NOMAMWTM Chapter 3

When Charlotte woke, the carriage had already stopped.

"Huh?"

It seemed they'd already arrived.

She blinked and looked out the carriage window.

Under the bright full moon stood a massive estate.

"Wow..."

She let out an exclamation without realizing it.

The estate with white outer walls bathed in moonlight was extremely beautiful.

Charlotte stared blankly outside for a moment before coming to her senses.

"I should get out."

She bustled about, straightening her wrinkled dress, and taking down her only luggage, a small bag, from the rack.

When she grasped the handle, the carriage door opened smoothly with a click.

"...Huh?"

At that moment, Charlotte suddenly felt a strange sensation.

A somehow familiar air tickled her nose. Her palms tingled.

"Huh."

She looked down and drew in a breath.

A soft silver glow swirled over her pale hands that hadn't seen much sunlight.

Smack!

Dropping her bag with a thud, she hurriedly slapped her palm where the silver light was trying to ripple out with her other hand.

Smack! Smack!

This shouldn't be seen. The light only dimmed after the sharp sound rang out two or three times in succession, then concealed itself.

Charlotte, who had been momentarily startled, looked at her palm now marked only with handprints as if nothing had happened and let out a sigh of relief.

Did it get excited too about the marriage? She was lucky it disappeared quickly.

She belatedly looked around to see if anyone had witnessed it.

Fortunately, she and the carriage were the only things in front of the estate, and no one was in sight. The coachman who had driven the carriage there was nowhere to be seen, perhaps already inside.

She seemed to have slept so deeply that she hadn't even heard the coachman's voice announcing their arrival.

How embarrassing. Charlotte blushed beneath her veil.

She soon hopped down from the carriage steps and picked up the bag she'd dropped.

She gave her disheveled dress hem one final adjustment and walked toward the estate with soft footsteps.

The grounds were vast, so even the estate's entrance was enormous. Her heart began to pound again at its beautiful, antique appearance.

To think this would be the home she'll live in from now on.

Now that she was here, she became a bit curious about what kind of person her husband would be.

Charlotte grasped the bell rope beside the estate door and pulled it.

The rope was stiff, as if it hadn't been used in a long time.

Clang.

Creak.

Almost simultaneously with the bell ringing, the door opened. Startled, she blinked.

Had the coachman who went in first passed along word—it seemed someone had already come out to greet her from inside.

"Welcome."

...Wow.

When the person who had opened the door finally appeared in the moonlight with a low voice, she was momentarily dazed.

The man who had emerged from inside was extremely beautiful.

His well-groomed, curly platinum hair gently swayed as it caught the soft moonlight, and two blue eyes like frozen sapphires slowly blinked on his pale face as they looked down at her.

He was a man who might have been the very image of the goddess Sornia's angels.

But there wasn't much time to admire.

"Are you Miss Charlotte?"

"...Yes."

Charlotte, who had been staring at him in a daze, snapped to attention with a start and answered.

"Please follow me."

The man briefly looked her over as if gauging what kind of person she was, then naturally took the bag from her hand and turned his back.

The inside of the estate she followed him into was as magnificent as the outside.

Charlotte rolled her eyes at the antique and beautiful decorations lining every corner.

To think an estate where people lived could be like this.

Looking over her shoulder, it was incomparable to the Ethel estate she'd occasionally seen when leaving her room.

Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding,

Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong, ding.

As she was silently admiring and following the man, the clock bell rang.

Charlotte lifted her head.

Right beside her was a large grandfather clock pointing to 9 o'clock.

Was it already 9? To think she'd left at dawn and arrived at 9 PM. It really had taken a long time to get here.

"This way."

"Ah, yes."

They went deeper and deeper into the interior of the estate.

Just when she was thinking how a house could possibly be this large, the man leading ahead stopped in front of a large door engraved with elaborate decorations.

The heavy-looking door opened smoothly and silently.

Wow. Charlotte, who entered inside with the man, was once again amazed. Inside wasn't an ordinary room.

"Originally, this place is used as a prayer room."

A prayer room. Right. That word fit perfectly.

It was a place that seemed modeled after the temple she'd visited just once, very long ago, led by her mother's hand.

The ceiling was extremely high, as if the boundary with the upper floor had been removed, and moonlight poured from long, large windows with complex patterns lining one wall.

Long benches for the faithful lined both sides, and an altar was even placed in the center at the back.

To have such a space inside the estate—her prospective husband must truly be a devout man. There was a reason her father had placed The Holy Scripture in her hands.

Charlotte couldn't take her eyes off the prayer room for a long while, then thinking she'd been distracted too long, snapped to attention and turned to look at the man.

