Chapter 605: Hide And Seek
Charlotte ran.
She ran faster than she had ever run in her life.
Through the lower dungeon, past the broken children in their cells
Through the upper dungeon, past the prisoners who watched her with desperate, terrified eyes. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.
She burst into the mansion’s main hall and threw herself at the front door. She grabbed the handle and pulled.
It didn’t open.
She pulled harder. She threw her whole weight against it. She screamed in frustration and terror.
The door didn’t budge.
She ran to the windows. They were locked. She tried to smash one with a chair, but the glass didn’t didn’t even crack.
She tried another door. Another window. Another exit. Every single one was sealed tight.
No, no, no, no, no—
“Lady Charlotte~”
The voice echoed through the mansion, sing-song and playful.
It came from everywhere and nowhere, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, impossible to pinpoint.
“Where are you, little princess? Are we playing hide and seek? How delightful! I do love games.”
Charlotte pressed herself against the wall, her hand clamped over her mouth.
The failsafe! She just had to activate the failsafe! How could she forget about that?!
She closed her eyes and reached for the connection that would pull her out of this nightmare—
But…nothing.
She tried again. Concentrated harder. Poured every ounce of her will into the mand to escape.
Still nothing.
“No.” She whispered. “No, no, no, please—”
“I’m afraid that won’t work here.” The voice said, closer now. “I’ve taken the liberty of disabling your little escape mechanism. I hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s just that we’ve only just met, and I would hate for you to leave so soon.”
Charlotte’s blood turned to ice. He had disabled her failsafe.
How? How was that possible?!
She was the Princess of Dreams? She had a SSS-class blessing! No one could control the Dream World like she could!
But this man, this monster had done it like it was nothing.
“You know, I never expected a guest like you to wander into my realm.”
The voice continued conversationally.
“The daughter of Lady Yelena herself! What an honor! What a privilege! I’ve been following your family’s exploits for years, you know. I’m quite a fan.”
Charlotte crept along the wall, trying to find a hiding place. The voice was getting closer.
She could hear footsteps now, slow unhurried footsteps.
“But I must say, I’m a little hurt that you’re trying to leave so soon. We haven’t even had a chance to get acquainted. And I have so many things I want to show you. So many games I want to play.”
Charlotte found herself on the second floor, in a dusty bedroom that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades.
She dove under the bed, pressing herself as far back against the wall as she could go. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her breathing.
‘Please don’t find me.’
‘Please don’t find me.’
‘Please don’t find me.’
The bedroom door creaked open.
“Are you in here, little lady?”
Footsteps crossed the floor. Charlotte watched the man’s shoes move past the bed.
“Where could she be?” He mused. “A little girl, all alone in a big, scary mansion. She must be so frightened.”
The footsteps moved toward the wardrobe. She heard the doors open, heard him rummaging through empty shelves.
“Not in here. How disappointing.”
The footsteps moved toward the closet. More rummaging. More silence.
“Not in here either. She’s quite good at this game.”
The footsteps stopped. For a long, terrible moment, there was only silence.
Charlotte didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare move.
Maybe he would give up. Maybe he would leave.
Maybe—
The man’s face appeared under the bed.
“Found you.”
“Kyaaa—!” Charlotte screamed.
His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, dragging her out from under the bed.
She kicked and thrashed and clawed at him, but his grip was like iron. He pulled her to her feet and started dragging her toward the door.
“Let me go!” She shrieked. “Let me go! Please!”
“Let you go? But we just started playing.”
The man hoisted her up, tucking her under his arm like a piece of luggage.
“e now. There’s so much I want to show you. So many games we can play together.”
He carried her down the stairs toward the basement door.
“If my mother finds you, she’ll kill you!” Charlotte screamed. “She’s a Battle Angel! She’ll tear you apart!”
The man laughed. It was a pleasant, cultured laugh—the laugh of a man who had just heard an amusing joke at a dinner party.
“Your mother, in my domain? I would wele it. I would love to see a Battle Angel try to fight me here. But I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”
He looked down at her, and even through the mask, she could feel the weight of his gaze.
“No one is ing for you, Lady Charlotte. No one even knows you’re here.”
They passed through the first dungeon and the prisoners watched in despair as Charlotte was carried past them.
Their last hope, captured like all the rest.
The man who had tried to warn her slumped against the bars of his cell, the last flicker of life draining from his eyes.
They passed through the children’s dungeon. The young ones didn’t even look up. They had seen this scene play out too many times before.
And then they were back in that warm, cozy room with its crackling fireplace, its gentle music and its dentist’s chair stained with blood.
The man strapped Charlotte into the chair. She fought, she kicked, she bit and scratched with everything she had.
But she was just a child, and he was an adult, and her struggles meant nothing to him.
Soon she was bound tight, her wrists and ankles secured to the cold metal restraints.
“There we are.” The man said, stepping back to admire his work. “fortable?”
“Let me go!”
“In due time. In due time.” He walked over to a side table, where an array of instruments was laid out like they were prepared for a surgery.
