Resetting Lady

This time, it’s possible that she wouldn’t. As Raymond said, she might be able to enjoy the grace of heaven.

A miracle already happened—Raymond remembered, and before that day arrived, Carynne could have died.

Perhaps she wouldn’t die now, and she might face the day after that, and the day after. That day could be her true birthday.

“Let’s go anywhere. Whether it’s a snowy plain or a vast beach.”

Carynne recalled Raymond’s words. Thinking of him brought a smile to her lips. Her mood improved considerably.

Any place would do, of course. They should celebrate once they succeed later.

Gather everyone together to mark Carynne and Raymond’s true beginning—celebrate that they were not people who would eventually disappear somewhere, but true members of society among human beings.

Blessed be their own deaths. Just like they congratulated their marriages of long past.

Even if they couldn’t utter it, the couple would receive their congratulations.

Once upon a time, when her father was alive. At that time, things mostly ended well. When was it again?

Occasionally, there were such times. In the beginning, Carynne demanded love from Raymond, and he seemed to be the answer she was seeking. And because Raymond truly showed plausible love to Carynne, the end was always a happy ending.

Despite challenges from Verdic or other enemies, Raymond always returned to Carynne.

So, he was her knight, and he remained so until that day.

What if Raymond had been a bit less exceptional? Could she have given up quickly?

Carynne suddenly had that thought. Believing her life was a romance novel for a hundred years and accepting it from the beginning was because Raymond was so damn extraordinary.

She chuckled. If Raymond had been more ordinary and a dirtier man, would she have been more suspicious sooner?

She remembered their wedding.

There were so many times, she couldn’t remember exactly how many.

When receptions were held here, the sound of shoes hitting the floor was loud yet cheerful. Carynne spun around.

Tak.

But what she wore now were not shoes but leather slippers, so only a quiet sound could be heard.

Carynne, holding a lamp, sat on the central staircase.

Being alone left her with nothing to do but think. It became tiresome to stand or move. She thought she might just lie down and consider the possibility of her own death. She should get up, though.

“……”

The moonlight was bright, and the mansion, though quiet, was splendid and luxurious. If she closed her eyes and listened carefully, she could hear the sounds of crickets, owls, and distant weeping.

“…Huh?”

Suddenly, Carynne shook her head at a strange sound. Why did she hear sobs?

She opened her eyes. The strange sound was no longer there. Perhaps she had misheard.

Hiic…

Silence hung in the air.

A world where only she existed.

Really?

Was she truly alone now?

Carynne suddenly had that thought. She closed and opened her eyes. No sound. Auditory hallucination? Carynne sighed at her own vulnerability.

“…Because I’m alone.”

But maybe it was a bit frightening because people had died here. Carynne stood up again.

Who was the owner of that fingernail? Where was that person now?

“……”

Maybe it would be good to investigate while Raymond wasn’t around.

Perhaps they’re already dead. However, the thought that there might be only one didn’t cross her mind. It might not be just one.

Carynne disliked the fear she felt.

This sensation was familiar. Nights of trembling in terror—it was familiar. At times like this, anyone should be there. Raymond should be there, and at the very least, a maid like Nancy should be called. But even that was sometimes not enough.

So she killed people.

If something is too frightening, intentionally make it familiar.

If looking at the darkness is frightening, step into the darkness. If dying is frightening, become a murderer. Then it feels somewhat better.

But what if being alone is frightening?

If she searches the house, could she find someone else?

Would discovering a more frightening corpse make her feel less scared?

Truly, why should she even be afraid of ghosts? Why would the fact that a person could remain sentient after death be a source of horror for someone like her?

Suddenly, one thought led to another.

“…God damn it.”

Once again, she needed to move with a gun. Even if it’s just a small handgun, shooting someone in the head from point blank would kill them. Even someone as weak as her could kill a person as long as she’s armed with a gun. She needed that solid weight as an anchor.

Carynne went back up the stairs, glancing around below. The last time Raymond was cleaning, it was the floor of that hall. And what she recalled about the fingernail was something stuck to the mop used to clean that hall.

‘Was someone here…?’

He must have extracted that nail from somewhere in this house. Then, did someone bleed on the floor of that hall?

Where did they go, and where did they come from? Did Raymond completely dispose of the body? Was there only one victim? Was Carynne truly alone now?

Her head was spinning. At a time like this, what she needed was confirmation. When darkness is frightening, step into the darkness. When ignorance is frightening, set off and find out.

Carynne descended the stairs once again.

Ta-dak, ta-dak, ta-dak.

Her footsteps echoed loudly.

Carynne looked down at the floor. Did Raymond scrape off blood from here? If so, did he drag a person down to the basement? Even if Carynne was alone together with Raymond in this manor, they weren’t always at each other’s side. He did various things alone.

Could the strange sound be someone else making noise?

She looked around. The hall was spacious, but behind the central staircase was a passage leading to the basement.

Carynne stood in front of the basement door. It was locked.

“……”

It reminded her of a fairy tale. A wife sneaking into her husband’s room and discovering a body there. The wife, shocked, dropped the key, and the blood on the key wouldn’t wash off no matter how hard she tried. And when the husband returned, he killed the wife.

“Not me.”

Carynne denied the story. It wasn’t her story.

She was doing this to understand Raymond.

Raymond wasn’t prohibiting her from going to this place, and neither did he test her. If he’d tell her something similar, it’s only because he’s always thinking about her safety—nothing more.

In the story, the wife didn’t know the husband. The husband didn’t know the wife. He chose the wrong wife. If it were her… If it were her, she would willingly pick up an axe with her husband, grasping love with both hands.

Rattle.

It was then. Carynne dropped the lock she had been fiddling with.

A strange sound grew louder. However, it wasn’t coming from the basement. It was from outside.

“…Darn it.”

Carynne hastily extinguished the flame of the lamp she was holding. It was to hide the fact that someone was there. But the sound didn’t stop.

Rattle, rattle.

Carynne bit her lip and silently cursed at Raymond.

Certainly, she shouldn’t have been alone here. Raymond had misjudged.

Urgently grabbing the hem of her skirt, she climbed up the stairs. She needed to grab the gun. The reason she couldn’t sleep was due to anxiety. And she should have thought about the impending anxiety from the day Raymond left.

Bang!

“…Where are you rushing off to now?”

A familiar voice came from behind.

There was no need to check who it was.

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