NOVEL NEXT WORLD Pastel hugged her longsword and twirled around the room. Her winter dress fluttered.
“My friend~,” she hummed.
“I feel like you could be my guarantor for my debts~.”
The new room was completely empty, but she felt no dissatisfaction. Her previously blocked feelings were finally released.
How long had she yearned for a proper weapon? Though it had some nicks, it was a formidable sword.
“I’m sorry to the table leg that worked hard during tough times. I think this broken longsword is better.”
Pastel held the longsword in the middle of the room. She marvelously examined the blade.
That sharpness!
A power that could tear through leather and flesh!
Gone was the Pastel that used to overthink every move in attack. Only she, who would take down monsters as a pre-dessert, remained.
She spun as she walked.
“Swish!”
She slashed the blade in a sweeping motion.
“Swoosh!”
The sword’s attack dominated the space around her.
Her heart raced.
Now, she could catch anything. Bring it on. She’d chop it into pieces with her amazing sword skills!
With confident strides, she approached what seemed to be the entrance hall. Carefully peeking around, she checked the blind spots with a mirror.
This was the third floor.
An enormous staircase led down to the second floor and then to the entrance hall.
A shadow of black energy flickered on the second-floor landing.
Ha, not afraid at all.
What foolish monster would become her dessert?
A bipedal being from beyond.
It was an unfamiliar yet oddly familiar sight.
A medieval knight.
Inhuman hands gripped a black longsword. Full plate armor covered its entire body in black.
Pastel froze in shock.
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Pastel dropped to the floor, crawling away to escape the knight’s sight, as if she were a little bug.
I’m a caterpillar.
A caterpillar.
She finally arrived at the opposite hallway and stood up. Shivering, she shook off her winter dress.
Seriously, I don’t think full plate armor is necessary for this. That longsword looks even better than my broken one. Shouldn’t a barbaric danger creature refrain from using developed tools?
Grumbling, she searched the rooms. There were stairs down to the lower floor, but she didn’t want to risk coming within the knight’s sight.
Around the hallway corner stood a wolf. It showcased the taste of her new friend.
As the wolf lunged at her, she swung her sword. Despite some resistance, it cut cleanly through.
Leather peeled away, and the wolf bled black energy. Running towards the staggering wolf, she pierced it, swiftly bringing it to its end.
“Easy-peasy! You’re just an appetizer!”
Pastel hummed to herself. Slicing through the wolf felt oddly empowering. Was it just her imagination?
After eating her meat pudding and searching the remaining rooms, she found no more monsters on the entire third floor.
Complete reclamation.
Thanks to this, she could tremble in every room that had been emptied.
“Father……!”
If only her benevolent and beautiful mother were still alive, the house wouldn’t be in such disarray.
The only furniture she found was a large bookshelf that dominated one wall. Other than that, this room was also empty.
She inspected the discoloration on the floor where furniture had clearly once placed. It looked like the home office of the head of the Craft Family.
“Wow, this is my office, huh?”
There should be a desk and chair for work, but they were nowhere to be found? I figured as much.
Pastel glanced at the books.
History, traditions, customs, and guidelines of the Craft family.
Titles that covered various fields and often delved into the details.
She pulled out a guidebook for the head of the family and skimmed through it.
“Oh, is this about monarchy studies?”
It explicitly detailed how to stab allied families in the back.
“Deception is more about the aftermath than the success. After obtaining what you desire, induce internal discord. Then, lend support to one side while proposing alliance again.”
Wow.
Pastel gasped, flipping to the practical guidelines. It was filled with anecdotes and insights from past heads of the family.
“A powerful method is for the current head to betray while the successive head proposes an earnest apology for re-alliance. Concoct schemes that span generations with the final surviving heir. The opponent will fall helplessly.”
Most of what was written seemed to be about foul deeds. As she flipped further, it became clear that her suspicion was no illusion.
Wow, our family seems incredibly evil.
Is betraying and dividing up our hobby?
Why does the traditional play seem so off-brand? It’s a million light-years away from pink and fluffy!
Maybe they were fine because they looked like this?
Goodness.
This doesn’t fit my kind and positive personality at all.
She returned the book to its place.
She’d checked all the rooms.
Now what?
“Is it really a good idea to fight someone in full plate armor?”
