The dining hall, occupied by roughly seventy people, was eerily silent. Only the faint clinking of utensils against dishes echoed in the room—no conversations, no laughter, just a heavy, oppressive quiet.
This atmosphere will ruin my appetite.
I had no room to focus on the taste of the food. All I could do was observe, dumbfounded, as dozens of people, who looked like mass-produced dolls, silently chewed their meals.
Then, a small girl sat across from me, drawing my gaze naturally toward her.
Who is that girl?
I blinked, closing my eyes momentarily before opening them again. Perhaps my fatigued eyes were deceiving me. But no matter how many times I looked, it was undeniable:
It’s her.
She was unmistakably the youngest daughter of the herbalist who had gone missing. Though much time had passed since her disappearance, it wasn’t long enough for her appearance to have changed drastically.
What was her name again?
No matter how hard I tried to recall, I couldn’t. I’d only ever referred to her as the herbalist’s youngest daughter, never learning her actual name.
Hoping to catch her attention, I cleared my throat and adjusted my posture, even brushing my hair back in an attempt to appear noticeable. But she remained focused on her meal, not sparing me a single glance.
Left with no choice, I decided to ask Karen, who stood nearby.
“Could you introduce me to that maid?”
I hadn’t raised my voice, speaking carefully and almost in a whisper. Yet it was enough to shatter the dining hall’s fragile silence.
Hundreds of green eyes turned to me in unison, their gazes as sharp and piercing as blades.
Startled, I accidentally dropped my fork, the sound reverberating through the room. Like a switch had been flipped, all those eyes immediately returned to their meals, as if nothing had happened.
Goosebumps prickled up my arms.
“She’s Tara. She works in the laundry room,” Karen answered calmly, as if oblivious to the unsettling atmosphere that had just filled the room.
“…Ah, I see.”
I responded a beat too late, still shaken by the moment. I couldn’t let myself remain paralyzed, though. I looked at the girl and attempted to strike up a conversation, hoping she might recognize me.
“Hello, Tara. I’m Selena, a new researcher here.”
Thankfully, this time, no one paid attention to us. It felt almost as if Eon had given an order to not look in my direction.
“H-hello, Researcher,” she replied, her voice barely audible, almost like a mosquito’s buzz. It didn’t seem like she recognized me.
“When did you arrive here, Tara?” I asked gently, trying not to alarm her.
Instead of answering, Tara glanced around nervously, her eyes darting from person to person. She seemed unsure whether to seek help or avoid drawing attention to herself. When no one intervened, her gaze finally met mine.
I smiled reassuringly, signaling her that it was safe to answer.
“It’s been… about six months now,” she finally said.
The timeline matched perfectly with her disappearance.
“And where were you before that?”
“I-I, um…”
Tara stammered, visibly trembling. It was as if answering my question was a matter of life and death.
Why is she so scared? It’s not like I’m interrogating her. Has she been tortured?
Tara hadn’t always been like this. Back in her parents’ shop, she’d been outgoing and cheerful, often helping customers with a bright smile. Seeing her in this state—timid and broken—only made my anger bubble beneath the surface.
That bastard…
I cursed silently, directing my frustration at no one in particular. Since Tara couldn’t bring herself to answer, I decided to fill in the blanks myself.
“Were your parents the herbalists who ran the shop on Third Street in Baynan?”
What I expected was for Tara’s eyes to widen in surprise and for her to exclaim, How do you know that? Then, I could explain with a friendly smile that I had been a regular customer and remembered seeing her there.
From there, everything would progress smoothly, I thought.
I planned to tell her how much her family missed her and how hard everyone had been searching for her. Later, I’d invite her to my room and listen to her story, perhaps even discussing an escape plan together.
But the voice that broke my train of thought didn’t belong to Tara.
“You must not break the rules.”
It was Marilyn, her green eyes glinting ominously, like a predator lurking in the shadows.
“Breaking the rules is forbidden,” she repeated, her voice chilling and firm.
The coarse voice clung to me as if trying to pull me into the darkness.
“Huh? What do you mean by that?”
It seemed like my words triggered something. The employees stopped eating and simultaneously began chanting in unison.
“You must not break the rules.”
“The Tower’s rules are sacred.”
My chest felt as if it was being crushed. Their voices were identical to the haunting melody that had persistently followed me in my dreams. The voices soon took on a tangible form, encircling my head and spinning around me.
“You must not break the rules.”
“Those who break the rules are expelled.”
