Chapter 4
Pastel hugged the longsword, twirling around the room. Her winter dress swirled with the motion.
"My friend~" she hummed, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I bet you'd cosign a loan for me~"
Despite the emptiness of her new room, Pastel felt oddly content. The knot in her stomach had finally loosened.
God, how long have I yearned for a proper weapon? she thought, admiring the sword. It might be a bit chipped, but it's a real weapon, alright.
"Sorry, table leg," she muttered. "You tried your best, but I think I prefer this beat-up longsword."
Pastel gripped the sword in the center of the room, marveling at its blade. This sharpness! The power to slice through flesh and leather!
Gone was the Pastel who had to rely on throwing her whole body weight into attacks. Now, monsters would be nothing more than an appetizer.
She spun, slashing the air. "Whoosh! Swish!"
The sword cut wide arcs through the space, and Pastel's heart swelled with excitement.
I can take on anything now. Come at me! I'll dice you up with my incredible swordsmanship.
With newfound confidence, she strode towards what seemed to be the entrance hall. Carefully, she used a mirror to check around corners.
This was the third floor. A grand staircase led down to the second floor and then to the entrance hall.
On the second-floor landing, she caught a glimpse of a dark, shadowy figure.
Heh, I'm not scared at all, she thought, her bravado masking a tremor of fear. Which foolish monster wants to be my dessert?
The figure stood upright on two legs - humanoid, but not quite human. Unfamiliar, yet somehow recognizable.
A knight. The medieval tank.
In its hand was a black longsword, its entire body covered in pitch-black plate armor.
Pastel's mind went blank with shock.
...
Pastel lay flat on the floor, crawling past the entrance to avoid the knight's line of sight.
I am a worm, she chanted internally. A worm. Nothing to see here.
She reached the opposite corridor and stood, shivering and brushing off her winter dress.
Come on, it can't really be plate armor, right? And that longsword looks way better than my chipped one. Surely a barbaric, dangerous creature wouldn't use the fruits of civilization?
Grumbling, she searched the rooms, avoiding the stairs that might put her in the knight's view.
At a corridor corner, she encountered a wolf. Time to test her new friend.
Dodging the wolf's lunge, she slashed. There was rough resistance, but the blade cut through.
The wolf's hide split, oozing black energy. As it stumbled, Pastel rushed in for a finishing thrust.
"Easy peasy! You're just an appetizer!" she crowed, relishing the clean cut. Do I feel stronger, or is it just my imagination?
After gobbling down some meat pudding, she continued her search.
The entire third floor was clear of monsters.
Total conquest, she thought triumphantly.
Thanks to this, she could freely shudder at the sight of the completely looted rooms.
"Father...!" she wailed dramatically. "If only our kind and beautiful mother were still alive, our home wouldn't be in such a state!"
The only furniture she found was a large bookcase occupying one wall. Apart from that, this room was empty too.
Examining the discolored marks on the floor where furniture had once stood, she guessed this might have been the family head's office.
"Wow, my office?" she mused sarcastically. "The desk and chair that should be here are gone too? I'm shocked, truly shocked."
Pastel browsed the books.
History, traditions, customs, and guidelines of the Craft family.
Titles covering various fields, some in great detail.
She pulled out a guidebook for the family head and skimmed through it.
"Oh, the art of ruling?" she muttered, eyebrows rising as she read. "There's a whole section on how to stab allied families in the back!"
"'Betrayal is more about the aftermath than the success. After getting what you want, incite internal strife. Then take a side and propose a new alliance.'"
"Wow..." Pastel gasped, both horrified and oddly fascinated. She flipped to the practical guidelines, finding case studies and know-how from past family heads neatly organized.
"'The most powerful method is for the current head to betray, and for the next generation to sincerely apologize and propose a new alliance. Set up a multi-generational plot with the final surviving heir. The opponent will fall for it helplessly.'"
It seemed most of the book's content was about how to do bad things. Further skimming confirmed it wasn't just her imagination.
Ooh, our family seems completely evil, she thought, a mix of shock and intrigue washing over her. Is betrayal and division our hobby or something?
This really doesn't match our outward appearance, does it? It's like, a million light-years away from all that pink fluffiness.
Maybe that's why the appearance was helpful?
Good grief.
This doesn't suit my kind and positive personality at all.
She put the book back, having explored all the rooms.
