Surviving in the Cursed Mansion

Chapter 18: Same Time, Different Space (1)

I instinctively looked down at myself.

I was wearing a white shirt layered under a knit sweater, paired with smooth, black slacks.

A typical Korean high school fall uniform.

It hit me.

I had forgotten.

Before being dragged into the other world, I was just a 17-year-old high school student. An ordinary kid who, until last year, had been learning the basics of trigonometry in middle school.

“…That’s right. I was a student.”

Now, after countless years, trying to rekindle the innocence of my teenage years only made me feel emptier. 

My spirit, weathered by time, suppressed the agitation and focused on assessing the situation.

I stopped a passerby and asked, “Excuse me, but what’s today’s date?”

“Huh? Uh…”

The man hesitated, his voice tinged with unease, as though he suspected I might be some kind of cult recruiter.

Still, he answered.

“November 1st.”

“And the year?”

“2024. What kind of question is that…?”

November 1, 2024.

The exact same date as the last day I’d been in Korea.

Was it all just a dream?

Being trapped in that bizarre mansion, the countless years slipping by—was it all just a fleeting delusion?

Helping that bratty girl who knew nothing but how to complain—if all of that was an illusion, then what… What was I…?

“Ha, of course it wasn’t.”

One thing was certain.

To confirm my suspicions, I entered the nearest building in search of a mirror.

Before I could find one, a well-polished glass window caught my eye. Approaching it, I leaned in to see my reflection.

“Of course.”

There was nothing.

The glass reflected the pedestrians behind me perfectly, but I alone was missing.

Just like in the mansion. Neither windows nor mirrors showed my reflection.

I still didn’t know what my face looked like.

Because I was a specter.

A spiritual entity that only possessed form within the confines of the mansion.

Here, I was rejected by the world itself—denied even the right to perceive my own appearance.

“This must be… the painting’s world.”

The last memory I had of the mansion returned.

When Asche was pulled into a painting, I had commanded the inhabitants:

[Take me there as well.]

Without a word, they had dragged me in, leading to this moment.

“Still… Why does this painted world resemble Korea?”

It couldn’t be a prank by the figures from the painting. They lacked any understanding of modern civilization and wouldn’t be capable of creating such an illusion.

More likely, this was a painted world generated according to certain rules.

“…Perhaps my escape from this painted world depends on Asche’s actions.”

I sat down on a set of steps and looked up at the sky.

The dusky, navy-blue sky was adorned by a pale moon, faintly haloed by a soft glow.

The scenery of my hometown, which I had left behind in memory, was far more beautiful than the faint remnants I had carried with me.

***

Meanwhile, serving as Mirelda’s personal maid was unexpectedly easy. So simple, in fact, that it felt anticlimactic.

Providing her with companionship and comfort. Running small errands. The tranquility of it all left me surprisingly at ease.

Our rapport had grown to the point that I now referred to her as “Lady Mirelda” instead of simply “madam.”

“The chase with the hunting dog on the first floor was way harder than this.”

Just thinking about my first death made my side ache. The life-and-death pursuit had left my stomach in knots.

But now, with nothing to do but leisurely attend to Mirelda…

“This is nice. If only the first floor is tough, maybe I’ll just breeze through the rest of the mansion.”

Asche was already making optimistic predictions about the future, ignoring the truth that such convenient desires often drift further away the more one voiced them.

“Lady Mirelda, how long will you be staying at the palace?”

“Hmm, my husband hasn’t given me an exact date.”

“Really? That’s odd…”

“I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Hmm.”

Asche hummed skeptically.

Even if her husband was the captain of the Imperial Guard, certain protocols couldn’t be ignored.

For a non-resident like Mirelda, extended stays in the palace without a specific departure date were highly unusual.

“Lady Mirelda, you must trust Sir Neterto greatly.”

“Well, I have to, don’t I?”

It was a strange response.

Trusting one’s spouse was natural, a universal sentiment.

But to Asche, Mirelda’s words sounded mechanical, as though they had been instilled in her by rote.

“How did you and Sir Neterto meet, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah… nothing unusual. When he earned his position as a Star Knight, a marriage proposal came from my family, who were viscounts at the time.”