Isn’t that just a suicide mission?
Should I take a detour? Detour seems right.
I’m not some meat pudding addict, anyway.
Thinking about meat pudding made her mouth water, and her mind started to fog.
She quickly shook it off.
No, no.
I’m not addicted to some weird dessert. I’m just eating it because it’s delicious and helpful.
Forget about the second floor. I’ll just go straight down the stairs. The kitchen should be on the first floor.
She rubbed her hungry stomach.
Her stamina was fine, but…
Her soul felt empty.
It felt like someone had sucked away her soul and run off.
Something was off about her condition. She needed to eat some real food.
As she opened the door and turned her head, Pastel froze. A black figure was visible at the end of the hallway.
The knight in full plate armor was walking with its head down, scanning the floor. It seemed to be following some trace.
There were no actual traces on the ground. Or perhaps, it simply appeared that way to the scientific standard.
Meat pudding flashed through her mind.
Black energy was swirling.
Oh no.
The knight slowly lifted its head and quickly scanned its surroundings. Then, it finally spotted Pastel.
The red glow from its helmet flickered.
The black knight charged at her. The heavy weight made a sound.
Ahhh…!
Pastel quickly shut the door. She hastily locked it. Just then, the door was kicked in. The lock rattled violently. The sound of splintering wood could be heard vaguely.
The wooden door couldn’t hold.
She rushed to the window. Peering outside, she surveyed the monster-filled ground.
Which is less dangerous, climbing the walls or facing the knight?
One of the demonic beings hurled a boulder through the window. Though it missed, the thud sent chills down her spine.
Both are suicide missions.
The door was kicked down. The outer side had been damaged, and the sound of the splintering wood was distinct.
Oh no no no.
She frantically searched the room. This was the head’s office. Surely, there would be some emergency measures. Like a hidden exit or something.
A hidden exit?
Her gaze shifted to the bookshelf. In this room, all the furniture had been sold off, except for the intact bookshelf.
They wouldn’t sell books that contained the family’s secrets, would they? But perhaps the bookshelf was embedded in the structure?
The door was kicked down again. The sound of splintering wood rang loudly.
Her hair stood on end.
Pastel dashed towards the bookshelf. It was impossible to knock it down, so she pushed the books aside roughly, clearing one line and then another.
She discovered one book that wouldn’t budge.
What’s this?
It was a book firmly secured to the shelf.
With great effort, she pushed it in, causing a prickle in her fingers. Ouch? A drop of blood landed on the book, and something clicked.
The sound of grinding gears echoed from behind the bookshelf. The bookshelf shifted, revealing a dark passage.
It was a spiral staircase going down.
Wow.
Pastel hurriedly grabbed her sword and shield. She leaped into the spiral staircase. The sound of the door breaking echoed behind her. The bookshelf shut.
The spiral staircase seemed steep, descending vertically. It was dark, making her dependent on a glowing paint.
Pastel rushed down the stairs, realizing only later that there were no pursuers.
“Phew, I made it….”
She caught her breath. The musty air filled her lungs. The dark space finally registered in her mind.
But where am I? Is this really an emergency exit? I hope it leads outside the mansion. If not, maybe to the kitchen at least.
After descending for a while, she reached a basement. Candlelight flickered on the walls, illuminating the interior.
“Wow.”
One wall was entirely filled by a bookshelf. In front of it sat a modest table and chairs.
Gosh.
The furniture arrangement is intact…!
Pastel was touched in a way she shouldn’t have been.
A leather pouch resting on the bookshelf caught her eye.
Huh, what’s that?
She dashed over to it and opened it to find jewels and coins sparkling within.
Unidentified gems, gold coins, silver coins.
“Whoa.”
How many longswords could this buy?
It was shocking.
I wasn’t a beggar.
She picked up the pouch and reveled in its weight. It wasn’t as heavy as she thought it could be for emergency funds.
But at least she wouldn’t starve for a while. Maintaining noble-like dignity might be impossible, though.
She gently set the pouch down.
Across from the bookshelf was an iron cage. A single sword was stuck inside it.
Pastel couldn’t help but compare the longsword to the one in the cage.
It’s clearly better than the friend I just met today!
She wanted to compare them side by side, but that was impossible. There was no door to the cage. What is this? Just for decoration?
