Surviving in the Cursed Mansion

Chapter 9: The Guard Dog of the Mansion (3)

The massive creature, its rotting flesh hanging in tatters, was monstrous.

It was identical to the memory of death etched into Asche’s mind.

An unexpected encounter.

The courage Asche had nurtured overnight was beginning to wither.

“Hah… hah… ugh…!”

Her breathing grew erratic. Even though her body was frozen like ice, she could feel her chest heaving violently with each breath.

Thud.

A single step forward.

Thud.

Another step.

Asche cautiously retreated from the grotesque beast, moving with painstaking care and precision.

‘It’s not reacting…’

It was distinctly different from when she had first died. Back then, the beast had mercilessly attacked the moment the door opened. Now, it stood motionless, its intent unreadable.

‘What’s different? Why isn’t it charging at me like before?’

Whatever the reason, it was a fortunate turn of events. Despite her fear, Asche was not so paralyzed that she would waste the opportunity.

Whip!

She turned on her heels.

But the moment she made to sprint at full speed, her flowing golden hair caught the creature’s attention.

“GRAAAH!!!”

“Wh-what?!”

Thud, thud, thud, thud!

The hunting dog surged forward, its decomposing legs stretching wide with each powerful stride, seemingly unaffected by its mangled form.

“Damn it!”

Asche reacted instantly.

Suppressing her panicked breathing, she gathered her strength and ran with everything she had.

Rotten or not, Asche was still royalty. Her physical abilities surpassed those of most trained soldiers.

With enough distance and caution, she wouldn’t be taken down as helplessly as the day before.

“Grrraaahhh!!!”

“What kind of dog barks like that?!”

The absurdity of the situation struck her even as she fled.

The beast’s mangled form meant its sensory organs were compromised. Its shaking, decayed flesh was evidence enough that finding an intact part of its body would be harder than identifying the damaged ones.

Could its vocal cords be damaged too? That might explain its distorted, unnatural roar.

“Ugh…!”

Asche came to an abrupt halt.

The corridor split in two directions.

One path led to Maid A’s room—a safe haven. The other led down a hall adorned with old, ornate masks.

“Huuu…”

Grinding her teeth, Asche hesitated.

Returning to Maid A’s room seemed the safest choice.

But something in her gut told her it wasn’t the right answer.

This mansion was endlessly cruel to its visitors, but it never set truly impossible tasks.

The coin that resurrected her, the leather pouch that made her journey easier, and the butler who embodied the mansion’s secrets—these were all proof of that.

‘I don’t know why, but this mansion wants me to overcome these trials and uncover its secrets.’

Safety, then, was not the correct path.

If this was a test of bravery, then answering its call was only natural.

In a split-second decision, Asche veered down the hall of ornate masks.

Creaaak! Bang!

The decorated corridor unfolded before her.

“Grrraaahhh!”

Boom!

Meanwhile, the hunting dog charged straight down the hallway toward Maid A’s room.

But it quickly sensed something was wrong. Slowing down, it backtracked cautiously, its animosity shifting to the direction Asche had taken.

‘I knew it!’

Asche was now certain her hypothesis was correct.

The beast relied entirely on its sense of smell to track its prey.

Her mind raced as she recalled the butler’s words.

[Butler, you… You’re a clue, aren’t you?]

A clue. That damned clue she’d like to beat senseless.

If that perverted butler was a clue, then this grotesque beast couldn’t possibly be unrelated.

Surely, something had happened to the once-lively, adorable hunting dog.

Some disaster had stripped it of its ears, gouged out its eyes, and mangled its flesh so horribly.

“Ugh… I feel like I’m so close to figuring it out…!”

Her thoughts stalled.

The calamity, brimming with hatred, loomed behind her, giving her no room to think clearly. 

The fact that she had even reached this conclusion in such a dire situation was a remarkable feat.

“Hah…!”

She felt the limits of her stamina pressing down on her.

Though the distance she’d covered wasn’t far, she had run at full tilt, pushing her legs to their breaking point like wringing water from a dry rag.

Even pausing momentarily to open any door would give the beast a chance to crush her body with its massive jaws.

In the end, Asche had no choice but to make the most desperate decision.

“BUTLERRRRRRRR!!!”

***

A Corridor Overlooking the Mansion Grounds

I was wandering, searching for the hunting dog, lost in thought.

‘The puzzle’s wording is surprisingly straightforward.’

There was no metaphor, no abstraction. Everything was written plainly and clearly.

The message spoke of two women: one who had given the hunting dog something precious, and another who had taken it away.

‘The woman who gave it something must be Maid B.’

If Maid B had given a gift, who had stolen it?

