Chapter 2

The Storeroom (1)

    Esther entered the university once again, but this time he was laden with a considerable amount of luggage that was significantly slowing him down. Yet, he couldn't blame anyone but himself for not preparing anything in advance. Moreover, the plethora of belongings in the room was alarmingly abundant.

    ‘Oh, the four-dimensional bag... Why isn't there one available just yet?’

    The luckless man longed for the convenient tool he had read about in books, which could store anything and everything. Despite the existence of magic that could store objects in another dimension, he was clueless about using it, let alone thinking it was feasible. The mere magic the Director showed him seemed godly enough.

    Thunk!!

    Esther placed his bags on the ground in front of the door, glancing at the clock that showed six in the evening. Despite the convenience available in this world, for someone not particularly wealthy or poor like him, economizing was necessary, thus the absence of an automated cart.

    He eyed the ominously black door of the storage room, the building itself presenting a dreary white, creating an unsettling atmosphere. The door’s darkness, as if made of coal, only added to the gloom.

    The most troubling part was the bloodstains scattered across the door, which, if not for the door’s dark color, it might have revealed much more.

    ‘Hopefully, there won't be any surprises...’

    The young man examined the black key the Director had tossed to him, an old-fashioned key that seemed fashionable over a century ago. The back of the key had a slot fitting for something sharp, surrounded by marks of magical force, bite marks, and fingerprints in blood. No matter how many times he looked at it, it unnerved him.

    "Let's just do this," he muttered. "No uniform requirements for students, the university covers living expenses, not a penny from home spent. Even if I have to sleep in a rat hole, I'll endure."

    Creak!

    The moment he unlocked the door, a musty smell accompanied by an undesired scent of mold mixed with rot hit him. He hesitated before stepping into the dimly lit room, devoid of any light switches. The only visibility came from the sunlight streaming through a large hole in the ceiling.

    "Outside is dreadful enough... this is just depressing."

    Inside, the place was cluttered with various objects from juice can remains, alcohol bottles, and cigarette butts, representing the previous occupants. These items were so old that Esther guessed they were from over a decade ago.

    Looking up, he saw a ventilation hole as if being smashed open in the roof. The center of the room housed two old bookshelves crammed with documents and heavy books, tables, and chairs scattered not haphazardly but without any beds. Some furniture bore bullet and bite marks, and peeling paint revealing that it was once white, now only grey plaster.

    Esther sighed as he brought his belongings into the room.

    "Hmm, no electricity in this room," he noted, searching hopelessly for a light switch. "Seems like there's no water either."

    The room wasn't designed as living quarters, hence they lacked amenities. The new occupant inspected as much as he could, finding it larger than expected—about three times the size of his normal bedroom but hundreds of times more dilapidated than any place he had lived before.

    "How could the Director be so heartless.... A little paperwork delay and I get this dump to sleep in," he grumbled, appreciating the faculty's parent for their bizarre sense of hospitality before sitting on the nearest chair.

    Bang!!!

    Esther fell backward as the chair broke apart. He tried to fit the pieces back together, yet later tossed them aside in disgust, wandering around the room moodily.

    His eyes caught on a large, dark-red stain spreading across one wall.

    "Don't tell me that's blood," he uttered, horrified by the sight. Soon, he discovered the room seemed altered—the bookshelf filled with books vanished, and a large chest he'd never seen before appeared beside his foot.

    "Hey, hey," he panicked, feeling overwhelmed by the eerie atmosphere. “What on earth is this room?”

Though accustomed to horror from novels, his fear didn't escalate into a frenzy.

    ‘Did I make a mistake here?’

    Bang!!

    The door to the room closed automatically as the sunlight began to fade.

    "Hey!" Esther shouted, tugging at the doorknob. "Let me out!"

    But, predictably, the door did not kindly open for him.

    Esther quickly grabbed the key to unlock it, but for some inexplicable reason, the door in front of him had no keyhole.

    The young man began to reconsider his situation and the Director's words. Aside from the sudden burden of responsibilities dropped on him, there was also mention of some secrets. And as darkness began to encroach, his sanity seemed to want to flee itself from his body at any moment.

    ‘The chest, the blood, the objects that aren't trash, the key... Yes, the Director said the key is part of the room. There must be a keyhole inside the room. The question is where that damn hole is, and what kind of crazy stuff is in this garbage room?’

    His gaze returned to the bloodstain. Upon closer inspection, he found a keyhole in the center of the bloodstain. Matching the key to the hole in the wall, he couldn't help but smile.

    "Heh... That's it for you, haunted room," he asserted, shoving the key in forcefully.

    Screech!!! ~

    Suddenly, the chest cried out, forcing him to cover his ears automatically. As he was about to turn to see what was happening, something halted his train of thought abruptly.

    A soft slicing noise pierced through the flesh penetrated his auditory, followed by agonizing pain from his back to his chest. A stream of bright red blood began to seep from the wound, with a small silver object piercing through. He immediately realized he had been stealthily attacked while he was facing the wall.

    ‘A needle? An arrow? No, this is a Rapier sword.’

    Tchk… swoosh bang!!

    His body was flung against the wall, the wound inflicted just now was penetrated again by the key on the wall. His blood splattered over the old stains, repainting the wall with a new coat of fresh blood. At this moment, it was spookily gleaming. He found that his body was grotesquely pinned to the keyhole- any movement would cause blood to spurt uncontrollably.

