Chapter 493: The Stolen Room

Duncan felt a whirlwind of questions and theories spinning in his mind as he gingerly placed the brass key into his pocket. Standing next to him, Alice seemed alert and watchful, her eyes shifting from one thing to another like a child on the brink of uncovering a hidden secret.

“Has anything changed for you, Alice? Do you feel different in any way?” Duncan questioned, his gaze searching Alice’s eyes for an answer.

“Different?” Alice tilted her head to one side as if pondering the question. She absentmindedly reached behind her to scratch her back, then finally shook her head. “Well, I felt a brief itch near where the keyhole was, but that sensation has already passed. Why? Should something have changed?”

Duncan couldn’t help but frown at her response. “Is that all? No other sensations or feelings?”

Alice looked back at him with genuine curiosity. “That’s everything. Why do you ask? You look rather serious. Do you know what that key is supposed to unlock?”

Gathering his thoughts, Duncan hesitated briefly before settling down on the bed opposite Alice. “What may have seemed like just a moment to you was actually a much longer span of time for me. I found myself in a bizarre place—an immense, antiquated mansion named ‘Alice’s Mansion.'”

Alice, who was designed to resemble a Gothic-style doll, widened her eyes in a combination of astonishment and confusion as Duncan recounted his tale.

Not wanting to hold anything back, Duncan delved into the details of his experiences in Alice’s Mansion. He described the things he had seen and heard, as well as the bizarre underwater adventures he’d had, including his encounter with a mysterious entity known as the Frost Queen, Ray Nora.

He was fully aware that Alice might only comprehend fragments of his story, and even the parts she did understand could be bewildering. Yet he chose to reveal everything to her because he believed she deserved to know. He refused to underestimate her by thinking, “She won’t get it anyway,” and thereby keeping her in the dark.

Alice maintained an empty expression while listening to him and didn’t speak until several seconds after he had finished talking. “Wow,” she finally said, clearly overwhelmed.

She ran her fingers through her hair, her face etched with confusion and a hint of regret. “I’m sorry, Captain. I don’t fully understand what you’re saying. My thoughts feel muddled.”

“You’re not slow, Alice. All of this is extraordinarily complex,” Duncan reassured her, having anticipated her reaction. He shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m baffled myself. We have a plethora of clues, but they’re all fragmented and disconnected. We are far from piecing together this elaborate puzzle.”

Alice nodded, absorbing what she could from his words. She then furrowed her brow, deep in thought, before her curiosity seemed to resurface. “Tell me, were there many other people in this ‘Mansion’? And was it true that none of them had heads?”

“When I was inside the mansion, I met only one person, a man who introduced himself as the butler of the estate,” Duncan began, recounting his unique experiences. “He mentioned that the mansion is full of inhabitants, but that they prefer to remain hidden. What I found most unsettling was that they all appeared to be headless servants or attendants.”

Alice knitted her brows and murmured to herself as she grappled with the information. “Could this strange phenomenon be connected to my ‘Guillotine’ ability, which allows me to behead people?”

“It’s a possibility,” Duncan replied, keenly aware of Alice’s unique power. “Some of these mysterious attendants might actually be the souls of people you’ve decapitated using your ability.” He paused, choosing his words carefully before adding, “However, the butler did mention that the mansion serves as a sanctuary for ‘drifting souls’ who have found refuge there. These souls did not appear to be victims of decapitation.”

Duncan fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. “I wonder if your guillotine ability might somehow influence the appearance of the souls in the mansion, making them seem headless, regardless of how they actually arrived there.”

Duncan looked puzzled, almost bemused by her tale. “Let’s momentarily ignore the oddity of sailors stealing salted fish and why a captain would sail across the sea to get it back. The problem is, I don’t even know where to start looking for Ray Nora. And really, it should be you who seeks her out, given that she ‘stole’ something connected to your mansion. After all, you are the mistress of Alice’s Mansion.”

“Fair enough,” Alice quickly conceded, shaking her head. “To be honest, that room was originally hers to begin with. But what confuses me is her motive. You said earlier that a ‘Drifting Nexus,’ when detached, might end up anywhere, even in the terrifying subspace. Why would she take such a drastic risk?”

Duncan paused, sinking into deep contemplation before finally speaking. “Yes, that’s the real question, isn’t it?”

He thought back to the Ray Nora he had met—a tragic figure wrapped in metaphorical chains from birth to her fall from grace. Even in exile at the ocean’s depths, she seemed imprisoned by an unending nightmare.

She had described her existence as being forever trapped in a cage, even when the physical bars were gone.

And now, it seemed, she had managed to escape—but took that cage along with her.

“Maybe she sought ‘freedom,'” Duncan mused quietly, the word hanging in the air like a question.

But could the entire enigma really boil down to something as simple, yet complex, as “freedom”?

...

As the submersible ascended through the depths of the ocean, the needle on the control panel quivered with increasing frequency. The gentle rocking of the vessel, a sign that they were getting closer to the water’s surface, became more noticeable. Through the thick glass porthole, weak rays of sunlight began to pierce the surrounding aquatic darkness, signaling that they were emerging from the abyss.

However, despite nearing the surface and its accompanying sunlight, the gloomy atmosphere cultivated in the deep ocean didn’t entirely dissipate. It was as if an ethereal weight from the boundless void below was rising alongside them. Invisible tendrils of unease seemed to extend upwards, almost like arms reaching out to hold back the intrepid explorers who had dared to venture into these untamed depths.

Duncan’s mind was awash with a whirlwind of thoughts, a kaleidoscope of revelations that were as exhilarating as they were perplexing and unsettling. Whether it was the enigmatic soul of the Frost Queen, who had lingered with ancient gods in the abyss for half a century, or the chilling implications that threatened to overturn accepted views of reality, any single notion was enough to shiver the spine of even the most stalwart and pious individuals—light of day be damned.

The radical idea that all life forms were offspring of ancient gods—that the essence of these gods lay dormant in each being, waiting to awaken—was a concept so outrageous that not even the most blasphemous texts had dared articulate it. Even the fervent adherents of extreme ideologies like those worshiping the Nether Lord barely broached such sweeping cosmic theories.

The sunlight penetrating the ocean became increasingly bright, a stark contrast to the gloom that still held sway in their hearts and minds.

And yet, for a corpse, no amount of sunlight could bring warmth.

Agatha folded her hands over her chest, her mind reaching out to her deity, Bartok, as she sought to engage in silent prayer.

Despite her desperate attempts, she couldn’t find the tranquility required to do so. The peace that usually accompanied her communion with the divine was elusive, overpowered by the unsettling truths and questions that now plagued her mind.