Am I seeing things…?
Or has the blood from his hands gotten into my eyes?
Why is there so much blood?
My body stiffened.
Where are Mother and Father?
Where are Elder Brother and Youngest?
What's happening…?
Charlie's blood-soaked fingers trembled as they clamped over my mouth. The warmth of the blood smeared across my cheek, thick and metallic, making my stomach twist. His eyes—usually calm and steady—were wide and frantic, darting around the corridor like a cornered animal.
This wasn't the Charlie I knew.
This was someone desperate… and dangerous.
He dragged me forward, ignoring my stumbling steps. We headed toward the end of the corridor—toward Father's forbidden storeroom.
Even though it was just a storeroom, no one was ever allowed inside except Father. Not even Mother. My brothers and I always wondered what secrets Father kept locked away.
Yet tonight… Charlie had Father's bronze key.
He shoved it into the lock.
Click.
The door creaked open.
The air inside was cold and heavy. Dust covered most of the shelves except for a clear path where Father must have walked. Strange metal tools hung neatly on the walls, their edges catching the dim light. Even the silence felt thick, as though the room was holding its breath.
Charlie locked the door behind us and finally removed his hand from my mouth.
"Stay silent," he ordered sharply, already rifling through shelves and boxes.
I inched toward the door—slow, quiet, hoping to slip away.
But Charlie turned instantly, catching my wrist.
I tried to scream.
His bloody hand covered my mouth again.
"Young Master… please. Stay quiet, or else you'll die."
His whisper shook with fear—not of me, but of whatever was happening outside this room.
I nodded quickly.
He let go.
I stood frozen, my heart pounding painfully.
I wanted Mother.
I wanted Father.
I wanted this nightmare to stop.
Charlie pulled an old book from the top shelf. The moment he opened it, the bookshelf split into two—one half sliding right, the other left.
A hidden passageway.
He turned to me.
"Young Master, please follow me. There is no harm. Hurry."
"I-I… okay…"
I stepped into the passageway.
The stairs spiraled downward into darkness like the open throat of a beast. Candle flames lining the stone walls flickered violently as if startled by our arrival, stretching our shadows into twisted forms. Each step groaned beneath our feet, echoing hollowly into the depths.
"Move," Charlie urged.
I followed, trembling.
The gleam of the knife in his pocket killed any thought of escape.
Finally, after what felt like a hundred meters of descent, we reached a vast underground chamber. The air was colder here, carrying a faint metallic scent—like the taste of a blade pressed against the tongue.
Four massive bronze doors towered ahead, each carved with a unique symbol. Their surfaces glimmered faintly under the candlelight, as though they were aware of our presence.
Charlie immediately tried the doors.
The first didn't budge.
Nor the second.
Nor the third.
Nor the fourth.
His breathing grew ragged. Sweat mixed with dried blood on his hands, turning his grip slick. He shoved at the doors repeatedly, muttering under his breath, movements becoming increasingly frantic.
If he snapped now…
Would he hurt me?
I swallowed hard.
Charlie stepped back, wiped his forehead, and scanned the floor—
A small circular button near the steps caught his eye.
"There…!"
He rushed to it and pressed it with his boot.
Nothing.
He crouched and pushed it with his palm.
Then again.
Harder.
Nothing.
He tapped it.
Slid it.
Pressed it with both hands until his knuckles turned white.
The button didn't move.
Didn't glow.
Didn't make a sound.
Charlie's breath shook.
"This should work… Lord said this should work…" he muttered, voice trembling.
He slammed his fist on the floor, frustration twisting into fear.
I flinched back. My heel landed right on the button—
Click.
A faint golden glow pulsed beneath my foot.
Charlie froze.
Then—
A low, mechanical rumble echoed through the chamber as ancient gears awakened.
The ground trembled.
The circular platform at the center began to rotate and open, splitting apart.
Charlie stared at the glowing button beneath my foot, eyes widening in shock.
"It… it only responds to a family bloodline," he whispered, almost reverently.
From the depths below, a black-winged statue rose.
Obsidian. Gleaming. Cold.
Its wings were carved with terrifying precision, as though frozen mid-unfurl. Its hollow stone eyes seemed almost alive under the flickering candlelight. The statue held a stone book in both hands, offering it forward like a sacred gift.
Charlie stared at it in awe—then suddenly turned to me.
"Young Master… come here," he said softly, yet urgently.
My legs trembled.
"W-Why…?"
"Because it will only respond to you."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, ornate locket.
He pressed it into my hand.
"This belonged to your father. He said… only the rightful heir may stand before the statue."
My breath caught.
"R-Rightful… heir…?"
"No time," Charlie urged. "Wear it. Quickly."
My fingers shook as I fastened the cold chain around my neck. The metal warmed instantly, as though recognizing me.
Charlie guided me forward.
"Now… kneel," he instructed, lowering himself beside me. "Pray to the statue. It will listen to you."
I knelt.
The obsidian statue towered above me, its hollow eyes glowing faintly as I clasped my trembling hands.
Charlie bowed deeply.
"Offer your prayer, Young Master. Only then will it reveal its truth."
My throat tightened.
I didn't know what to say.
I didn't know how to pray.
But the locket pulsed warmly against my chest… urging me.
Slowly—
I opened my mouth.
And the ancient power within the statue stirred.