    The Rapier lunged once more, fitting perfectly into the keyhole's backside.

    "What is this all about? Ugh..." he cursed as he tried to pull the Rapier out, but to no avail.

    The key before Esther began to voraciously absorb the surrounding fluid. Blood from all over started to converge and disappear upon contact with the key, including his own. The key itself began to change color without Esther noticing.

    His consciousness slowly faded due to blood loss. The pain turned numb.

    "Take care of this place," a cheerfully ominous male voice floated to his ears. Unable to turn due to the Rapier pinning him to the wall, he couldn't locate the source of the voice.

    Then, something strange happened. The trash, bottles, and cigarette butts in the room levitated and shot out through the roof gap. The debris returned to its shelves, chairs, and tables repaired themselves and moved to the room's left side, while the right side cleared to reveal another carved wooden door.

    The black chest now wide open revealed its contents.

     It was a thick black chain.

    “Click...swoosh!” The chain snapped the Rapier sword from his chest, and the key fell out with it.

    His weakened body hit the floor, but he had no strength to resist. The chain slithered towards him like a serpent eyeing its prey, locking around his ankle tightly. Despite wondering why he hadn't died from the chest wound, his mind couldn't ponder further as his energy was slowly drained. His body felt increasingly desiccated with each passing moment.

    "That's enough, Tartarus. Human souls have their limits," a gentle voice spoke above him.

    Esther's jasper-black eyes met a beautiful woman, seemingly an ordinary woman except for her translucent form. As it was now night, he struggled to see her clearly.

    Once she spoke, the chain ceased draining Esther's soul but remained locked on his leg.

    'Spirit, is it?'

    "Hello, new room owner. My name is Victoria Art, and I'm the spirit residing here."

    She pointed at the chain around his ankle, "That is the cursed chain, Tartarus. If she had continued to drain your spirit, you'd be trapped in a cycle of samsara. It's better to unbind her so you don't die," the kind-hearted spirit advised.

    "And how am I supposed to unbind her?" he inquired politely, which was unlike him. Victoria only smiled and pointed at the room's key.

    "Tartarus wanted to test if you were truly worthy of this room. If you want her acknowledgment, you must let her continue to drain your spirit," the spirit girl explained. "No one has ever passed this test before. If you wish to be acknowledged, you must not unchain the cursed bond."

    'So it's a chain, huh? And that girl keeps referring to it as "she," implying it's a spirit weapon and a female one. I don't even have a weapon since I couldn't attend the weapon selection ceremony,' Esther mulled over, chuckling darkly to himself as he decided on his next move. Since he had no weapon to begin with, his declaration made Victoria, the warning spirit, nearly choke in astonishment.

    "You foolish chain, if you're so sure, then drain my spirit entirely! Even if you drain me to death again and again, I won't unlock you."

    The pit black chain wiggled as if understanding his words, squeaking eerily before its tip began to coil around Esther like a serpent aiming to crush its prey. Esther smirked defiantly; if the escape was easy, death was certain anyway.

    This way, at least, was more interesting.

    And that was the beginning of the hell.

    At the request of its examiner, the cursed chain started to drain his spirit more intensely, turning his skin progressively paler as if he were withering away.

    "Let's go all out. I've been through so much already. Just a chain won't deter me anymore!" He said in difficulty. After his statement, his spirit was drained yet again, leaving him feeling as though the last vestiges of his essence were being pulled from his body.

    'That woman... she's really draining me to death,' This was the last thing he thought before losing consciousness.

    Crack~

    ‘Hm…What was that noise?’

    Esther woke up in confusion, his body and clothing smeared with clotted, brownish-red blood, making his complexion appear pale from blood loss. Upon inspecting his ankles, he encountered a frustrating situation once more.

    “This damn chain. it’s still not letting go of my ankles,” he said.

    Even though Tartarus had ceased siphoning his spirit, it refused to release him. Esther noticed a dark-colored cross attached to the chain, resembling a magical keyhole, suggesting it could only be unlocked with a specific key – which he possessed but chose not to use.

    “He he he”

    The young man was taken aback, unable to be afraid of what else could surprise him next.

    ‘Where did the woman laugh come from?’ He thought, surveying the tidied room and his belongings piled as if it was inviting him to sort through them, his gaze settled on the chain binding his leg.

    "Is that you, Tartarus?" he inquired uncertainly.

    “…”

    "Tartarus?" he repeated, reasoning that if the chain was indeed a spirit weapon, it should be capable of speaking.

    "If it's not me, then who on earth would it be? That bothersome spirit has already left to amuse herself," a woman's voice replied, laced with amusement.

    "You're quite impressive, aren't you? Every other person I've bound hurried to unlock me with the key. You're the first fool I've met who's willing to let me drain their spirit until death," she teased with a playful tone.

    "And your blood, it's quite delicious, though somewhat lacking in nutrients. You don't have any magical powers worth mentioning, and your psychic strength is pitiful. It's starting to puzzle me how you managed to become the owner of this room – a place meant for only the strong, whom I then have the pleasure of killing."

    "Is it already three o’clock in the morning?" Ignoring her commentary, Esther grumbled, “I’ve not accomplished anything significant since entering the room, how pitiful.”