Was the culprit hiding inside the attic, or not?
The way to check was simple.
“I need to open the sealed attic door.”
I sent Claire out of the room.
It was because I had to consider any possible situation.
‘If the culprit is waiting with a gun behind the door, it’ll be trouble.’
I might be able to handle it alone, but doing it with Claire would be impossible.
“Alright, then. I just have to push the wall, right?”
It looked like a normal wall, so even putting my palm against it felt awkward.
What made it worse was that the wall was covered in the victim’s bloodstains.
I avoided the blood as much as possible and pushed against the wall with all my strength.
Slowly, the wall actually began to slide.
— Screeeech…
An unpleasant sound, like something scraping against my ears, echoed out.
I quickly found the source of the noise.
Dark red blood had dried and crusted onto the floor rails.
‘With this, the possibility that the door was never opened is gone.’
Someone—likely the victim, Dolores—had bled inside this secret room.
The room had been opened at least once.
This meant there was a high probability the culprit was still hiding inside.
I pushed the wall with even more focus.
The rail wasn’t straight; it followed a gentle curve, a structure where the door’s path took up the entire space beneath the stairs.
As I moved along the rail, the cross-section of the surrounding wall caught my eye.
‘Is this… solid concrete?’
I couldn’t tell the exact material, but it was a white object that was incredibly hard and thick.
The surface I briefly touched was cold and smooth.
‘They said the house was designed with safety in mind, and they weren’t kidding.’
I finally understood why Claire couldn’t move the wall clock.
The other walls of this house were so sturdy that they wouldn’t even allow a single nail to penetrate.
No outsider, no small nail, and not even a scream could pass through this wall.
— Screeeech, thud!
I finally reached the end of the rail.
The sealed attic revealed itself.
“…”
The interior was silent.
In a stillness where not even the sound of breathing could be heard, I adjusted my grip on my cane like a baseball bat and slowly stepped inside.
The room was narrow, but it was strangely bright.
‘What is that?’
Something was hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the room.
An incandescent lightbulb was trapped inside a cold metal sphere.
Light could only escape through the sparse, round holes scattered across the sphere.
Several gray arms that looked like octopus tentacles were attached to the bottom of the metal sphere, and at the end of each arm hung a large, round mirror.
Every mirror was positioned near the holes of the metal sphere to reflect the light, and they were all facing the same spot.
‘Is it… gathering light?’
I slowly lowered my gaze to check the final destination where that light was pouring.
A single bed was placed there.
With its round wooden bars, the bed looked like a cradle at first glance, but the bars extended all the way across the top.
It wasn’t a cradle for protection.
It was a cage meant to restrain a person.
Right there on top of the bed, or rather, inside the cage—that was where the black shadow I was looking for resided.
‘Ah.’
The moment I discovered him, I realized one gruesome fact.
Until now, I believed that everything about the culprit was concealed by a black shadow.
Not only the culprit’s expression, but also the clothes they wore and the items they held.
That was true, but there was one exception.
Bloodstains.
Only bloodstains shone a vivid red over that pitch-black shadow.
“That’s only natural. This is a detective comic, after all.”
Even though I muttered it on purpose, my sense of reality didn’t fade in the slightest.
The fishy scent of blood stung my nose, and the slumped form of the culprit was etched into my eyes.
The culprit’s entire body was covered in blood, and the bleeding from the head was particularly severe.
It was hard to imagine they were still alive.
A single handgun was rolling around near the head.
So, the culprit had shot themselves in the temple.
‘What on earth happened?’
Belatedly, I discovered another object dropped beside the culprit.
It was a black notebook soaked in blood.
I opened the notebook with trembling hands.
Rough handwriting was written inside.
[I will kill someone today.]
Was this… the culprit’s memoir?
[I will kill him and make him pay the price.]
‘…Him?’
[Cursed Washers. Let’s go to hell together.]
Slowly, I came to a realization.
The owner of this notebook was not Washers.
The murdered housekeeper, Dolores.
It was her.
She had been planning a murder.
—
Dolores was a fatherless orphan.
It was because her father had been conscripted as a soldier to the Eastern Front and never returned.
Even though her mother was actually alive, people called her an orphan.
“Your mom is too busy working to care about you anyway. What are you going to do if I hit you? You’re just a fatherless brat with no one to take your side. Now that you understand, go buy some bread!”
Her cousin, Gale, treated Dolores like a servant.
Her childhood was stained with sorrow.
Her only comfort was her friend Claire, but while Claire opened books to study, Dolores had to bake bread and do laundry.
Ultimately, Claire became a talented scientist, and Dolores became a lower-class citizen who knew nothing but housework.
It was a natural outcome.
Since Dolores was a fatherless girl, no further future was permitted for her.
