Pastel hugged the longsword and spun around the room. The winter dress swayed.
“My friend~.”
She hummed.
“I think you could be a guarantor for my debts~.”
Although the new room was completely empty, she felt no particular dissatisfaction. The weight in her chest was lifted.
How long had she longed for a proper weapon? It wasn’t perfect, but it was a respectable armament.
“I’m sorry for the table leg that worked hard in difficult times. I think this chipped longsword is much better.”
Pastel gripped the longsword in the middle of the room. She gazed in awe at the blade.
This sharpness!
The power to tear through leather and flesh!
There was no longer the Pastel who struggled to put her weight into an attack. The only thing left was Pastel, who would devour a monster as a pre-meal dessert.
She walked while rotating her body.
“Swish!”
She swung the sword in a circle.
“Swack!”
The strike claimed a wide space.
Her heart was full.
Now she could grab anything. Bring it on. She would slice it into pieces with her incredible swordsmanship.
With confident steps, she approached what seemed to be a foyer. She carefully peered into the blind spot.
This was the third floor.
A grand staircase descended from the second floor to the foyer.
A form of black energy was reflected at the second-floor landing.
Heh, I’m not scared at all.
What foolish monster will become dessert?
A bipedal creature.
It looked unfamiliar yet familiar.
What was called a medieval knight.
A sword was held in the hands of the creature. Plate armor cloaked its entire body in black.
Pastel felt her mind go blank.
#
Pastel lay on the floor. She crawled into the foyer, trying not to be seen by the knight.
I am a worm.
A worm.
She stood up as she reached the opposite corridor. Shivering from the cold, she shook off her winter dress.
Oh, I really don’t think that’s plate armor. That longsword is better than my chipped one. Isn’t it right for a barbaric dangerous creature not to use the tools of civilization?
She grumbled while searching the rooms. There was a staircase to the lower floor, but she didn’t want to risk coming into the knight’s line of sight.
At the corner of the corridor stood a wolf. It showed her the taste of a new friend.
Avoiding the wolf’s leap, she swung her sword. There was a rough resistance, but it sliced through nonetheless.
The leather was cut, and the wolf bled black energy. She rushed at the stumbling wolf and was able to kill it with a swift strike.
“That was easy! You’re a pre-meal dessert!”
Pastel hummed. Feeling the refreshing cut made her feel stronger. Was it just her imagination?
After munching on the meat pudding, she searched the remaining rooms.
There were no monsters on the entire third floor.
Complete recapture.
Thanks to this, she was able to tremble her body in satisfaction while looking at the rooms that were completely stripped.
“Father……!”
If only my kind and beautiful mother were alive, the family wouldn’t be in this state.
The only piece of furniture she found was a large bookshelf occupying one wall. Other than the bookshelf, this room was also empty.
She examined the unblemished marks on the floor. It seemed to be the clan leader’s office.
“Wow, this is my office?”
But there was no desk or chair it should have. I knew this would happen.
Pastel surveyed the books.
The history, traditions, customs, and guidelines of the Craft clan.
Titles covering various fields and sometimes delving into details.
She pulled out a guideline for clan leaders and skimmed through it.
“Oh, is this about imperial studies?”
It openly detailed how to betray the allied clan.
“Betrayal is more about handling the aftermath than success. Induce internal discord after obtaining what you want. Then take one side while proposing an alliance again.”
Wow.
Pastel gasped as she flipped to the practical guidelines. The experiences and know-how of past clan leaders were neatly organized with real-life examples.
“A powerful method is for the current clan leader to betray and for the next clan leader to offer a heartfelt apology to propose a re-alliance. Set up a plot over generations by the final surviving heir. The opponent will fall helplessly.”
Somehow most of the book’s content seemed to be about how to do bad things. The more she skimmed, the more it felt like it wasn’t an illusion.
Oh, our clan looks completely evil.
Is division and betrayal a hobby?
Doesn’t the traditional game not match with the appearance? It’s a million light-years away from being pink and fluffy.
Has appearance actually made it easier?
Oh my.
That doesn’t match with my gentle and positive nature.
She returned the book to its place.
She had looked around all the rooms.
Now what should she do?
“Is it right to fight against plate armor?”
Isn’t that a suicidal act?
Should she take a detour? That would probably be the right choice.
