Gunmage
Chapter 121: Visitor in the house of dread

Chapter 121: Chapter 121: Visitor in the house of dread

"You... what do you want from me?"

Lugh asked, his voice low and controlled, but his gaze pierced her like a dagger.

She chuckled softly, then looked up at him with a strange light in her eyes.

"I don’t want anything from you."

Silence. Then—

"All I want is for you to remain exactly the way you are."

Lugh blinked.

"You... want me to stay the way I am?"

"Yes"

She replied, her voice tinged with something unhinged, the smile on her lips had grown too wide to be sane.

"Don’t escape. Don’t change. Stay here... with me."

Nope. That wasn’t the answer he’d been looking for. There had to be something else. Something he was missing.

"Madame"

A voice called out, calm and measured.

Isolde’s expression slipped back into a composed mask as she turned her head.

A woman had materialized at the edge of the cell, silent and motionless, like a wraith in a maid’s form.

She wore a dark servant’s outfit, hems cut shorts for easier movements. Lugh could only assume she was one of the so-called Shadows.

Humans were generally weak in magic, and Lugh didn’t believe they could maintain concealment arts constantly.

That kind of mana drain would be unsustainable. Which is likely why this one was dressed plainly, as camouflage.

The rest of them, no doubt, were blended into the estate’s staff, so well hidden that even he couldn’t pick them out.

"Cynthia, what are you doing here?"

Isolde asked, her tone bored, unbothered.

"Madame. You have visitors"

The maid answered in strict formal diction.

Isolde raised an eyebrow.

"Visitors?"

The maid only nodded.

She turned to glance at Lugh one last time, exhaling a sigh.

"I’ll be back soon."

Then she exited, leaving behind the half-eaten tray of food.

Lugh followed, not as himself, but as two rats, darting in tandem through the shadows. His ears stayed perked, catching every thread of conversation.

"Who is it?"

Isolde asked, voice like to ice.

"It’s Lord Victor ...Aelhurst."

That stopped her midstride. She blinked, her eyes narrowing in brief confusion.

"I didn’t expect anyone from the prideful House Aelhurst to actually come. And Lord Victor himself?"

She let out a low, amused hum.

"Hah. He must’ve blown all his money in some gambling den. Let’s see what he wants."

She headed to her quarters, unhurried.

He was the one who came uninvited, he could wait.

She brushed her hair, powdered her nose, and inspected her gown down to the last embroidered detail.

The fabric, delicate but layered in strength, shimmered faintly beneath the candlelight. Then, satisfied, she began the slow and deliberate walk toward the parlour.

Lord Victor sat alone in the grand reception hall, his foot tapping nervously against the ornate floor. He wore irritation like a mask, but inside, an unshakable dread was clawing at his gut.

It had begun the moment he passed through the gates of this estate, and worsened when his servants were dismissed, leaving him alone among marble and silence.

How arrogant these people are! And yet... perhaps they had earned the right.

The Von Heims were a reclusive family. No, not reclusive. Secretive. That was the better word.

Everyone knew they were powerful, but few knew why. They didn’t meddle in court politics. They didn’t make social calls. They hosted their own events—and when they invited, people came. Always.

He eyed the white marble walls, the gold trim, the tall archways and strange indoor flora. Every sculpture and oil painting exuded a presence. A certain... aura.

Compared to this, his own manor felt like a child’s playhouse.

This place was beautiful, yet sinister.

The longer he sat, the more it made his skin crawl.

No! he told himself with a sharp inhale. He slammed his foot dow, his potbelly rippling with the motion.

He wasn’t scared. This was just similar to a placebo effect, a condition where one’s preconceptions shape their emotional state.

Ha. Haha. That must be it! Let those ignorant fools talk. When he was sober, he was still a brilliant doctor.

Then—click. A door opened somewhere.

Two maids entered, identical in dress and motion.

Their steps matched like dancers on stage. When they bowed, it was perfect synchronicity, as if they weren’t separate people, but fragments of a single entity.

’Theatrics’

He thought, scoffing.

But then they spoke.

"The Lady has arrived."

Their voices were layered, perfectly harmonized like a twin-tone chord. The sound made Aldrin flinch. He barely caught himself.

Finally.

He stood abruptly, straightening his jacket. A quick glance in a nearby bronze mirror, he slicked back his hair, patted down his sleeves.

He had to look his best.

And then she entered.

The matriarch of House Von Heim moved like a ghost, gliding rather than walking. Her lavender gown trailed like silk mist, every step measured, every movement calculated.

She wasn’t just beautiful, she was ethereal.

Refined features, blood-red lips, a gaze like polished glass.

Victor swallowed his saliva.

She stopped, and stared at him

He stared back. He would not be intimidated.

She kept staring. Her eyes didn’t blink.

He stared harder, refusing to be the first to flinch.

Then she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

It hit him then.

He’d made a mistake.

"M-Mrs. Von Heim, it’s an honor to be in your presence"

He stammered, dropping into a deep, elaborate bow.

She didn’t respond, her gazed fixed on him, waiting for more.

"Today you look more radiant than the sun"

He blurted, voice growing shrill

"Your beauty more dazzling than the most brilliant of gemstones. Forgive me for not greeting you earlier. In the face of such exquisite grace, it’s easy to lose one’s tongue."

He felt the sweat trace his spine like a cold finger.

Her eyes remained riveted to his figure unmoving

This time he didn’t dare return the stare and averted his eyes.

Then—

"At least you know how to talk"

Her calm voice echoed, ringing off the chamber walls.

Victor exhaled in relief.

But just then, she clapped.

In the next moment her shadows surged forward.

Towards him.