A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 101: Family (2)

Yeriel opened her eyes to see white snow falling from the dark sky.

Fluff... fluff...

The snow gently touched her face as it fell. Yeriel closed her eyes, wiped away the dampness, and then opened them again. Everywhere she looked, there was snow. The sky, the earth, and the horizon were entirely blanketed in white.

Slowly, Yeriel stood and gazed into the distance, where a curtain of snow mist shifted. Amidst the white expanse stood an old mansion, its roof and window frames buried beneath the snow. Yeriel blinked, taking in the snowy landscape.

“Where have the vassals gone?” Yeriel wondered, her first thought upon realizing that the four vassals who had accompanied her were nowhere to be seen.

After a moment of hesitation, Yeriel approached the only place not covered in snow.

Crunch, crunch...

She stepped through the snow, leaving her footprints in the untouched whiteness.

“... Everyone! Are you there?!” Yeriel called out as she reached the mansion’s door. No answer came, and the door remained locked when she tried the handle.

“Oh.”

Realizing something, Yeriel took the key from her pocket. She inserted it into the locked door without searching for a keyhole. The key slid in effortlessly, and with a twist, the door creaked open.

“Is anybody... here?”

The interior was ordinary, exactly what one would expect from an old mansion.

Crackle— crackle—

The sound of a crackling fire in the fireplace and the aroma of roasted tea greeted her. Drawn by the warmth, Yeriel walked toward it. She stopped abruptly as she entered the living room. Near the fireplace, a familiar figure sat in a rocking chair.

“Deculein?”

The man turned to look at her, holding a teacup in one hand and resting the other on the armrest of the chair, and said, “Yeriel.”

Yeriel tensed. If Deculein was here, it could only mean one thing.

“... Did you already know?”

He shook his head. Though her question had been serious, his response felt strangely unsettling.

“I am not Deculein.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am your diary.”

“... What?” Yeriel muttered, frowning at the absurd claim.

The figure resembling Deculein explained, “I am a guide created to welcome those who enter this place. I am an artificial intelligence formed by magic, and I am the embodiment of the artifact.”

He tapped the teacup on the table.

“That is what I am.”

“... Oh?” Yeriel murmured, momentarily stunned, but it made sense.

After all, this was an artifact created by her father, Decalane. The artifacts he crafted, though limited to the realm of Artifacts, were on a level that surpassed the understanding of ordinary mages.

“Where are my vassals?”

“Those without a key have been temporarily recorded by the security system.”

“... Recorded?”

He handed her four notebooks. Yeriel approached cautiously and took them.

“This is...”

The cover of one plain notebook was titled Roel, the name of her longtime butler.

“You will understand once you read it.”

Yeriel turned to the first page.

Scratch— scratch—

Sentences were being recorded on the pages in real-time.

I don’t know where this place is. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in this world... though I’m not sure if it’s truly a world.

As Yeriel read the page, shock spread across her face.

... Above all, my concern is for Lady Yeriel. If this space exists within the diary, my priority must be to find her.

These were the thoughts of Butler Roel.

“What is this...?” Yeriel asked, looking up.

The artifact in Deculein's form calmly sipped from the teacup and said, “They were recorded as memories by the security system. You, however, are protected from it because you hold the key.”

“So these sentences... represent their thoughts?”

“Correct. Their entire essence has been transcribed into records,” the artifact said.

Yeriel remained silent.

“You seem surprised.”

Yeriel opened another notebook, this one had belonged to her escort knight, David.

I must act quickly. I need to prepare and press on to be of service to Lady Yeriel...

The other notebooks belonged to Head Maid Rachel and Mage Regillon... Their thoughts unfolded in simple words. Yeriel placed a hand on the back of her neck. It felt stiff, and her head throbbed with pain.

The artifact from the diary spoke, “When magic reaches a certain level, it becomes true magic. It surpasses simple spells like Telekinesis or Fireball. I am something that has neared the realm of absolute truth.”

“Is there a way to return things to normal?”

“There is. They are not dead, so there is no need to worry. They have merely been caught by the security system.”

Yeriel steadied herself and said firmly, “In that case, I want to see Deculein’s memories.”

“By all means,” he said, rising from his seat.

Yeriel followed him as they left the living room and entered the right hallway. Countless frames lined the walls of the long corridor.

“All of these are Deculein’s memories. You may examine any of them.”

“... Really?” Yeriel asked.

“However, it will require mana.”

Yeriel stood before one of the frames. It showed a study that was both familiar and unfamiliar to her. The room was in Yukline Castle, but the arrangement of the furniture was different, making it feel strange.

“Do I simply look into it?”

“Indeed.”

“... Alright,” Yeriel murmured as she leaned closer to the frame.

“Your grades are commendable,” a voice echoed as she peered in.

“Oh,” Yeriel gasped instinctively.

Inside the study, her father, Decalane, and Deculein stood together.

“However, only your grades are commendable. Your academic performance outside the Mage Tower is disgraceful,” Decalane said sternly, seated as he lectured Deculein, who stood with his head bowed. “When you were younger, I thought you were a whiz kid.”

