Chapter 17: Midnight Knocks on the Window

Inside the castle’s kitchen.

A kerosene lamp coated in grease flickered with a weak, trembling light.

Clang. Clang.

A heavy cleaver smashed down onto the thick chopping block, each strike sounding as though it might split the table apart.

The burly, bearded chef stood in silence, staring fixedly at the sharp reflection along the blade’s edge, his eyes pale and lifeless.

The old butler, dressed in a black tailcoat and groomed to impeccable elegance down to every strand of hair, approached with a lamp in hand.

The light illuminated a pool of dark red blood.

The butler frowned.

“Why haven’t you finished dealing with him yet?”

The chef’s movements stopped.

His gaze suddenly shifted to the butler.

He frowned, fury nearly blazing out of his eyes.

“The meal I prepared could not possibly have had a problem! That steak was absolutely fresh! It would never make anyone sick! It was his fault, his own fault—”

The chef roared, his upper body leaning unconsciously toward the butler as he vented his rage by hacking several more times with the boning knife.

“Enough!”

The butler dodged the spittle flying from the chef’s mouth, his own expression twisting into something ferocious.

“No one cares how your meal turned out! Do you still think you’re the head chef of this castle?”

The chef glared at him, and within his anger there was strangely a trace of grievance.

The butler took a deep breath.

In the tone one might use to coax a child, he said gently, “All right. I believe your cooking couldn’t possibly be at fault. That man was simply unlucky. He drank poisoned wine, that’s why he collapsed in the hall… Haven’t you already vented your anger on him? Calm down. Control yourself.”

The butler flung the kerosene lamp onto a nearby table.

The light revealed a basin filled with pale, severed limbs—clearly human.

The chef did not seem comforted.

He snorted like a bull and turned back to continue his work.

“Be quick about it… clean everything up before midnight,” the butler muttered.

“I don’t want those consulting detectives catching hold of any evidence.”

“We only have five offerings left now—one fewer will not do. It took me great effort to bring them into the castle. We cannot afford to fail at the last moment. The sacrifices offered to God must be healthy and whole… We may not care about their mental state, but at the very least we should pay attention to the quality of their flesh.”

The butler tapped the table sternly.

“Otherwise God will not be pleased. Do you understand?”

As if triggered by a keyword, the chef responded, “The steak I prepared had no problem—!”

“Damn it. I’m not talking about that. Can you forget about that steak?”

Veins bulged on the butler’s forehead, and a faint film of white rolled across his eyes.

But he quickly suppressed his fury, drew in a breath, and turned his face away.

“Forget it. What’s the point of talking to a brainless fool like you…”

The butler picked up the lamp again and left the kitchen with an ugly expression.

The tall chef continued his silent labor.

He placed the knife into a basin and washed the bloodstained blade with clear water, again and again.

In his deadened eyes there surfaced a murky disgust.

…

After finishing the first act with the Awakened, Si Qingxuan returned to the bedroom.

He stayed inside for a while.

Soon, his gaze fell upon the wall clock whose hands were spinning rapidly.

Very quickly, the hands leapt past noon and afternoon, stopping at nine-thirty in the evening.

Si Qingxuan had noticed earlier that the castle’s sense of time was strange.

Periods not involving the “plot” were easily skipped over.

Only the stretch from nine-thirty at night to midnight seemed to follow ordinary time.

“Twelve o’clock,” which was when the old butler had previously emerged in a distinctly inhuman form, marked a clear boundary.

After one-twelve in the early morning, time would once again fall into chaos.

The night would pass like a receding tide, and a new day would quickly arrive.

Though the accuracy of this pattern still required verification, the young master had repeatedly warned him not to leave the room after midnight, and to remain properly in bed.

So “midnight” was almost certainly a confirmed danger point.

Si Qingxuan considered this for a few seconds, then rang the bell to summon the maid Lucia.

Lucia seemed not to have noticed anything unusual about the castle’s distorted flow of time.

She appeared simply to have lived through a full and busy day.

There was a trace of fatigue on her face, yet upon hearing his summons she arrived at the bedroom door at once.

“Do you require anything, Young Master?”

Si Qingxuan instructed her to deliver some hot water to the consulting detectives and to pass along a warning.

Lucia did not ask questions.

She bowed and left immediately after receiving the order, which pleased Si Qingxuan greatly.

“Lucia is a very competent maid,” Si Qingxuan commented.

“She’s intelligent. Most importantly, she’s disciplined. She knows what should be asked and what should not.”

