Chapter 9
9
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So it works.
A strange energy and chill seeped through the slightly open door.
Was it not locked after all? I tried to maintain my composure as much as possible and looked at the men.
"Alright, go in and do your job."
The man with reddish-brown hair narrowed his gray eyes and looked down at me.
"Who do you take me for, an idiot? Do you think I came here without knowing that going in there means death?"
Oh, really? I didn't know. 'Going in there means death.' So that wasn't a threat.
The man added.
"It seems certain that the being is gone."
"What are you talking about...? What's gone?"
"The owner of the mansion. I knew when I saw your job posting in the newspaper."
Mathias? That man isn't gone. I don't know where he is or what he's doing now. More than that, how do those guys know about Mathias's existence?
And what the hell did that employee write again! I rubbed my forehead and asked, pretending not to know.
"The owner of the mansion? No one like that lives here. And you saw the newspaper before it was even published?"
"Don't play dumb. It's a secret story circulating among the underworld and Ability Users, isn't it?"
The man who was sneering added.
"And newspapers are often taken out in advance to get information faster than others. I've already heard the story that a witch lives here."
The man, who was surprisingly kind in answering, grabbed my shoulder painfully.
"Is this why you can't use your powers?"
He rummaged through his coat and held garlic cloves and a cross right in front of my nose.
Hey, this is for repelling vampires.
The man tapped my back with his garlic-smelling hand.
"You bring it. If you don't hurry, I'll shove raw garlic in your mouth."
"Ugh, what do I have to bring?"
"The Philosopher's Stone. The thing that made the owner of the mansion immortal."
Immortal or whatever, you said going in there means death? I turned to look at the reddish-brown-haired man with a stiff face.
"I've never been in there either. You said I might die?"
"Really? You'll find out if you go in this time."
My opinion didn't matter. The man opened the door wide and pushed my back hard, and I was instantly thrown into the basement.
Like falling into cold water, a chilling shiver ran through my body.
No, I'm going to die! Grandpa, please save me!
I fell face down on the hard stone floor and squeezed my eyes shut.
"Huh?"
I don't seem to be dead yet.
A warm energy lingered around my chest, chasing away the chilling cold that had seeped into my body. I carefully lifted my eyelids and took out the necklace hanging around my neck.
"Always carry it with you. It will protect you."
Recalling my grandfather's voice made me feel a little choked up.
"Grandpa..."
The red gemstone necklace, my grandfather's keepsake and my father's item, was glowing softly.
Did this necklace protect me?
Then, I suddenly raised my head and saw a gold-framed portrait hanging on the wall.
It was a portrait of a woman in a white dress with voluminous brown hair and green eyes. In the lower right corner, there were letters written like a signature.
[Saint of Peace, Rilke]
Rilke? The same as the name of the rose that Mathias cherishes.
Is it because it's a hyperrealistic painting? I get the illusion that the beautiful woman in the picture is smiling warmly at me.
"Are you perhaps the former mansion manager?"
I muttered to myself without realizing it and looked around. There are several portraits covered with cloth. Is it like a hall of fame commemorating the past mansion managers?
Mr. Park Mathias, you pretended to be cool about past relationships, saying things like 'Meeting is parting,' but you created a place to commemorate them.
Next to it, I noticed a portrait covered in cloth leaning against the wall. A white uniform and medal are visible through the slightly exposed gap. I can't see the face, but it looks similar to Mathias's uniform.
"Hey, what are you dawdling for?"
A fierce voice urging me came from beyond the door.
Those guys probably can't come in here because they're afraid of dying, right? I immediately changed my attitude and revealed a vile smile.
"What about it? Come in and find it yourself."
"You little brat, acting up."
Even so, they couldn't bring themselves to come this way. As if they had placed the threshold as the boundary between life and death,
"You might not die. Be brave like me!"
Actually, I was pushed in.
The men's foreheads furrowed fiercely at my encouragement.
"I'm really going to kill you."
"Yeah, you can't kill me, right? You're too scared to come in, even though you're so tall, you're a complete coward."
At my continued provocation, the reddish-brown-haired man's temple throbbed. I could see his jaws grinding against each other as if he was gnashing his teeth.
