Before continuing to experiment with the new ability, he recalled that dinner was likely waiting.
Venturing down the hallway while thinking of what kind of cuisine waited in the fantasy world, a peculiar sound caught his ears—
"Laaaa…La-la…"
A silken, feminine voice traversed the corridor in a melody that coated his body with warmth. It brought him to a stop as he glanced back, realizing the singing voice came from up ahead.
'Is somebody…singing? It sounds like a lullaby—well, it sort of makes me want to sleep,' he thought with a yawn.
There was a single door among the dozens stretching down the hall that was slightly open. It didn't take much listening to discover the voice to come from within, bringing him to approach with careful, quiet steps.
"Laaa…"
He stopped just beside the door, leaning in to peek just one eye into the small gap. Past the door, he saw her—a woman of ethereal beauty.
'She's…beautiful,' he observed.
Her jet-black hair reached past her hips, down to her legs, contrasting her pale skin and crystalline, amethyst irises.
She sat on a hammock as moonlight dipped through the window, staring through it up at the monument in the night sky.
"Is there someone there?"
"Ah—"
The sudden stop to the singing with that question caught him off guard as he accidentally swung the door open. Rather than letting his first impression be that of a klutz, he caught himself, pretending to internally enter.
"Hope I didn't interrupt. I'm Gael, Blythe welcomed me to this household, and you're…?" He introduced himself, doing his best not to appear conspicuous.
The moonlit beauty had a lackadaisical air to her, slowly adjusting her fringes as she smiled, "Ah…A new member of the Peonyvale household? I'm Millonia, a pleasure to meet you, Gael."
"The pleasure's mine," he nodded bashfully.
With the sort of looks she had, with a slender build and a symmetrical face, he felt like she could've been a world famous model back on Earth.
"If you don't mind me asking…What's your place in this household? Your relationship with Blythe, I mean," Gael asked.
"My place? What if I answer it with a tune?" Millonia offered.
"Sure?" He accepted.
While watching the ethereal woman, the moonlight seemed to shine through the window like a spotlight over her.
"Laaa…" She parted her lips, emitting that melodic sound that soothed his soul.
As he listened, a warm sensation rippled over his body. His consciousness began to warp while focusing just on her voice.
The entire room seemed to dissolve as only that melodic sound filled his head. A free garden surrounded him with blooming flowers, inducing a total relaxation before—
"Nrrrgh!"
—A sharp pain coursed through his entire body, bringing him to his knees. It felt like a thousand needles poking into his skin, stabbing all at once.
"That's not very nice of you, Millonia."
A hand befell his shoulder, snapping him out of the trance he didn't even realize he had fallen in. The fruitful garden vanished, finding him back in that moonlit bedroom where the singing woman sat by the window, simply smiling.
"What the hell was that—?! What did you—" Gael jumped to his feet, wiping the bit of drool from his lip after the brief experience with agony.
"I gave you an introduction to my place here," Millonia remarked with a soft smile.
"You—" Gael stepped closer, clenching his fist.
"Oh, I wouldn't recommend getting any closer to her, friend."
He found himself stopped by the hand that had touched his shoulder. Turning around, he found it belonging to a man of similar age to himself with shaggy, light-brown hair.
The man wore a butler outfit similar to that of Norbert, yet not nearly of the same monstrous build.
He decided to listen to the advice, choosing to leave the room before being subject to another painful trance.
"What was that about?" Gael questioned, scratching the back of his neck with a sigh as he walked down the hall.
It felt like a journey in itself to navigate the halls, somehow having to rely on the man for help.
The youthful man who came to his rescue laughed, "That's just how Millonia is. Don't take it too personally."
"Seriously?" Gael breathed out.
"She's a spirit contracted to this estate. Spirits like her tend now to be too warm to strangers. She did the same thing to me when I started here," the shaggy-haired man recalled.
Looking at the well-dressed stranger, he squinted, "Speaking of…Who are you, exactly?"
"Oh, right—I'm a butler here. Atlas, at your service," the well-mannered man introduced himself with a bow.
Finding yet another butler in the household, he found himself once again in awe of the wealth of the Peonyvale name.
"Atlas, huh?" Gael repeated.
"You're Gael, right? I was instructed to accompany you. They didn't say why—" Atlas explained.
Before anything could be reasoned, the entire mansion rumbled. Gael held his arms out, balancing himself as it felt as though the whole place might flip on its side.
"What was that?!" Gael yelled out.
Atlas looked just as caught off-guard, looking up as a bit of dust rained from the ceiling, "I'm not sure—is it an attack?"
"An attack?! Are you serious?!" Gael yelled.
Another impact struck the exterior as, once again, everything shook with greater intensity. There was no denying it this time—it wasn't some earthquake, but an intentional assault.
Atlas balanced himself perfectly as the corridor rumbled, tightening his gloves, "Stay close to me, Lord Gael."
"If this is an attack, shouldn't you go to Blythe?!" Gael questioned, trying his best not to fall over from the rumbling.
"Ah, why would I do that?" Atlas asked, possessing a remarkable calmness despite the situation, looking right at him with his azure eyes.
"She's your master, right?—" Gael asked.
It was right then it seemed to "click"—everything was placed together in his mind. The person he looked at, the man right beside him—he wasn't who he seemed.
"Ah, you went and figured it out, didn't you?" Atlas asked with a sly smile.
"Who the hell are you, actually? There isn't a butler named Atlas here, is there?" Gael accused, backing up.
"Oh no, there is—or was. I just borrowed his face for this moment," the man using the name of Atlas admitted, grabbing at his own face, peeling it away like a mask.
—THWOOM.
Another impact caused the entire building to rumble. It was all a bit too much to adjust to right away, not knowing what was happening outside, or just down the hall.
None of that mattered, though. The only thing he could truly worry about was the person standing just a few feet in front of him; the stranger who peeled the face he borrowed away, tossing the abandoned skin to the ground.
'This guy…He's one of the Venator, isn't he? That's the only reason somebody would have to come for me, right?' He questioned.
None of that mattered more than the issue at hand: surviving.