The system interjected: 【High Priest, you seem very satisfied with her? Shall we recruit followers according to this standard from now on?】

“I told you before, I have no interest in being the leader of some evil cult,” Si Qingxuan replied.

“Besides, what benefit would I gain from recruiting followers?”

【Of course there are benefits! If sacrifices are the evil god’s prestige, then followers are the evil god’s façade! Have you ever seen a famous ancient god who commands no underlings? Don’t they all have notorious lackeys and henchmen?】

Si Qingxuan: “…I should really watch fewer gangster movies. You’ve picked up such a third-rate tone. A proper ancient godly struggle sounds like a street gang fight when you describe it.”

【Well, if you want to call it a gang fight, that’s not entirely wrong.】 The system laughed.

【Outside this planet, the ancient gods rarely clash directly. But here… that’s another story.】

【High Priest, have you ever considered that the era of divided gods may soon begin? If you do not establish your own power in advance, when the struggle officially starts, what will you rely on to defeat Them? Or do you plan to ignore it all and live in anonymity, wandering the mysterious world in exile?】

“…”

Si Qingxuan gave no reply.

He knocked on the wardrobe door.

The real young Master Morlanden poked his head out and crawled from inside.

“Is it night again?” the young master asked softly, glancing at the dim sky beyond the window.

“Time passes so quickly…”

Si Qingxuan intentionally tested whether he had noticed the abnormal flow of time.

“You haven’t eaten for an entire day. Aren’t you hungry?”

The young master blinked, looking confused instead.

“Have I? But I’m not hungry at all.”

“Not hungry? Good. Then tell me more about Sophie.”

“The maid who hanged herself with her child.”

“I wasn’t close to Sophie,” the young master said, sitting down before him.

“So I can’t give you many details.”

“Who was she close to? Who did she avoid? Never mind, you probably don’t know. Before her accident, did you notice anything unusual? Or anything strange happening in the castle?”

“I didn’t notice,” the young master pressed his hands to his head.

“By the time I realized something was wrong, something terrible had already happened. Every midnight after twelve, everyone in the castle changes into something else… including the butler and the head chef. All the male and female servants as well. Except for the castle’s physician—he isn’t exclusively employed by us and doesn’t stay here at night.”

“They become monsters and wander through the castle. At the same time, in the woods where Sophie hanged herself, her figure appears, holding her infant and wandering while weeping. Only after an hour or two do they quiet down.”

After listening, Si Qingxuan fell into thought.

“Have you tried escaping the castle?”

The young master’s expression faltered.

He looked away awkwardly.

“Yes, I tried,” he admitted.

“As the heir to the family, the owner of the castle, yet all I do is think about running away… I know I’m useless. But I truly tried. I have nightmares every night. Those harsh whispers echoing in my ears… I don’t know how to stop any of it. No matter how I run, I cannot escape.”

“Once, while they weren’t paying attention, I even reached the edge of the outer wall. But suddenly a thick fog rolled in. I grew drowsy and fell asleep. When I woke up, I was back in my room—as if I had never left.”

Si Qingxuan, who had also inherited a castle only to discover it was haunted, could certainly understand this unfortunate rich second generation’s feelings.

He sighed.

“I understand you.”

“Really?” The young master looked up in delight.

“Then will you help me leave this castle?”

Si Qingxuan: “…Don’t use that quest-giver tone with me.”

The young master looked devastated.

“So you won’t help me?”

“Of course I will.”

Si Qingxuan smiled.

“But I won’t help you escape. I’m going to help you eliminate these monsters.”

The young master: “…”

In the next second, he turned and dove toward the wardrobe in a freestyle motion.

Si Qingxuan reacted swiftly, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him back out.

“Let me go! If you want to die, go by yourself! Just let me starve to death in this wardrobe!”

“Hey.”

Si Qingxuan pulled him closer and patted his face.

“Wake up—”

Before he could continue, the system suddenly cried out: 【Quick, High Priest, your ex-boyfriend is climbing your window!】

Si Qingxuan froze for half a second.

In the remaining half second, he stuffed a large piece of cloth into the struggling young master’s mouth, tossed him into the wardrobe, and locked the door.

One second later, he had regained his calm expression and cast a casual glance toward the window.

The night was silent.

Only the silk curtains swayed slightly.

【He’s clinging outside the window right now, spying on us.】

【Hmph. I thought he was decent. Who knew that handsome young man would behave so shamelessly in private? First meeting during the day—no, technically the second—and at night he’s already climbing a young boy’s window! Absolutely no virtue!】

Si Qingxuan cut the system off.

