“Listen carefully—do exactly as I say. Take the nail clipper apart.” Under Glenn’s guidance, she dismantled the ordinary clipper with surprising ease, producing a tiny blade with a slightly curved tip.

  He continued, “Now return to the door lock. Look closely at the seam between the lock and the door—you should find a very inconspicuous little hole.”

  “I found it!”

  “Good. Now push the tip of the blade into that hole.”

  Glenn had studied the locks of this world; most followed the same design, their inner workings familiar to him. Perhaps to ease maintenance and replacement, many locks included a small ‘refitting hole’ on the interior side—into which a craftsman’s specialized tool could be inserted to dismantle the entire lock.

  Conveniently, that tool bore an uncanny resemblance to one of the components she had removed from the nail clipper.

  “I’ve pushed it in. What next?” The strange device remained silent for a heartbeat, prompting Pernas to ask nervously.

  “Don’t rush. Before you open the door, I need to prepare you for what comes next—otherwise you might fail at the final step. First, tell me: how many people are in that place?”

  On the other side, Glenn sat cross-legged on the floor, pulled out a blank sheet of paper, and began sketching cryptic diagrams with the fountain pen he had brought from the Magus House.

  Affected by Glenn’s calm, practiced demeanor, Layla was no longer as frantic as before. She gathered her skirt and sat beside him, watching curiously as he worked.

  “I was captured by the eldest Punk son, Hormitt. He’s not here now. The only one I’ve seen is an old servant who brings my meals. As for whether anyone else is here—I don’t know.”

  Pernas, still gripping the improvised blade lodged in the refitting hole, answered truthfully.

  “All right. Now twist what’s in your hand—just as if you were turning a key. Keep turning until the lock loosens.”

  At his instruction, the blonde girl dutifully twisted the dismantled piece. After only a few attempts, the lock—despite appearing tightly fastened—released with a sharp crack, sagging loose and nearly falling to the floor.

  “I did it!” Pernas exclaimed, elated. She couldn’t help but admire the ingenuity of that commoner.

  “Don’t celebrate yet. You still need to deal with the person inside the house…”

  Glenn was about to explain the next steps when a furious bellow erupted from downstairs:

  “Get out! All of you useless parasites! Gluttonous, spineless trash!”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  At the sound of that voice, the blonde girl’s body trembled violently. Her newly kindled hope was doused as though with a bucket of ice water.

  It was him—the eldest son of the Punk family. Hormitt.

  Glenn heard it too and immediately guessed the identity of the enraged newcomer.

  “It seems the plan has changed, Lady Pernas.”

  No response.

  Glenn frowned. “Lady Pernas, are you all right? Now is not the time to freeze.”

  On the other end, the blonde girl took a long moment before mustering her courage. “I’m here… I can hear you.”

  “I hear the fear in your voice. Clearly, he’s done you no small harm. But the more dire the moment, the more you must not lose your composure. I’m here. As long as you follow my instructions, everything will turn out fine.”

  “…All right,” she whispered. “I understand.”

  “Good. That man drove everyone else away—this is to your advantage. Now you only need to deal with one person. Gather a few things from the room…”

  Downstairs.

  Hormitt, having chased off the servants, had no idea that the girl upstairs—barely past childhood—was quietly preparing a trap for him.

  His face was flushed crimson, clearly from drink. These days, constant police investigations had left him on edge, and alcohol had become his only solace. Cowardice made bold by liquor—combined with his naturally impulsive nature—had driven him here today.

  He’d even refused to let the dark mage assigned to guard him follow. The mage was only to stay behind and impersonate him if his father suddenly returned home.

  The staircase swayed in his vision. Hormitt clung to the railing, staggering upward.

  “Pernas… my feelings for you burn so fiercely… why… why won’t you understand…? It’s all right… I’ll make you understand soon enough…”

  Muttering drunken nonsense, he reached the second floor at last and lurched toward the room he remembered.

  Suddenly, the door swung open. A familiar golden-haired figure stepped out, glanced at him, then instantly turned and retreated.

  The alcohol in Hormitt’s veins chilled by several degrees.

  “Those idiots! How could they let her come out?!”

  He hurried forward, though his goal remained unchanged.

  But the moment he stepped into the room, his foot slipped violently—his whole body pitched backward.

  Thud. His skull struck the floor with brutal force.

  Behind the door, the trembling blonde girl froze.

  “He couldn’t have been finished off that easily… right?” Glenn murmured, perfectly familiar with the sound of a skull hitting the ground.

  Holding the “telephone,” Pernas whispered, “I’m not sure… but there’s so much blood coming from his head…”

  Glenn fell silent. He had prepared an entire array of backup plans—yet the opponent had collapsed at the very first step.

  “Pick up the flowerpot I told you to place by the window. Go over and give his head a few good strikes.”

  He still insisted she deliver the finishing blow.

  “What?” Pernas recoiled. “He… he won’t get back up. I don’t think that’s necessary…”

  “It is necessary.” Glenn’s voice from the magitek device was firm. “Do not hesitate. Do as I say. If you refuse, then from here on, you’re on your own—I won’t help you again.”

  Layla tugged frantically at his sleeve upon hearing this, but Glenn paid her no mind.

  Pernas clutched the device tightly, her mind in turmoil.

  In the end, she silently cursed a certain hateful man, grabbed the flowerpot by the window, and walked toward the fallen Hormitt.

  The face that had haunted her nightmares for so many nights lay before her, and a fresh wave of terror surged in her chest.

  Her hands trembled. Then Glenn’s voice came again—eerily perceptive, as though he could see her in that moment:

  “I imagine this person has cast a long, dark shadow over your heart. That’s why you’re reacting this way. But all you need to do is bring that flowerpot down upon his face. The nightmare that has clung to you for years will vanish. Your future will be brighter than you can imagine. You’ll never fear anyone again. All it takes is lifting the pot… and striking. Try it.”

  Perhaps it was Glenn’s words, or perhaps it was the years of fear fermenting into fury—

  —but with a sharp cry, Pernas swung the flowerpot down.