"Then I'll just wait until you come out. You can starve to death while barricading yourself in there. There's no one who's going to come to save you, right?"
The man took a seat in front of the door and sat down with a thud. I smirked and raised my chin.
"Who told you I live alone? Your information is way off."
"What?"
The men standing outside the door looked at me, bewildered.
Just then, a voice mixed with annoyance and sighs was heard behind them.
"I was wondering who left muddy footprints all over the house."
A tall man appeared over their shoulders. It was Dante, appearing with good timing.
When the men turned around in surprise, he swept back his black hair that covered his forehead and looked at them silently. His sharp eyes scanned the men's muddy shoes.
The man, who had been consistently expressionless except for his social smile, had a murderous aura on his face.
I've never seen such a fierce expression before. Those guys seem to have properly pressed the black-hearted housekeeper's anger button.
"It is customary to shake off your shoes when visiting someone's house. No matter how much of a guest you are, I cannot tolerate this."
He began to give a stern lecture to the thieves.
At this, I shouted urgently.
"Dante, those guys aren't guests, they're burglars! They're thieves!"
Dante's eyes narrowed even more sharply beyond the door. The blue light in the dark space was intense.
The leader of the thieves raised his head proudly with a relaxed face.
"Ha, who's this guy? Seems like the owner of the house."
"I'm the owner of the house!"
They didn't even pretend to hear my unfair cry.
A bald man stepped forward and clenched his fist, making a cracking sound.
"Brother Theodore, should we take care of him?"
It seemed to be the reddish-brown-haired man's name. An unnecessarily cool name for a human I probably won't see again.
Theodore, with one arm on his waist, nodded.
"Yeah, throw him in there with you."
Dante had already rolled up his shirt sleeves. He took out black leather gloves from his pants pocket and put them on, turning to look at me.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm seriously injured. They hurt my feelings."
I exaggerated the damage I had suffered as much as possible. Maybe if I say I'm okay, the intensity of the scolding will decrease.
"Dante, behind you!"
It was my cry when I saw the bald man running like crazy, aiming for Dante's back.
Bang-!
A tremendous impact echoed through the underground passage.
It was the sound of the bald man flying through the air and hitting the wall with his entire body by Dante's hand.
The stone wall caved in with a crack, and the man's body, embedded in the wall, rolled powerlessly to the floor.
I gasped without realizing it, surprised by the tremendous power.
"You don't have to worry about me."
Suddenly, gun barrels were aimed at him from the front and back as he spoke leisurely.
Don't worry in that situation? Those damn thieves, they even brought guns.
Theodore, the guy with the gun, chuckled as he looked at my pale face.
"Hey, you better hand over the item first. Unless you want to see a hole in that guy's head."
I shouted urgently.
"Wait! I'll find it for you!"
What should I do? I have to save our housekeeper. What the hell is the Philosopher's Stone? I looked around anxiously. Grandpa, if you're watching me, tell me the answer!
Suddenly, I remembered what my grandfather had told me in the past when I had burned all the bread.
"Mia, it's okay if you can't do it well, don't be discouraged, and always do your best. Everyone has things they can't do and things they're good at. That's why people can't live alone."
"Yeah, I have to do something."
I stood still and stared at the air, then immediately turned around and stared at Theodore. I was holding something in one hand.
"Okay, I'm going to throw it when I count to three, so concentrate and catch it well. It explodes if it breaks."
Theodore held out his hand.
"Okay, throw it quickly. I'll spare this guy's life..."
"Three!"
Just kidding, you X-holes!
Actually, there was nothing in my hand. I can't fight, but I'm good at attracting attention like a attention seeker.
"Where, where did it go!"
The thieves' gazes scattered in confusion at my sudden pitch.
"Huh?"
It was Theodore's voice, who had been disarmed by Dante in the blink of an eye while I was distracting them.
Before I knew it, Dante was grabbing the arm of the man behind him and aiming the gun at his forehead.
I rubbed my eyes when I saw the two guns they were holding in Dante's hands.
What is that? Magic? Are that man's hands faster than my eyes?
Theodore raised one eyebrow and glared at Dante.
"Who the hell are you?"
At Theodore's question, Dante raised his head and looked down at him, answering.
"Housekeeper."
I hired a black heart housekeeper.
