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William’s words about coming to survive elicited no response from Agnes.

Rather than showing surprise or worry, she maintained an utterly dry demeanor, as if she had been tossed into the middle of a desert.

“Really?”

And from that desolation came a hint of disappointment.

Her tone was laden with deep regret, as if it was truly unfortunate that William had not died.

“Heh, that’s why our Ness is so cute.”

William, seeing Agnes’s reaction as just bouncing off, chuckled and gestured as if to say, “Read this.” However, Agnes crossed her arms, seemingly not wanting to touch it at all, while Ella turned away as if looking at a distant mountain.

In the end, it was Jinseong who reached for the fairytale book.

Still smiling, Jinseong brought the book closer and opened it wide enough for Agnes and Ella to see.

What appeared as he opened the book was an overwhelming quality of illustrations.

These weren’t the product of a program, but rather seemed like watercolors painted by a truly talented artist.

“What is this…?”

Despite its trivial appearance, the artwork had a quality that seemed the work of a master.

Ella couldn’t help but widen her eyes in surprise.

Seeing Ella’s reaction, William smirked as if he found it amusing and said, “I borrowed the strength of our clan’s exclusive painter. Isn’t it splendid?”

His words were peculiar.

Though it felt somewhat like boasting, there was also an undertone that seemed to imply, “You’ll soon be able to use this painter too.”

Thus, Ella furrowed her brows at the unsettling feeling oozing from William’s tone, unable to fully absorb the beauty of the artwork. But she shook off those feelings and focused back on the painting.

A delinquent is still a delinquent, and art is art.

No matter what nonsense that delinquent babbled, this painting was undoubtedly a work of art.

“That’s bizarre.”

The illustration in the fairytale book depicted a hospital hallway.

The smooth white walls stood in stark contrast to the rusted and worn items scattered about.

A wheelchair looked as if it had been abandoned for decades, rusty and unfit for anyone to sit in, while the medical bed visible through an open door was so filthy it seemed one might catch a disease just by lying on it.

There was no one at the desk where nurses should have been; instead, a rope dangled from the ceiling, with a noose at the end the size of a human neck, as if it were a gallows.

From that noose, a sickening liquid dripped, appearing like rotten blood, or perhaps like darkness manifesting and flowing on the floor like a liquid. Depending on the angle, it looked oddly like fog, suggesting that a person hanged there hadn’t found peace and remained as a spirit, dangling in that very spot.

And at the farthest end of the hallway, in an unknown space shrouded in darkness, a vague shape seemed to be watching, igniting a sense of unease.

“I was sailing on a yacht when I saw Yeji. My body was in some weird hospital, and I thought, wow, am I dreaming? But I felt all my senses, and it was as cold as if it were winter. That’s when I realized, Yeji came to me; the abilities of the prophet were activated!”

William began to brag as he observed the awe on the faces of those around the artwork.

About something nobody wanted to know, really.

“But what is this prophecy? It’s hard to express it in words. I can’t just pull what’s in my head and turn it into a movie, right? So I pondered for a while, and then a painter passed right by me. Some hotshot known in the art world, funded by our family’s old geezer… I called out to him, ‘Hey, come here.'”

His tone was excessively flippant.

Like a thug hanging out on the street.

But ironically, his language was that of the upper class, creating an enormous dissonance.

“I had him record my great prophecy. He had some fame for a reason, so his skill wasn’t too shabby; he produced some decent paintings. So I had him create several pieces, and that’s how this fairytale book came to be! What do you think? Is there a sense of respect?”

And so this absurdity only made William look all the more like a delinquent.

The more he was handsome, and the more eloquent his speech, the more glaring his delinquent behavior became.

However, despite him being a delinquent, his prophecy was indeed spot on.

In the bizarre and eerie hospital hallway were numerous items and characters identifiable as distinctly Korean.

Considering that William had never cared a whit about the cultures of other countries, this painting could only signify the abilities of a prophet; there was absolutely no way he could have imagined such a scene otherwise.

“Impressive.”

Jinseong said as he gazed at the artwork.

He didn’t append any modifiers as to whether it was William or the painting that was impressive.

He simply turned the page.

As he flipped the page, what appeared was a scene from the hallway even more grotesque.

It was depicted from a first-person perspective, as if describing the landscape through William’s own eyes, which made the illustration feel even more terrifying.

The hospital hallway that once radiated pure white light was now blotched in places, as if mold had taken over. Furthermore, the lights were out, casting darkness all around, and a rope perched on the counter swayed like a pendulum.

All the hospital room doors that had been closed were now ajar, and the darkness streamed like smoke into the floor. In addition, a frail figure was drawn, huddled with their back to an old, dilapidated wheelchair.

Flip.

As Jinseong turned to the next page, the hallway had transformed into a scene from a horror movie.

Most of the hospital corridor was cloaked in darkness, with small lights and flickering bulbs barely illuminating certain areas. The previously slightly opened hospital doors stood wide open now, revealing even more emaciated figures hunched over.

One figure remained curled up on the dilapidated wheelchair, another was slumped over the desk.

One was extending their bony arm to scratch at the wall, while another elongated their limbs and scuttled on the ceiling like a spider, approaching menacingly.

That bizarre appearance made them seem less like people and more like desiccated corpses freshly pulled from coffins.

Flip.

As the next page was turned, the faces of these figures were depicted.

Their faces were anything but human.

Where there should have been eyes were gaping holes, and their noses were illustrated as if centipedes lived there. And their wide-open mouths were filled with rotten blood, poised to produce the sound of boiling at any moment.

The four spirits all stared at William from a first-person perspective.

The spirit curled on the wheelchair twisted its neck 180 degrees, glaring at William with those hollow eyes, while the one scuttling on the ceiling elongated its neck and swung its head like a pendulum in an eerie manner.

The spirit scraping the wall had inched closer to William, leaning in to face him, while the one slumped over the desk spread its arms like a bird, its skin hanging loosely as it floated in the air, staring at him.

And beneath that illustration, there was writing.

Just like in a fairytale book, where illustrations are on top, and text lies beneath.

『 This is the second time. 』

『 We will not let you go. 』

The crooked red text gave off quite a sinister vibe.

Like a grim reaper making a declaration.

Flip.

However, this eerie feeling vanished as the next page turned.

On the next page, these spirits were depicted screaming as they were pierced through with colorful skewers.

The spirits, each skewered by red, yellow, green, and purple spears, flailed as if they couldn’t go on like this, reaching out earnestly towards William.

But the owner of the skewers, moving dynamically, swung a gigantic bear doll and swatted them away.

And….

Flip.

“Huh?”

On the next page, the rescuer was illustrated.

The rescuer had hair so white it looked like it had been spun from thread, flowing in the wind, and had glimmering red eyes that looked as if precious gems had been embedded in them. Not to mention, their skin had a glossy, alabaster quality despite not being made up.

“Ela?”

Indeed.

The appearance was reminiscent of Ella’s.

Thus, Agnes naturally couldn’t help but think of Ella while gazing at the painting, but….

“No, that’s not Ella…”

She concluded that it was indeed someone else.

The rescuer in the painting had a chest so large that it was impossible to be Ella, and wore a flamboyant outfit so revealing that Ella would never wear.

And to firmly reinforce that it wasn’t Ella, there was even text beneath it.

『 I came to save you at my sister’s request! 』

 

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