Deculein stood silently, as still as a statue.

“At this rate, I might as well have Yeriel—”

“No,” Deculein’s head snapped up the moment his father mentioned her name.

Outside the frame, Yeriel stood motionless.

Decalane sneered and said, “If you understand, then demonstrate better results.”

“I will. I give you my oath.”

“An oath is unnecessary. Take this,” Decalane said, handing something to Deculein. “Deculein, this is your decision. It will bring pain as if your heart were being torn apart, but you won’t fear something so insignificant, will you?”

“... No. Certainly not.”

The memory in the first frame ended there. Yeriel looked away and turned to the next frame. This one displayed a hallway instead of the study. Deculein had been standing by the window, staring outside. In the sunlight where his gaze had settled, a young Yeriel—herself—stood.

“Why are you staring at me?” Yeriel asked directly.

At that moment, Deculein turned around.

“Or not.”

The timing had been perfect. Startled, Yeriel instinctively softened her tone.

“... Young Master Deculein.”

At that moment, a familiar voice Yeriel had missed quietly filled the air. Deeply shocked, Yeriel turned to see who it was. It was Adele, Deculein’s stepmother and Yeriel’s own biological mother. Yeriel struggled to contain the surge of emotion that welled up inside her.

“Are you feeling alright?” Adele asked gently.

Deculein remained silent.

Adele offered a sad smile as she approached him and said, “... If Yeriel burdens you—”

“Please leave,” Deculein said, turning away, unwilling to listen further.

The second memory concluded there.

“Ugh... I need to see something more recent...” Yeriel muttered, leaning against the wall to catch her breath. Though she had only viewed two records, the mental exhaustion and magical depletion weighed heavily on her.

“I knew you both would come to visit me someday,” a voice echoed from the end of the hallway.

Yeriel turned toward the voice and asked, “You knew about it?”

The figure from the diary turned to face her. He stood alone in the living room.

Yeriel frowned and asked, “Wait, what do you mean by you both?”

He nodded and handed her another notebook. Her eyes widened in surprise.

***

An hour earlier, late at night in the Mage Tower, I had finally completed my tasks—preparing lessons, reviewing project submissions from the professors, and more.

Afterward, I retrieved the diary from my drawer—a blank, untitled notebook filled with memories. But this wasn’t my diary. The moment my Sharp Eyesight fell on it, I knew it belonged to Yeriel. How she managed to steal mine, I still didn’t know, but something about the cover seemed off.

Slosh, slosh—

The paper rippled like liquid, with tiny particles clinging to my fingers like the delicate ripples on a pond.

“... I suspected it wasn’t an ordinary artifact,” I murmured, studying it through the eyes of Comprehension.

The diary contained not only a human mana circuit but also a fragment of a soul, both resonating within it. In other words, it had already been activated, likely by Yeriel.

“It appears to be a paired artifact.”

My diary and Yeriel’s had been connected. Given their nearly identical structure and function, they must have been designed as a matching set from the start.

“The function is similar to a portal...” I said, deactivating Understanding. Even with a brief analysis, it had drained nearly 2,000 units of mana. “It’s too risky to enter alone.”

After reaching that conclusion, I left my office and stepped into the dark hallway. My attention was drawn to the assistant’s research lab, where the lights were still on. I approached and peered through the glass.

The large room had only one occupant—Epherene. Her desk was cluttered with magic theory books, but she had fallen asleep, slumped over the pile. I opened the door to the research room.

“Hush... hush...”

I watched her soft breathing for a moment, then pulled a pendant from my coat. Inside, a photo of a young Epherene smiling brightly, while her father stood stiffly beside her.

“Huuush... huuush...”

The memories of Lokralen remained vivid. Epherene was undoubtedly destined to become an Archmage.

“Hush... hush...”

I wondered whether she had become an Archmage because my presence had altered the course of events or if she had always been destined to follow this path. My thoughts drifted to the two Archmages I had encountered as a player—Sylvia the Creator and Adrienne the Last Fairy. In any era, there could only be three Archmages.

“You are...”

I picked up her robe, which she had discarded in her sleep, and carefully draped it over her back.

“Still full of mysteries,” I said, looking at Epherene.

Then, an idea struck me. Perhaps she could be of some help. I glanced between the diary in my hand and Epherene. And then...

Snap—!

With a snap of my fingers, the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. I placed a note imbued with the Midas Touch beneath the lamp on her desk, then returned to the Head Professor's Office. And...

... Ten minutes later, Epherene slowly lifted her head after feigning sleep with her forehead pressed against the desk. She cautiously opened her eyes, scanning her surroundings.

“... What was that?” Epherene said.

In truth, she had woken the moment Deculein entered, startled by the authoritative aura he always carried.

“What the heck... He even covered me with my robe... Ughhhhh,” Epherene muttered, shivering as she rubbed her arms, goosebumps crawling up her skin.

As Epherene scratched at her back, she remembered his words—"You are... still full of mysteries."

