Chapter 490: Alice’s Mansion

From this elevated vantage point, Duncan had a sweeping view of the expansive and impressive interiors of an ancient mansion, which was both grandiose and beautifully preserved. Every intricate detail and ornate carving within the mansion reminded him of a chamber he once knew – the chamber of the Frost Queen Ray Nora. As this realization dawned upon him, a jolt of thrill surged through his body, compelling him to turn his attention to other parts of the mansion.

Directly opposite his position on the staircase, the second floor opened up to an elongated corridor that exuded an air of mystery. The walls of this passage were adorned with age-old paintings, whose details had been blurred by time, interspersed with black iron candlesticks. These candlesticks held candles whose weak flames flickered, casting a ghostly illumination. The corridor seemed to culminate at a distant endpoint, where Duncan could make out a door. Intuitively, he believed this door led to the chambers of the mansion’s lord or master.

Resolute in his curiosity, Duncan began his trek down the corridor. Each step he took on the ancient wooden floorboards elicited a creak, the sound echoing eerily in the hushed surroundings. The quivering candlelight, disturbed by his movement, created dancing shadows on the walls, further intensifying the corridor’s spooky ambiance. However, as he approached the end of the corridor, a startling discovery stopped him in his tracks.

Confusion furrowed his brow when he saw that the regal door he had spotted from afar was nowhere to be found. In its place was a damaged portion of the floor, looking as though it had been viciously torn apart. The walls and ceiling too bore this devastation, with massive cracks that gaped open to reveal an infinite expanse of blackness.

Approaching the edge of the damaged floor, Duncan cautiously leaned forward, attempting to comprehend the vast darkness that stretched below. He looked around, trying to find any semblance of the rest of the mansion. But it was as though the corridor he stood in was hanging in a void, cut off from everything else. Duncan recalled seeing a door and a room at the corridor’s end, but now, it seemed as though they had been cruelly ripped away, disappearing into the vast chasm.

Lost in his thoughts, Duncan’s contemplation was suddenly broken by a soft rustling sound nearby. Startled, he turned to find a figure draped in black and inexplicably missing its head, methodically dusting a marble stand against one of the corridor’s walls.

Feeling both wary and curious, Duncan took cautious steps towards this enigmatic figure. Unlike the fleeting ghosts he had met in the past, this one didn’t vanish. As he drew closer, the headless figure straightened up and, in a gesture of decorum, gave a slight bow. This action, reminiscent of a professional butler’s manners, was rendered eerie and unnerving due to the conspicuous absence of its head.

“What are you in search of, honored guest?” Strangely disembodied, a voice emanated from the headless figure’s chest. Though it held a courteous tone, it cast a shiver down Duncan’s spine. Still, he had encountered many peculiarities in his journeys through this strange realm, so pushing away his trepidation, Duncan maintained a calm demeanor as he engaged with the bizarre being in front of him.

“What happened to the room at the end of this hallway? Why can’t I see it anymore?”

“The room has moved on,” intoned the headless entity, its words echoing with a deep resonance. “It transitioned from this realm a very long time ago.”

Puzzlement creased Duncan’s brow, prompting him to probe further. “What of its occupant? I believed someone was supposed to reside there. Where are they?”

“The room’s mistress went with it. They both left our plane of existence together many years ago,” the headless one explained.

“But how can that be?” Duncan questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I was under the impression it had only been a short while.”

“With the key you possess, you’re granted the authority to access any part of this mansion, including the entrance to the garden. If you would kindly follow, I’ll escort you there,” the figure intoned.

Gratefully, Duncan nodded, then proceeded to tail the figure, which led him to the majestic spiral staircase connecting the mansion’s levels.

While traversing the mansion en route to the garden, Duncan seized the opportunity to inquire further, aiming to extract every bit of knowledge from his guide. “What role do you play in this vast establishment?”

“I serve as the butler of this mansion,” the figure, now distinguishably the butler, responded. “Seeing the hesitation amongst the maids and other staff to interact with you, I deemed it fitting to assist and cater to your needs.”

The painting depicted a verdant landscape with a majestic tree at its center, its branches laden with resplendent blossoms. The ethereal beauty of the painting stood in stark contrast to the mansion’s haunting ambiance. Delicate petals, seemingly caught in a gentle breeze, floated down to a shimmering pond below. Upon closer examination, Duncan could discern faint, ethereal figures sitting under the tree, their contours blurred, almost melding into the background, as though they were memories fading away.

The artistry was impeccable, but what truly captivated Duncan was the deep melancholy and yearning it emanated—reminiscent of souls in search of something they might never find.

Duncan traced a finger gently across the canvas, feeling the texture beneath his fingertips. It was a touchstone to the very essence of the mansion, reflecting the sorrow of souls adrift, seeking solace.

“Such paintings are scattered throughout the mansion. They capture the collective memories and feelings of the souls that reside here,” the headless butler remarked, sensing Duncan’s fascination.

He added, “Over time, as souls forget their identities, they leave traces of their essence behind. This mansion, with its many paintings, murals, and artifacts, serves as a tapestry of lost memories. For the few who still remember, these paintings are reminders of days long past. For others, they are simply beautiful relics of an unknown history.”

Duncan turned to the butler, his gaze thoughtful. “Such a poignant testament to the transient nature of existence. These souls, once full of life and vigor, are now just fleeting memories, immortalized on canvas.”

The butler tilted what would’ve been its head, a gesture reminiscent of acknowledgment. “Indeed, sir. Existence is fleeting, but memories, even if faded, have a way of persisting.”

They both stood silently for a moment, absorbing the profoundness of the artwork before Duncan finally broke the silence. “Let’s proceed. I’d like to meet the mistress and perhaps find more such memories along the way.”

The butler obliged, leading Duncan further into the maze-like corridors of the mansion.