TTRIA 28

“What are you doing!”

The old man, realizing too late, shouted in alarm. Cecil coldly brushed off the gripped arm and replied impassively.

“I was thinking of twisting the wrist, breaking each finger joint, and crushing the twisted flesh and joints.”

“What a foolish thing to do!”

The old man’s face contorted. Cecil tilted his head and retorted.

“Why? Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m trying to do as you wish, so what’s the problem?”

“You know I wasn’t talking about you. What is this…!”

“No. Actually, it was meant for me.”

Cecil kicked the glass shards of the lantern with his foot. Screech! The sharp surface scraped across the floor, making a piercing sound.

“Because the rat you mentioned is me.”

“If you’re thinking of playing word games…”

“I broke it out of frustration.”

The old man flinched.

“Thinking of you coming here again today made me furious. Your touch was so repulsive, I felt I’d die if I didn’t break something.”

Jeff, holding his breath and focusing on the conversation, widened his eyes. A voice, unbelievably cold for Cecil, struck his ears. Jeff wasn’t the only one shocked. The old man, momentarily frozen like a statue, stared at Cecil with an odd look.

“…You’ve changed.”

The old man said.

“Yes… It must be that person who’s influenced you.”

A sharp glint flashed in Cecil’s eyes. The old man deftly met the piercing gaze and raised the corners of his mouth.

“Of course, he’s a striking young man. I understand why your eyes keep drifting to him, but, well.”

The old man’s eyes gleamed in the dim lantern light.

“A shell is bound to wither eventually. So, it would be nice to preserve it at its most radiant before time wears it down. Of course, the master would never allow it.”

“…….”

“It’s fine to be swayed by a shell, but don’t fall for the substance. What could be more foolish than giving your heart to an illusion destined to vanish? In the end, you’ll be the one to suffer.”

“Just give me the syringe.”

Cecil said coldly. The old man, confident he’d won the verbal spar, grinned smugly. Meanwhile, Jeff, still holding his breath, frowned at the word ‘syringe.’ It didn’t feel right.

“Very well. We can’t delay any longer.”

Hanging the lamp on a wall hook and pulling a syringe from his jacket, the old man approached Cecil. As always, he extended a wrinkled hand to jab the needle into the pale forearm. The moment he reached for Cecil’s lowered arm.

“Don’t touch me.”

Cecil sharply swatted the old man’s hand away. The old man’s gaze followed the syringe that fell to the floor. Cecil, picking it up without hesitation, plunged it into his own arm. The liquid seeped under his skin instantly. The old man, standing dazed, bit his jaw as he saw the empty syringe roll on the floor. His face was steeped in anger.

“You insolent…!”

“You wouldn’t want to keep Wayne waiting, would you?”

The old man’s fury was cut off with a single sentence. Turning pale, he checked his pocket watch.

“You know you can’t expect leniency from Wayne on a full moon.”

“…Let’s move.”

Muttering as if chewing the words, the old man turned. Grabbing the lamp and stepping forward briskly, he walked ahead. Cecil followed. Jeff hurriedly rose, but a faint voice stopped him.

“Don’t follow.”

With that single sentence, Cecil closed the door. Jeff was left alone in the darkness that settled over the space.

Thump, thump. His unsteady heartbeat grew fiercer. Pressing his face as if to crush it, Jeff glared at the firmly closed door.

Should he chase after Cecil now? Or stay put as he was told. Conflicting thoughts clashed, dizzying his mind.

But he knew the truth. Even if he grabbed Cecil now, it wouldn’t change the fundamental situation. It would only delay the moment. He also knew that doing so could bring greater danger, which is why he couldn’t move easily. Against Wayne, against the Gray mansion, Jeff was too powerless.

“Damn it.”

Now that it was certain his uncle, Allen Walker, had passed through the Grays. Until he uncovered why Allen became a monster, he couldn’t leave the mansion. Moreover, anger simmered at being toyed with as prey for the ‘insects.’ He wanted to make Wayne pay. To screw over that damned bastard and expose the Gray family’s atrocities of using ‘insects’ and humans as tools for their gain, he needed solid evidence.

