Chapter 492: Doll’s Drawing Board

When Duncan first laid eyes on the figure, resting peacefully amidst the vibrant blossoms and foliage of the garden, a familiar sensation surged within him. The name tied to that figure started to form on his lips. However, just as he was about to utter it, he caught himself, a shiver of realization running down his spine. Memories flooded back from a recent incident at the opulent dormitory. He had mistaken the chilling face of Ray Nora, known as the Frost Queen, for someone else. Could this be another similar case?

A mix of curiosity and unease began to well up in Duncan’s heart. Treading carefully, he moved closer to the slumbering figure, eager to confirm its identity. As he knelt down to take a closer look, details began to emerge.

The telltale spherical joints that pieced the figure together and the unmistakably smooth, colorless complexion, as white as freshly fallen snow or pure porcelain, were evident. This had to be Alice! His concern was quickly replaced by a rush of relief. But as he observed further, Duncan’s eyes were drawn to the elaborate design of black thorns that encased Alice.

These thorns sprung from the surrounding flower bushes, wrapping and winding around Alice’s delicate, porcelain-like form, crafting an ornate yet somewhat eerie semblance of a skirt. It seemed as if Alice was cradled by the very flora of the garden, completely unaware of Duncan’s presence or his voice calling out to her.

Being wary of the sharp thorns, Duncan tenderly reached out to touch Alice’s face, whispering, “Alice, can you hear me?”

His fingers met a cold, unyielding surface, much like that of a dormant doll. There was no reaction from Alice; she remained undisturbed in her deep sleep. Duncan’s gaze then caught a peculiar detail – tightly grasped in Alice’s hand was what appeared to be a painter’s board. Although the same thorny vines snaked around her wrist, Duncan noticed gaps that indicated the board could be carefully removed.

After a moment of hesitation, Duncan gently gripped the edge of the board. He carefully extracted it, always casting a nervous glance towards Alice, fearing his actions might disturb her. Yet, she remained still, ensconced in her dreams.

Duncan breathed a sigh of relief and shifted his focus to the board he had freed. Before him was a canvas painted with wild bursts of colors and unpredictable lines, eerily reflecting the strange sky that dominated the garden overhead. The artwork had the raw touch of a child’s hand, capturing surreal and abstract scenes.

The canvas displayed a captivating vortex of colors, with a plethora of shades spiraling dynamically, occupying a vast portion of the painting. The remainder of the artwork was dotted with shimmering points and intersecting lines that gave the impression of a starry constellation. And right at the very epicenter of this colorful tumult, there was a deep, throbbing shade of red that seemed to demand attention.

Even though the artwork appeared childishly simple and naively executed, there was something about that deep red core that made Duncan feel uneasy. It emanated a potent aura of danger, and the more Duncan stared, the more familiar it felt. Rummaging through his memories, trying to locate a similar sensation, he finally pinpointed it.

However, the puzzle pieces were still too scant and cloaked in ambiguity. It felt like a tantalizingly opaque riddle, shedding minimal light and spawning more speculative interpretations than verifiable truths. Duncan sighed, momentarily letting go of the bittersweet sting of unfulfillment. He methodically surveyed the garden’s hauntingly quiet and lush expanse, searching for any overlooked clues. Though bathed in an eerie stillness, the setting showcased nothing but a vibrant greenery mesh punctuated by artistically crafted pathways. He inevitably gravitated back towards the resting “doll.”

Circling the inert entity labeled as “Alice,” Duncan was suddenly stopped in his tracks by an intriguing find. A tiny keyhole was etched onto the doll! But it wasn’t discretely tucked behind her dress as one might expect; instead, it was conspicuously situated right on the nape of her porcelain neck. This specific detail captured Duncan’s interest. He found himself inexplicably drawn, almost magnetically, closer to inspect this minute aperture.

Indeed, the presence of a keyhole on this garden’s doll was intriguing, but why was its location distinct from that on the Alice he knew? Could the keyhole’s unique positioning be indicative of a deeper, metaphorical message? Given the array of mystifying events he’d experienced in this surreal realm, Duncan naturally started to contemplate such symbolic interpretations. But he quickly reeled in these ruminations, realizing they might be rabbit holes leading to mere speculation without definite conclusions. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Duncan cautiously retrieved a petite brass key from his pocket. This key had mysteriously manifested in his hand upon his arrival in Alice’s enigmatic mansion. Was this key specifically designed for this very keyhole?

With this hypothesis dancing at the forefront of his thoughts, Duncan made a decisive move. He delicately aligned the key with the keyhole on the doll’s nape and tenderly inserted it, awaiting the outcomes of his action.

With a faint, delicate click, the key seamlessly engaged with the intricate internal mechanism of the doll. Without any prompt, it began to rotate autonomously, mirroring its behavior from a prior experience. As it did, a familiar, almost nostalgic sensation enveloped Duncan. The world around him seemed to pulse, alternating between darkness and illumination. His senses momentarily disoriented, giving way to a brief sensation of floating in the void, only to be followed by the reassuring feeling of firm ground beneath his shoes. In a disorientingly swift transition, Duncan found himself ensconced in the familiar, warmly lit ambiance of the captain’s quarters aboard the Vanished.

Directly in his line of sight emerged the gleaming, porcelain-white curvature of a spine. Alice sat there, gracefully poised on an ornate stool, patiently awaiting the ritualistic winding that would give her movement. The abrupt shift in environment left Duncan momentarily stunned, rendering him lost for words. As he processed the rapid change, a whimsical, almost playful thought danced across his mind, “Imagine the amusement of fastening some firecrackers to this pristine back.”

With her heightened sense of hearing, Alice caught a hint of the captain’s murmur. Delicately and with great care, she rotated her head, making sure not to displace her dress. A note of curiosity marked her voice, “Captain? What was it that you uttered?”

Realizing his musings might have been audible, Duncan was quick to recover. He cleared his throat, attempting to shrug off his initial shock, and replied with a nonchalant, “Oh, merely thinking out loud,” while deftly retracting the key from its resting place.

“Is our session concluded? Are you feeling okay?” Alice’s query took Duncan by surprise. She reached behind, feeling for the latch on her back, her eyes widening in astonishment. “But we’ve just started.”

Duncan’s motion of removing the key halted momentarily, the implications dawning upon him. The myriad adventures and the seemingly interminable span he had endured within the enigma of “Alice’s Mansion” had, in this reality, transpired within the merest fraction of a second.