“So, you’ve been married for quite a while? I assumed you were newlyweds because of your radiant beauty.”

“Oh, d-do you think so? Haha… That’s a relief to hear.”

Well, she’s youthful for her age but not remarkable enough to be called stunning.

Asche chuckled inwardly.

To be called a true beauty, one would have to be on par with me or the Duchess of Arkaden!

…Or maybe Maid B?

Caught up in her frivolous self-assurance, Asche barely noticed Mirelda’s warm smile.

“My, it’s already late. Selly, you should retire for the night.”

“Then, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Mirelda. Goodnight.”

Asche quietly left Mirelda’s room and entered the adjacent chamber—a spacious bedroom with a large bed.

Mirelda had insisted on giving her maid a nearby room, sparing Asche from the cramped quarters of the servant’s dormitory.

“This is life. No way I’d step foot in Maid A’s room now.”

The atmosphere of the palace uplifted her mood, invigorating her spirit.

If she didn’t have unfinished business with her older siblings in the real world, she might have been content to live out her days here.

Asche extinguished the lights and prepared to sleep, basking in the soft starlight spilling through the window.

The radiant stars reminded her of the dreary Arkaden mansion and, more specifically, the butler crouched somewhere within its shadows.

‘He’s stuck there, unable to leave.’

It was clear the butler harbored no affection for the mansion. His silent agreement whenever Asche threw her tantrums made that obvious.

‘He probably doesn’t know the softness of a bed like this or how vast the night sky is. Thinking about it… he is a little pitiful.’

The mansion’s doors could only be opened by her command, meaning the butler likely spent his nights huddled in the cold, sleeping in the hallways.

Without realizing it, Asche had arrived at an unexpectedly accurate conclusion.

Once lost in thought, she found it hard to sleep.

Though insomnia loomed, she forced herself to close her eyes—knowing sleep deprivation was the enemy of good skin.

─Creak.

The faint sound from the window sent a shiver through her.

“Ugh?!”

Asche trusted her split-second instincts and rolled swiftly to the side.

Crash!

In that instant, something struck her bed, sending goose feathers fluttering through the air.

Asche straightened herself and immediately scanned for the intruder.

“Damn it…!”

A low voice muttered in frustration.

The figure was cloaked entirely in black. A dark hood was pulled tightly over their head, a black cloth concealed their lower face, and a pitch-black robe shrouded their body in an attempt to blend into the shadows.

Their appearance practically screamed, “I am an assassin,” even in the light of day.

“I bear no grudge. Now die…!”

“Wha—ahhh!?”

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

In her original body, she could’ve counterattacked with ease.

But in this pitiful maid’s frail body? She stood no chance against a trained adult male.

At least, that’s what she thought.

Thump!

On instinct, she grabbed the man’s wrist. It was a reflexive move, nothing more—but…

The man’s reaction was odd.

“Urgh, what the—why is a woman this strong…?!”

“Huh?”

His hand, gripped tightly by Asche, wouldn’t budge.

“Why are you… so weak?”

“Don’t mock me…!”

Momentarily offended, the man raised his voice in frustration, but nothing changed.

Asche continued to hold his wrist effortlessly, squeezing it so hard that blood flow was nearly cut off.

“Hup.”

Whack!

Asche struck his arm with the edge of her hand. A sharp crack echoed as the man fell to the ground, rolling in pain.

“Khrrrrgh…!”

He gritted his teeth, clearly trying not to scream.

Taking her time, Asche nonchalantly picked up the sword he had dropped.

‘Hmm… It’s not that he’s weak. It must mean I’m strong. But even in my original body, I wouldn’t be this powerful…’

For now, she set the questions aside.

What mattered was that she now had a convenient new strength at her disposal.

Thud!

She drove the blade into the floor near the man’s neck and began tilting it like a lever, pressing it closer to his throat.

“Now, how about you start talking? This sword’s heavy, and my hand might slip.”

A smug smile spread across her face, relishing the newfound sense of power.

“Obey me, you pathetic monkey.”

[Item: Hunting Dog’s Urn]

A small urn containing the ashes of the hunting dog, Hayley. Grants the owner the physical capabilities of the spirit, Hayley