Drills. Scalpels. Pliers. Things Charlotte didn’t recognize and didn’t want to recognize.
“First, we’re going to have some fun. Just you and me. I’ve never had a Battle Angel’s daughter before. I wonder if you’ll last longer than the others.”
He picked up each tool one by one, his gloved fingers tracing their edges with something approaching reverence.
Charlotte watched him through eyes blurred with tears, her small body trembling against the cold metal restraints.
She had never felt so helpless in her entire life.
All her confidence, all her arrogance, all her certainty that the world would bend to her wishes—it had all evaporated the moment those shackles closed around her wrists.
In that moment, she was just a child. A terrified, helpless child strapped to a chair in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
And the man before her was selecting tools.
“Let’s see now.” He murmured, his fingers trailing over the gleaming instruments laid out on the side table. “Where should we begin? There are so many options, so many delightful possibilities.”
He picked up a scalpel, examined it in the firelight, then set it down.
“The scalpel is classic, of course. Clean. Precise. But perhaps a bit too formal for such a special occasion.”
Charlotte’s heart hammered against her ribs. Every instinct screamed at her to struggle, to thrash, to do something.
But the restraints held firm. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even look away.
He picked up a pair of pliers. Rusted. Cruel-looking. The kind of tool that belonged in a torturer’s chamber.
“These have a certain rustic charm, don’t you think?” He clicked the pliers together, the sound sharp and metallic. “I could pull out your fingernails one by one. It’s a classic technique—been used for centuries. There’s a reason it’s stood the test of time. The pain is exquisite, I’m told. And the anticipation between each pull…”
He shivered with apparent pleasure.
“That’s the best part, really. Not the pain itself, but the waiting. The knowing. The moment when they realize what’s about to happen and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”
Charlotte’s stomach heaved. She thought she might be sick.
“But no, no.” He set the pliers down with a sigh. “Too simple. Too straightforward. For a guest of your stature, I need something special. Something memorable.”
He picked up the drill.
“This.” He said, his voice dropping to an almost reverent whisper. “This is my favorite. Do you know why?”
Charlotte couldn’t speak. Her throat had closed up entirely.
“It’s the sound.” He pressed the trigger, and the drill whirred to life, its metallic shriek filling the room.
“That high-pitched whine. That mechanical scream. When people hear this sound, they know—they know—what’s ing. And the fear in their eyes, Lady Charlotte…”
He turned off the drill and let out a satisfied sigh.
“…There’s nothing quite like it.”
He took a step toward her.
Charlotte’s mind raced.
She had to do something. She had to buy time!
The Maiden of War’s training echoed in her thoughts:
‘In a desperate situation, fear is your enemy. Panic will kill you faster than any blade.’
‘If you can’t fight, if you can’t flee, then you have to think. You have to stall.’
‘You have to find a way to prolong the moment, no matter how hopeless it seems, because every second you gain is a second closer to rescue.’
“Where is this place?”
The words came out before she consciously decided to speak them.
Her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make the man pause.
“I beg your pardon?”
“This place.” Charlotte swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “What is it? Where are we? Who are all those people in the cells?”
Marcus tilted his head. The mask made the gesture somehow more menacing than any facial expression could have been.
“Curious, aren’t you? Even now, even in this situation, you’re still asking questions.” He chuckled softly. “I admire that. Truly, I do. Most of my guests are too busy screaming to form coherent sentences by this point.”
“Those people.” Charlotte pressed, her voice growing stronger. “They’re suffering. They’re in constant pain. How can you do this to them? How can you just…just torture them like this?”
“They’re not real.” Marcus said with a dismissive wave. “Not anymore. Once they enter my domain, they cease to be people.”
“They bee…entertainment. Toys. Playthings for me to enjoy however I see fit.”
“THEY ARE REAL!” Charlotte’s voice cracked with emotion.
“I can feel them! I can feel their pain, their terror! They’re living, breathing human beings, and you’re torturing them!”
“How fortunate for you to have such refined empathic abilities.”
He picked up a curved blade, examining its edge.
“But their reality doesn’t concern me. What concerns me right now is where I should make the first incision. I’m thinking…the collarbone?”
“Yes, I think the collarbone would be an excellent starting point. Then I’ll use my drill to scramble your insides.”
He stepped closer.
Charlotte’s mind screamed at her to think of something, anything.
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a distraction, a weakness, a miracle.
Her gaze landed on the mask.
“Who are you?”
The man stopped. The blade paused mid-slice.
“Who are you really?” Charlotte pressed, her voice gaining strength. “This is the safest place in the world for you, isn’t it? Your own private domain where no one can see what you do.”
“A dreamwalker like me knows just how private these realms can be. You can do anything you want here, and the outside world will never know.”
“So…why are you wearing that?”
She leaned forward as much as her restraints would allow, her pink eyes meeting the dark holes of his mask.
“If you’re so powerful, if this is your domain where you control everything—why hide your face?”
Her voice dripped with contempt.
“If you really have the balls to do all of this, then take off your mask. Show me who you are.”
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