DLMSWSHH Chapter 23

TL: Hua

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Chapter 23: Death

Zhong Ming was momentarily stunned, taking a few seconds to process the words. “…Young Master Albert, what did you hear?”

Albert stared at him, his expression as cold and indifferent as ever. “He was standing very close to you. He said he wanted to f—”

“Wait!” Breaking into a cold sweat, Zhong Ming hurriedly cut him off. He hadn’t expected the boy to actually hear that. Looking at Albert’s focused gaze, Zhong Ming felt like a parent being asked, “Where do babies come from?” completely unsure of how to react.

“Speak.” Seeing his lack of answer, Albert frowned with dissatisfaction. “What does it mean, exactly?”

Zhong Ming was stuck in an awkward limbo, but he forced his expression to remain calm. Averting his eyes, he grabbed a random storybook from the side, flipped it open, and said in a wheedling tone: “Let me continue reading you a story, alright?” He turned to a page and realized it was one he had transcribed himself. “Look, there’s a story about a little prince challenging a dragon. It’s very interesting.”

Albert stared at him, his eyes slowly narrowing. That gaze made Zhong Ming’s skin crawl. Just as his mask of composure was about to shatter, Albert lowered his lashes.

“Fine then.” He lay back down on the bed, his eyes still fixed on Zhong Ming. “Read.”

Left with no choice, Zhong Ming continued reading to the young master.

“In a country in the East, a little prince set out on an adventure with his close companions to slay an evil dragon entrenched deep within the forest—”

By the time the next story finished, the sky outside was very dark. Zhong Ming’s throat felt parched, and his mood was rather gloomy; the story of the prince and the dragon actually had no ending. It stopped right where Zhong Ming had finished transcribing, leaving him hanging.

“Ahem.” Zhong Ming cleared his throat and closed the book. In a slightly raspy voice, he spoke to Albert, who still had his eyes open: “Young Master, please go to sleep. It’s very late.”

Outside, night had completely enveloped the mansion. The moon had climbed to the very top of the treetops, hanging in the pitch-black sky. There wasn’t a single cloud; the moonlight shone unobstructed, its pale white glow illuminating the branches swaying gently in the breeze.

Zhong Ming stood up from the low stool by the bed. “I’m heading back now.”

Seeing him prepare to leave, Albert suddenly turned his head and glanced out the window.

Just as Zhong Ming turned to depart, the boy’s cold, detached voice rang out behind him: “It’s raining.”

Zhong Ming’s footsteps faltered. He turned back and saw that, at some unknown moment, it had begun to rain. It wasn’t just a drizzle; the weather had turned violently. A gale-force wind had suddenly picked up, causing the withered branches to flail like ghostly hands, thumping against the window glass. Rain poured down in sheets, crashing against the ground with a deafening roar.

Zhong Ming’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw a sudden flash of lightning streak through the clouds.

“Look, there’s even thunder.” Albert sat up in bed and turned toward him. “Zhong Ming, stay here and keep me company tonight.” He paused, then added, “I’m afraid of thunder.”

Being afraid of thunder was common for children. However, Albert didn’t look like the type of child who would be afraid of a storm, no matter how you looked at him.

Zhong Ming looked at Albert, whose expression remained unmoving as he stared straight at him. He felt hesitant. Children needed care, and because of the players’ arrival, the entrance from the main hall to the basement was locked at night. If Zhong Ming wanted to return to the servants’ quarters, he would have to go through the back door outside the mansion.

If he went out now, he would surely get soaked. Zhong Ming inexplicably remembered the Duke’s words. Seeing his hesitation, Albert reached out and gripped his hand.

Zhong Ming looked up into the boy’s shimmering green eyes. He had to admit that Albert’s cute, exquisite appearance was very deceptive. His heart softened; he sighed and sat back down on the stool.

“Alright.” He squeezed the boy’s soft little hand and tucked him in. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay right here with you.”

Forced to lie back down, Albert nestled into the soft, warm bed and stared fixedly at Zhong Ming. Thinking the boy still didn’t want to sleep, Zhong Ming coaxed him in a softened voice. “Close your eyes. You’ll fall asleep in a moment.”

Albert looked at him, his eyelashes fluttering gently before he closed his eyes as instructed. Seeing this, Zhong Ming softly blew out the candle by the bed.

The nursery fell into darkness, silent save for the torrential rain outside. Zhong Ming looked down at Albert, who lay quietly on the silk pillow with his eyes closed, thinking the boy looked like a little angel while asleep.