Now what?
"Should I fight the knight in plate armor?" she wondered aloud, then shook her head vigorously. "No way, that's suicide, right?"
Maybe I should find another way around? Yeah, that makes more sense.
It's not like I'm addicted to meat pudding or anything.
At the thought of meat pudding, her mouth watered, and her mind went fuzzy. She quickly shook it off.
No, no. I'm not addicted to some weird dessert. I just eat it because it's tasty and helpful, that's all.
I should give up on the second floor. I'll go straight down the stairs. The kitchen is probably on the first floor, right?
She rubbed her hungry stomach.
My stamina feels okay, but...
My soul feels empty, somehow.
It's like someone sucked out a piece of my soul and ran away.
My body feels weird. I should eat some proper food.
As she opened the door, turning her head, Pastel froze. A black figure was visible at the end of the corridor.
The knight in plate armor walked with its head down, examining the floor. It seemed to be following some kind of trail.
There were no visible traces on the floor. Or at least, none that made sense to normal scientific understanding.
The image of meat pudding flashed in her mind.
Black energy, billowing.
Oh, crap.
The knight slowly raised its head, quickly scanning the distant traces. And at the end of that trail, it found Pastel.
Red light flashed from within its helmet.
The black knight charged. The heavy weight of its armor made thunderous sounds.
Aaaah!
Pastel quickly slammed the door shut, frantically engaging the lock. Immediately after, the door was kicked. The lock mechanism shook violently. There was a faint sound of wood splintering.
The wooden door won't hold.
She ran to the window, scanning the monster-filled ground below.
Which is less dangerous - climbing down the wall or facing the knight?
A humanoid creature below threw a stone at the window. It missed, but the dull thud made Pastel's hair stand on end.
They're both suicide.
The door was kicked again. Part of the outer surface must have broken, as the sound of splintering wood was now clearly audible.
Waaah!
She frantically searched the room. This is the family head's office, right? There must be some contingency plan. An emergency exit or something.
Emergency exit?
Her gaze fell on the bookcase. The only piece of furniture preserved when everything else had been sold off.
They couldn't sell the books because of family privacy. But the bookcase? Maybe it was built into the building?
The door was kicked again. The sound of splintering wood echoed loudly.
Pastel's hair stood on end.
She rushed to the bookcase. Trying to topple it proved impossible, so she frantically emptied the shelves with both hands. She cleared one row, then another.
She found a book that wouldn't budge.
What's this?
It was a book fixed to the bookcase.
When she pushed it hard, her fingers stung. Ouch? A drop of blood stained the book, and something clicked.
A series of gear sounds came from behind the bookcase. The bookcase slid away, revealing a dark passage.
It was a spiral staircase going down.
Wow.
Pastel quickly gathered her sword and shield. She threw herself onto the spiral staircase. The sound of the door breaking echoed as the bookcase closed behind her.
The spiral staircase was steep, almost vertical. It was so dark she had to rely on the glow-in-the-dark paint.
Pastel rushed down the stairs in a panic. It took her a while to realize there were no sounds of pursuit.
"Phew, I'm alive..." she gasped, catching her breath. The musty air hit her nostrils. Only then did the dim space really register in her mind.
But what is this place? Is it really an emergency exit? I hope it leads outside the mansion. If not, at least to the kitchen.
After descending for quite some time, she reached a basement. Wall-mounted candles lit up automatically, illuminating the interior.
"Wow."
One wall was filled with bookshelves. In front of it stood a modest table and chair.
Good grief.
The furniture arrangement is intact...!
Pastel found herself moved by something she shouldn't be impressed by.
A leather pouch on the bookshelf caught her eye.
Oh, is that...?
She dashed over and opened it, revealing glittering jewels and coins.
Unknown gems, gold coins, silver coins.
"Gasp."
How many longswords could this buy?
It was shocking.
I wasn't a beggar after all.
She hefted the pouch, savoring its weight. It was lighter than expected for an emergency fund.
Still, I won't starve for a while. Even if I can't maintain a noble's lifestyle.
She carefully set the pouch down.
On the opposite side of the bookshelf was an iron cage. A sword was stuck inside the prison.
Pastel glanced back and forth between her longsword and the imprisoned sword.
It looks way better than my new friend.
She wanted to compare them directly, but that was impossible. The cage had no door. What's this about? Is it just for decoration?
