NOMAMWTM Chapter 16

"Did I perhaps give you some reason to misunderstand?"

Michael looked at the pale woman who had followed him outside the room to ask this question.

A face like a wax doll, eerily beautiful in a way that didn't change no matter how well it learned to mimic humanity, met his gaze with indifference.

He stared at her for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.

"No. There's nothing."

"...Really? Are you sure?"

Until now, when she'd played word games, she'd quickly changed the subject, but today seemed different—she asked again.

Responding to even one word from this woman exhausted him more than the several sleepless nights he'd endured.

He forced himself to nod once more.

"I'm very tired."

He could no longer bear to face her. He offered up his prey willingly.

She would surely enjoy this kind of statement. She was a creature that took pleasure in his suffering.

"I see..."

As expected, a faint smile flickered across her lips.

There was nothing left to horrify him now.

"I must have been thinking incorrectly. Hang in there."

Leaving behind that brief mockery, she entered the room.

Click. The door closed.

[diediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediedied]

The horrors that had been holding their breath shrieked as if they'd been waiting for this.

Did she know that he felt like he was being driven to the edge of a cliff right now?

She must know. She must know, which is why she was acting this way.

His blue eyes sank into darkness.

Michael turned away.

His body felt heavy as if soaked through, but there was no time.

Four nights ago, on the night he'd received word from the imperial palace asking if they could send people, all the protective magic circles in the west wing of the estate—the ones that protected people from the horrors—had been destroyed.

Since he'd been managing the cores separately, they weren't completely broken, but the magical power maintaining the circles had almost entirely vanished, making the situation nearly equivalent.

It was similar to what had happened when Charlotte had played her tricks in the gallery before, but not identical.

Unlike that time, when restoration had happened quickly, this time there was no recovery.

In the end, he'd had to repair each magic circle by hand, one by one, starting that very night.

After three sleepless nights of repairs, he'd finished just over half. To complete everything properly would require at least two or three more days.

Brutal fatigue washed over him, but places without magic circles quickly became nests for horrors.

If he didn't want to see more deaths, he had to restore the circles as quickly as possible.

Fortunately—if it could be called fortunate—despite the west wing's circles becoming useless, no one had died yet, but he didn't know how long this whim would last.

"Ha..."

Thinking of the woman's whim that seemed intent on wringing him dry brought a bitter laugh.

Yes, the fact that no one had died was a whim. Truly, a whim that would end soon.

Her question just now about whether she'd caused any misunderstanding had made it certain.

A statement that meant she absolutely did not wish humans to avoid death.

Even coming this far, if he said he hadn't harbored just a little hope, it would be a lie—he felt that vertiginous sense of falling once more. His blue eyes filled with emptiness.

He'd long since passed the stage of anger or rage, so all that remained was hollowness.

Finishing the repairs as quickly as possible was the only thing he could do against the approaching disaster.

...Though even steeling himself for that felt slightly overwhelming.

[diediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediedied]

Michael entered the room where he'd been repairing the magic circle, ignoring the horrors' curses buzzing in his ears.

"Seems a bit different from what the imperial folks told us, doesn't it?"

Inside, two men dressed as servants were kneeling carelessly, peering at the magic circle and clumsily copying it onto paper.

Someone without even a shred of magical knowledge couldn't possibly copy it properly, but the men, unaware of this, diligently traced the circle.

Michael ignored them and infused magical power into the circle.

Even the energy to respond had to be converted from his magical reserves. He had no desire to exchange words with them anyway.

These two before him now, and one more who'd gone to Charlotte's room—three in total.

The imperial palace had stubbornly sent people.

Spouting nonsense about how since they'd essentially created the opening for Charlotte to enter, they would observe her identity up close and provide assistance.

The humans the imperial palace sent were always low-quality individuals, given that they were people voluntarily entering a nest of death.

Con artists, thieves, death row inmates... The varieties were diverse, and those who'd entered the estate this fortnight were no exception.

They'd ignored the rules and tried to move around from the very start.

Not only that—he'd told them to wait just a few days until he finished the repairs and returned to Charlotte's side, but they'd insisted one of them had to go to her because of imperial orders, and they'd forced their way through.