Cold sweat dripped down my back, and my breathing grew labored.
“You must not break the rules.”
“You must not break the rules.”
“Aah… ah…”
I clutched my head and pushed my chair back. All I wanted was to escape from this place.
“Miss.”
Karen grabbed my arm.
“Let me go!”
I tried to shake her off, but her strength was beyond what I could resist. I pushed against her with all my might, but Karen didn’t budge. Instead, she leaned closer to me.
“Miss, look at me.”
She smiled, seemingly trying to reassure me. But her stiff face and forced smile only made things worse.
“Are you unwell?”
Unwell? The audacity to ask that was almost laughable.
“Can’t you hear it? Everyone’s shouting at me!”
“Shouting? Marilyn was simply trying to inform you of the rules.”
Karen forcibly removed my hands from my ears.
“The Tower’s rules. Miss, you’re breaking them right now.”
The haunting melody that had surrounded me was no longer audible.
“Was it all just in my head?”
The thought crossed my mind that I might be labeled insane here, just like I was at the Count’s estate.
“Marilyn, continue what you were saying to the Miss. But soften your tone—it seems you’re scaring her. Didn’t the Tower Master instruct us to adjust our attitudes?”
So Eon was observing this scene from somewhere, manipulating events without lifting a finger. However, I didn’t have time to dwell on that.
“You see, Miss.”
Gone was Marilyn’s hoarse, raspy voice. In its place was a high-pitched, saccharine tone brimming with forced cheer. Her cheekbones seemed to rise unnaturally, her eyes growing larger as if charged with energy.
“There are a few rules you must follow in the Tower.”
Marilyn’s face had transformed, her cheeks unnaturally plump like they were stuffed with eggs, and her eyes comically large. She stretched her lips into a wide, exaggerated smile.
“If you don’t follow them, you’ll be expelled from the Tower. So you must be careful, alright?”
She wagged her index finger while nodding her head like a kindergarten teacher addressing children. Her eyelids blinked rapidly, seemingly strained from being stretched so wide.
I wanted to avert my gaze from her grotesque display, but I couldn’t. I felt as though, if I looked away, the fork in front of her might find its way to my throat instead of her plate.
“The first rule: Never speak about anything that happened before coming to the Tower.”
Marilyn counted on her fingers as she spoke.
“You must not mention where you came from, what you did, or anything about your past. That’s exactly what you asked Tara earlier, isn’t it?”
“That’s a rule?”
“The Tower Master is a generous employer who doesn’t concern himself with the pasts of those gathered here,” Karen added. “No matter what mistakes someone might have made, they can start anew here. That’s why we don’t ask about the past.”
What a convenient interpretation. Covering up past crimes only served to hide one’s own guilt.
“The Tower Master!”
I raised my voice to expose the truth about him when—
[Miss Selena, are you enjoying your meal?]
It was Eon. His voice carried a leisurely tone, as if none of this concerned him.
[It seems you might need some advice. Please think carefully about whether those around you will follow you or me before you act.]
At his words, I looked at Marilyn and Karen, who wore their same artificial expressions. They were undoubtedly the Tower Master’s most loyal servants.
I widened my view to take in the rest of the room. The others were focused solely on their meals, paying no attention to us. The forks and knives in their hands seemed to gleam ominously.
“What is it, Miss? What were you saying about the Tower Master?”
Marilyn leaned in, her green eyes glinting with an eerie light.
“The Tower Master… is perhaps too much of an idealist.”
In the end, I uttered a feeble and ridiculous response. Karen seemed to take it as a satisfactory answer, nodding in agreement.
“Exactly. That’s why we must adhere to the rules all the more.”
It was an absurd conclusion, but at this point, I didn’t care anymore.
“Since we’re on the topic of rules, let me tell you a few more things you need to know,” Marilyn said.
“The second rule: You must return to the Tower by no later than five o’clock, no exceptions.”
“Not even a minute late,” Karen added.
“That means we’re allowed to leave the Tower?”
The mention of being able to go outside caught my attention more than the curfew itself.
“Of course.”
“Obviously.”
“How?”
“You’ll need to ask another researcher about that. It’s different for us maids.”
Even without hearing more, I could sense that getting permission to leave would be a challenge. After all, why would they go to the trouble of locking us inside just to let us out easily?
So, if I ever found myself in a position where the second rule applied, I might consider myself lucky.
“In any case, even researchers must follow this rule. The last researcher who broke it was expelled.”
Expelled. A word that carried a suspiciously ominous undertone.