Pastel shook the dense bars, then gave up. She licked her lips in disappointment.
She finished looking around the basement.
The remaining walls were just... walls.
Hmm.
She nodded, then stopped abruptly.
"Huh?"
She quickly scanned the basement again.
No matter how she looked at it, it was a dead end.
To get out, she'd have to climb back up the spiral staircase.
Her hair stood on end.
The red glow from the knight's helmet flashed in her memory.
Don't tell me...
Am I a rat in a trap?
"Aaaah."
No wonder my name is Pastel Love Craft. I can see my fate. I tried to rationalize it, but it really was weird.
I've become just like my name.
"My life is cosmic horror, hic," she whimpered.
From now on, even if someone mistakenly calls her Pastel Lovecraft, she'd have no grounds to object. Not that there's anyone left to call her anything.
But apparently, there was someone here after all.
In the basement where she thought she was alone, a deep voice spoke.
『What's a young Craft doing here?』
Where the imprisoned sword had been, a man now stood. Dressed in a loose suit without a tie, hands in his pockets, he gave her a sidelong glance.
Pastel's jaw dropped.
A... a person?
Black hair, red eyes.
A real person?
"Wooow."
Is this what it feels like to meet a fellow countryman abroad?
She rushed to the iron bars.
"What's your name, sir?!"
『Name? Hey.』
The man frowned. Then he approached the bars and reached out. As his hand touched the bars, lightning crackled. His skin burst open.
Blood spattered on Pastel's cheek.
The man's hand gripped the bars tightly, ignoring the repulsion. Lightning struck violently. Blood ran down the bars.
『Young Craft, are you trying to mock me too?』
Red eyes glared at her.
『I am the Great Demon Demonius. The one you Crafts betrayed and sealed in this sword. Once this seal is broken, I'll hunt down every last Craft and tear them apart one by one, an old vengeance spirit.』
The demon exhaled heavily, as if trying to control his emotions.
Then he released the bars. The lightning stopped. His wounds dissipated like smoke, healing instantly.
『So go drink some more of your mother's milk and come back. Don't mess around in dangerous places.』
The demon walked back to his original spot.
Silence fell.
Pastel wiped the blood droplets from her cheek with her finger. Her finger turned red.
The suit-clad demon waved his hand dismissively, as if telling her to go away. He looked like a tired office worker.
Pastel grinned brightly.
Wow.
He's nice to children.
She clung to the blood-stained bars.
"Mr. Demon! Mr. Demon! Do you know how to not die when hit by a sword? Or how to cut through armor in one strike? Oh, or how to tear steel with bare hands!"
There must be some fantastic and great solution, right?
The demon looked bewildered.
『Did you not listen to a word I said?』
"Oh! I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Pastel Love Craft. Please call me Pastel!"
The demon's expression crumpled.
『Pastel?』
The demon approached roughly and glared.
It was a clearly different, more intense hostility than before.
『What game are you playing, heir who knows everything, coming all the way here? Is this generation's Craft succession battle too easy for you? Well, your mother was disgusted from the start. But seeing that she became the victor, I can see your revolting bloodline.』
Pastel's eyes widened.
"You know my mother?"
『Oh, I know her well.』
The demon grinned, as if pleased.
『She's the first one I'll tear apart, right in front of your eyes.』
Oh, oh?
Feeling dazed, Pastel corrected one fact.
"My mother has already passed away."
The smiling demon froze.
『W-what?』
The demon looked away, confused. After a while, he turned back.
『Then I'll kill your father in front of you. That weakling must be acting as family head now, right?』
"Father sold off our assets, pocketed the money, and disappeared. Looks like he pulled off one big score and ran."
Total marriage scammer.
『Uh...』
Pastel clung to the bars.
"Do you know how to not die when hit by a sword? Or how to cut through armor in one strike? Oh, or how to tear steel with bare hands!"
The demon's eyes wavered.
His red eyes finally took in the girl's disheveled appearance.
Messy hair and wrinkled clothes.
『How... how old are you?』
"I'm 13!"
『No way.』
The demon was at a loss for words.
Tada!
The demon can now engage in honest conversation!
Yay!
"Is this a demon contract?!"
Finally, a cheat code for life?
『The world isn't a fairy tale. I'll teach you swordsmanship. Work hard on your own.』
Ah.