Chapter 334: Alice’s Mansion
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
A new servant had arrived.
This announcement triggered a series of mechanical reactions. Accompanied by a deep, muted echo, numerous shadowy forms began to materialize from the surrounding darkness, converging around the figure known as the Annihilator. An indistinct, flickering light illuminated the vast, ancient, and magnificent hall, revealing its stately elegance.
The Annihilator’s eyes widened in awe as he took in the hall, which boasted the opulence of a palace yet exuded an air of prolonged abandonment, as if untouched for decades. He observed a grand staircase gracefully spiraling upward at the far end, connecting to an elevated walkway and platform above. Enormous pillars stood like silent sentinels, their outlines barely visible in the dim light. Plush draperies cascaded from the tops of these pillars, gently swaying in a phantom breeze. The hall’s walls were flanked by dark, desolate windows, securely sealed behind crisscrossed steel bars. Between these windows, colossal, indistinct paintings hung, filled with unsettling, vibrant patches, devoid of any recognizable figures or scenery.
The Annihilator stood mesmerized by the scene. Suddenly, he realized that the restrictive sensation that had gripped his limbs had dissipated. Taking two tentative steps forward, he relished the regained control of his body and instinctively called out to the demon that shared his soul.
However, all that echoed back was a hollow, mournful wail, as if the shadow demon had been a figment of his imagination. There was no response to his call.
“Servant, proceed to the end of the carpet,” commanded a deep, muffled voice, this time resonating directly within his mind.
“Who’s there?!” The Annihilator’s eyes widened in terror as he scanned the grand yet eerily empty mansion hall, finding no one.
He looked towards the end of the hall, where a dark red carpet unfurled from beneath his feet, stretching into the distance and ending at the staircase that curved like wings connecting to the second level.
His legs began to move involuntarily as his gaze landed there, seemingly obeying the command from the disembodied voice he had just heard. He walked towards the end of the carpet, stopping a few paces from the staircase.
Suddenly, an apparition appeared before him – a figure dressed in a sleek black suit but missing a head.
This headless figure stood rigidly before the staircase, impeccably dressed. A neatly folded handkerchief peeked out from the breast pocket, and a gold watch chain gleamed from another. One hand held a brass bell, while the other extended forward as if welcoming a newcomer. It resembled a trusted steward diligently overseeing the mansion’s affairs.
But it had no head. Where a head should have been, there was only an exposed neck, resembling the joint of a puppet.
“What… what is this place?!” The man couldn’t recall why he had come to this sealed mansion or even his own identity or origins. All he knew was an instinctual fear, a growing sense of unfamiliarity gnawing at his heart. He stared at the headless steward before him and mustered the courage to ask. Simultaneously, he heard whispering voices and sensed unseen eyes watching him from all directions.
“Welcome, new servant,” came a voice in reply.
Stunned, he looked around the hall.
Silhouettes dressed as stewards and maids moved about, evident servants attending to the mansion’s immense size. These headless figures flitted by the staircase, seemingly scrutinizing the newcomer with curiosity.
Muted discussions emanated from their necks.
Where their heads should have been, there were only smooth, bulbous appendages, like doll joints, with a texture between wood and porcelain.
The new servant stared in bewilderment at the bustling stewards and maids, momentarily disoriented.
Had there been so many people here before? Had the hall been so lively when he first arrived?
“This is Alice’s Mansion, and you are the new servant here,” the steward’s voice boomed suddenly, breaking the new servant’s reverie. “Follow me; your next assignment is upstairs.”
Automatically, the new servant nodded and followed the headless steward. Unconsciously, he looked down and noticed that he was now dressed as a servant, identical to the male stewards in the hall.
His mind spiraled further into confusion, and he felt as if his memories were being slowly stripped away, deemed unnecessary impurities hindering his service in the mansion.
With each step up the staircase, his hesitation waned. Initially, he vaguely remembered that he didn’t belong here. Then, he only remembered being trapped in an enigmatic mansion. By the time he reached the final steps leading to the second floor, all he remembered were the steward’s orders.