I’m not blinded by meat pudding or anything.
Thinking of meat pudding made her salivate. Her head became hazy.
She quickly shook it off.
No, no.
I’m not addicted to weird desserts. It’s just that it’s delicious and beneficial, so I eat it.
Let’s give up on the second floor. Let’s go straight down the staircase. The kitchen should be on the first floor.
She rubbed her hungry belly.
Her stamina was fine, but…….
She felt an emptiness in her soul.
It felt like someone had stolen her soul and run away.
Her body felt strange. She needed to eat proper food.
As Pastel opened the door and turned her head, she froze. A black figure appeared at the end of the corridor.
The knight in plate armor walked, hunched over, examining the floor. It looked like it was following a trail.
Yet there were no traces on the floor. Or rather, scientifically, it seemed there was nothing at all.
Meat pudding came to mind.
Black energy wafted.
Oh, damn.
The knight slowly raised his head and quickly scanned for traces in the distance. And then he spotted Pastel at the end.
A red gleam flashed from the helmet.
The black knight charged. The hefty weight made a sound.
Aaaah……!
Pastel quickly shut the door. She hurriedly locked it. Immediately, the door was kicked open. The lock shook violently. The sound of wood splintering was faintly heard.
The wooden door wouldn’t hold.
She ran to the window. She scanned the ground filled with monsters.
Which is less dangerous, wall climbing or the knight?
One creature threw a rock through the window. It missed, but the dull noise made her hair stand on end.
Both are acts of suicide.
The door was kicked again. It sounded like some of the outer wood broke apart.
Wow, wow, wow, wow.
In a panic, she surveyed the room. This is the clan leader’s office. There should be some emergency measures. Like an emergency exit.
An emergency exit?
Her gaze fell on the bookshelf. In a situation where all the furniture was sold out, the bookshelf remained intact.
The books were probably unsellable due to clan privacy. What about the bookshelf? Was it perhaps arranged in a way that was connected to the building?
The door was kicked again. The sound of wood splintering resonated loudly.
Her hair bristled.
Pastel dashed to the bookshelf. She attempted to topple it, but when that proved impossible, she started to roughly knock the books off with both hands. She cleared one line and moved to another.
She discovered a book that wouldn’t come out.
What is this?
It was a book fixed to the bookshelf.
Pushing hard inside made her fingers sting. Ouch? A drop of blood splattered on the book, and something clicked.
The sound of gears came from beyond the bookshelf. The bookshelf shifted. A dark passage was revealed.
It was a spiraling staircase going down.
Wow.
Pastel hurriedly gathered her sword and shield. She threw herself down the spiral staircase. The sound of the door breaking echoed. The bookshelf closed.
The spiral staircase descended almost vertically, making it steep. It was dark, so she had to rely on phosphorescent paint.
Pastel dashed down the stairs in a daze. She only realized much later that there was no sound of pursuit.
“Phew, I survived…….”
She caught her breath. The stale air hit her. The dim space finally registered in her mind.
But where am I? Is this really an emergency exit? I hope it leads out of the mansion. If not, at least to the kitchen.
After descending for a while, she reached a basement. The candlelight on the walls lit up by itself and illuminated the interior.
“Wow.”
One wall was fully taken up by bookshelves. There was simply a table and a chair in front of it.
Oh my.
The arrangement of furniture was intact……!
Pastel felt touched in a place she shouldn’t feel touched.
A leather pouch perched on the bookshelf caught her eye.
Oh, what’s that?
She hurried over and opened it; jewels and currency sparkled.
What looked like unidentifiable gems, gold coins, and silver coins.
“Whoa.”
How many longswords would this be worth?
It was shocking.
I was not a beggar.
She held the pouch and savored its weight. It was lighter than she expected, probably meant for emergency funds.
At least I won’t starve for a while. Maintaining an aristocratic demeanor may not be possible.
She carefully set the pouch down.
On the opposite side of the bookshelf was a cage. A sword was stuck inside the cell.
Pastel glanced between the longsword and the sword in the cage.
It’s far better than the friend I made today.
She wanted to compare them directly, but that wasn’t possible. There was no door in the cage. What is this? Is it for decoration?
Pastel shook the thick bars but gave up. She smacked her lips in disappointment.
