It had been almost an hour since I returned to the manor. Noon had only just passed.
As always, I was alone in my room.
I stared at a sheet of paper covered in text that needed my approval.
While gazing at it, I took a small sip from the teacup in my hand, then placed the cup on top of the document and murmured under my breath:
"Better to practice the Sleepiness spell variants again…"
I extended my left hand toward the empty air and recited the incantation from the book.
"Veil the Wake…"
The Sleepiness spell circle appeared once more in front of my left palm—but the moment it formed, a sharp, strange headache struck me, and the circle shattered again.
I clutched my head tightly, but it didn't help.
Then suddenly the headache vanished.
I slowly lifted my head—only for my heart to begin pounding violently. At the same instant the heartbeat intensified, my head throbbed again with excruciating pain.
With one hand I pressed against my chest; with the other I gripped my skull.
The pain was bizarrely intense. I wanted to scream—truly wanted to cry.
But when I opened my mouth to cry out, I realized I couldn't make a sound. My voice was muffled. The only noise I could produce was a weak, choked rasp from the back of my throat.
Headache on one side, pounding heart on the other, and the inability to shout or even speak properly.
Had I made a mistake?
Should I… not have been testing the spells every day?
Lost in that foggy spiral of thoughts, the heartbeat and headache suddenly weakened at the same moment—but a strange wave of nausea surged through me. I tried to stand from the chair, but my legs trembled and gave out. I collapsed to the floor.
I clamped a hand over my mouth—but contrary to what I expected, I began coughing violently—again and again—each cough feeling as though it was tearing my throat apart.
When the coughing finally stopped, I looked at my hand.
My eyes widened in horror.
My hand was covered in blood.
The hand I had pressed over my mouth was soaked red.
I swallowed hard. My mouth tasted of iron.
My breathing became ragged and broken from sheer terror. I tried to stand again, but my hand slipped in fear and I slid backward a little.
Heavy, stuttering breaths. I was terrified. I had coughed up blood.
Why?
Was I going to die?
Side effects from overusing the spell?
What… had I done to myself?
My eyes were still trembling. The pain was gone now, but the fear remained.
With great effort I managed to climb back into the chair and simply stared at my bloodied hand.
I forced myself to swallow again. No more taste of blood. I had calmed slightly—but I was still shaking. Less than before, but the terror hadn't left.
In my previous life I wasn't afraid of blood. I was even used to it. So why was I so afraid now?
Because it was my own blood? Because the reason was unknown?
I let go of my bloody hand and used the clean one to cradle my head, trying to steady myself.
I didn't even consider trying another Sleepiness variant.
Yet invisible thoughts swirled in my mind, whispering "do it again."
Why? Why—after coughing up blood—did some part of me still want to cast the spell?
Trembling with fear, I raised my left hand toward a candle on the desk. I didn't even know why the candle—just the nearest object my mind could latch onto.
With a shaky, frightened voice I whispered:
"Veil the Wake…"
The moment the words left my lips I squeezed my eyes shut—braced for another splitting headache.
But no headache came.
Slowly I cracked open my right eye—and saw something I never expected after what had just happened.
The Sleepiness spell circle had formed perfectly in front of my left palm—no cracks. A cold sensation spread across my palm.
The spell circle felt… cold.
I didn't know what else to do to activate it. I simply murmured under my breath:
"Sleep…"
After the word, the candle flame turned blue—then went out.
The smoke rising from the extinguished wick was blue.
A small smile of joy crossed my lips—quickly growing into full laughter.
I was happy—far happier than I had expected.
I never imagined that successfully casting the spell would bring me this much joy.
Lost in that happiness, my eyes fell on the clock. I froze in shock.
Three o'clock in the afternoon.
How had so much time passed?
Time didn't matter anymore—midday, afternoon, evening, night.
All I cared about was that I had finally succeeded. My perception had synchronized with the spell.
I wanted to test it again—when a knock came at the door.