After a day of exhaustion, Zhong Ming was tired. In the quiet, dark room, sleepiness gradually overcame him. He let out a shallow yawn.

The nursery’s floor clock emitted a rhythmic ticking. Zhong Ming’s eyelids grew heavy, and his head began to nod in time with the clock’s rhythm. Finally, his neck went limp, and his head slumped against the edge of the bed. Soon after, the sound of steady breathing filled the room.

However, the moment Zhong Ming fell fast asleep, Albert, who should have been dreaming, abruptly opened his eyes.

His emerald-green eyes glinted coldly in the dark, devoid of any sleepiness. He shifted his gaze to Zhong Ming, who was slumped by the bed.

In the next instant, Zhong Ming’s body was lifted as if by an invisible force. His head tilted and his long hair drifted in the air, creating a somewhat eerie sight.

Then, Albert moved toward the side of the bed against the wall, watching as Zhong Ming was placed onto the mattress.

The entire process took less than two seconds. Zhong Ming didn’t wake up; seemingly finding the soft bed comfortable, he rubbed his cheek slightly against the pillow and let out a soft hum from his nose.

Albert watched the young man’s movements in silence, then reached out to grip the right hand that had momentarily slipped away.

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The next morning, when Zhong Ming woke up, he saw Albert huddled in his arms, his arms wrapped around his neck, and his pale face resting on his chest.

…?!

Zhong Ming froze instantly. Turning his head, he realized that he had somehow ended up in the bed. How strange. Did he climb up here himself? Feeling confused, he prepared to get up but felt a weight around his neck.

He turned and met Albert’s open eyes.

“Where are you going?”

Seeing he was awake, Zhong Ming checked the clock and said, “Young Master, it’s time to get up.”

Only then did Albert release his hold and sit up. He watched coldly as Zhong Ming busied himself fetching water for him to wash. Once the young man had tied the ribbon on his shirt collar, Albert held out his arms and said: “Carry me.”

Zhong Ming had no choice but to quickly tidy his messy hair before picking Albert up and walking out of the room.

In the main hall, a new day had begun. Zhong Ming reflexively looked at the carpet; there were no bloodstains today. However, a moment later, he saw Jack and a red-haired manservant walking down from the second floor.

They weren’t coming down empty-handed; they were carrying a corpse between them, one at the head and one at the feet, slowly descending the stairs.

Li Yizhi stood below, raising his right hand. “This way.”

Zhong Ming stiffened and instinctively took a step back while holding Albert. Hearing his footsteps, Li Yizhi turned around, looking startled when he saw Albert. He bowed his head: “Young Master Albert.”

Albert ignored him, his eyes staring straight at the corpse. Zhong Ming snapped back to reality. Though he knew he was in a horror game, he felt it wasn’t good for a child to see this, so he reached out to cover Albert’s eyes: “Young Master Albert, don’t look.”

Albert blinked, his thick lashes brushing against Zhong Ming’s palm, but he didn’t pull away. He obediently buried his face in Zhong Ming’s shoulder. Thinking the boy was frightened, Zhong Ming gently stroked the hair on the back of his head.

Seeing this, Li Yizhi’s expression became somewhat subtle. Looking at Zhong Ming standing there holding the young master, he felt an odd hallucination of a young mother holding her child.

“Ahem.” Li Yizhi looked away and cleared his throat, offering a brief explanation: “A player hanged himself in his room.”

At this, Zhong Ming’s brow twitched. He looked past Li Yizhi and saw the yellow hair on the corpse.

It was the player who had rolled down the stairs on the first day and been eaten once by the Spider Duchess.

Lividity had already appeared on the body; he had clearly been dead for a while. The dark purple bruise around his neck was particularly prominent.

Zhong Ming had expected the yellow-haired youth to die but not by suicide. That was completely unexpected. He frowned in confusion.

Just then, as Jack carried the head of the corpse down, they turned slightly, revealing the person’s face.

Zhong Ming caught sight of it and gasped.

The expression from his final moments was frozen in death. The corpse’s eyes were wide and bulging, the face was a pallid blue-grey, and the mouth was stretched open to such an extent it looked dislocated. The expression was one of extreme terror.

He didn’t look like he had hanged himself; he looked like he had been scared to death.

Zhong Ming stood frozen. As Jack stepped off the last stair, he glanced at Zhong Ming. His expression stiffened when he saw Albert in Zhong Ming’s arms. His features contorted slightly as he clicked his tongue, carrying the body away without a word. Then, the chapel bells rang for the hour.