She continued to explore the basement.
The remaining wall was just a wall.
Hmm.
She nodded and then paused.
“Uh?”
She quickly scanned the basement.
No matter how she looked at it, it was a closed-off space.
To get out, she’d have to go back up the spiral staircase.
Her hair bristled.
The crimson glow of the helmet came to mind.
Could it be that I…….
Am in the fate of a trapped mouse?
“Ahhh.”
No wonder my name is Pastel Love Craft. The destiny is showing through. I rationalized, but it was truly strange.
In the end, it all turned out to be just like my name.
“My life is a cosmic horror, ugh.”
From now on, if anyone miscalls me Pastel Lovecraft, I won’t have a chance to argue. There’s also no one to call me that.
But it seems someone exists here.
In the solitary basement, a low voice echoed.
“What’s happening, little Craft?”
The spot where the sword in the cage had been was now occupied by a man. He was dressed in a loose suit without a tie, hands in his pockets, casting a sideways glance.
Pastel’s jaw dropped.
A-a person.
With black hair and red eyes.
It’s really a person?
“Wow.”
Is this what it feels like to meet a compatriot abroad?
She hurriedly approached the bars.
“What’s your name?!”
“Name? Hey.”
The man frowned. Then he approached the bars and reached out. As his hand reached the bars, lightning flashed. His skin tore apart.
Blood splattered onto Pastel’s cheek.
Ignoring the resistance, the man gripped the bars tightly. Lightning crackled fiercely. Blood poured from his hand down the bars.
“Little Craft, are you mocking me as well?”
His red eyes glared.
“I am the great demon Demonius. I am the one you betrayed and sealed in the sword. Once the seal is broken, I will find all Crafts and tear them apart one by one in an ancient revenge.”
The demon took a heavy breath as if suppressing emotions.
Then he let go of the bars. The lightning ceased. The wounds dissipated like smoke and healed.
“So go have some more mother’s milk. Don’t poke around in dangerous places.”
The demon walked back to his original position.
Silence ensued.
Pastel brushed a drop of blood from her cheek with her finger. Her finger turned red.
The suited demon waved his hand casually, as if to send her away. He appeared to be a weary office worker worn down by the blood.
Pastel smiled brightly.
Wow.
He’s a nice person to a kid.
She clung to the bloodied bars.
“Demon! Demon! Do you know how not to die from a sword stab? About slashing through armor in one go? I’d like to learn how to tear steel apart with my bare hands too!”
There must be some fantastic and great solution!
The demon looked bewildered.
“Did you even hear what I said?”
“Oh! I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Pastel Lovecraft. Please call me Pastel!”
The demon’s expression crumpled.
“Pastel?”
The demon approached roughly and glared.
There was a distinct animosity not seen before.
“What are you, an heir who knows everything, doing all the way out here? Is this Craft’s heir slaughter game so easy? Though your mother did seem quite disgusted. Seeing you as the victor shows your disgusting bloodline.”
Pastel’s eyes widened.
“You know my mother?”
“I know her well.”
The demon laughed as if enjoying himself.
“I can definitely say she’s the first to be torn apart right in front of you.”
Oh, oh?
Still dazed, Pastel decided to correct him on one point.
“My mother has already passed away.”
The laughing demon paused.
“What, what?”
The demon, looking confused, turned his gaze elsewhere. After a moment, he looked back.
“Then I will kill your father right before your eyes. That sandbag is probably serving as the acting clan leader, right?”
“My father sold off the clan and made a quick fortune, but he’s not around right now. I guess he made a quick score and ran away.”
Complete marriage scam artist.
“Uh…….”
Pastel pressed against the bars.
“Do you know how not to die from a sword stab? About slashing through armor in one go? I’d love to learn how to tear steel apart with my bare hands too!”
The demon’s gaze wavered.
Only then did the red eyes scan the disheveled appearance of the girl.
Her tangled hair and un-pressed clothing.
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen!”
“No.”
The demon was at a loss for words.
Ba-bam.
The demon became capable of honest conversation!
Yay.
“Is this a demon contract?!”
Is this finally a life cheat?
“The world isn’t a fairy tale. I will teach you swordsmanship. You must put in the effort yourself.”
Oh.
Even the devils are confused when they meet someone with the surname Lovecraft LoL