He was gazing at her intently.

Brilliant moonlight poured down on the man through the windows.

Was this what it would look like if you breathed life into a masterpiece painting and made it move?

Wearing white ceremonial robes with golden decorations that looked antique, he appeared far more beautiful than when she'd briefly seen him at the main gate earlier.

Perhaps because she was seeing him in a space with such a strong sacred feeling, with just wings on his back, he truly could be mistaken for an angel.

She felt her face gradually reddening. It was fortunate she was wearing a veil.

While Charlotte was blankly admiring his appearance, the man slowly tilted his head.

"I am Duke Michael Cardium, who will be marrying you."

She had already guessed as much from the ceremonial robes he was wearing.

It was a bit surprising that the man she'd thought would be at most a viscount or baron was a duke, but his unexpectedly handsome appearance devoured all her idle thoughts.

Her heart pounded unexpectedly.

The man, Michael, indifferently passed by her and headed toward the central altar.

"The ceremony to become a Cardium is simple."

Charlotte realized from the low voice echoing through the prayer room that they would be holding the wedding ceremony right now.

She hadn't realized because there wasn't a single person here.

Though he was a duke, and though he was so beautiful, it seemed he didn't have anyone close enough to invite to a wedding.

Of course, she also had no friends, so it didn't bother her at all.

What mattered was his appearance.

"Miss Charlotte Zelova."

When her gaze was about to slyly drift toward his face again, a quiet call came.

Charlotte tilted her head. Hadn't he just called her by the wrong surname?

"Draw blood and drop it here."

Was it her imagination? She obediently approached Michael.

A small silver cup was prepared on the altar.

Maria had said there were nobles who brought people into their families through unusual methods—this must be one of those.

When Michael first pricked his finger shallowly with the prepared knife, Charlotte also followed him and pricked her finger.

Perhaps because the moonlight was shining on it, the blood droplet looked particularly red as it beaded up.

Drip. Drip.

When the two people's blood droplets fell and mixed, not long after, a golden string rose from the cup.

Charlotte's eyes widened.

It gently wrapped around both their fingers once, then scattered soft light before disappearing.

...It was magic.

"Miss Charlotte Zelova."

She couldn't take her eyes off the place where the golden magic had disappeared for a long while, and only managed to tear them away when Michael called her.

Though he was better than her, who hadn't even known his name until coming here, it seemed he somehow had her surname wrong.

"I am......"

Thinking the cup must be something passed down in the family, she was about to correct his mistake.

Michael's hand reached toward her face.

Charlotte paused.

He lifted the veil covering her face back with an incredibly gentle touch.

Whether by divine mischief, at that moment her palms became itchy again.

The strange sensation she'd felt when getting off the carriage brushed past her once more.

At the same time, crack, the sound of something splitting echoed.

Charlotte jumped in alarm and looked down.

Fortunately, the light hadn't revealed itself again.

Only the jewel ornament of the necklace she wore around her neck was finely cracked.

Knowing what this was, Charlotte was feeling a bit troubled when she saw something rolling on the floor.

...Huh?

Taking her gaze off the necklace, she fixed her eyes on the floor.

It wasn't her imagination.

A black, large dust-like thing rolled across the marble floor.

It definitely hadn't been there just moments ago.

A bug? She slowly raised her head, following the rolling small black lump.

And,

"......"

Really quite suddenly.

Goosebumps crawled up her spine.

Charlotte's face froze solid.

Thud. Thunk.

Clang!

Though no one had touched it, the silver cup containing both their blood fell to the floor with a sharp sound.

She stared at the empty air of the prayer room, which had nothing there just moments ago, or so she'd thought, unable to even breathe.

Her mind went blank.

It was inevitable.

Because, rattle.

Rattle rattle

Rattle rattle rattle rattle rattle rattle.

Though no one touched them, the windows shook violently.

Screech screech creak creak

Crack screeeeeech screeeeeech

Screeeeeeeeech.

Though no one touched them, the chairs moved on their own, making spine-chilling sounds.

No, it wasn't that no one was touching them.

Charlotte slowly blinked her eyes.

Once.

Twice.

And three times.

But what she saw remained the same.

Black, round lumps were filling the prayer room benches.

It wasn't just the benches.

On the altar too, on Michael's shoulders too, on his head too, on every window frame—everywhere, completely.

Black lumps were crawling around.

And at some point—

They opened their eyes.

"......"

Oh, f*ck.

Charlotte's hands trembled beneath the hem of her dress.

The pitch-black lumps were covered with shiny eyeballs.

Father, you didn't mention the place I was going to get married was a haunted estate!