Chapter 150: The Eyes of the Portrait

Chapter 150 The Eyes in the Portrait

"Chapter One: Manor's Strange Tales"

"An ear-splitting scream echoed through the hall. The poor maid seemed to have witnessed a murder, staggering toward the lord of the manor—who was in the middle of receiving guests—covered in blood, to report everything she had seen."

"'Mrs. Ethel... Mrs. Ethel was pushed down the stairs by the young master and killed...' the maid sobbed, terrified tears streaming down her face."

"The Duke's face went rigid—he couldn't believe that his eldest son, his most promising heir, could do such a thing."

"Most importantly, the Iris family could have an ambitious heir who never bloodied his hands, but it could never have a future family head infamous for personally killing his own wet nurse!"

"The petals of the Iris, glistening with morning dew, must never be tainted by even a single stain!"

"While the informed servants descended into chaos and the Duke was overwhelmed, Mr. ■■■ simply observed everything in silence. He knew that behind this incident loomed an even greater shadow..."

"The next part of the story will be written by you."

"Current Revision Progress: 6.75%"

Meng Siyou's gaze lingered on the obscured ■■■: "Is this referring to... Mr. Narrator?"

"Yeah," Wu Suer replied mockingly. "This piece of history already contains remnants of His past. Now, if you keep calling on Him like this, I won’t even need to censor it anymore—because He might just descend right before us. Is that what you want?"

"...My apologies. I won’t mention Him carelessly again, not even indirectly."

With an awkward cough, Meng Siyou hesitated before speaking: "Uh, but you didn't sound so... harsh before?"

"Truth is, you only began to know the real me from the moment the golden chalice bearing my heart flowed into your dreams—not as a shadow having to adjust to an unfamiliar vessel."

Wu Suer gave a cold laugh. "'Fate' is truly detestable."

Meng Siyou didn’t dare answer.

He couldn’t quite tell whether Wu Suer was cursing fate itself or the deity who controlled it, fearing that an accidental agreement might invite divine punishment.

At the same time, from Wu Suer’s attitude toward the Narrator, Meng Siyou sensed that the rumors circulating within the Anomalous Affairs Bureau—that Wu Suer might have once been the latter’s divine chosen—were likely just a misconception.

Now, it seemed the relationship between the two superiors was far more complicated than they had previously speculated...

Shaking off his thoughts, Meng Siyou pulled his thoughts back.

The immediate priority was to explore the current situation.

Following the guidance of the Book of Fate, Meng Siyou wanted to first visit the crime scene mentioned in the text. But the moment he stepped into the mansion, he was caught by the patrolling guards and the head maid.

"'Stay in your room and clean properly!' What are you doing running around? Filthy like this—have you been rolling in the mud?'"

The stern-faced head maid personally dragged Meng Siyou by the collar, ignoring his futile struggles with his short limbs, and tossed the dirty village kid back into the servants' quarters.

Before slamming the door shut, she warned sharply, "If you see or hear anything you shouldn’t, you’ll be thrown back to that farmhouse, never allowed back here again!"

Meng Siyou realized helplessly that now was not the best time to investigate.

All he could do was wait.

Outwardly, he stayed quietly in his room, but in truth, he listened carefully for any sounds outside.

From then on, an invisible gloom seemed to hang over the luxurious Duke’s mansion. Servants and guards hurried back and forth, their rapid footsteps drumming like the rhythm of an impending storm—leaving no chance for Meng Siyou to slip out unnoticed.

Perhaps to prevent the children from causing trouble, the head maid was determined to keep them confined, even having meals brought to their doors.

Thus, Meng Siyou could only endure this "imprisonment" with growing impatience.

This situation only changed at eight o'clock in the evening.

The moment the old mechanical clock in the room, a wooden owl popped out to chime the hour, every sound within Meng Siyou’s perception—footsteps, conversations, breathing—disappeared completely.

Cautiously, Meng Siyou pushed the door open a crack and peeked outside.

The corridor was still brightly lit, but not another soul was in sight. He couldn’t tell whether everyone else had vanished into thin air or if he had entered another space altogether.

