Laila sat down and quietly closed her eyes. The surroundings were silent, with not even a mouse stirring.

Muge said:

“Even for someone like me, it’s my first time seeing a medium’s summoning up close.”

Eustar then made a small shushing sound. Muge clicked his tongue in disapproval but didn’t open his mouth after that.

Laila had never actually performed a summoning before either. She only knew the theory and side effects.

When Laila was young, her mother made amulets to prevent her from accidentally summoning spirits. While it couldn’t stop her from seeing ghosts, it had the effect of preventing them from possessing Laila’s body.

—That eye you have, my daughter. It’s like sweet candy to them.

Don’t recall mother’s voice. Laila thought. And slowly let herself go. An invisible string, but one that clearly existed… It was about loosening the string that bound her physical body and soul together, allowing another soul to slip in between.

A strange wind began to blow around her. Though all windows and doors were closed, Eustar and Muge could clearly feel the sensation.

Then suddenly Laila’s eyes flew open.

“Come out from there.”

Laila whispered. Muge and Eustar quickly looked around but saw nothing. This was despite wearing monocles.

Laila, still in a seated position, stared intently at the small mirror placed in front of her and spoke again. This time in a more commanding tone.

“Come out from there, Wells.”

At that moment, a grayish, pale man suddenly appeared to Laila’s right.

“Oh, damn it!”

Startled, Muge abruptly lowered his monocle and gritted his teeth. Eustar’s shoulders also jerked in surprise. It was because of the man’s appearance.

Wells’ ghost was in a horrific state. Both corners of his mouth were crudely sewn shut with thick black thread, his ears were half gone from the bottom, and his ankles were twisted in a strange direction. All ten of his fingers were bent in different directions. Formless blood was continuously flowing and dripping from his eyes.

Taking a breath, Laila slowly stood up to face Wells.

I can feel his terror. Laila thought. Wells’ fear was so great that even she felt like her body was trembling.

That’s when Muge spoke.

“You didn’t perform a summoning.”

Laila glanced at her briefly before turning back to face the terribly disfigured Wells. Her red eyes were filled with compassion.

“This person wanted that. He didn’t want to enter me.”

Recalling the feeling of refusal that filled her mind the moment she tried to summon, Laila hesitantly raised her hand. As she touched the thread binding Wells’ mouth, surprisingly, it unraveled under her touch as if it were real.

After removing the thread from both sides, Wells’ lower jaw dropped open as if falling. His tongue inside was a mangled mess. Perhaps knowing this, he remained quiet. He didn’t say a word.

“You can’t speak.”

As Laila whispered, Wells’ face turned pale with sadness and fear, becoming almost transparent as if about to disappear.

Laila hesitantly touched his distorted fingers.

“Would it be alright if I look at your memories?”

Wells’ head dropped. It looked more like resignation than consent. Laila stepped back from him and then turned to Eustar and Muge.

“You two should step back a bit more.”

Muge grumbled in response.

“There’s nowhere else to step back to. This room is as cramped as a mouse hole.”

Eustar suddenly picked Muge up and moved to the most corner-like spot, as if intending to wedge his body in. Finding herself unexpectedly cradled in his arms like a baby, Muge glared at him murderously, but Eustar deliberately ignored her fierce gaze and nodded towards Laila.

“This is the best we can do, Laila.”

“There might be a shock. It’s my first time doing an ‘overlay’ in such a cramped space…”

With a tense expression, Laila clenched and unclenched her hand before raising her right hand to place it on Wells’ shoulder. It was possible to perform an ‘overlay’ without directly touching a ghost, but his appearance looked so weak that it seemed necessary to hold onto him somehow to keep him from disappearing.

The moment Laila closed and opened her eyes, her vision rippled like water and the space tore like a curtain. Through that gap, a scenery dyed in murky red and ashen colors appeared. An old scenery, the most vivid scene remaining in Wells’ soul.

“Oh my…”

A groan-like sigh escaped Laila’s lips. Unable to know what she was seeing, Eustar and Muge could only wait with bated breath, keeping their mouths shut.

Muge muttered.

“I feel like my stomach’s turning inside out. I’ve heard that energy moves backwards during an ‘overlay’, but I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

Her face was indeed pale as if she might vomit at any moment. She possessed senses far more keen than other humans and could feel the flow of magic or equivalent energy through her skin.