I coughed once, lowered my hand, set the teacup beside the document on the desk.
I clenched my bloodied fist to hide the stains and called out:
"Come in…"
William burst in hurriedly and slapped a newspaper down on my desk.
I stared at him—about to speak—when he quickly unfolded the paper and pointed at the headline.
My gaze shifted from William to the headline.
I couldn't believe what I was reading.
My lips parted slightly. I wanted to speak but had no idea what to say.
William began reading the article aloud for me, voice trembling slightly:
"Today, in the early afternoon, when police visited Baron Romeo's residence to inquire about the disturbances from the previous night, they discovered Baron Romeo's body hanging from the grand chandelier in the main hall on the first floor… His chest had been torn open and both arms bound to the left and right walls… Police summoned the Night Keepers. Upon arrival and examination of the scene, they confirmed the deaths of every servant, advisor, and solicitor in Baron Romeo's household. His wife Juliet—recently married—had been brutally dismembered. According to the investigation… it is possible that parts of their bodies were even consumed…"
My eyes trembled. With a voice still shaky I managed:
"Wh—what!?"
But William swallowed hard and continued reading:
"In the course of the Night Keepers' investigation, the familiar name Mystiquire was mentioned once again. Recent events are likely under their control… In the past seven decades, only one noble had ever transformed into a Bloody Worshiper. For two Bloody Worshipers to appear in a single week… is almost impossible. Once again—as with every major incident in history—all suspicion points toward Mystiquire. But what is Mystiquire? And do the Night Keepers even have the power to oppose them?"
I pressed my hand to my forehead, clenching my bloody fist tighter, and said to William:
"Stop… don't read any more."
But William—face full of worry—looked at me and said:
"My lord…"
I drew a deep breath.
"Fine… double the manor's security."
William gave a small smile.
"Yes… I'll inform them immediately, my lord!!"
I closed my eyes slowly and said:
"You… what are you thinking!?"
William looked at me in confusion.
"What do you mean, my lord?"
I opened my eyes again, rose from the chair, stood, and looked at William.
"N… nothing!!"
William tilted his head slightly and watched me.
I forced a small smile and—voice still trembling a little—said:
"I'm going to wash my hands… It's been hours since I last did."
William smiled.
"Understood, my lord…"
I gave William a faint smile and walked toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
It didn't take long to reach the bathroom on the second floor. I hurried inside and leaned against the door.
Tears had gathered in my eyes. I was afraid.
Until now I had barely managed to pretend I was fearless.
I was terrified of dying again—far more than I had ever imagined.
What if I become a Bloody Worshiper too? They'll kill me—because I'd be dangerous!
Tears streamed down my face. I gasped for air.
I raised my bloodied hand slightly and stared at it.
"Blood…"
Without hesitation I thrust my hand under the running water to wash it. I didn't want to look at blood any longer. Never again.
In Manchester I had only seen the good sides of this world.
But now… I don't want to die…
I'm truly terrified of dying again. So, so terrified!!
───────────────────────────
Three figures sat atop Big Ben.
One wore a harlequin-patterned coat of red and yellow checks—no hat, hair disheveled.
Behind him stood a man in completely formal attire.
A third figure sat slightly higher—dressed entirely in grey.
The man in the checkered coat spoke:
"So… attention has shifted away from Westminster Abbey!!"
The man in grey replied:
"Yeah… Harlequin, for the first time you actually executed a good plan!!"
Harlequin's red-and-yellow checkered coat fluttered slightly in the wind.
"I always come up with great ideas, Gray Man… or should I say The Lunatic!!"
Gray Man laughed rather loudly, then said:
"Why aren't you saying anything, Onlooker!?"
Both Harlequin and Gray Man stared at the man in formal clothing.
But he only gave a small smile and said:
"I hate talking."
Harlequin and Gray Man both burst into laughter, but the formally dressed man simply watched them with that same quiet smile.