IOHH 4

They said the manager’s demeanor was textbook polite when we first met, but I take that back. A manager who abandons his guest and wanders off on his own whim is anything but courteous. Even I, someone who doesn’t care much about formalities or manners, can tell that.

This time, too, he suddenly announced he would escort me to the restaurant and crossed from the east building to the west building through the back garden. I didn’t want to follow this clearly suspicious manager, but just this once, I decided to go along with it to hear what he had to say about my uncle.

Apparently, the hotel’s layout allows for indoor movement between buildings, but since we were already outside in the garden, he insisted it’d be faster to go in this way. The west building, based on its orientation, didn’t get much sunlight. It was noticeably dimmer than the east wing and slightly cooler in temperature.

The paintings hanging in the corridor were all covered in thick cloth. As if the place wasn’t gloomy enough with the lack of natural light, the shrouded paintings made it feel even more eerie. Common sense would suggest the cloth was there to protect the artwork, but still—was it really necessary to cover paintings in a hallway where guests walked through?

Feeling oddly unsettled, I avoided looking at the paintings and simply walked down the long corridor. At the end stood the restaurant door, its handle elegantly adorned. It looked like it was closed, which made sense—this wasn’t a mealtime.

The manager pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time briefly before opening the restaurant door.

A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling. Large tables covered in white linens stood in the center, surrounded by smaller tables. Just as I expected, there were no guests inside. It looked like a typical hotel restaurant—except for one thing. There were no windows.

“Why are there no windows in this restaurant…?”

Just then, with a sudden pop, darkness swallowed the room.

Ah, the lights went out.

I stood still to avoid bumping into anything or anyone, blinking slowly to help my eyes adjust to the pitch black. Of all the places for a blackout, of course it had to be the one room with no windows. Not a sliver of light came in from outside.

“Manager, are you still there?”

“Of course. It seems there was a minor mishap among the staff. The lights will be back on shortly, so don’t worry.”

I waited quietly as the manager said, and less than thirty seconds later, the room lit up again, just like before. It was a fairly large restaurant—if the staff were turning on the lights one by one, there should have been the sound of footsteps scurrying around. But I hadn’t heard a thing.

Could it be that this hotel uses electricity, like those new streetlamps that were recently introduced?
Hard to imagine a place this old adopting something so modern…

Well, putting that aside—

“Why is there a full dinner spread on the table?”

Before the lights went out, the table had been clean and empty. Now, covered dishes and silverware were laid out in an elegant arrangement worthy of a noble’s banquet. There was still time before dinner—this made no sense. Puzzled, I walked closer to the table. Before I could ask who this meal was meant for, the manager spoke up.

“Would you like to lift the cover and take a look?”

“…”

How could they have prepared all this in such a short time?
Just as that unease crept in, the aroma of roasted turkey reached my nose, and all thoughts vanished. Only hunger filled my mind.

I want to eat it. I need to eat it. I have to eat it.

I wanted to lift the cover and devour everything underneath. That urge surged so strongly I could hardly resist. I stared at the covered dish, locked in a battle between reason and temptation.

Should I just lift it?

My instincts screamed yes, but my rational side had a different voice.

In my mind, I heard the stern voice of my old governess.

“You mustn’t lift the cover before all the dinner guests have arrived at the table, young lady!”

Right. That’s what she always said. I heard it so often growing up, it was practically burned into my brain. I had to uphold the manners befitting the young lady of House Lindetail.

I looked at the manager and shook my head. Even in precarious situations like this, I wanted to maintain the etiquette of a noble. The manager stroked his chin, then smiled and nodded in understanding.

I did my best to avoid looking at the food on the table and followed the manager as he led me around the restaurant.

“The master often visited this restaurant to enjoy his meals. He rarely ate much toward the end, but he especially loved roast turkey.”

“He was always someone who enjoyed talking to people. I can imagine him coming down here to dine.”

He did like meat, after all.