After only a second’s hesitation, Meng Siyou stepped out cheerfully.

—Whatever the case, wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to explore the Duke’s mansion?

He walked slowly forward, glancing around as he went.

The corridor was eerily empty and silent, with only his own footsteps echoing faintly against the floor, creating an inexplicably unsettling atmosphere.

Passing countless expensive sculptures, vases, and potted plants, Meng Siyou entered a gallery lined with portraits.

Alongside the Duke’s collected artworks, the portraits of every important family member were displayed in chronological order, their eyes all bearing the characteristic violet hue of irises.

Strangely, however, a painting beside the current Duke’s portrait had been purposely taken down, leaving only a faint outline on the wallpaper.

"Generally, the only person whose portrait would be placed beside the family head’s is... their spouse?"

The Duchess’s portrait was missing—what untold story lay behind this?

Meng Siyou fell into thought.

He didn’t notice that behind him, the purple eyes in the portraits had suddenly shifted, all staring intently at his back!

Just then, a cold, sticky drop landed on his cheek. Meng Siyou instinctively wiped it away, only to find the liquid sticky, like...

His entire body tensed as he swiftly looked up—and met the ghastly white face of a creature hanging upside down from the ceiling.

—Sure enough, the droplet was thick drool dripping from the monster’s maw!

Realizing it had been spotted, the creature let out a shrill shriek and lunged at him with a gust of icy wind.

His pupils contracting in alarm, Meng Siyou turned and bolted, glancing back repeatedly to study the monster’s weaknesses.

The creature clinging to the ceiling had a grotesque form—its head was attached backward to its body, the skull tilting heavily as if its neck might snap at any moment.

Yet this didn’t hinder its movements.

Long, spindly limbs sprouted from its ribs like spider legs, skittering nimbly across the walls, while its actual arms remained tightly clasped over its eyes. Combined with the tangled, yellowish hair framing its face, only the pallid skin around its chin was visible.

Restricted by "Meng Na’s" physical limitations, no matter how agile his footwork, two legs were no match for eight spider-like limbs. He narrowly avoided capture several times.

During one close encounter, he caught a glimpse of the monster’s withered lips and formed a hypothesis:

Perhaps this creature was once an elderly woman?

Considering today’s victim—the wet nurse who died falling down the stairs—the age would match!

Wu Suer mused in Meng Siyou’s mind: "You went out of your way to sneak out and see her, and now she’s chasing you relentlessly. Isn’t this a form of mutual devotion?"

Meng Siyou gasped for breath, screaming inwardly in despair—who would want this kind of deadly "two-way chase"?

God, how he missed his Ability!

Before long, Meng Siyou felt his legs turn leaden, the ache and numbness growing worse.

It hit him—No, he couldn’t keep running blindly like this.

A kid could only run so long, but the monster had endless energy and time. Especially since Meng Siyou wasn’t familiar with the mansion’s layout, if this kept up, there could only be one outcome…

That was, he would eventually be caught!

So Meng Siyou sprinted around the corner, whirled, and quickly crouched, hiding in a tight squeeze behind the staircase.

He began racking his brain, feeling like he had overlooked something.

...What was it?

Every scene since the monster appeared flashed before his eyes, finally zeroing in on one odd detail—its eyes.

Even after death, it clawed at its own eyes. Why?

Could it be that she had died after seeing something she wasn’t meant to see?

At this moment, Meng Siyou had bigger problems than that. What concerned him more was:

Since it covered its eyes, how did it track his movements?

Just then, a guttural snarl grew closer—the monster had caught up again.

Meng Siyou immediately dismissed the possibility of "tracking by sound" and turned to flee, only to suddenly meet a pair of smiling eyes...

It was a discarded painting beneath the staircase. The angel in the portrait gazed through a haze of dust, smiling down at him, almost kindly.

"It’s the paintings..."

In the moment the pieces clicked, Meng Siyou’s breathing quickened.

He suddenly realized that as long as he ran past any paintings, the monster would find him in a heartbeat.

Because the eyes in those paintings were the monster’s eyes!