The Eldritch Files

Inside the castle, the grand hall opposite the entrance was dominated by an absurdly large oval table, draped in a thick, purple tablecloth. On both sides of the long table sat a motley collection of people—or rather, monsters.

At this moment, they all turned their heads toward the door in unison, each wearing a smile.

The children’s eyes were glazed over, unable to process the bizarre and deeply unsettling scene. But Han Su, standing among them, was already numb.

He had been ”welcomed” by this pack of monsters many times and had long since become desensitized. Instead, as he walked toward the castle with the crowd, he habitually scanned his surroundings for any details.

He first looked at the rose wall in the northwest corner and saw that behind the weeds, a number of wooden planks had been nailed up horizontally and vertically.

There used to be a hole there, just big enough for a small child to squeeze through.

That was the path he took on his first escape. But by the second time he was kidnapped from the future and brought back, the hole had already been repaired.

Similar repairs had occurred many times. This dilapidated bunker had originally been full of gaps created by time or some other force—plenty of places a child could slip in and out of.

He had used these openings to escape on more than a few occasions. But each time he was brought back, the loophole from his last escape would invariably be sealed. It was as if an invisible force was constantly patching the castle’s ”bugs.”

And yet, the monsters here seemed utterly unaware that he had escaped from this place countless times. They had no memory of his escapes.

Lost in thought, Han Su entered the castle’s main hall along with the dazed children. The monsters sitting at the oval table slowly turned their heads back around.

Han Su had counted them countless times, had stealthily sized them up countless times.

They were of all different shapes, bearing some resemblance to the ones Song Chushi had once sketched, but the feeling of them being alive, mysterious, and terrifying was something a sketchbook could never capture.

There were seven in total, seated sporadically around the long oval table. There were still many empty seats, each with a place setting, a chair, and some even had a half-poured glass of wine. This made Han Su wonder—could it be that there were other monsters who hadn’t arrived?

Unfortunately, in all his many escapes, he had never seen any other monsters.

His gaze then shifted to the corner by the staircase, where a solitary candelabra stood. It was made of brass, over a meter tall, and covered in intricate patterns. But there was no candle on it, only a sharp spike.

Just like with the rose bushes, the candle on it had been removed by someone.

But then his eyes fell upon a bloated, pale monster in a tight-fitting suit by the long table. He saw the Brass Key hanging from its waist.

This brought him a sliver of relief. ’Thank goodness, the key is still on the Pale Giant.’

’This means the door is on its level, too, which means I just need to replicate my last route as much as possible to escape...’

CLAP CLAP.

The butler clapped his hands twice. The sound was crisp and carried a certain elegance.

Just as an earlier clap seemed to have made all the children’s eyes glaze over and forget their clamor, this second clap was like flipping a switch again. All the children suddenly came to their senses.

They lifted their little heads, took in their surroundings, and expressions of terror began to creep onto their faces.

One of them, upon spotting a monk in a black habit at the dinner table with insects crawling all over him, was so frightened he burst out crying with a wail.

”These are the lucky ones chosen by our great Emperor...”

The pale-faced butler smiled, clasping his two white-gloved hands together. He looked at the various monsters around the table and said with another smile, ”Everyone, I hope they are to your liking.”

HISS HISS!

As the butler spoke—or perhaps, as the children woke up and their faces filled with the terror of living beings—the monsters around the table suddenly broke into smiles. They put their heads together and whispered, their eyes scanning back and forth across the children.

The sound of their speech was bizarre, completely unlike any language Han Su had ever heard in the real world. It seemed to be the language of another species, carrying a mysterious and eerie quality.

Previously, Han Su had no memory of this sound, but listening now, a thought stirred within him:

’The linguistic style is a bit like the Fishing Song...’

’And the sounds played at the Disaster Management Bureau—I can be even more certain now that it’s one of the languages these monsters speak, just not as clear as it is now.’

’What they play at the Bureau is more like an ancient recording, filled with both the monsters’ language and a lot of static... as if they accidentally recorded the monsters speaking.’

