Free Web NovelPavela finally found a chance to slip away.
While Victoria and several other girls were arguing heatedly over some noble boy's gossip, she quietly stood up from the sofa and signaled to Cecilia with a glance.
Cecilia gave a slight nod, saying nothing.
Pavela shot her a grateful look, then, taking advantage of no one paying attention, slipped toward the edge of the hall.
She passed through a half-open side door and entered a relatively secluded corridor.
From behind her, Victoria's voice drifted faintly: "Huh? Where's Pavela?"
"Probably went to get some fresh air," came Cecilia's voice.
"You must have scared her off!"
Victoria complained, "I told you all you were being too noisy!"
"You're the one asking the most questions, clearly..."
"No, I'm not!"
...
Pavela quickened her pace, turning the corner of the corridor before the voices faded completely.
She leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh.
Finally... quiet.
The corridor was empty, only the soft glow from the gas sconces on the walls. Faintly, music from the banquet hall could be heard in the distance, but it had become muffled and remote, as if from another world.
Pavela walked slowly along the corridor, letting her nerves gradually relax.
It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the girls' enthusiasm.
They meant no harm.
They were even deliberately considerate of her feelings—Cecilia stepping in to help her out, Charlotte steering the conversation away from time to time, even that chatterbox Victoria would hand her a pastry after a barrage of questions.
But she just... couldn't handle it.
Too much kindness.
Too much attention.
Too many smiles and greetings.
Pavela realized she actually felt a bit... nostalgic for that simplicity.
Even though that'simplicity' was often accompanied by bloodshed and death.
She shook her head, trying to banish the dangerous thought.
Mustn't think like that.
She was no longer Pavel Ivanovich Sokolov.
She was Pavela von Schwartz.
A girl who needed to learn to smile, learn etiquette, learn how to survive amidst the enthusiasm of noble misses...
At the end of the corridor was a floor-to-ceiling window. Pavela walked over and looked outside.
The moon hung high in the night sky, large and round, casting a cold, clear light.
The Victorian nightscape looked exceptionally tranquil under the moonlight.
In the distance, a clock tower stood in the ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) city center, its huge clock face reflecting the moonlight like a silent eye.
Pavela watched all this quietly.
Is this what peace looks like?
She hadn't fully adjusted yet.
Perhaps she never would fully adjust.
But at least—
Bang!
A loud noise suddenly came from somewhere in the distance.
Pavela's body moved before her brain could even react.
She instantly dropped into a crouch, her back pressed tightly against the wall, one hand already reaching for her waist—where there was nothing, only the intricate folds of her skirt and a decorative belt.
Her heart rate spiked.
Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream.
Her mind raced, analyzing the direction, distance, and possible source of the threat—
Then she realized it wasn't a gunshot.
Just a door somewhere slamming shut from the wind.
Or something falling in the kitchen.
Pavela froze in place, still in that half-crouch, feeling her heart hammering wildly in her chest. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
Breathe.
Deep breaths.
She slowly straightened up, leaning against the wall, and closed her eyes.
That was close.
Thank goodness no one saw.
Pavela shook her head with a bitter smile.
Battlefield after-effects.
She knew she had this problem.
She'd had it since the train—every time someone entered her compartment, her body would tense up unconsciously.
Every time she heard a sharp sound, she'd instinctively look for cover.
Eleanor had it a little too, but not as severe as Pavela.
She just made a point of stepping more heavily when walking, so Pavela could hear her approach in advance.
This silent consideration made Pavela feel an indescribable... warmth? Guilt? Or something else?
She didn't know.
She only knew she owed Eleanor more and more.
Pavela looked out at the moon again, letting her heartbeat slowly return to normal.
It was about time to go back.
Being away too long would make people worry.
And besides, she still had to face—
Eleanor's mother.
And Eleanor's sister.
Her nominal 'family' now.
Pavela took a deep breath. free𝑤ebnovel.com
Compared to that group of noble misses, *this* was the real challenge.
She turned around, preparing to walk back down the corridor.
Then she stopped.
At the end of the corridor—
In the shadows untouched by the light—
Someone was standing there.
Pavela's pupils constricted sharply.
She didn't know when that person had appeared.
A second ago? A minute ago? Or had they been there ever since she stepped into this corridor?
She hadn't sensed it at all.
No footsteps.
No sound of breathing.
No presence whatsoever.
It was as if—
--【Warning】--
The system's voice suddenly exploded in her mind, more urgent and sharper than ever before.
--【High-sequence Wayfarer consciousness fluctuations detected】--
--【Threat level: Extreme】--
--【Recommendation: Immediate evacuation. Immediate evacuation. Immediate evacuation.】--
Cold sweat instantly drenched Pavela's back.
Even during the battle of the Night of Calderburg, facing the encirclement of eleven Royal Knight mechs, the system's warnings had been nothing but cold, factual data reports.
But now—
It was practically screaming.
Just as she was still processing this information, the scene before her suddenly changed.
That person—
The one standing at the end of the corridor—
In the blink of an eye, was now standing right in front of her.
Not by walking.
Not by running.