“Ughhhhhhh.”

Another wave of unease swept over her, and she scratched herself, trying to rid herself of the unsettling sensation. The way he had called her full of mysteries... and the oddly gentle tone he had used—it all felt so strange.

“Why does that professor act like this... And what’s this?” Epherene muttered as she noticed a small note on her desk, an odd scrap of paper.

She furrowed her brow, picked it up, and quietly left the research room. The light in the Head Professor’s Office was still on. After clearing her throat, she adjusted her expression to appear groggy, as if she had just woken up. With the note clutched in her hand, she grasped the doorknob to Deculein’s office.

Epherene forced a yawn, her eyes watering slightly as she shuffled into the room and muttered, “Professor, I’ve only just woken up... about three minutes ago. May I ask what this note is about?”

As she looked around, she found the office empty, with nothing but a notebook lying on the desk.

“What’s going on?” Epherene blinked, her innocent expression reflecting her confusion.

***

I entered into the diary. Inside, the world was a boundless expanse of snow. White blanketed everything, with only a distant, dilapidated mansion interrupting the endless white. Instinctively, I found myself moving toward that old structure.

“... It seems Yeriel was the one who opened this,” I muttered.

I mused as I noticed the door was already ajar. Straightening my clothes, I stepped inside. The living room was empty, with only a fire crackling in the hearth.

Thud— Thud—

Then, I heard footsteps echoing through the room.

I turned toward the sound and instinctively furrowed my brow as I said, “You... resemble me?”

A man who resembled me stood there.

The man gave a nod, his expression unchanged, and said, "I am the diary itself. A guide crafted to greet those who enter here, an artificial intelligence formed by magic, and the living embodiment of this artifact."

"... Whose diary?" I asked.

The artifact responded, "I am a diary for both of you. All of your memories, hers and yours, are recorded within me."

After a brief moment of thought, I asked, "Where is Yeriel?"

"She is observing your memories," the diary stated, indicating the right hallway.

But I had no interest.

"Is she safe?" I asked.

"Yeriel holds the key," the diary responded.

I wasn't sure what key he meant, but I understood that she was safe enough.

I glanced to the left and said, "If the right side contains my memories, then the left must hold Yeriel's."

"Indeed.”

Fzzzt—!

Just then, the fire in the hearth sizzled out. At the same time, darkness and a snowstorm began to creep in, despite the windows being closed. In that strange atmosphere, I fixed my gaze on the figure who had introduced himself as the diary. The Villain’s Fate reacted.

"You are a threat," I remarked.

"Hide," the diary commanded.

"I see death when it's near; I can perceive every detail. However..."

The diary’s face, voice, and aura had been brimming with signs of death, bubbling up like foam.

"You’re brimming with murderous intent right now," I stated.

The diary, nodding calmly, remained expressionless as it said, “That might be true.”

I smiled faintly. This being might have resembled me, but it wasn’t truly me. More accurately, it wasn’t modeled after me. Its original form had been crafted after someone who looked like me—no, someone who resembled Deculein. In other words, Deculein’s father.

"Your model must be Decalane," I observed.

The diary's eyebrows had a slight twitch.

"That’s understandable, given that this is one of Decalane’s creations."

The diary remained silent for a moment before finally nodding, saying, “That’s correct. I am the master’s creation, a magical entity designed for succession.”

"Succession? Are you referring to the succession of Yukline?"

"Indeed. The master never intended to decide so easily. He never trusted you."

"... He never trusted me?"

"Correct," the diary confirmed.

"That is unfortunate to hear," I remarked as a quest notification suddenly appeared in my vision.

[Independent Quest: Family]

As I read through the quest details, the diary commanded, its voice filled with ominous undertones, "Hide."

I chose not to respond.

Swoooosh—!

The dark snowstorm took shape, swirling violently around me.

Once more, the diary commanded, "Hide."

"I do not hide."

The diary’s expression shifted and said, "... The security system is approaching. Hide."

"Must I?"

He fell silent. I had no real way to escape, especially with the entire mansion brimming with signs of death. Still, following the advice of someone intent on killing me was out of the question.

"In that case, you’ll become part of the diary," the diary said, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

I stared into his eyes and noticed a flicker of emotion gleaming within them.

Swooooooosh—!

The dark snowstorm twisted around me like a tornado, and the fierce winds engulfed me entirely.

***

The snowstorm subsided, leaving the living room in a quiet stillness.

The diary fixed its cold gaze on the notebook lying on the floor and murmured, “I knew you both would come to visit me someday.”

At that moment, Yeriel emerged from observing the two frames.

Weary from the mana she had expended, she sighed deeply. But then, catching onto something, Yeriel asked, “You knew about it? Wait, what do you mean by you both? Who else besides me?”

“Who else could it be but Deculein?”

“Where?!”

“Here,” the diary said, extending a notebook to Yeriel.

Yeriel accepted it absentmindedly, but when she read the title, her eyes widened in shock.

Deculein.

Deculein had been transformed into a notebook.