"It has been so very long since the mansion had a new master," the voice continued.
The candle flickered, casting light over the peeling wallpaper of the walls and the worn table at the centre of the room.
Aire pinched his face.
"A talking candle?"
"These days… yes," the candle replied dryly.
Aire hesitantly pushed himself up, his hand reaching for the crutch out of habit. But the stick felt wrong... too short. His balance shifted unnaturally.
'Am I... taller?'
He looked down at his hands.
Black, rotting flesh. His hands were not his own. Fingers decayed, veins blackened like burnt thread beneath moist skin. Slowly, he brought them to his face.
'I died back there. Didn't I?' he thought. 'Or maybe I passed out and this is a dream.'
"This is no dream, new master," the candle whispered. "Within the mansion, you take on the form of the Court Master."
Aire's voice was strained in shock. "You keep calling me master… and talking about a mansion," he said. "I'm guessing this is the Cabin of Fear. But I see no mansion."
The candle flickered once again, now hovering beside him. "...These days, it's a cabin, yes," it said, almost mournfully.
With the candlelight beside him, he could see a mirror hanging on the wall across him.
His breath caught. No... that wasn't his breath. It wheezed out through a half-collapsed trachea. "What the hell did you do to me?" he whispered.
There were sunken green pits where his eyes had been, with strands of frayed brittle white hair tickling his brow. His cheeks were hollow and fleshless, exposing bone beneath, and he could taste rot against his yellow teeth that clung pathetically to black rotting gums.
"Again, within the mansion, you take on the form of the Court master," the candle replied, rather annoyed. "You're—"
A loud creak split through the room. The room shuddered and shrank, just slightly.
"It seems your mana pool is rather pathetic, new master," the candle remarked, floating back toward the table. "That means we haven't much time before you're… thrown back out to the creature waiting outside."
Aire blinked at it. "Wait. A fucking minute. You're telling me this place is going to spit me back out there?"
"Why of course, new master. That is how magic behaves, isnt it? One does not simply shift from one place in time to another… without the appropriate exchanges, of course."
It paused.
"You're rather slow, aren't you? I wonder why Lady Celine chose you."
Aire stood there, stunned.
His body had been replaced with a rotting corpse that was basically falling apart. His power turned out to be a shabby room that couldn't even move him away from danger. And now he was being insulted by a talking candle.
But beneath all the rot and rage, there was something almost too funny about this.
He began laughing out loud. "My life's been shit so far. Why wouldn't this be how things turned out?"
The candle gave a theatrical cough. "A few marbles out of place, new master?" it asked, just as another creak groaned through the walls. The room shrank again; barely, but noticeably.
"I suggest we move on to more pressing matters. Unless, of course, you're not particularly interested in the affairs of your new estate."
Aire let out the last of his frustrations in a hollow chuckle. "So what are you then? Some kind of pet?"
"A familiar," the candle replied. "However, I ask that you listen instead of speak; for once. Despite your... lack in certain qualities, Lady Celine has entrusted you with her flame. And by that decree, I am bound to keep you alive. At least until you fulfil her vows."
"Wait. What's a v—"
Silence," the candle snapped.
A scalding heat washed over Aire's lips, sealing his mouth shut.
"First," the candle continued, unbothered, "let us see how much you already know."
The candle's waxy white body blackened, like patches of rashy-rot spreading across pale skin. It's red flame turned green. Smoke, thick and black, poured out and clawed into Aire's lungs.
Raw pain dug into Aire's mind and burst outward to the rest of his being. His body convulsed. His eyes rolled back.
Memories began playing within his mind.
A boy, sobbing in a cellar, rats crawling across his legs.
Himself, tied to a pole; lashed for stealing bread from the upper-class humans.
A rooftop night with Eden, both perched high above the hive city. Decrepit houses stacked like junk, black filth binding them together. The city climbed into the clouds.
Then—his door broken open. The inquisitors of the Witch Association dragged him from his bed.The lab. Cold. Metallic. Smoke from hissing bronze machines.
Experiments. Pain.His fear: gone. His leg: gone.
The visions shattered. Aire collapsed, clutching at his bony chest, choking on air like it was poison.
"A human?" the candle hissed. "How in the five heavens did Lady Celine choose you?"
It scoffed.
"There must've been some kind of—"
The room creaked. Then groaned. This time it shrank by a large amount. Now Aire could touch both ends of the room if he stretched out his lanky arms.
"There's no time. And you clearly know nothing of witchcraft," the candle snapped.
Aire said nothing. He was still trying to get over the shock of seeing all those memories replayed in his mind. He had worked tirelessly to forget some of those moments. To erase the evidence of weakness from his mind, to free himself from the horrors the witches had bestowed upon him.
"You will require the Lady's diary," the candle muttered. It is the only way this can work." A black flame sparked midair. It twisted, pulsed, then spat out a leather-bound book that landed squarely on Aire's chest.
"As for the creature outside... You are far too weak and ill-prepared."
Another creak. The room shrank again.
"I'll pull a few strings," the candle said softly. "But the price will be steep. We may not meet again for some time."
The door creaked open.
A shadow moved behind it.
「Connection to host station secured.」
「45 viewers are currently tuned in.」
"Wait—what the fuck are you doing?" Aire shouted.
The candle drifted forward, nonchalant. "Why, taking out the trash, of course."
The thing sloshed into the room; bloated and overgrown, like a pus-filled thumb. A human head sagged from its front, jaw torn down the middle to reveal rows of jagged teeth. It slithered, dragging something behind—
Aire followed its figure in disgust.
A human body, stitched mouth-first to the thing's rear. Then another. Arms wiggled along its sides, dozens of them, pushing it forward like a human centipede.
「5 new viewers have tuned in. First milestone reached. Processing rewards...」
The thing flung itself forward, spewing gobs of acid spit.
The candle moved to intercept. Its black flame surged, burning the spit to ash.
"I will take care of the rest. Read the book, study the flame, and inherit her vows," the candle said. Burning another volley of acid spit.
"Your very freedom... and that of your pathetic kin may rest on that."
Chains made of smoke burst from the wall, wrapping around the abomination, dragging it deeper into the room.
"Wait—what do you mean my freedom—?"
The candle flickered, flaring brighter.
'Shit. It's about to blow.'
A door appeared beneath Aire—abrupt, seamless, wide open.
He fell through right as the room above was consumed in a violent eruption.
Darkness.
His back slammed onto cold tile, the diary landing square on his face.
「You have slain a first-stage Changed.」
「50 viewers cheer you on.」
「Global ranking increased by 50.」
「You are now rank 10 on local rankings.」
'I fucking hate candles.'
「Processing rewards...」