As I glanced around to double-check—was there truly not a single window in this place?—something rolled across the floor and bumped into my foot.

“…A pomegranate?”

Startled by the sudden appearance of the fruit, I looked around. A fruit basket sat on a table not far away. It must have rolled off from there and made its way to me.

How did it manage to roll all the way over here?

I picked it up, planning to return it to the basket. The pomegranate was already partially split open. The manager, still lost in his own ramblings, didn’t seem to notice what had happened and continued walking ahead.

Just like the dishes on the table, this pomegranate had a tantalizing scent. If I asked, I was sure the manager would let me eat it. Even a single seed would probably satisfy me completely.

Maybe it could even chase away the chill I’ve felt since earlier… and this unrelenting headache.

It wasn’t covered like the food on the table, so…

Would it be okay to eat it?

Just as that thought crossed my mind, I suddenly sensed an unfamiliar presence and quickly turned my head.

There was a man standing beside a tray set against the wall—someone I had never seen before.
White hair, golden eyes… He looked like a figure straight out of a religious painting, the kind that might have a glowing halo above his head at any moment. The design of his uniform was slightly different from the others’, but judging by his attire, he also appeared to be a staff member at the hotel.

When did he even get there?
No—more importantly, why is he glaring at me like that?

The man was staring at me so intently it felt like his eyes might burn a hole through me, his brows furrowed in disapproval.
Was he accusing me of trying to steal food meant for another guest?
Something about the way he looked at me made me feel like I was being chastised by a saint straight out of scripture. I quickly placed the pomegranate back where I found it, pretending nothing had happened.

See? I wasn’t stealing anything. Don’t get the wrong idea.

When I glanced back at him to send that message, he had vanished as if he’d never been there.
It was hard to believe he could’ve disappeared so quickly. I looked around in disbelief, but the only person in sight was the manager, walking away, still unaware that I had even fallen behind.

What is it with the staff at this hotel? Why do they move around like ghosts?
Do they all take stealth training like assassins from some novel? That can’t be right…

While I stood there, blankly scanning my surroundings, the manager finally noticed my absence and hurried back to my side.

“Is something wrong, miss?”

“It’s nothing serious. I just saw a pomegranate on the floor and picked it up.”

“A pomegranate? Here, in this restaurant? …I see. I’ll have the staff pay closer attention to table maintenance.”

A crack formed in his otherwise composed smile. He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then said we should probably finish up the restaurant tour and move on. He turned toward the entrance we’d come through.

What kind of reaction is that? You’d think he just saw a ghost.

As we stepped out of the restaurant, the manager forced another bright—and frankly irritating—smile.

“Well then, shall we continue the tour? There are still a few more places I’d like to show—”

“No. I don’t want to see anything else. Where’s the room my uncle stayed in? Please take me there.”

I cut him off, making it clear I only wanted to check the private room my uncle had stayed in. I was tired of wandering around this strange hotel. I’d already spent too much time and energy navigating this maze. What I needed now was rest.

It hadn’t been long since I learned my uncle had actually died. If I kept pushing myself in this state, I might end up collapsing.

“…If that’s your wish, miss. The room your uncle stayed in is at the very end of the third floor of this building. Right this way.”

The manager didn’t seem too pleased with my decision, but unfortunately for him, I was the one holding the reins here.
There was no way he could refuse a guest making such a firm request. So, he led me toward the room.

As we walked deeper into the west wing of the building, a chilling sensation brushed against my skin.
Not a single person passed us along the way, which only made the atmosphere feel colder.

Thankfully, the room wasn’t far, and we arrived quickly. I stood in front of what was clearly a luxurious suite and asked the manager to open the door.

He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket, selected one, and inserted it into the doorknob.

Just then, I remembered something I had forgotten to ask.

“By the way… I never asked the most important question. How exactly did my uncle die?”

“Ah, the director…”

The old wooden door creaked open as he turned the key.

The moment I stepped into the room, the manager smiled calmly and said,

“He killed himself in this room.”