Clutching the folded documents in his pocket, Jeff swallowed. He needed to gather more files on the eliminated talents. Their deaths were surely disguised as accidents, so those documents would be crucial clues to reveal the circumstances. To do that, he had to search the red door’s room again.

Jeff pulled out the small knife hidden in his waistcoat. Tearing the bedsheet into strips, he tightly bound his throbbing ankle, then picked up the syringe Cecil used.

Opening the door and stepping out, he saw a temple-like space. It was empty, and with no unusual scents, it seemed deserted. Only Cecil’s faint lingering fragrance remained, pointing to the right—opposite the exit he’d described.

“…….”

Jeff hesitated briefly. Should he find the exit Cecil mentioned, secure the escape route, and return to the red door’s room? Or follow the direction Cecil went to find him?

Since Cecil, as an ‘insect,’ was suffering under Wayne, understanding his situation was important too. But finding Cecil meant likely facing Wayne. This was the underground beneath the maze, not the mansion. If Jeff, a mere outsider and ‘insect’ sacrifice, exposed the Grays’ true face, Wayne would eliminate him without hesitation. Or he might abandon the pretense of a tutor and throw Jeff to Daniel as prey.

…Facing Wayne now would be reckless, wouldn’t it? Pressing his tightening chest, Jeff moved left. Though he felt sorry for Cecil, he chose to ignore his pain for now. With no way to safely rescue him, Jeff decided it was better to focus on what he could do rather than cling to the impossible.

Jeff navigated the lightless space, feeling the wall. At its end, he sensed a doorframe. Turning the handle, a faint light revealed an ascending staircase. At the top of the long, steep incline was a handle to push the ceiling. The faint smell of grass seeped through the gap. It was definitely an exit to the outside.

“I’ve confirmed this far, so now…”

Securing the route, Jeff turned back. Retracing through the underground prison and perfumery, he reached the red door without meeting anyone. The eerie ease of it made him tense, focusing all his senses on sounds and smells beyond the door. No signs of presence were detected.

Cautiously opening the door, Jeff stepped into the master’s space. The perfume bottle that had been on the desk was gone. The bottle named after Cecil. What did its absence mean?

“…Cecil.”

His chest tightened. An anxious breath escaped between his pressed lips. It was the price of ignoring Cecil’s suffering. But he had no choice. Even if he followed Cecil, he wasn’t confident he could fully save him. Besides, there were still things to uncover here. Having just started finding clues, he didn’t want to ruin it recklessly.

Forcing himself to ignore his heart, Jeff rummaged through the files. Swallowing hard, flipping page after page, he sorted out documents on the talents and tutors to track down.

First, tutors with spiral patterns like Allen and those without.

Second, talents eliminated by the Grays and those who survived.

Third, talents and tutors exchanging spiral patterns in the same period.

Carefully folding the selected documents, he tucked them into his coat. Searching for more clues about Allen, it seemed his resume as a tutor was all that remained. Lingering, he examined the bookshelf, when suddenly.

Ding— Ding—

The grandfather clock announced midnight.

“Damn it, already…”

Startled, Jeff checked the time as a faint commotion began. The echoing sound was unmistakably cheers.

“…….”

This was underground, not the surface. Cheers resonating in the true master’s study, not a decoy, didn’t match the scene of the space he stood in or the crowd’s noise.

An inexplicable unease enveloped Jeff. Forgetting to breathe, he turned toward the sound. His gaze fixed on heavy velvet curtains. The sound was definitely coming from beyond. Was the faint light his imagination?

Jeff approached the curtains. As the distance closed, the sound grew clearer. The faint light wasn’t an illusion either. A strange hue seeped through the slightly parted curtains. Oddly, when he first checked, something had blocked it. Why?

“…….”

His stiff fingers grasped the curtain. He felt the embroidered gold thread and the soft fabric. The smell of dust in the fibers stung his nose, and the muffled sound pierced his ears. Swallowing the bile rising from his exhausted body, Jeff tightly gripped the curtain and yanked it open. The scene that unfolded was beyond expectation.

“…A stage?”

It was like a scene from a theater film he’d once seen. The breathtakingly splendid interior of a theater. Actors weaving across a beautifully designed stage under soft lighting. An audience applauding the lead. The view beyond the glass was like that scene brought to life.