’...’

He subconsciously wanted to distinguish the sounds, to try his hardest to memorize their language.

But he quickly realized how difficult it was. When he listened to the Fishing Song on the recording pen, it was effortless. He could easily remember it and repeat it with perfect accuracy.

But faced with these monsters, that ease was gone. It was all just a blur, impossible to commit to memory.

”Mister...”

In this strange and oppressive environment, a boy in a small blue suit suddenly, bravely raised his hand.

He looked up at the butler beside him and mustered his courage. ”Is... is this the science museum?”

The butler turned to look at him but didn’t answer, simply watching him with a smile.

His expression was kind, friendly, yet rigid, forever fixed in that same smiling arc. He stood perfectly still, but in the children’s vision, the smiling face seemed to grow larger and larger.

It felt like it was about to press right against their faces.

The little boy who had asked the question began to tremble. He dropped his hand in fear, averted his gaze, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Just then, a monster slowly rose from the table.

The movement instantly drew everyone’s attention. It was the monk in the black habit.

Even while seated, twisted worms would occasionally squirm in and out of his collar, cuffs, and trouser legs.

But his expression was calm and stern. He walked out slowly from beside the table, the cuffs of his habit hanging low, his expression solemn. He looked like a compassionate monk from the last century, walking through the ruins of the world, mourning for humanity.

He walked straight toward a little boy in the crowd.

The boy was chubby, wearing shiny leather shoes, his hair slicked down with pomade. He watched in terror as the monk approached him.

The children around him grew fearful and shrank away from him.

Suddenly, he was terrified. He squeezed his eyes shut, his legs trembled, and a large wet patch began to spread on his white trousers.

The moment the acrid stench of urine began to fill the air, the black-robed monk’s steps came to an abrupt halt. All over his body, from every orifice, the worms squirming in and out seemed to recoil in disgust.

After a long moment, the monk suddenly changed his direction slightly.

He looked directly at a girl in the crowd and slowly extended his hand toward her.

His palm was riddled with rotting, fleshy holes, with worms crawling in and out, emitting a powerful stench.

The little girl in the crowd was already so scared her lips were clamped shut. When the monk reached for her, she finally couldn’t hold back and started to cry, but she didn’t make a sound or dare to move, just stood there frozen.

The monk took her hand. His rotting palm was surprisingly gentle as he slowly led her toward the spiral staircase. Worms occasionally wriggled out from his arms and wrists, crawling up the little girl’s arm and disappearing into her sleeve and collar.

And the terrified little girl could only follow him numbly.

”Let her go...”

All the children were petrified, able only to watch with a mixture of sympathy and bewilderment as the monk led the little girl away.

But just then, a girl with a ponytail suddenly rushed out from the crowd. She grabbed the stiff-limbed little girl’s hand and shouted.

She appeared to be a head taller than the other children, as if she were older, but she was actually the same age. As she grabbed the little girl’s hand, she used her other hand to snatch the candelabra from the corner of the stairs.

”She’s scared! She doesn’t want to go with you...”

She shouted at the worm-covered monk, and at the other monsters, ”We... We want to go back to school! We...”

”The police... The police officers will come find us...”

”...”

The other children were so stunned by the ponytail girl’s actions that they even forgot to cry.

In the crowd, Han Su’s heart sank.

No wonder Song Chushi had given up a life of comfort to roam the world, searching for her for a full ten years.

Every single time, it was this girl who was the first to stand up.

She would protect the weaker children.

Even his own first escape was because of her.

Back then, the candelabra she grabbed had a thick tallow candle on it. It was when she swung the candelabra that she set the carpet on fire, drawing the monsters’ attention. He, in turn, seized the opportunity to run out the still-open door and squeeze through the flower bushes.

Unfortunately, opportunities and loopholes like that were becoming rarer and rarer. Without that main door, it was already very difficult for him to escape.

The only variable was the Spell he had brought with him this time. Would it have any effect?