The solemn, majestic sound echoed through the mansion. In the forest to the west, a large flock of crows took flight simultaneously. Listening to the sound, Zhong Ming felt it sounded uncannily like a funeral knell.

It was time for the young master’s morning lessons.

Joan, dressed in a grey gown, walked down from the second floor and took Albert from Zhong Ming. The moment Zhong Ming saw her, he remembered the scene in the chapel, and his breath hitched for a second.

Fortunately, Joan seemed not to notice him at all, her profile remaining haughty and cold. She took Albert by the hand, gave Zhong Ming a slight nod, and departed.

Maybe she didn’t realize I was in the chapel that day, Zhong Ming thought silently as he watched them leave.

Behind him, Li Yizhi let out an exaggerated sigh and clapped a hand on Zhong Ming’s shoulder. “Hey, how did you end up coming out of the young master’s room?” Li Yizhi’s smile was punchable. “No way, does being a personal servant include sleepovers?”

Zhong Ming couldn’t be bothered with him. Brushing the hand off, he asked, “Why did that player hang himself?”

Li Yizhi hooked an arm around his shoulder, leading him toward the dining room. He chuckled: “Like I said, it doesn’t matter how many lives you have in this game.”

He continued: “What’s scarier than monsters is fear itself.”

Zhong Ming froze. A chill crawled up his spine from the soles of his feet. He suddenly remembered the expression of pure terror on the blonde mercenary’s face when he had seen Albert yesterday.

This mansion seemed to have a “part visible only to players.”

Zhong Ming knit his brows, suddenly struck by a strange sensation; it felt as though everyone was hiding something from him.

But the thought vanished as quickly as it appeared. He was just an NPC servant; why would anyone go to such lengths for him?

.

At the breakfast table, the atmosphere was indeed even more gloomy than the day before.

Zhong Ming stood by the long table, looking at the two remaining students. As expected, their faces were ashen; clearly, the yellow-haired youth’s sudden suicide had hit them hard.

Among them, the youth in the white hoodie moved his lips slightly and whispered, “How… how did it happen like this?”

No matter how foolish they were, they had realized by now that this game was not as simple as they had imagined.

His companion beside him said, “Who knows what happened?” He forced an indifferent front. “Maybe he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

The college student in white glanced at him, then retracted his gaze and said flatly, “Do you even believe that yourself?”

The companion fell silent immediately. They both knew the yellow-haired youth had a bold, reckless personality; moreover, he was greedy and lecherous. No matter how you looked at it, he wasn’t the type to commit suicide.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. At the other end of the table, the young couple exchanged a look but remained silent as well.

The only sound left at the table was the clinking of cutlery against plates. The two students were in low spirits, putting down their forks after eating only a little. Zhong Ming observed carefully and noticed someone else wasn’t eating much either.

The blonde mercenary sat at the table, dark circles heavy under his sunken eyes.

He didn’t look well. Zhong Ming stole a few glances at the man, feeling as though he still hadn’t recovered from the fright of the previous night.

Are mercenaries really this fragile? Zhong Ming found it strange.

After breakfast, the menservants cleared the cutlery and dishes to take back to the kitchen as usual. Afterward, Zhong Ming headed to the archives for work. Perhaps because a player had died yesterday, the mansion was exceptionally quiet today. The mercenaries were nowhere to be seen, and both students had locked themselves in their rooms. There wasn’t a soul in the main hall.

Zhong Ming entered the hall and passed beneath the massive chandelier. As he passed the grandfather clock, he glanced at it and saw it was still early.

His footsteps faltered. Then, he changed direction and walked up the stairs.

The second floor was equally quiet. Zhong Ming found the yellow-haired youth’s room, placed his hand on the handle, and pressed down gently. The door wasn’t locked.

Behind him, the clock ticked away.

Seeing no one around, Zhong Ming pushed the door open with a slight force. The room was indeed empty. There was a bed, a desk, and a small square window directly opposite the door.

Zhong Ming walked in and looked up at the ceiling beams. If it was a suicide by hanging, there should be marks.

However, right at that moment, the faint sound of a door closing reached his ears.

Zhong Ming’s footsteps froze. He instinctively tried to turn around. But before he could, a warm body pressed against him from behind, and two arms locked tightly around his waist.

“Caught you,” someone whispered against his earlobe.

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