The scale was that of a small theater, but the structure and decorations rivaled a high-end opera house. The audience numbered around fifty. The central seats and boxes were filled. A man in the stage’s center spoke, his voice resonating, followed by the audience’s laughter.

Jeff saw it all because he stood at the topmost center, overlooking the stage and audience—a surveillant’s space.

“Why is such a place underground?”

Puzzled, Jeff frowned. A hollow laugh escaped his lips as he recognized the man on stage.

“…The proxy.”

A man with an intellectual air, wearing black acetate glasses.

Wayne Gray’s proxy gestured elegantly, explaining something to the audience. His upright posture and bold movements exuded confidence. It wasn’t his first time. He was adept at commanding the stage’s attention.

“What a bunch of lunatics…”

An underground prison wasn’t enough; they hid a stage too. As Jeff marveled at their audacity, he felt a sudden unease. Frowning, he pressed his face to the glass. He soon understood why.

The audience’s faces were invisible. They all wore black masks with holes for eyes and mouths. In the dim seats untouched by light, they looked faceless. Those in the boxes overlooking the stage even more so. It was a truly bizarre sight.

The faceless audience’s cheers hit the glass. A chill like a pole ran down Jeff’s spine. As he grimly scanned the audience, his gaze shifted to the stage, and his heart sank.

The proxy’s eyes were on Jeff.

But it was a fleeting moment. The proxy resumed addressing the audience, his lips curving into a deeper arc than before.

He was caught.

Jeff was certain the proxy recognized him. Hastily closing the curtain, he stepped back. A brief wave of despair hit, but a sudden surge of defiance stopped him.

“…Do I need to go back?”

It dawned on him. The butler likely already knew he’d invaded the underground. Though Cecil deflected, that snake-like old man wouldn’t have missed it. The broken lantern’s owner was Jeff.

Since even the proxy had spotted him, returning to his room wouldn’t improve things. Escape was futile. Then he’d face the worst end. Cornered, he’d at least resolve his questions to feel less wronged. He’d uncover the underground and find Cecil.

A mix of desperation and suppressed anger pushed out fear. His poor condition clouded his reason, but Jeff didn’t notice.

Glaring at the curtained window, he turned. His steps led to a spiral staircase. Click, gripping the chillingly cold metal handle, Jeff opened the door.

A lavish corridor, rivaling the mansion above, unfolded. Descending a red-carpeted staircase, he reached a central hall. A sturdy soundproof door stood at its center. Beyond it lay the scene he saw through the glass.

One servant guarded the door. A robust man, unfamiliar from the mansion. Hiding behind a pillar, Jeff clicked his tongue. Meeting a known face here would be troublesome, but an unknown one was worse. It was only a matter of time before an uproar labeled him an outsider intruder.

The irony was that it wasn’t entirely wrong. Coming from outside Collie and invading the underground made him an intruder. He had no defense. Posing as a servant to dodge suspicion was impossible with his limited knowledge of the place. Acting clumsily would only raise more suspicion.

What should he do? How could he get inside?

While observing the hall, a presence came from the right corridor, not the center. A gentleman in a black mask staggered toward the hall.

“Do you need anything, sir?”

“Guide me to the restroom. I need to relieve myself now. Ha… Damn it, it’s always like this when I smell that scent.”

“This way, sir.”

The gentleman, slurring and stumbling, seemed drunk or drugged, but his words held the answer. Scent. The scent caused his state. A fragrance from the stage’s space. What was happening inside? Frowning, Jeff scanned the hall and approached. No other servants were visible.

‘Entering through the main door would be too conspicuous.’

In a small space, caution was needed. After a moment’s thought, Jeff headed for the corridor the gentleman came from. The right corridor had two box-seat doors. No need to guess which one the gentleman exited; one was slightly ajar.

Cautiously opening it, Jeff entered a narrow waiting area. Closing the door, a scent hit him—one of the fragrances Wayne sent nightly.

A dark curtain hung in front, likely revealing seats overlooking the stage if lifted. Hesitating to move, a strange sound pierced Jeff’s ears. It was a sob close to a plea.

