Chapter 100: Family (2) (1/2)

Yeriel opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was the white snow falling from the dark sky and landing upon her face. Yeriel closed her eyes, wiped away the snow, and opened them again. All she could see was snow. The sky, the earth, and the horizon were all blanketed by snow.

“…”

Yeriel stood slowly and looked far away, beyond the snowfall that swayed before her like a thick curtain. There was an old house in this pure white world, a mansion with a roof and window frames covered in white.

Yeriel blinked.

“Where have my vassals gone?”

That was the first question she had. The four vassals who came with her were nowhere to be seen. Yeriel, worried, decided to first approach the only place that wasn’t completely covered.

Rustle… rustle….

She walked forward, her footprints engraved in the snow.

“…Everyone! Are you there?!”

Arriving at the door of the mansion, she yelled out. There was no answer, and the door would not open even after shaking the doorknob.

“Ah.”

Yeriel realized what she had to do and took out the key from her pocket. She slammed it into the locked door; there was no need for a keyhole. She just put it in and twisted — the door opened.

“Is anyone… here?”

The inside was plain, like that of any old house someone could imagine.

Tack- Tack-

The sound of a crackling fire in the fireplace and the fragrant smell of tea. Yeriel moved toward it as if possessed.

“…?!”

She stopped as soon as she reached the living room. Near the fireplace sat a familiar person in a rocking chair.

“Deculein?”

He looked at her, holding a teacup in one hand and resting the other on the chair’s armrest.

“Yeriel.”

“…”

Yeriel was nervous. If Deculein were here, there could only be one reason.

“…Did you already know?”

He shook his head. It was a serious question, but the answer was bizarre.

“I am not Deculein.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am your diary.”

“…What?”

Yeriel frowned at the nonsense. Deculein, no, the Diary that resembled Deculein explained.

“It is a guide for welcoming people who have entered this place, a learning intelligence designed by magic, and an existence embodied by the artifact.”

He put his mug down.

“That’s me.”

“…Huh?”

Yeriel was stunned for a moment, but it wasn’t a total surprise. It was an artifact crafted by her father, Decalane, after all. The magic of an Archmage — of course, Decalane was limited to the realm of [Artifacts] — was something that an ordinary wizard’s mind could never even dare to comprehend.

“Then what about my vassals?”

“Those who do not have a key were briefly ‘recorded’ by a security mechanism.”

“…Recorded?”

The Diary held out four notebooks. Yeriel hesitantly approached and took them.

“This….”

On the cover of the first plain notebook, a title reading ‘Roel’ was attached. It was the name of her butler that had been with her a long time.

“Read it, and you will know.”

“…”

Yeriel opened to the first page.

Scratch, scratch–

New sentences were being recorded before her eyes in the notebook.

[I don’t know where this is. But when I opened my eyes, it was in this world… no, is this even a world?]

As she read the page, Yeriel’s eyes grew in astonishment.

[…More than anything else, I am worried about Miss Yeriel. If this space is in the Diary, I have no choice but to find her. ]

Yeriel raised her head. The Artifact in the form of Deculein was still calmly sipping at his teacup.

“What the hell is this?”

“They were ‘recorded’ into memory by a security mechanism. Since you own the key, you are protected from those security mechanisms.”

“You mean these sentences are their thoughts?”

“Yes. All of them are ‘recorded.'”

“…”

“You look surprised.”

Yeriel read another, that of the escort knight David.

[I must hurry. I can only help the young lady when I’m ready and move forward…]

The next was the maid Rachel, and the last was the wizard Regilon. Their thoughts became mere letters.

“…”

Yeriel placed her hand on the back of her neck. It felt sore, and her head felt like it was about to explode.

The Diary continued.

“When magic reaches a certain point, it functions as true magic. It’s different from Psychokinesis or Fireball in that dimension. I have come close to what can be called the truth.”

“How do I undo it?”

“There is a way. Don’t worry; they are not dead. It’s just a security mechanism.”

Yeriel calmed herself.

“Then, I’m going to look into Deculein’s memories.”

“Feel free to do so.”

He stood from his seat, and Yeriel followed. The two walked from the living room down the corridor on the right side. Countless picture frames hung on the walls of the long hallway.

“This whole thing is Deculein’s memory. You can look into anything.”

“…Really?”

“However, it consumes mana doing so.”

Yeriel stood in front of a certain frame. It was a framed picture of a familiar but awkward study. She recognized it as the permanent residence of the Yukline family, but it felt awkward because the furniture arrangement was different.

“Can I close my eyes?”

“Yes.”

“…Yeah.”

Yeriel peered into the frame.

-Your grades are good.

At that moment, a voice rang out. Yeriel turned toward its source.

“Ah.”

A groan unintentionally left her. In the study, her father, Decalane, and Deculein were standing together.

-But, only the grades are good. Academic grades other than those from the tower are garbage.

Father sat in his chair while admonishing Deculein, who listened with his head bowed.

—When you were young, I thought you were a prodigy.

Deculein didn’t say anything. He just stood still like a penitent sinner.

—In that case, rather Yeriel-

─No.

As soon as his father mentioned her, Deculein’s eyes widened. Yeriel remained silent as her father laughed.

—If you know that, you should be better.

─I will. I swear.

─You don’t need to. Just take this.

Her father handed Deculein something.

—Deculein that is your choice. It will be a heartbreaking pain, but you’re not afraid of that, right?

─…Yes. Of course.

The memory of the first frame stopped there. Yeriel looked at the picture frame next to it.

─…

This time, it was in a hallway, not the study of the Yukline house. Deculein was standing by the window and looking out. Under the sunlight, his gaze reached her, looking at a young Yeriel.

“Why are you looking at me?”

Yeriel asked so bluntly. Then Deculein turned around.

“May I ask?”

It was exquisite timing. Surprised, Yeriel corrected her tone without realizing it.

─…Master Deculein.

“!”

At that moment, another voice spoke up. Surprised, Yeriel looked around, a wave of nostalgia crashing over her. Adele, Deculein’s stepmother, and her mother. Yeriel struggled to suppress her out-cry.

─Are you okay?

Adele asked, but Deculein didn’t answer. Adele smiled bitterly and walked over to stand beside him.

─…If Yeriel becomes a wound to the master-

─Just go away.

Deculein turned away as if he didn’t want to hear it. The second memory ended there.

“Ugh… sigh. I need to look at recent memories….”

Although she saw only two memories so far, Yeriel leaned against a wall in the hallway for a moment to catch her breath. Mental and magical exhaustion wrecked her body.

“I knew that one day the two of you would visit me.”

Then, a voice came from the end of the hallway. Yeriel glanced up.

“Did you know?”

Then the polite diary looked back at her. He was standing alone in the living room. Yeriel frowned as she regarded him.

“Wait, you two?”

Nodding, he handed Yeriel a note. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

* * *

…An hour ago, late dawn at the tower.