Pastel shook the bars tightly but ultimately gave up. Licking her lips in disappointment, she continued to explore the basement.
The remaining wall was just a wall.
Hmm.
She nodded, then paused.
“Huh?”
She quickly scanned the basement.
No matter how she looked at it, it was a dead-end space.
To get out, she’d have to ascend the spiral staircase again.
Her hair stood on end.
The red glow of the helmet flashed in her mind.
Am I…?
Am I a mouse caught in a trap?
“Ahhh!”
No wonder my name is Pastel Love Craft. The universe must be messing with me. I tried to rationalize it, but it felt really strange.
In the end, I became just like my name.
“My life is a cosmic horror, ugh.”
From now on, anyone who mistakenly calls me Pastel Lovecraft will have no argument against it. Not that there’s anyone to call me that, though.
Yet, it seemed someone existed here.
In the solitary basement, a low male voice echoed.
“What’s a young Craft like you doing here?”
Where the sword had been in the cage, a man now stood. Dressed in an untied suit without a tie, he put his hands in his pockets, giving a sideways glare.
Pastel’s mouth dropped open.
A, a person!
Black hair, red eyes.
He’s a real person!
“Wow.”
Is this what it feels like to meet a fellow countryman abroad?
She rushed to the bars.
“What’s your name?!”
“Name? Hey.”
The man frowned, then approached the bars, extending his hand. As it touched the bars, lightning erupted. Skin tore apart.
Blood splattered on Pastel’s cheek.
Ignoring the resistance, the man’s hand gripped tightly to the bars. Lightning crackled violently, blood streaming down the bars.
“You, young Craft, are you mocking me too?”
His red eyes glared.
“I am the Great Demon Demonius. The one you betrayed and sealed within a sword. Once I am free, I will find all Crafts and tear them apart one by one, a long-standing revenge.”
The demon let out a breath as if holding back emotions.
Then he pulled his hand away from the bars. The lightning ceased. The wounds dispersed like smoke, healed.
“So, go drink your mother’s milk and come back. Don’t poke around in dangerous places.”
The demon walked back to where he was originally standing.
Silence fell.
Pastel wiped the blood that splattered on her face with her finger. The blood stained her finger red.
The demon in a suit waved his hand dismissively, as if to tell her to leave. He looked like a weary office worker overcome with fatigue.
Pastel smiled brightly.
Wow.
What a kind person to a child.
She pressed her face against the blood-stained bars.
“Demon Lord! Demon Lord! Do you know how not to die even if you get stabbed? Or how to slice through armor in one blow? I also want to know how to rip steel apart with my hands!”
There has to be a fantastic and great solution!
The demon looked shocked.
“Did you hear my words at all?”
“Oh! I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Pastel Love Craft! Please call me Pastel!”
The demon’s expression soured.
“Pastel?”
The demon approached with an intent glare.
It was a very different and clear hostility.
“I wonder what the successor, who knows everything, is doing here? Is this Craft’s successor survival game a piece of cake? Well, your mother did seem disgusted by it. Seeing you as the victor makes one understand your disgusting bloodline.”
Pastel’s eyes widened.
“You know my mother?”
“I know her very well.”
The demon laughed gleefully.
“I certainly know she will be the first to be torn apart right before your eyes.”
Oh, oh?
Pastel, still dazed, finally corrected something.
“My mother has already passed away.”
The demon who was laughing suddenly froze.
“What, what?”
The demon seemed confused as he looked away. After a moment, he turned back.
“Then I will kill your father right before your eyes. That bastard must be acting as head of the family, right?”
“My father sold off our assets and disappeared. He probably fled with a load of money.”
What a full-blown marriage scammer.
“Uhm…”
Pastel pressed herself against the bars.
“Do you know how not to die even if you get stabbed? Or how to slice through armor in one blow? I also want to know how to rip steel apart with my hands!”
The demon’s eyes wavered.
His red gaze finally examined her disheveled appearance.
A tattered dress and hair in disarray.
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen!”
“No.”
The demon was struck dumb.
Ba-dum.
The demon had become able to have an honest conversation!
Yay!
“Is this a demon contract?!”
Finally, a cheat in life?
“The world isn’t a fairytale. I’ll teach you swordsmanship. You’ll have to put in the effort yourself.”
Ah.