“Let me go, please…! I was wrong! It’s all my fault, ah, ahh! What, what’s… something’s on my body…! It’s weird, let me go! Get me out now!”

A familiar voice followed.

“Haha! What a sensitive fellow. Normally, the pain shouldn’t be felt so keenly. What should we do? I think letting this guy see would be fun. Don’t you all agree?”

Cackling laughter and agreeing voices followed. Stiffening, Jeff approached the curtain. As he gripped the heavy fabric, the proxy’s voice, laced with amusement, rang out again.

“Very well. Let’s all fix our eyes on this pitiful young man’s face. You’ll surely enjoy a splendid expression.”

“What… what are you trying to do…! What are you doing to me!”

“Let’s count down from ten!”

“Don’t, don’t do it, stay away, you bastards!”

Clank. The sound of chains turning echoed.

And then.

“10!”

A man’s piercing scream started the countdown. Everyone in the room joined in counting. 9, 8, 7… As the numbers decreased, the man’s screams grew louder, drenched in terror.

Empathizing with the emotion, Jeff felt an overwhelming fear. Frozen like a statue, clutching the curtain, the final number was shouted.

“1!”

Jeff tore the curtain open. His breath stopped.

“Aaah, aaaaah!”

He knew the man screaming on stage. It was

“The young servant watching the sleepwalker left the mansion in the dead of night.”

Eddie.

Inside a transparent glass tube with an open top, Eddie hung precariously. Chains from the ceiling bound his hands, and he writhed in pain.

He was naked. Dozens of black leeches clung to his bare body. Beneath their bloated forms, red blood trickled down.

“No, noooo!”

Seeing his wretched state, Eddie thrashed in terror. He tried to kick off the leeches on his leg with one foot. But the teeth of a few detached leeches, stuck in his skin, caused pain. Blood flowed down his leg. Other leeches in the tube, smelling the blood, swarmed to Eddie’s leg. The audience, watching his frantic struggle, burst into laughter.

Hahaha, look at that!

They saw his desperate flailing as a comical clown’s act. Some mocked it as a beautiful dance, others laughed comparing Eddie’s genitals to the leeches’ size. Jeff’s lips trembled as he watched.

“…They’re insane. …All insane.”

There was no sanity here. No one felt fear or disgust at the sadistic act, nor pity or guilt for the terrified victim. To them, Eddie on stage wasn’t human—just livestock for amusement.

“Ugh—!”

Unable to suppress the rising nausea, Jeff collapsed to the floor. Burning pain and bile surged. He retched for a while, as Eddie’s screams and the audience’s cheers continued unabated.

“Huff, huff…”

The wrenching stomach and pounding heart were agonizing. Tears of physiological pain streamed from Jeff’s eyes. But it wasn’t just pain. His bloodshot eyes burned with fierce anger.

“…Those aren’t people.”

No one stopped the brutal violation of a young man. They encouraged it. Make him suffer more. Make him scream louder. Wearing human masks, they committed acts worse than beasts. Ironically, the black masks hiding their faces seemed to reveal their true monstrous nature.

They weren’t human. Just monsters.

The underground was clearly designed for the prison and stage. This meant their amusement wasn’t recent. Dragging innocent people to be ‘insect’ sacrifices or actors in this vile stage was a deep-rooted Gray atrocity. And perhaps it included not just humans but ‘insects’ too. Maybe…

“…Cecil.”

His heart sank.

His unsteady heartbeat echoed in his ears. Shivering with chills, Jeff staggered to his feet. He had to find Cecil now.

“Cecil, I have to find Cecil, where…”

As he frantically pulled the curtain—

“Who are you.”

A gentleman, entering the waiting area, pointed at Jeff.

“Who are you to be in my seat…”

His angry words trailed off eerily.

Thump. Thump. The gentleman’s black mask approached with furious steps. The torn, laughing mouth and eyes. The sinister glint of a monster’s eyes within. Eddie’s screams. The audience’s cheers. The black, snake-like gaze flicking its tongue. Eddie’s screams again. And the cheers.

“…….”

All of it tangled together, snapping Jeff’s reason in an instant.