The diaries Asche had found from Maid A and Maid C seemed to hint at an answer.

Maid A, who seemed to adore Maid B.

Maid C, who openly expressed hostility toward her.

The one with a darkened heart was obvious—Maid C had burned Maid B’s face out of a photograph in a fit of hatred.

So, what exactly was the gift the hunting dog had lost?

How many things could there be worth gifting to a dog?

As I pondered this, a sharp, piercing voice reached my ears.

“BUTLERRRRRRRR!!!”

“Asche…!”

Her scream was desperate, almost a wail. But it was faint, indicating considerable distance.

I began running immediately.

‘She didn’t retreat to Maid A’s room? Why not?’

Questions swirled in my mind.

I only hoped Asche was protecting herself.

It had been my suggestion to split up, but that plan had relied on Asche prioritizing her safety above all else.

If this chase dragged on, her stamina would be the first to give out.

Her choice carried far too much risk.

“Asche!”

I could feel it—the tremors in the ground caused by the beast’s massive steps.

She was getting closer.

I hurried in the direction of the intensifying vibrations.

“Graaah! Haaah!”

“Huff, huff… Butlerrrr!”

“What on earth are you doing?!”

In the distance, Asche was running toward me, an enormous predator trailing close behind her.

Her tear-streaked, snot-covered face was twisted with desperation as if I were her final safe haven.

“Butler! Shield! Quick, now!”

“Tsk.”

I leapt forward.

Asche practically launched herself into my arms, and I caught her like a princess—only to hurl her away as far as I could moments later.

The next instant, a colossal impact shook the air.

BOOM!

The hunting dog slammed into me with all its weight, but the mansion’s curse knew no distinction between ally or foe.

[Indestructible Object.]

The mansion’s law, which forbade both murder and suicide, stood firm in protecting us.

“Grr… Agh…?”

To the beast, it must have felt like slamming into an invisible wall.

Deprived of sight and hearing, it couldn’t imagine the small human in front of it was the one blocking its path.

The hunting dog tilted its head, drooling copiously, seemingly confused.

“… Hmm?”

But as the standoff dragged on, a contradiction became evident.

The beast’s primary sense was its sense of smell.

It should have been able to recognize me as a living being, not just an obstacle.

‘It must be aware… So why isn’t it attacking?’

It made no attempt to bite me or even strike with its paws.

The only difference between now and our first encounter was physical contact.

But direct contact couldn’t be the trigger for its aggression—if that were the case, Asche wouldn’t have been relentlessly pursued despite having no prior contact with it.

‘Is it simply because she’s the protagonist? Is this some contrived mechanic where the game requires her to be attacked?’

It was a plausible, if dissatisfying, explanation.

The illogical could be brushed aside by accepting that “this is just the way this world works.”

After all, this was a world within a game, designed to focus on putting the protagonist in peril without needing a deeper justification.

“… No, that’s not it.”

I denied my own conjecture.

Asche’s mission was to uncover the mansion’s secrets.

Therefore, it was only rational to assume that everything in the mansion had a purpose, including the hunting dog’s aggressive focus on her.

There had to be a reason why Asche was inevitably the target.

“Grrraaah…”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The hunting dog withdrew.

It would likely prowl elsewhere in the mansion, waiting for another opportunity.

Before that could happen, I needed to piece together the clues.

When I turned to the collapsed Asche, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Butler… sniffle.”

“Yes?”

“Sob… I really thought I was going to die…!”

Grab!

She suddenly seized me by the collar and yanked me close, burying her face against it.

“You should’ve gotten here sooner! Do you have any idea how scared I was?!”

“As you said yourself, I’m rather frail.”

“Don’t say that like it’s an excuse! Do you know how brave I had to be? You should be praising me! And apologizing!”

“… You did well. Exceptionally.”

“And the apology?”

“I’ll run faster next time.”

“Disloyal… Completely disloyal… You’re just a perverted butler obsessed with Maid B, stumbling around like a fool.”

Asche began spouting nonsense.

Perhaps she’d exhausted herself to the point of oxygen deprivation.

I had intended to scold her for not retreating to Maid A’s room as planned, but…

The saying about a woman’s tears being her greatest weapon seemed to hold some truth.

“Butler.”

“Yes?”

“My legs won’t move.”

“Then rest.”

“That’s when you’re supposed to offer to carry me.”

What am I going to do with this childlike princess?

“… Just this once.”

“Great. Next time, too.”

Ignoring such frivolous requests was easy enough, so I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I shifted the topic deliberately.

“Asche, I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“I believe I may have figured it out—the reason the hunting dog is trying to kill you.”