Kill the Author, Then to Hell - Chapter 4.2
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After the funeral, a heavy silence settled over the mansion. Even the hired help spoke in hushed tones.
My younger brother Peter immediately returned to the academy.
My older brother, Johan, and my father, Simon Dayton, secluded themselves in their respective studies, rarely coming out.
‘That’s actually better.’
I needed time to adapt.
Even though I needed memories as they became relevant, it was essential not to appear suspicious while I familiarized myself with this new world.
At first glance, this place seemed like a typical romance fantasy world, a haphazard mix of the Western medieval and modern eras.
Fortunately, adapting wasn’t too difficult.
“Milady, I’ve warmed the water in the bathtub. Don’t think too much, just wash up and rest.”
I had a maid named Ethel to look after my needs.
“You should eat well, especially at times like these. The Madam would’ve wanted that.”
There was Harriet, in charge of cooking.
“…During her lifetime, the Madam gave me certain orders.”
And there was a competent-looking butler.
The man with a mustache styled like the Pringles logo was named Samuel. His eyes, peering from behind round monocle glasses, seemed sharp enough to see through everything.
“Sniff, Mother said that?”
I feigned tears and bowed my head, hiding my face.
I was afraid that if I made eye contact with Samuel, he’d realize I wasn’t the real Edith.
“Yes, as you know, the Madam married young and spent her life managing the household. Now that she’s gone, that heavy responsibility should naturally fall to Miss Edith.”
“Hnk, me…?”
I asked back in disbelief, overacting.
I didn’t come to another world to take on the role of the eldest daughter of a prestigious family!
Moreover, if I took over the household, it would be obvious that something had changed about the house’s only daughter, ‘Edith.’
But, fortunately, Samuel’s next words freed me from that burden.
“That was the original plan. However, the Madam entrusted me with that responsibility. Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s not that she didn’t trust you, but…”
“She wanted me to live differently than her.”
I wanted to shout ‘Thank you, Mom!’ to the heavens. According to the resurfacing memories, my mother, Elizabeth Dayton, hardly ever burdened me with household chores while she was alive.
She always said I’d learn it all once I got married, letting me play as much as I wanted.
“…Yes, you must do so. You cannot face the same fate as the Madam, can you, Lady Edith?”
As I was reviewing my memories, the lenses of Samuel’s glasses seemed to sparkle oddly, making me sense something suspicious.
‘Hmm? Something’s off here.’
The big data accumulated inside me was sounding alarm bells.
“The mansion is in my capable hands, so you need not worry. Now, please rest easy,” Samuel said, bowing his head slightly before leaving my room.
But the more I thought about it, his choice of the word ‘fate’ seemed dubious.
On the surface, it might sound like he was cautioning me against a life of hardship and early death like my frail mother.
But…
‘Could there be more to Elizabeth Dayton’s death?’
Samuel’s words could be a vital clue.
Unraveling this might be the key to thawing my family’s frozen hearts.
I lay in bed, waiting for the night to deepen and the staff’s footsteps to fade completely.
Then, at 3:30 AM, when everyone was asleep, I silently slipped out of my room and began to look around.
‘There’s the staircase, and down there is…’
It was dark, but I had already grasped the layout earlier.
The grand three-storey mansion had the basement as a lab, the first floor housed the drawing-room and kitchen, and the second floor had the bedrooms of my elder brother Johan, younger brother Peter, and my parents.
When my mother, Elizabeth Dayton, was alive, the third floor was exclusively for the women. My mother managed her duties as the marchioness in the room at the end of the left corridor, and my room was at the opposite end.
In other words, I could sneak into my mother’s room without waking anyone by quietly crossing the hallway.
I moved as stealthily as possible.
Thankfully, the thick carpets absorbed the sound of my footsteps, making them nearly inaudible even to me.
‘This is quite thrilling.’
Of course, no one would find it odd for a daughter to visit her mother’s room. But if my theory was right, and the butler Samuel was involved, it was wise to move quietly.
Click—
I let out a breath I had been holding as I locked the door behind me.
I looked around my mother’s space. Almost everything was as I ‘remembered’ it.
The marchioness’s room was modest to a fault, with only a wooden desk and a wall full of drawers.
My mother had cleared out a storage corner, bringing in a small desk that my elder brother had once used but eventually outgrown. ‘I’ made it my own little space after that, no matter how small.
Yet, to Edith – to me – this cramped corner room was the most cherished place in the world.
When my mother wrote letters or read books here, I would quietly approach and roll around on the carpet.
‘This room… always had a warm feeling.’
Of course, with my mother gone, that warmth had dissipated.
No one must have entered here since the funeral; the items on the desk were scattered, and a thin layer of dust covered everything.
Luckily, the small light illuminating the room was still on, probably magic-powered.
I started by examining the bundle of envelopes piled on the desk.
These were letters my mother wrote before her death, never sent.
‘In escape room games, clues are always hidden in such places.’
I unfolded the topmost letter.