After traveling through the dense forest trail for what felt like hours, we finally reached the edge of a quiet clearing. And there it stood.
The Master's house.
A traditional minka, perfectly preserved and quietly majestic amidst the landscape. The entire scene looked like a still painting—serene, balanced, timeless. The minka didn't just stand in the environment—it belonged to it.
A sloped thatched roof crowned the structure, golden straw gleaming under the filtered sunlight. The wooden exterior was aged, yet polished—planks of warm cedar carved with delicate patterns that whispered of the hands that shaped them long ago. The entire house radiated something I couldn't name—presence.
The woman in the kimono stopped at the front, standing like a guardian statue. Her gaze, as unreadable as it was patient, finally settled on me.
"The Master is inside, waiting for you."
My heartbeat faltered—just for a second. It was time.
I swallowed the lump of nerves in my throat and nodded, a simple gesture of thanks. She turned, and I followed, my footsteps light but hesitant. The house loomed larger with every step, the anticipation pressing down like a physical weight.
And then—my eyes caught something.
A banner, hanging quietly along the entrance wall. Its fabric fluttered in the breeze, painted with the image of a strange, elegant flower. Its petals curled with unnatural sharpness, vibrant in hue, as though stained in ink and blood.
I stepped closer without thinking.
"What is this flower icon on this banner?"
The kimono lady turned, her expression softer now, as though she had been waiting for that exact question.
"The flower you see is called Aconitum, commonly known as monkshood or wolfsbane. It represents the emblem of the House of Aum."
"Wolfsbane, huh," I muttered.
The moment stretched. Her silence returned. I felt her gaze shift again—tight, calculating. I nodded quickly and followed her lead. Best not to linger.
The doors opened.
And behind them—wasn't a hallway.
It was a garden.
A perfect garden.
Stone paths curled through beds of strange, vivid flora. Bamboo fountains gurgled gently. Moss blanketed the rocks like velvet, and the sunlight fell like soft gold upon the scene. Everything here had been placed, shaped, designed. The tranquility was suffocating in its perfection.
I reached out, drawn by instinct, fingers mere inches from a violet petal.
Her grip caught my wrist—gentle but unyielding. My body froze.
"Be careful. Unlike ordinary flowers, these are extremely poisonous. Just one touch, and you can die from a torturous death."
A cold shiver ran down my spine. I snatched my hand back.
Poisonous flowers? On display?
I didn't ask questions. I just followed.
Inside, the minka house embraced me with a calm so complete it felt unnatural. Soft light filtered through the shoji screens, casting intricate shadows across the tatami mats. The smell of wood and earth lingered faintly in the air.
Every surface, every object, was steeped in intention. The woodwork, hand-carved and unblemished. Scrolls on the fusuma walls showed scenes of nature — cranes over lakes, blossoms in wind, snow on bamboo. It was all… beautiful.
Too beautiful.
We arrived at a spacious room. Low-set tables. Cushions placed with geometric symmetry. A sound — soft and constant — filtered through the walls: water trickling from a nearby fountain.
Lady Nozomi gestured. I sat.
A subtle aroma wafted toward me — incense. Sweet and clean. The air hummed with quiet.
I barely noticed that Lady Nozomi had already begun preparing tea. The traditional chanoyu.
Her movements were deliberate. Precise. The sound of the whisk brushing against the bowl was like music — a rhythm that soothed the storm within me.
She presented the tea with a smile. I took the cup.
Warm. Earthy. Bitter, yet rich.
"Is the tea to your liking?"
"Oh, yes. It's very aromatic," I replied, forcing composure.
"I'm glad to hear that you find it pleasing," she said, smiling.
I sipped again, letting the warmth crawl into my bones. The bitterness faded with each sip, replaced by a strange calm. Not peace — but a trance. Like I was sinking slowly beneath water.
Then, she rose.
"I shall announce your arrival to the Master. Please wait for a moment."
I watched her silhouette disappear behind the shoji. The moment she left, the quiet pressed down like a weight. Even the water outside seemed to hush.
Then — the doors opened again.
And she walked in.
The Master.
My breath caught.
She's my Master? So pretty!
The woman who entered wore a kimono that defied description. Blossoms of every hue danced across the silk, the fabric flowing like water. It wasn't just clothing. It was art.
She sat across from me, her movements almost inhuman in grace. Her eyes — deep, unreadable — locked onto mine.
She lifted her cup. Sipped. Smiled.
She didn't speak right away. Didn't need to. Her presence filled the room.
I felt something watching me. I turned — Lady Nozomi's eyes were on me, sharp and unreadable.
Panic flared.
Why is she staring at me? Did I do something wrong?
Realization hit me like a falling boulder.
I forgot to greet the Master!
I nearly leapt to my feet.
But Master Sylph beat me to it.
"Welcome to the House of Aum, Llyne. You may call me Master Sylph." Her tone was composed. Cool.
"Lady Nozomi will be your guide and caretaker during your time here. She will assist you with your daily needs and ensure your comfort."
I scrambled to respond, caught between panic and awe.
"O... Oh...Hey."
Lady Nozomi bowed.
"It's my pleasure to support you on your journey within the House of Aum, young lady Llyne."
That phrasing again.
Young lady?
I blinked.
Why is she calling me that?
I glanced between them, confusion blooming.
Master Sylph noticed.
"You must be confused at the moment since it is your first day. But not to worry, if you have any questions, feel free to ask. We will try to satisfy your curiosity and doubts."
I nodded slowly, then took the chance.
"Where are my friends? Are they safe?"
"Ah, the other two. They're safe at their Master's house."
Relief hit hard. I felt my spine loosen, just a little.
But the biggest question still clung to my throat.
"Then... Why did you choose me? I don't have any medical or poison knowledge."
Master Sylph chuckled, her lips curling like ivy.
"Oh, it's quite simple."
I leaned in.
"I needed an experiment subject and a slave."
The world tilted.
What…?
My throat closed.
Then she laughed again — a sound too soft for the cruelty of her words.
"Oh, I'm just joking. I apologize for the jest. What I truly desire is a sweet and innocent little daughter."
I collapsed backward, heart hammering.
"That's a huge difference," I muttered.
Master Sylph's smile widened.
"Why does that matter to you?"
My voice broke free without thinking.
"Of course it does! It's my body, my life!"
Her shrug was maddeningly casual.
"Whatever. Only if you can pass the trials, then I'll consider your role here."
"Trials?" I echoed.
Master Sylph's voice turned clinical.
"There are 444 tests, each designed to test your resistance to different poisons and serve a specific purpose. If you fail a test, well... let's just say the consequences won't be pleasant. So, do your best—for your own sake and mine."
The blood drained from my face.
444…?
Too many. Too cruel.
My body couldn't handle the weight. The room swayed. My vision tunneled.
Darkness closed in.
I collapsed — unconscious.
Even as my consciousness slipped away, I heard her voice—casual, amused, cruel.
"Is there anything else you wish to know, my dear?"
Lady Nozomi's voice pierced the haze.
"Master, it appears that young lady Llyne has fainted."
A pause. And then—
"Oh dear. Please bring The Doctor here to check if she has any underlying health issues."
Lady Nozomi bowed and turned, already moving.
The tea still steamed in the silence that remained.