— I have an abundance of candles, and oil for lamps. I am not in want of means of creating light. It is not your place to criticize my lifestyle. If you need light, you are free to leave. If you are in need of money, help yourself to some of the furniture. There's a village not far from here. Trade it for good, then your way to a larger town.
— I am no longer able… to freely return to the city. I cannot go back there. Please… don't chase me out.
— I see… And do you ask this of me aware of how people refer to this mansion?
— They say… that witch lives here.
— Not merely a witch.
— A cursed witch.
— If you remain here, you too shall likely suffer your own destruction.
— You're worried for my well-being? Witch or not, my mind is made up.
— Which will strike you first, I wonder–regret, or the curse?
— You seem to be doing just fine. It's only a tale…
— The witch is real. Very much so. It is not a legend, nor a fairy tale. The witch–
The witch's name was Morgana.
— –is me.
…
What was that…?
Giselle…?
— Oh my. What is the matter, Master? Why are you just standing in place? There is nothing there.
The Maid did not seem to have seen anything.
He made to ask her about the scene He had just witnessed.
–!
— Master…? You look like you've just seen a ghost. What is the matter? How about a little rest before we move on? You do not wish to remain here? Hehe… Still not fond of mirrors? Yes, yes. Now let us be off. I too dearly wish for you to return to your old self as soon as possible, Master. If your desire is to push onward, then I could hardly be happier. Now, follow me.
He followed the Maid's lead, returned to the living room. From there, He climbed a set of stairs, His hands sliding through the dust that had settled on the ebony railing.
When He stepped out of sight of the mirror, the Maid returned to normal.
He had been on the verge of remembering something… but He was no longer in a position to be concerned about such things…
for the chill in the air within the mansion seemed to have intensified.
Standing at one end of a long corridor, He asked the Maid–
— When was the mansion built? I would imagine you know more about that than me, Master. Hehehe. Yes, I know. You have not yet regained your memories. I was simply teasing you. I have been a servant of this house for many, many years, but the truth is, I do not know everything about it. All I know is that the mansion is cursed, and that it has brought misfortune upon its residents… since times of old. I can make a conjecture as to when it began… but I believe you should figure it out for yourself, Master. There is no guarantee my perspective is the correct one. Now, let us proceed.
He and the Maid traveled down the dimly lit corridor.
While the layout of the house was the same as in the eras of the flaxen-haired boy and the beast, the bleak, colorless gloom felt incredibly dreary.
On the wall partway down the hall hung a painting.
The painting, which depicted a beautiful landscape, was oddly entrancing, but He did not have time to appreciate the artwork.
His hand in the Maid's, He passed by the painting,
Before long, a door came into sight at the end of the hall.
— This door is what I would like to show you next, Master. Listen closely. Do you hear the voices? Lively by rough, energetic by coarse. What lies beyond this door is neither period of elegance and abundance like the first, nor one of ruin and savagery like the second. Technology and culture had become quite developed–cameras and photography had been invented. It was a time of great progress and many breakthroughs. And for that reason, those who lived in it were constantly seeking to try new things. The tale I am about to tell you is one of a man who wagered everything on his ambitions. I hope that what you see, Master, will stir something in your heart. Now, through the door we go. Please, do not let go of my hand.
The Maid pushed open the door.
Colorful balls bounced around atop a long, dark-green table. One man, dressed in black and standing by the billiards table, turned toward the door.
The room was inundated with eye-watering cigar smoke, causing Him to squeeze His eyes shut.