Even in all that, they seemed frightened enough that two stayed here claiming they had to sketch the magic circles to report back, while only one would go—and if going with an odd number wasn't acceptable, they made the absurd demand to attach one of the maids here.

As if that weren't enough, a passing maid overheard and firmly volunteered herself to serve Charlotte.

In the past, he would have been furious at such nonsense and absolutely prevented them from going, regardless of what kind of humans they were, but Michael, already pushed to his limits mentally, no longer had the strength for that.

Outsiders were not part of Cardium.

He'd warned them, and whatever happened from not following that warning was a problem they and the imperial palace would have to take responsibility for.

The maid troubled him, but he similarly lacked the strength to stop someone who insisted multiple times that she was fine and wanted to serve Charlotte—though he couldn't understand why.

For now, Charlotte's whim was holding, and he'd return to her side anyway as soon as he finished repairing the circles, so perhaps a few days would be acceptable.

Though he lived in a place where complacency should never be allowed, pushed to his limits, he'd closed his eyes and ears.

[diediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediedied]

Enduring the horrors' curses that tore sharply at his ears, feeling as if he might lose consciousness and collapse every time he drew out magical power, Michael silently repaired the circle.

Charlotte's sulking mood improved dramatically with just a few words from Michael.

He said she hadn't misunderstood!

She hadn't even been able to properly ask why he'd been looking so grim, but somehow knowing her feelings, he'd told her it was just because he'd been tired the whole time.

Hearing that and looking again, his eyes really were shadowed with darkness, making Charlotte embarrassed at herself for having all sorts of thoughts based solely on a letter from someone she'd never properly spoken to.

She'd picked a fight with someone who was already busy and struggling.

"I must have been thinking incorrectly. Hang in there."

After sending Michael off and returning to her room, Charlotte let out a deep sigh.

Why had she believed the letter?

She'd nearly misunderstood Michael instead of him misunderstanding her.

She took the letter from the drawer and read it once more.

Looking again, it was strange how it talked as if ordinary people couldn't live in the estate, and how the gratitude somehow resembled praise in an odd way.

The way it suddenly brought up Michael's rude behavior, too—the mother-in-law was definitely not a good person.

Of course, since she'd spent time worrying, she couldn't say she felt completely unbothered, but since he'd said it with his own mouth, Charlotte decided to believe Michael.

Just that alone made the knot that had been tightening for days seem to loosen, bringing a sense of relief. She crumpled the letter back into the drawer.

"...Urk."

Just then, she heard a groan from behind.

Charlotte, who'd completely forgotten she wasn't alone in the room, turned her head and gasped.

The lumps were surrounding the servant Michael had assigned, completely pitch-black.

"Hey, get away. Come on, guys."

Charlotte hurried toward the servant, waving her arms back and forth to shoo them away.

Among the lumps that scattered away with soft sounds, the servant was trembling violently, his face drained white.

"Are you okay?"

"Ah, hic, cough, hic, y-yes..."

He seemed almost unconscious with his eyes open, so when she waved her hand in front of his face, he gasped as if drowning, then finally calmed down after a moment and nodded.

Watching him with concern, she suddenly realized something and blinked.

Earlier she'd been too focused on Michael to think much even though she'd seen them, but the servant was still trembling, yet compared to the other employees who apologized just from seeing her and Michael, his reaction was remarkably mild.

The maid was the same.

When she'd brought the mother-in-law's letter, she hadn't feared Charlotte, and now too, even with lumps rolling around on her shoulders, she remained composed.

Meeting Charlotte's gaze directly when she looked up, she seemed to feel not even a trace of fear.

Only now did the two people Michael had left behind properly register in Charlotte's awareness.

This was truly the first time in this estate that people didn't fear her and Michael.

Life slowly began returning to Charlotte's eyes.

Given that Michael had brought them saying they'd serve her directly, they must be people he trusted, right?

They were the first normal people she'd encountered since coming here.

As the attention that had been entirely focused on Michael lifted, Charlotte's heart, now returned to a state not much different from usual, began to flutter.

The thought she'd discarded early on—that she wanted to get along with the servants because she disliked how they all feared them—cautiously raised its head again.

Charlotte dragged a chair in front of the table and sat down. Screech, thunk.

"What are your names?"

She tapped the table, gesturing for them to sit.