Lulu’anna lay in her armchair. The lake breeze brushed against her face, carrying a fine mist of water droplets that felt cool and refreshing against her skin.
Sunlight illuminated the crystal-clear surface of the lake and reflected off the verdant, distant mountains. The light drew her gaze toward the far horizon.
“Dorothy,” Lulu’anna called out softly.
“Yes~” the little maid standing to the side answered immediately. Her hands were folded over her apron as she bowed slightly. “What are your orders, Mistress?”
“Give me a dance.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
Dorothy stepped back and lifted her skirt, offering a deep curtsy. As she bent over, her pink hair fell forward, revealing delicate collarbones and soft shoulders.
Lulu’anna’s thin eyebrows furrowed instinctively.
The little maid’s movements were only natural at the start and the finish; everything in between was a series of stiff rotations, like a mechanical figurine. This ‘Dorothy’ was essentially a life-sized doll. Despite the intricate craftsmanship and dozens of articulated joints, her movements could never match the fluid grace of a real human being.
“Stop dancing. Go jump in the lake,” Lulu’anna said coldly.
“As you wish, Mistress.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the little maid turned and took a step. She performed a straight-back somersault with a two-and-a-half-twist, entering the water perfectly straight. The splash was flawless.
A moment later, colorful paint and a celluloid mannequin with twisted limbs floated to the surface.
Lulu’anna clapped her hands, and ‘Dorothy No. 2’ walked over.
“Sing a song.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
No. 2 crossed her hands over her chest, her lips forming an ‘O’ shape. Beautiful notes took flight, and the air hummed in resonance with her throat.
“Nice singing. Now go jump in the lake,” Lulu’anna pointed toward the railing.
Splash!
This one failed to break the surface correctly. She hit the water with her face tilted to the side, and one of her glass eyeballs went flying.
Lulu’anna grew increasingly irritable. No matter how exquisitely or realistically a doll was made, the slightest dissonance would be magnified infinitely, breeding a sense of revulsion and dread.
She considered whether to interview two at once, perhaps to enjoy a synchronized diving performance. Her hand rose halfway, then dropped. She sighed, her interest completely extinguished.
Lulu’anna had never wanted something so intensely before.
Long ago, when she wore the ill-fitting clothes of older children and knelt before a small cabinet in the poorhouse, clutching a pencil nub held together with splints, she always believed a single pencil could draw the entire world. Whatever she desired, the faint lead marks beneath her hand would outline it perfectly.
And so, she drew beautiful little dresses; she drew steaming pies and milk; she drew parents she had never met but loved dearly; she drew a group of companions who would leave her a small orange candy after dinner…
Now, however, she realized just how delicate and complex a human being truly was. All their emotions and thoughts were buried within layer upon layer of soft folds. A mere blunt pencil could never capture the entirety of a person.
Ever since that encounter, every frown and smile from the real Dorothy had captivated her. Every time she looked at her, an indescribable emotion welled up in her heart.
How she wished that when she asked, “Whose little maid are you?” the answer would be, “I am your little maid.”
Yet, a great mountain stood between her and Dorothy: the little maid’s current owner—Wang Yue.
She bit her nails, thinking bitterly of a way to snatch Dorothy from Wang Yue’s hands. Suddenly, a spark of clarity flashed through her mind.
“I’m so stupid. I just need to deal with Wang Yue, don’t I? What do you call the master of a master? Hmm… there doesn’t seem to be a specific term for that.”
She quickly hatched a plan. Although school rules strictly forbade harming classmates, they said nothing about causing a little trouble.
“I’ll have to make dear Wang Yue have a good taste of ‘Paradise Lost.'”
When her roommates returned to Room 203, they were shocked to find that Lulu’anna had gone into a frenzy, using up every scrap of drawing paper. Sketches were drying on the windowsills, desks, and bunks; paint was splattered everywhere.
She had even knocked over her brush-washing jar. Her morning gown was damp, clinging to her thin, pale body. The contrast between her hipbones and slender waist was strikingly apparent, and her legs were impressively long—though not yet fully matured, the blueprint of a great beauty was already visible.
Lulu’anna looked up, her golden-brown hair framing her pretty face. She gave a weary smile.
“It’s not enough. I’ll have to buy more paint and paper this weekend.”
Lilith climbed a set of black stone steps.
The wind at the higher altitude caught her long blonde hair, blowing it to one side. Soft strands tickled her cheeks, and she constantly reached up to tuck them behind her ears. Her robe tightly wrapped around her slender legs, while the hem revealed her small brown leather shoes and a glimpse of ivory skin above her short socks.
After dawdling her way to the top of the stairs, she stood beneath the Mystic Tower. The wind died down abruptly, and her golden hair fell like a waterfall.
This ancient spire, built upon a sheer mountain peak, exuded a mysterious and eerie atmosphere. The black bricks—made of some unknown material—were carved with twisted, strange patterns. Light seemed to flow along the grooves like liquid.
Lilith feared no one, save for the Dean, Gwendolyn Elliot. She held a nearly instinctive dread of the woman. She didn’t understand why, but every time she neared the Dean, an uncontrollable, massive fear surged from deep within—and along with it, the suicidal urge of a moth to a flame.
She felt an uncontrollable urge to release her Mystic Art upon the Dean—Mystic Art No. 014: Soul Snatch.
Lilith believed her Mystic Art was peerless. She could control any person or non-human creature; she had never failed.
“No, I have to try it this time.”
Her small face grew even paler, her breathing quickened, and her eyes sparkled. She reached out and touched the gate of the Mystic Tower. The copper-clad wooden door slid inward silently, and a warm yellow light flowed out.
Lilith hesitated. This wasn’t what she had imagined.
Shouldn’t it be a heavily guarded secret chamber filled with traps? Why was it an office hall with polished hardwood floors, bookshelves brimming with documents, and people walking to and fro?
“Where is the Dean’s office?” she asked a maid who was sweeping.
“Second floor.”
Lilith climbed the spiral staircase. The second floor was also a cylindrical space—the middle section of the Mystic Tower.
The second floor was divided by a wall along the midline. The section near the stairs had been turned into a half-moon balcony, furnished with a tea table, lounge chairs, and a small bookcase. A large, intricately patterned brown carpet covered the floor, creating a quiet and comfortable atmosphere.
There were two doors on the wall. One led to the Dean’s office, the other to the archives.
She walked to the Dean’s door and knocked. No response.
She twisted the handle and found it unlocked. Pushing it open, she found the room empty.
She tilted her head, inspecting the layout of the office. It looked unremarkable—bookshelves, a desk, cabinets, filing units. Everything was mundane, bearing no connection to words like “mysterious,” “eerie,” or “transcendent.”
Is this the workplace of a Hush-Name Witch?
Her gaze drifted around the room, searching for anything that might pique her interest. After a full circuit, her eyes landed on the desk. There sat a gift box, wrapped in high-quality silk dyed a deep crimson.
She reached out and untied the ribbon. The silk slid away, revealing a square, dark red lacquer box.
She suddenly had the illusion that the red lacquer was actually congealed blood.
Lilith licked her thin lips. Deep within her pupils, a pinprick of light flickered to life.