Eustar realized that the ‘overlay’, which had no effect on him, must be an extremely unpleasant experience for Muge.

It was at that moment.

—Bang—!

Following the gunshot echoing from the forest, there was a loud fluttering of wings. Then Wells’ soul, with blood-covered eyes wide open, began to shake violently.

“No, Wells! Wait, not yet…!”

Laila cried out. Her body was also swaying and shaking along with Wells. Fear, dread, and fear again…! Laila saw two yellow lights flashing in her mind. They flickered and suddenly brightened with a pop, then her consciousness faded to black.

“Laila!”

Eustar put Muge down and rushed to Laila. Supporting her swaying, collapsing body, Eustar hurriedly checked her pulse and touched her cold hands.

Fortunately, Laila was conscious. However, her wide-open eyes were filled with indescribable fear.

“He was sacrificed.”

As Laila whispered quietly with a dazed look, Eustar and Muge simultaneously frowned.

Laila, who was faintly convulsing, continued in a trembling voice.

“He failed… and died. To hide that, Count Haliwell came here.”

Though her words were disjointed, Eustar could guess her intent. A sacrificed person, failure and death, and a count who left his territory to cover it up.

“Were they trying to create a doppelganger using him as a sacrifice?”

Laila slowly moved her gaze and nodded. Eustar kept massaging her ice-cold hands and asked again.

“Who did such a thing? Was it Karsch Haliwell? That Wells disappeared out of fear at the gunshot. Did Karsch sacrifice him, Laila?”

Laila looked up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Her fingertips, which had grown cold, stiffened and then slowly curled.

“No, Eustar.”

Laila closed her eyes and furrowed her brow as if suffering from a headache.

“It wasn’t Karsch Haliwell.”

“Ouch!”

As Yerka let out a sharp cry, the maid who was organizing the laundry quickly rushed over.

A bright red drop of blood, like a freshly bloomed rose petal, had formed on her snow-white fingertip that looked as if it were sculpted from ice. Yerka was silently glaring at the blood seeping from her fingertip. Her frequently carried scent pouch had worn out, and while trying to patch it, she had finally drawn blood.

“Young lady, goodness! That’s why I said I would do the sewing. You don’t even do embroidery usually, so why…”

“Stop nagging and go get some medicine.”

As the maid had said, Yerka, who had never properly done any needlework, had no reason to remember the existence of a thimble.

It was an expected result, given that she had clumsily moved the needle with her bare hands, but Yerka snapped back irritably. Then she wrapped her bleeding fingertip with a handkerchief and pressed it tightly.

Her face, bathed in the winter sunlight, was so beautiful it seemed inhuman. It looked as if it might become transparent and invisible at any moment…

It was a beauty that would make anyone turn to look, admire, and sigh, but Yerka was always cold. Even when she smiled, there was never any warmth or affection felt.

The Countess was staring intently at her daughter, who was looking out the window, with her eyes wide open. Her mind was blank, barely aware of what she was doing or thinking.

She could only look on in fear at Yerka, her beautiful daughter sitting by the window, as if she were some hideous monster.

“Mother, what are you doing standing there?”

Yerka said. She hadn’t even turned her head towards the Countess.

At the clear but sharp voice, the Countess’s mind became even more hazy. Perhaps she had gone mad, as Karsch had said. And maybe Yerka was the same…

The Countess spoke.

“Do you know where Karsch went?”

Yerka, still not turning her head, chuckled softly. Then, like a child, she pressed her forehead against the cold glass window and exhaled, “Ho.” As the glass fogged up, she began to draw on it with her finger. It was a picture of a person with their head cut off.

“Yerka.”

Unable to bear it any longer, the Countess called out once more, and Yerka finally cast an irritated glance towards her mother.

“How would I know that? Why are you asking me such things? He’s probably off massacring some poor birds again.”

The Countess’s pale face was overshadowed by worry and fear, dark as the shadows of night. Yerka, seemingly unmoved by her mother’s appearance, simply blinked with a cruel and innocent expression.

The Countess’s hands, clasped in front of her stomach, trembled visibly.

“I feel like something terrible is going to happen, Yerka.”

“You always say that, mother. You’re afraid when the breeze blows, when leaves fall, when storms rage. Don’t worry, mother. Nothing will happen, just like always. Nothing ever happens to you.”

Saying this, Yerka smiled with an angelic face.

However, the Countess’s fear remained unchanged.