Chapter 33: Harry's Self-Portrait

The Girl in the Mirror furrowed her brow lightly, a trace of sorrow creeping to the corner of her eyes.

Gathering her thoughts, she considered that with Hanna Carter—a devotee of the Evil God—present, Lochie still tended to think of ‘Morton’ as being like her, both victims in the end.

Although the Mirror Castle was filled with lies and hypocrisy, there were also elements of truth.

On closer reflection, Donashu Bobby’s sudden attack on her just because he saw a painting seemed a bit extreme.

From his previous behavior, his personality should be more cautious—or rather, cowardly.

Mirror, mirror.

Donashu had once heard his reflection in the mirror calling him.

Could it be that from that moment, he was secretly tainted?

Like DeWitt, no sign of abnormality appeared until the corruption fully erupted.

‘Morton’ was the sacrifice; Hanna’s ‘Redemption Ritual’ had succeeded.

But the place where the ‘Blessing’ descended had anomalies—was the Eyeless Woman in the classroom the Evil God inhabiting ‘Morton’s’ shell?

Then why had she crossed over?

What was so special about ‘Lin Yu’?

Lochie put herself in a third-person perspective to examine the question.

Her already fatigued mind grew duller with these thoughts, and a dull ache began to throb at her temples.

“Miss.”

A voice from behind interrupted Lochie’s contemplation.

She turned her head to see her personal maid, Wendy Rossetti, standing at the half-open bedroom door.

Wendy laid the silk nightgown hanging on her arm onto the bed and nodded slightly, asking politely:

“Miss, would you like me to help you bathe and change?”

Lochie, “……”

She glanced at the delicate nightgown lying atop the velvet comforter, then at the obedient and lovely Wendy, feeling a flush burning her pale cheeks fiercely.

“…No need, I’ll do it myself.”

“Very well, Miss. If you need anything, please call me at any time.”

Wendy bowed once more, then quietly left the room.

As the bedroom door clicked shut, Lochie let out a breath of relief, then looked once more at the little nightdress on the bed before glancing toward the ensuite bathroom.

Lochie, “……”

The Mirror World had its own unique advantages.

She bit her lip.

What was she hesitating for?

In emergencies, one had to be pragmatic.

She couldn’t avoid bathing or going to the toilet forever.

You might avoid the first, but not the fifteenth day.

Lochie’s determination gradually crumbled during the tedious process of undressing, and by the end, she was nearly ready to give up and find scissors to cut the clothes off.

Missed the days of T-shirts and sweatpants already.

After removing the corset blouse and dress, Lochie began to breathe shallowly.

When she lifted her eyes, they met the full-length mirror standing by the vanity.

Whoosh.

Lochie instinctively turned her head and shut her eyes.

Then, as if trying to prove something, she forced her small head back to face the mirror, staring wide-eyed without blinking at the graceful figure reflected there.

This era did have underwear, and it was exquisitely crafted.

Just like the one Lochie was wearing now: the cups adorned with intricate three-dimensional floral lace embroidery, the front featuring a hollow design.

The thin black fabric complemented her snow-white, delicate skin perfectly, exuding an irresistibly alluring aura.

Quite bold, Miss ‘Morton’.

Lochie stared at the mirror a while longer.

If this stunning sight were someone else’s contribution, she would bless them as a virtuous woman.

But since it was her own, it was somewhat pathetic.

And incredibly embarrassing.

Crazy—why bother competing with herself?

Lochie averted her gaze, took a deep breath, and didn’t bother undressing further.

Wearing only the underwear, she stepped into the bathroom.

The gas lamp in the bathroom was lit.

The washbasin sat nearest the door, its marble countertop cluttered with various bottles and jars alongside a brown glass bottle holding a lit candle.

The scent was pleasant—likely some kind of additive mixed into the candle.

Looking further into the bathroom, Lochie saw the toilet and shower compartment were separated.

And, surprisingly, there was a flush toilet?

Lochie was increasingly baffled by this era.

Was this part of the extraordinary powers’ influence?

Industrial development aside, basic hygiene seemed quite advanced.

After tossing the last pieces of clothing—and with them, her lingering masculine embarrassment—into the laundry basket, Lochie walked straight into the shower room without a glance back.

The porcelain-white bathtub was scattered with rose petals.

More fragrant candles were lit around, and in the center of the tub, a smooth wooden board had been thoughtfully placed, holding a cup filled with some mixed fruit juice.

Lochie, “……”

As expected, luxury transcended eras; it was all a matter of money.

Better to skip the bath.

It wasn’t essential.

Lochie already felt guilty for having taken another’s place, especially after the recent reunion with her sisters and the mother-daughter conversation—these feelings had reached their peak.

Putting herself in someone else’s shoes, what if someone else was living her life, enjoying it, holding her girlfriend—

Well, she didn’t have a girlfriend.

“Ah.”

If only there were a ‘Lin Yu’ to take care of her parents, to bicker and live a plain life, to bear her body—so what?

Anyway, Lochie couldn’t yet comfortably enjoy this life, and she was tired.

She might even fall asleep in the tub.

Thinking that, she stopped overthinking, ignored her body, and took a quick, vigorous shower.

After drying off, she slipped on the silk nightgown, pulled back the covers, and lay down on her side.

Girls were such a hassle—no, wait, no electricity was an even bigger hassle. Hair wouldn’t dry properly.

She decided to wait until her hair dried before sleeping and planned out what to do in the coming days.

First, to play the part of ‘Lochie Morton’ convincingly without slipping up—at least, her words and actions couldn’t deviate too much from the original.

Otherwise, with examples like DeWitt Nell and Jesse Holmes, she might get purified by the church.

Then, there was the interrogation—what would the church prepare this time?

Would they notice her problem?

Oh, and there was that scoundrel Herman; she still needed to find him for the antidote…

In the bedroom, the girl lying on her side, her hand propping up her cheek, gradually drifted into sleep.

11 Rose Street, Glen Ruins Heritage Preservation Society, Basement Level Two.

Harvey Michelson looked down at the recently approved file describing the ‘Relic’ borrowed from the Church.

Relic: Harry’s Self-Portrait.

Hazard Level: Curse.

ID Number: 045.

Note: This is a living painting.

Harry Pittman was a reclusive and introverted painter.

He was poor at social interaction and often role-played conversations with various characters in his paintings.

After painting his self-portrait, he slashed his own throat with a knife.

Hazard: The Harry in the painting desires communication.

He attempts to establish contact with anything—initially weak spirit world beings, wandering ghosts, and later attracting certain higher-level entities.

When left unattended, he attracted the attention of ▆▆▆▆, causing an entire town’s population to lose control and collapse into monsters.

Sealing Method: Assign a guardian to maintain constant communication with the Harry in the painting.

(This causes some mental contamination. Tests show mid-level Cultivators can withstand twelve hours at most; low-level Cultivators four hours.)

Usage: In a sealed room, with no more than two people present, position Harry’s portrait facing away from yourself and toward the other person.

You may ask any questions, though answers may involve concealment or deceit.

Harry will audibly warn his ‘friend’.

(If three or more people are present, Harry refuses to communicate and continually tries to attract the attention of higher-level beings.)

Negative Effects: ‘Friends’ helped by Harry receive his special attention, causing a significant decline in mental, spiritual, and attentional capacities for the next twenty-four hours.

During the next dream, the ‘friend’ will see Harry’s suicide scene.

(If sleepwalking symptoms appear, wake immediately!)

Assessment: Highly dangerous.

With proper precautions, use may be approved.

Classified as a cursed item.