Chapter 57
“……”
There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his demeanor. He didn’t seem to feel the need to embellish or skirt around the truth. He spoke as if simply recounting an event he had experienced, his expression as blank and detached as always.
Dante gently patted the top of Hansel’s head. Her soft, curly hair tickled his hand in a way he found pleasant. She reminded him of a squirrel or a sparrow puffed up for winter.
Come to think of it, this woman had said she found discussions about killing frightening. While her wide, trembling eyes were endearing in their own way, he preferred when she seemed comfortable.
Since she was someone who talked a lot, maybe he needed to explain further.
“He lied to me.”
He added a few more sentences, but Hansel didn’t catch them. It felt like her ears had been submerged underwater—all she could hear was a muffled buzzing.
What lie had they told him? What did he do to them because of it? Those were the questions she should have been asking, but her mind felt like it had been split open and filled with icy water. She couldn’t form the words.
***
“…Jumping out is definitely not an option. I’d crack my head open and die.”
Hansel muttered to herself, pressing her face against the window ledge. It was a modest three-story house, but the height was far too great for a safe jump. Unlike her initial escape from home, she hadn’t brought any magical tools with her this time.
It had been about an hour since Dante left to kill the unknown creature. Hansel had been pacing the bedroom, clutching her head and racking her brain. And yet, the only feasible escape route remained the window.
Her attempt to assess the height ended in futility, and she slumped onto the edge of the bed like a deflated balloon.
From where she sat, she could see the door to the bedroom.
“…There was a window in the dining room, wasn’t there?”
The dining room was on the first floor, and the window there was just large enough for her to squeeze through—albeit not without scratching herself up. Since Dante had mentioned food before leaving, it was likely that the door would lead to the dining room.
As soon as she reached her decision, Hansel darted toward the door and grabbed the handle.
The cold, metallic sensation in her hand felt strange. She hadn’t opened a door herself since entering this house. The act of turning a doorknob felt oddly foreign.
“Please, open. Just this once, let the magic be broken. Please.”
Resolutely, Hansel turned the knob.
Click.
The door creaked open, the hinges groaning softly. Strangely, the door hadn’t made such noises when Dante opened it.
“Huh?”
Hansel froze in the doorway.
It wasn’t the dining room.
A dry, unfamiliar scent greeted her—a stark contrast to the sweet, sugary aroma that filled the rest of the house. It was the scent of an old, long-abandoned building.
And the sight that greeted her was equally eerie: a desolate hallway that seemed untouched by sunlight.
“This isn’t… the dining room…”
What lay before her was a corridor she’d never seen before. The polished wooden floor was spotless, suggesting it was still maintained, but the empty sconces on the walls held no candles. Heavy curtains blocked every window, letting no sunlight in.
It looked like a house where someone had once lived.
The whitewashed walls, hardwood flooring, and the chilly air—untainted by Dante’s magic—spoke of a cold, lifeless space. It felt as though someone had suddenly slammed shut the cover of a storybook, ejecting her into stark reality.
Hansel hesitantly stepped into the hallway. Why had the magic been lifted? Had Dante made a mistake? Would he know the moment she left the room? Was this some kind of test to see if she would behave?
If she left this room, would Dante return with the same calm, expressionless face he wore when executing others, and kill her too?
Despite the flood of such thoughts, Hansel stepped outside.
Tap.
The sound of her slipper against the wooden floor echoed faintly in the corridor. For a moment, her mind went blank, as if the gust of wind in her thoughts had swept everything away.
“……”
Nothing happened.
The magic had indeed been broken, and yet Dante didn’t appear.
Perhaps he was too far away to sense it, or maybe he wasn’t even aware the magic had dissipated.
Whatever the case, it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was the opportunity at hand.
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