“Dolly. Come with me. I need your help.”
However, Claire reached out a saving hand to that Dolores.
When Gale’s violence reached its peak, Claire brought her to her own home.
Her official title was housekeeper, but in reality, their relationship was no different from family.
Claire served tea to Dolores and shared pleasant stories with her.
When Claire returned from work, they handled chores together, and on weekends, the three of them—including Adriel—would go on outings.
While Claire was devoted to her research, Dolores took care of Adriel.
Dolores did her best.
She hoped the child wouldn’t be lonely and hoped he wouldn’t be bullied by anyone.
She poured her heart into him, wishing for him to grow up strong without feeling the absence of his parents.
Adriel slowly opened his heart to Dolores.
He tried to follow everything Dolores said and began to laugh along with her words.
“Thank you so much, Dolly. It’s all thanks to you.”
Watching the happy Claire, Dolores finally felt a sense of belonging.
It felt like she had finally found the place where she belonged.
The three of them were complete.
That tranquility crumbled when a man who had left returned.
— Knock, knock.
“Yes. Who is it?”
“It is Washers. I am Adriel’s father.”
“…! Claire told me not to let you into the house.”
“I know. But doesn’t a child need a father?”
Washers persuaded Dolores with a gentlemanly appearance and a kind attitude.
Furthermore, he already knew what kind of person Dolores was and what kind of deficiencies she had.
“I heard from Claire that you abused Adriel.”
“Miss Dolores. I am a doctor. To treat a patient, one must sometimes give a painful injection or prescribe strong medicine. The patient will suffer. But is that abusing the patient? It is merely an unavoidable process.”
“But Claire…”
“You must know how overprotective Claire is of the child, Miss Dolores.”
That was true.
There was a somewhat extreme side to Claire’s love.
Of course, Dolores fully understood Claire.
Adriel was lovely, but he was a child who made those around him feel anxious.
“Please believe me. I simply want to make my son a normal child. Then Claire will find stability and become more generous toward me. We will be able to become a family again. A perfect family.”
Dolores wavered.
‘Adriel is a good child, but he won’t have a bright future like Claire at this rate.’
In Dolores’s eyes, the child had genius talent.
It was just that he couldn’t properly display that talent in front of others because he couldn’t express himself correctly.
But if the child was treated and became a “normal” child as Mr. Washers said?
The lovely Adriel could become anything.
He could become a scientist like his mother or a doctor like his father.
‘Besides, doesn’t Adriel need a father?’
Not a housekeeper like me.
After deep agonizing, Dolores let Washers into the house.
She allowed the father to spend time with his child.
“You understand, Adriel? You must never tell anyone about this.”
She made sure Adriel kept his mouth shut so that this secret wouldn’t leak out.
“I must place the tools to treat Adriel inside the attic.”
The treatment tools Washers brought were all bizarre in appearance.
A strange-looking helmet, a large wooden chair, a bed that looked like a cradle, and a lightbulb covered in mirrors.
She had no idea what they were used for, but they didn’t look dangerous.
‘He couldn’t hurt Adriel with those.’
Dolores felt much more at ease, but there was a problem.
“How will we open and close the attic?”
“When I am inside, please open the door for me, Miss Dolores. When I have to come out, let’s both pull it together and keep it closed as much as we possibly can.”
In the end, for most of the time, the attic door remained slightly open.
Fortunately, Claire was very busy and didn’t notice.
Dolores felt a pang of conscience for deceiving Claire, but she soon steeled her heart.
‘This is all for everyone’s sake.’
Dolores gathered the expensive jewelry Washers had gifted her as a reward for her cooperation into a drawer without touching a single piece.
Once everything was over, she planned to confess the truth to Claire and hand over these ornaments.
She wanted to prove that she hadn’t betrayed Claire for a reward, but had made the decision entirely for Claire’s sake.
‘It’s alright. It won’t take that long.’
Washers confidently promised that he could fix Adriel if he continued the treatment just a little longer.
So, until then, she just had to soothe Adriel, persuade him to endure the treatment, and keep the secret.
Then Adriel would become a “normal” child, and Claire would be happy.
The child would have a father, and a bright future would be guaranteed.
‘It will surely turn out that way. Mr. Washers is a brilliant doctor.’
The tragedy began when Adriel burst into tears.
“The shadow disappeared from the clock hands!”
Dolores understood the meaning of those words immediately.
Because the door where the clock was hung wasn’t fully closed, the angle of the shadow had changed.
She was terrified that Claire might notice, so she scolded the child harshly.
However, when the child’s crying continued for over a week, a cold doubt began to bloom in Dolores’s heart.
‘…Why is he so afraid?’
Just what kind of treatment was happening behind that door?
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