The statue's hollow eyes glowed faintly the moment my prayer began, casting a weak but eerie blue light across the chamber. Shadows rippled along the floor as though reacting to the awakening magic.
The stone fingers loosened with a soft crack—
And the ancient book drifted free, rising in the air as if pulled by invisible strings.
It hovered directly before my face, its pages fluttering without wind—before slowly snapping shut on their own.
My breath caught.
My hands shook.
The entire underground chamber seemed to hold its breath with me.
"Young Master, take the book," Charlie whispered urgently, eyes wide with expectation and fear.
I nodded weakly.
Hesitating, I reached out. The moment my fingertips brushed the cover, the book pulsed with a warm vibration—almost alive. The leathery surface felt older than time, etched with faded golden letters spelling:
MYSTICAL REALITY
The title alone sent a shiver down my spine.
As I held the book, the world around me began to blur.
The cold stone floor…
The flickering candles on the walls…
Even Charlie's voice…
Everything faded like mist.
The book pulled my gaze deeper—
as if threads of invisible light were weaving themselves around my consciousness.
"Young Master…?"
I didn't respond.
"Young Master, can you hear me!?" Charlie's voice echoed distantly.
"Huh!?"
I blinked hard, snapping out of the trance.
'What… did it do to me?'
My heart raced. I had forgotten where I was for a moment.
This book—
It wasn't normal.
It wasn't safe.
Panic surged through me and I shoved the book toward Charlie.
"Take it!"
But Charlie quickly shook his head.
"No." His tone held surprising finality. "Young Master, this book belongs to you. Not me."
"H-Huh…?"
I stared blankly at him. None of this made sense.
If the book wasn't what he wanted…
What did he want?
What was so important he'd risk betraying the family?
Before I could ask, Charlie straightened sharply, expression tightening.
"Young Master, we must leave. Now. Staying here any longer will put you in great danger."
"Wh-what!?"
My mind spun faster than I could keep up.
Guiding me firmly, Charlie began ascending the stairs.
I followed, clutching the book, its surface still faintly warm against my fingers.
The spiral staircase loomed above us—narrow, shadow-drenched, the candle flames bending and flickering as though whispering warnings. Our footsteps echoed up the stone walls like an urgent heartbeat.
Charlie wasn't the traitor.
That much was clear.
Then who…?
What happened to Father?
Mother?
My brothers?
The questions clawed at me as we reached the top.
Charlie pushed the secret bookshelf-door closed, returned the activating book to its shelf slot, and locked everything back into place with practiced precision.
He pressed his ear to the storeroom door.
Not a sound.
Only after a long moment did he turn the key and crack it open.
The dim corridor outside was silent—but not peaceful.
The shadows seemed thicker, heavier, as though soaked with dread.
Charlie motioned for me to follow.
We slipped out like ghosts.
My eyes were pulled immediately to the stairs—
the same stairs I had seen earlier.
That horrifying trail of blood was still there—
thick, dark, smeared across the marble like the remnants of a nightmare.
But this time, the metallic smell hit me sharply.
Fresh.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
My chest tightened.
No…
No, please…
Tears gathered in my eyes. My throat closed painfully.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be real.
I looked at Charlie with trembling hope—begging him to deny it.
But he only lowered his gaze… and nodded.
My world shattered.
A cold numbness spread through my limbs.
My heart raced so fast it hurt.
Tears streamed down uncontrollably.
No…
No, no, no…
A soft hand gripped my shoulder.
"Young Master," Charlie whispered, voice thick with sorrow, "you must be strong. We have to move."
"What are you talking about!?" I cried in a hoarse whisper. "I want to see Father and Mother! Where are my brothers!? I have to see them!"
I tried to run down the stairs—
But Charlie grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth again, pulling me back into the shadows.
At that moment—
I saw them.
Strangers.
Dressed in dark clothing.
Armed with weapons—swords, blades, axes, and even strange tools I'd never seen.
They were searching the floor below.
"Did you find them?" one asked.
"No," another replied. "I think they escaped. We checked every room, but no one's here. But one room upstairs is locked. They might be hiding there."
My heart plummeted.
"The storeroom," the first man muttered. "Check it. If they escaped, Master will kill us."
"Yes, let's go."
Their footsteps began to climb the stairs.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deadly.
Charlie's grip tightened around me.
We were out of time.