It was still 8:00 in the morning. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, spreading across the hallway in long, pale streaks. The air felt clean and cool, carrying a faint stillness that filled Noctis with renewed energy to continue exploring the place.
Despite having the pass to the third floor and the mansion maintaining a rather welcoming atmosphere, Noctis kept his distance from the servants. His priority right now was understanding the layout of the entire floor before doing anything else.
As he walked, he passed several rooms. Most seemed unimportant, some completely empty, and a few were locked. None of them drew his attention.
What interested him was the leftmost room on the third floor — the one mentioned in the diary.
He made his way toward the far-left corner while carefully observing his surroundings. The corridor felt quieter here. Subtly isolated.
Even from a distance, he could see decorations near the door. But once he stood before it, the room looked far grander than expected for this mansion. The door itself was not overly large, yet it carried an unmistakable sense of luxury. The handle gleamed faintly, almost as if crafted from gold, while the side edges appeared lined with silver.
He checked it.
Locked from the inside. Just as the diary had stated.
Noctis glanced around to ensure no one was watching. Then he crouched and attempted to peer through the keyhole. Nothing was visible beyond darkness.
He pressed his ear gently against the door.
Listening carefully, he caught the faint voice of a child — followed by the sound of something falling to the floor.
He had no doubt.
This was Ilya’s room.
For a brief moment, he considered knocking. His hand lifted slightly… then stopped.
“She probably won’t even remember me, right?”
The thought lingered longer than expected.
After confirming his suspicion, Noctis stepped away and continued exploring the floor.
Some time later, another door caught his attention. Unlike the others, this one looked older — its surface worn, cracks forming along the edges. It did not carry elegance. It carried neglect.
Stolen novel; please report.
Without hesitation, Noctis turned the handle and entered.
The room was dimly lit.
Looking at the shelves stacked with miscellaneous objects and unused items, he concluded, “This looks like a storage room.”
He began scanning the space for anything useful.
As he walked, his foot struck something solid.
He looked down.
A box.
He picked it up and placed it on a nearby shelf. The box looked old, yet it hadn’t completely lost its sheen. Its surface was intact, almost carefully preserved.
It was locked.
When he shook it gently, the sound of metal striking wood echoed from within.
“So I need to find a key for this? Not really in the mood for that.”
His gaze wandered around the room until it stopped on a crowbar wedged against the wall.
A faint smile formed.
He picked it up and returned to the shelf.
Sliding the tip of the crowbar into the narrow gap between the lid and the base, he adjusted his grip and applied steady pressure. The wood strained quietly before a nail gave way with a dull pop.
He shifted positions and repeated the motion.
Another pop.
And another.
When the lid loosened enough, he set the crowbar aside and lifted it.
Noctis instinctively stepped back.
“A—A gun? Why is this here?”
Even his whisper carried tension.
He steadied himself and picked it up carefully. It was heavier than expected. He checked it.
Loaded.
Six bullets inside. Six more resting in the box.
“Should I take it?”
He paused.
“Considering everything happening in this mansion… I probably should.”
After a brief internal debate, he decided to keep it.
The problem was concealment.
A simple shirt and pants offered no place to hide it. He searched the room again and noticed a worn-out blazer hanging from one of the shelves. He removed it, beat the dust off, and put it on.
It fit.
Not too large. Not too tight.
Just enough to conceal the weapon behind him without drawing attention.
He exited the storage room and checked the time.
9:30 AM.
He was supposed to help Silas at 12:00. That left enough time to return to his room and rest.
As he walked back, a series of questions surfaced — questions that did not align with everything he had learned so far.
“How was the previous gardener able to reach the third floor? There was no mention of solving any puzzle. Did he originally have access? If so, why leave clues about the paintings and corridor in the final diary entry? That doesn’t make sense.”
He stopped walking.
Without realizing it, he was already standing in front of his door.
While he hadn’t gained much information from the third floor, he had obtained something else.
A weapon.
And for the first time since entering this mansion, he felt marginally safer.
After the third floor, his next destination would be the terrace — now unlocked as well.
“This really feels like a game,” he thought. “Unlocking areas one by one. A game without a respawn system… that’s unfair.”
He entered his room and finally allowed himself to settle down.
The terrace could wait.
He still had the six notes retrieved along with the pass from behind the paintings.
Taking them out of his pocket, he laid them out carefully and opened them one by one.
Noctis froze.
His pupils widened slightly, his thoughts momentarily blank.
“Th-The notes…”
His fingers tightened around the paper.
“They’re missing pages from the diary?”
