Outside the door, the strange, light-swallowing fog coiled to a stop. It seemed the heavy oak door, carved with the Douglas family crest, was enough to halt even the unseen vapors.
Beyond the mist, everyone in the manor—whether they had just been awakened from a deep slumber or had never slept at all—now lay where they fell, like a field of wheat scythed at harvest. They had sunk into a silence deeper than natural sleep, a quiet akin to death.
The black-robed Warden politely knocked.
Knock, knock.
The sound was gentle, bizarrely out of place amidst the ominous, fog-filled night.
The next moment, the door swung open from within.
It was Elsa who had opened it.
The moment the door opened, Elsa’s figure swayed unsteadily. It was the same precursor to sleep that had befallen the others outside.
However, after a few moments, she returned to her usual state. She didn’t collapse. Her face was expressionless, not betraying the slightest hint of drowsiness.
The Warden’s gaze snagged on the maid.
This girl… hadn’t the bracelet’s power put her to sleep?
He studied her for a few seconds, but as he did, he had no idea that Pandora, too, was staring back at him with an expression of near horror and utter disbelief.
This Warden…
was…
Dulles?!!!
A jolt went through her. She’d killed him. She’d seen him die.
But his unnatural, calculating gaze pulled her back from the brink. In a flash, she reined in the thoughts. The shock on her face vanished, replaced by a mask of perfect calm—exactly what one would expect from a noble daughter facing a powerful stranger. Within that calm, a natural air of aloofness and wary curiosity emerged.
“Who are you?”
Even as she spoke, she had already tensed her body in secret.
She could feel that Elsa, beside her, had also entered a state where she could erupt at any moment, ready to coordinate a thunderous strike.
She recognized Dulles.
But Dulles… didn’t seem to recognize her.
He just looked at her, and a strange, satisfied smile spread across his face.
Smiling, he gave a slight nod. “Excellent.”
“You’re one of the few who haven't tried to attack me on sight. I hope our conversation can continue to be this pleasant.”
Then, Dulles, in his capacity as Warden, delivered his lines to Pandora—a smooth, seemingly rehearsed speech about needing her cooperation in leading the “children” of this Orchard out. He promised certain benefits to this de facto “leader” who was willing to cooperate.
It was all, for the most part, the same speech he had given Arthur.
The exchange was so… natural, smooth, and pleasant.
It was as if the incident where Pandora had personally killed him had never happened.
—And yet, it had happened.
And this man before her was the very Dulles it had happened to!
Those strange, web-like red scars that covered his face silently suggested that this “Dulles” before her had been pieced back together by some incomprehensible force from a state of total, rotted dissolution. Made into his current state, and even… had forgotten that crucial encounter.
………………
After Dulles and his fog departed as silently as they had arrived, Pandora watched him go, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“My lady…” Elsa’s voice sounded in the quiet room, laced with uncertainty. “That looked like…”
“It was,” Pandora cut her off, her voice soft. “It was him.”
“Then why…” Elsa’s vocabulary seemed insufficient to describe the situation before her.
“Was he… brought back?”
“So it seems.” Pandora mused, organizing her thoughts. “But this ‘resurrection’ isn’t perfect.”
“He’s forgotten many things.”
Her gaze grew deep.
“He doesn’t even remember that he had a breakthrough plan, or the Wizard’s Book, or that precious drop of Witch’s Blood.”
“Doesn’t that seem… like a good thing?” Elsa offered her judgment from the most practical perspective.
“It seems so,” Pandora said, shaking her head, her brow slightly furrowed. “But I’m not sure. Mainly because…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “…I don’t know who resurrected him.”
Elsa fell silent, nodding. The answer to that question was beyond her comprehension.
In truth, Pandora already had a guess that made the most logical sense. Perhaps the one who resurrected Dulles was the same woman who had impersonated her sister, the one with the “Six” prefix—Faye. But… why would “she” do such a thing? Or was this, in itself, one of the tasks assigned to “her” by the Demon Hunter Academy when she came to this “Orchard”?
But… a mere Dulles… was he truly worth such an effort? Was he worth the personal intervention of a terrifying being, suspected to be a sixth-rank expert who likely didn’t even think twice about this entire Orchard World?
Pandora shook her head. She couldn’t figure it out. She felt like a child trying to map the stars with a stick in the dirt. She could draw the lines, connect the dots, but the true, vast mechanics of the cosmos would instantly grind her crude chart to dust.
………………
Meanwhile, at the other end of the manor gardens, in the silent corner isolated by the thick fog, Dulles, too, was trapped in a similar confusion.
He was certain it was the first time he had ever met this daughter of Viscount Douglas. Her face, her temperament, were all completely foreign to him. And yet… for some reason, during those brief few minutes of their conversation, his mind would, uncontrollably, flash with some… strange, fragmented memories.
These memories were mostly images and sensations, impossible to describe in words, intensely blurry.
It was like a thousand shards of stained glass, melted down and recast into a single, chaotic orb. A swirling cloud of light and shadow where nothing could be clearly made out.
But… all of these chaotic, fractured flashes of light pointed to a single, deeply unsettling conclusion—