Stepping onto the last stair, he lifted his gaze to the platform and the corridor beyond.
Several stewards passed through the corridor, and despite lacking eyes, the new servant couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
“Why is everyone observing me?”
“Because you are the first servant with a head,” the steward paused and turned around, his voice tinged with amusement. “And it’s been many years since we’ve had a fresh face.”
“What should I do?” the new servant asked cautiously.
“Serve our mistress and assimilate among us. You will instinctively learn your duties. But first, you must pay your respects to the mistress…”
The steward slowly raised his arm, gesturing towards a black door at the end of the corridor.
“Proceed, open that door, and greet the mistress.”
The new servant nodded and walked towards the door.
His steps were firm, and his expression gradually steadied while his limbs moved, slowly becoming as stiff and mechanical as those of the stewards in the hall. He reached the door, extended both hands, and calmly observed his wrist, which had transformed into a spherical joint. With minimal effort, he pushed open the door.
The puppet moved forward.
In the opulent bedroom that bordered on monumental, a magnificent bed stood as the centerpiece, surrounded by drapes adorned with intricate patterns and tassels. A silver-haired doll lay tranquilly on the bed, in deep slumber.
Beyond the bed, where a wall should have been, was a boundless expanse of darkness, seemingly leading to an unfathomable space. The floor, walls, and ceiling appeared fractured and disintegrated, and the chaotic darkness, dotted with innumerable twinkling lights in the distance, slowly undulated, creating surreal light and shadow illusions. They swirled silently at the end of the bedroom, whispering and wandering within the darkness.
The oscillating darkness and lights seemed to mirror the doll’s dreams, as if an unseen force sought to breach the mansion but was held at bay by the doll’s sleep.
The new servant, now transformed into a puppet, stood at the entrance of the bedroom, blankly gazing at the enchanting doll resting on the bed and the undulating darkness behind her. Assisted by threads extending from his limbs, he bowed respectfully towards the lady of the house. The threads floated momentarily before vanishing into thin air.
Once done, the new servant slowly retreated until he exited the room. The door to the sleeping Alice closed with a resonant, commanding bang. But the transformation was complete; the man’s visage would never return to its original form. He had become a puppet, devoid of emotions or will, forever destined to serve his mistress.
…
A thud followed by a crash echoed from the entrance of the alleyway. The Annihilator, in an attempt to escape, suddenly fell from mid-air. Upon hitting the ground, he made a loud noise, his body shattering like porcelain into numerous shards, clothes included.
No blood stained the broken ceramic pieces, as if he had always been a kiln-baked clay puppet – his flesh and blood existence nothing more than a fleeting illusion.
Alice was startled, “Ah!”
A howl akin to a whirlwind emanated from behind her, and Vanna rushed to the alley’s entrance. She stared incredulously at the scene and hesitated for a long moment before turning to the puppet beside her, “Is this… your doing?”
“…I don’t know,” Alice blinked, her response delayed, “Um… probably?”
“What do you mean, probably?!”
“I caught his thread and then yanked it hard – he attacked first, and I was scared…” Alice’s explanation was disjointed and full of gestures. Her account was so scattered that Vanna grew more confused with each word, “Do you understand?”
“…No,” Vanna shook her head, then glanced back at the scorched wreckage deep in the alley, from which faint black smoke was rising, “Damn it, the priest I was dealing with stayed silent until the end, and the one you were dealing with shattered completely, leaving no information behind.”
“Does that mean the captain will be unhappy?”
“We don’t have time to think about that; we need to leave,” Vanna spoke urgently, “There was too much commotion. Even if we’re not in the central city area, the night patrol should be on their way.”
As she spoke, she glanced at the house not far away.
Ah so all the people decapitated by the coffin still remain.
And the ones killed by “Alice” will still have their heads.
Maybe the darkness in Alice’s mansion is something from deep sea and Alice was created to seal it?
Alice asleep means her memories are asleep.
pretty sure that was subspace as it was swirling with darkness and light like the light and shadows of subspace
A different kind of marionettist hen.