Before being silenced, it let out a soft, lingering “hmph,” so coy that it made his skin crawl.

Taking a deep breath, Si Qingxuan walked to the window and flung it open with a bang.

Turning his head, he saw Zhaolin standing against the outer wall, just about to climb in.

The two of them met eyes.

“…”

Silence.

Silence belonged to them tonight.

A gust of night wind swirled past.

As if suddenly awakened, Si Qingxuan spoke first, though his smile twisted unnaturally.

“Well, Detective, quite idle at night, aren’t you? Climbing someone’s window?”

He did not believe Zhaolin was attracted to the young master’s shell.

After all, Si Qingxuan’s own appearance was no less striking than the body he currently wore.

Zhaolin had dated him before.

It was impossible he would harbor some special interest in someone like this young master.

“What, trying to gather more intelligence in the castle?”

“If so, I can only say—you’ve come to the wrong place.”

“I’ve come to the right place. And I’m not here to gather information.”

Zhaolin placed a hand on the window frame and stepped onto the sill, landing lightly before Si Qingxuan like a graceful bird.

He bent slightly, his eyes locked onto Si Qingxuan’s.

“I came to find you.”

Si Qingxuan: “…”

He raised an eyebrow, smile unchanged though the fire in his chest burned hotter.

“What do you mean? You like me?”

He swore that if this man dared to say something like, “You look very much like my ex-boyfriend,” he would kick him straight off the windowsill.

…But if Zhaolin said nothing at all about Si Qingxuan, he would not be pleased either.

Choose carefully, Mr. Ex.

Your life is in your own hands.

Si Qingxuan looked up, waiting behind a thin, illusory mask to hear his answer.

The black-haired man gazed at him intensely.

His face was as cold and beautiful as an ancient blade, yet the distance he had maintained before had quietly vanished.

Like a still pool infused with new vitality, even the slightest ripple was enough to stir the heart.

He spoke, voice slightly hoarse.

“…What is your name?”

…

Time snapped back to their second year of high school.

That year, the girl secretly admired by the school tyrant confessed to Si Qingxuan instead.

His once uneventful school life descended into chaos.

After days of harassment, Si Qingxuan finally decided to fight back.

Hearing that the school tyrant often skipped class by climbing the wall, Si Qingxuan deliberately skipped self-study one day, sitting atop the back wall with a workbook in one hand and a spiked wooden stick in the other, waiting for his prey.

He had studied fencing and taekwondo since childhood.

Though he appeared refined and gentle, like a pampered rich heir, losing to some immature delinquent would have been absurd.

Instead of the tyrant, however, he waited until dusk and encountered Zhaolin instead, who had come to do cleaning duty with a broom.

Zhaolin initially mistook him for the notorious school bully.

Seeing the bright red workbook in his hand, he wondered what kind of high-quality delinquent skipped class to study on a wall.

Was the air better up there?

Or did flirting with school rules enhance brain function?

Only when he noticed the thick wooden stick did he realize this was likely a planned fight.

Acting on the instinct of a model student, Zhaolin called up, “Classmate, school’s over. You should go home.”

The person on the wall murmured an “Mm,” face half hidden behind the book.

Zhaolin sighed, climbed up beside him, and said, “I said—”

Si Qingxuan turned.

Half his face emerged from behind the cover.

His clear blue eyes shimmered like a shallow sea, disarming in their beauty.

“?”

Startled by the sudden closeness, Si Qingxuan leaned back instinctively.

Zhaolin leaned forward to steady him.

“Be careful.”

Si Qingxuan thanked him.

“Oh right, what were you saying?”

Zhaolin repeated his speech.

Afterwards, he turned to leave—only to be caught by the hem of his shirt.

“Don’t go so fast.”

The lazy tone rose slightly at the end.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

…

Time turned once more.

Now it was Zhaolin climbing Si Qingxuan’s wall.

And the roles were reversed.

The one asking, “What is your name?” was no longer Si Qingxuan.

Midnight struck.

Si Qingxuan lowered his head, emotions hidden beneath thick lashes.

He knew the question was a deliberate test.

He should not react strongly—if he did not wish to be exposed.

But the bitterness and resentment boiling inside him flowed like magma, scorching his throat.

He looked up and gave the ugliest smile of his life.

Stepping onto the windowsill, he delivered a perfect spinning kick, sending the man tumbling onto the roof tiles like an unwanted patch.

“You really ought to just die,” Si Qingxuan said coolly.

“That would be more satisfying.”