But—simply being there.
As if she had always been standing before Pavela, only Pavela hadn't'seen' her before.
Pavela stood frozen, her mind blank.
It was a woman.
She looked to be in her thirties, maybe younger, maybe older—her features held an indescribable vagueness, as if veiled by a thin mist, making it impossible to accurately judge her age.
She wore a simple grey dress, devoid of any ornamentation, utterly out of place in the opulent atmosphere of this mansion.
But what unsettled Pavela the most were her eyes.
They were a pale grey, even paler than Pavela's own, so pale they were almost translucent.
And—
Her gaze wasn't looking *at* Pavela.
It was looking *through* Pavela.
Through her skin, through her flesh, through her bones, all the way to... something deeper.
The woman bent down, leaning close to Pavela's face.
So close Pavela could feel her breath—very faint, almost devoid of warmth.
"Interesting,"
the woman spoke.
Her voice was similarly indistinct, as if coming from far away, or sounding directly within Pavela's mind.
"A drop of water... containing an ocean."
Pavela didn't understand.
But she forced herself to stay calm.
Composure.
She couldn't give herself away here.
"Madam,"
Pavela struggled to keep her voice steady, "May I ask who you are..."
"A fool who does not know they are a fool,"
the woman ignored her question, continuing as if to herself, "can therefore walk the farthest road. But you..."
She tilted her head, as if observing an interesting specimen.
"You are a self-aware fool. That is rare. Very, very rare."
Pavela had no idea what she was talking about.
But she sensed instinctively—this woman knew something.
Knew something she shouldn't know.
"I'm sorry," Pavela attempted, "I don't quite understand your meaning—"
"If you understood, you wouldn't be a fool," the woman cut her off. "Not understanding is correct. Not understanding... allows you to keep walking."
Her gaze shifted from Pavela's eyes to her chest, then to her back—as if she could see through the dress to the scars left by the spinal probes.
"So many voices..." the woman murmured, "So very many voices. All inside you. All shouting. All crying. All..."
She paused.
"...all sinking."
Pavela's heart plummeted.
She knew.
This woman knew about the existence of those souls.
Knew she had once devoured so many memories and consciousnesses of the dead.
"Who are you?" Pavela's voice involuntarily sharpened. "What do you want?"
The woman didn't answer.
She straightened up, those pale grey eyes still fixed on Pavela, but her gaze grew more... focused.
As if—
Making a decision.
--【Warning】--
--【Consciousness fluctuation anomaly detected】--
--【Fight or flight. Please make an immediate choice.】--
Pavela's body tensed.
She had no weapons.
She was wearing this damned dress; she couldn't even run fast.
Her body wasn't fully recovered yet; her ribs still ached faintly.
But if this woman intended to attack her—
She wouldn't just sit there and wait for death.
Even if it cost her life, she would—
"Found it."
The woman suddenly spoke, her tone flat as if stating a fact.
"Found what?" Pavela asked through gritted teeth.
"What I was looking for," the woman said. "You are suitable. Very suitable. But not enough. Not yet mature. Still needs..."
Her hand rose.
Pavela's pupils constricted sharply.
She knew she couldn't win.
The system's warning had made it clear—this was an 'Extreme' threat individual, a high-sequence Wayfarer.
She didn't even know what that meant.
But her intuition told her this woman could crush her like an ant.
Yet she still prepared to fight.
It was instinct.
An instinct forged on the battlefield, carved into her bones—
If she had to die, let it be in combat.
If she had to fall, let it be toward the enemy.
Even if the chance was one in ten thousand—
With a clatter, the door at the end of the corridor was pushed open.
Bright light flooded in from the doorway, illuminating the corridor.
"Little Pa?"
It was Eleanor's voice.
Pavela whipped her head around to see Eleanor standing in the doorway, a glass of champagne in hand, a trace of worry on her face.
"What are you doing here alone? I've been looking for you for a while—"
Her words stopped.
Because she noticed Pavela's complexion.
"What's wrong?"
Eleanor frowned, walking over quickly. "What happened?"
Pavela turned back.
The corridor was empty.
The woman was gone.
As if she had never been there.
No footsteps.
No presence.
No trace whatsoever.
Pavela stood rooted to the spot, staring at that empty patch of shadow.
"Pavela?" Eleanor reached her side, touching her shoulder. "You look terrible. What's wrong?"
"...Nothing," Pavela heard herself say. "I'm just... a little tired."
"Tired?" Eleanor looked at her suspiciously. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Pavela couldn't muster a smile.
Seen a ghost?
She really didn't know if what she'd just encountered counted as a 'ghost'.
"Really, it's nothing," she shook her head, trying to normalize her expression. "It's just... this corridor is a bit dark. I'm not used to it."
Eleanor clearly didn't believe the explanation.
But she didn't press further.
"Come on," she said. "Mother and Aileen have arrived and are asking where you are."
Pavela nodded.
She followed Eleanor toward the door, but as she stepped over the threshold, she couldn't help but glance back.
The corridor was still empty.
Only the wall sconces cast their faint glow, throwing long shadows across the floor.
