After that smug figure vanished in a puff of smoke, Oldred once again stared down into the endless abyss below him. However, something unexpected interrupted his contemplation. A single, snow-white feather floated down gently from above, spinning like a snowflake from an impossible heaven, a pure anomaly amidst the oppressive darkness.
He instantly looked up, his hand unconsciously gripping the crowbar beneath his coat. The light from the candles on the upper stairs was too dim, obscuring the view, which was further veiled by a thin layer of smoke from his nearly finished cigarette. But he saw it. A single tall, slender figure stood there, watching him in silence.
Its head was the time-cracked, ivory-yellow skull of a ram, with a pair of magnificent, curling horns. Its body was wrapped in a pair of giant, filthy seagull wings, worn like a cloak, and from behind the messy feathers, several small, glittering eyes peeked out, blinking out of sync like an insect's. Its clothing was a tattered, decaying, dark-green sailor's uniform, complete with a wide-brimmed black sailor's cap that shadowed part of its skull. It had no left arm; in its place, a long, rusted iron chain dangled from its shoulder, with a sharp meat hook at its end that hummed softly as it moved. The visible skin on its body was pale, wet, and bluish, like a corpse that had been submerged in saltwater for too long.
The figure continued to stare, unblinking, before slowly lighting an old tobacco pipe with the flame from a nearby candle. It took a short puff, the embers glowing red in the darkness. Smoke with a strange aroma—tobacco, salt, and decay—wafted into the air. Then, it spoke with a hoarse voice, like the hull of an old ship scraping against a reef.
"I will reclaim... what was stolen from me..."
Oldred gripped his crowbar tightly but showed no other reaction, save for an alertness that readied him for a fight if needed. He resumed his descent down the stairs. He was already starting to lose his grip on time. Meeting a strange woman who appeared out of nowhere was difficult enough for a normal human mind to accept, and now… this figure? Who was it? Another guardian? But it seemed he had to follow the candle-woman's wishes first.
After a few more turns, Oldred found a sturdy oak door, which stood out from the surrounding bookshelves. Above it was a brass plaque engraved with the number "01". Without hesitation, he tried to open it. However, as his steel-plated hand closed around the doorknob, an unnatural cold spread through him. A piercing cold, not like ice, but like the cold of the void between the stars. The chill crept deep into his bones, making him feel stiff and frozen in place.
*Poof!*
???: "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop right there, Mr. Iron Face!"
The candle-headed woman appeared suddenly between Oldred and the door, making a playful X-gesture with her hands. She leaned forward, so close that Oldred could smell the ozone and burning wax coming from her.
???: "Oh, mister~ Are you trying to…" She scraped her long index fingernail against Oldred's steel mask, producing a grating sound. "…open the door to another world's history, are you?~ No, no, no! Sorry, but you can't do that~. Your room is number nine million—"
"KRAKK!"
Reminded again of that absurd request, Oldred's paper-thin patience finally tore. He crushed the brass doorknob in his grip as if it were made of clay.
???: "Ayo!? Chill, okay! I have a shortcut, you know! No need to destroy property!" she exclaimed, slightly flustered. "The World of Histories is subject to my presence, so we can get there in a jiffy!"
The figure stepped gracefully to the edge of the staircase, glancing into the darkness below with a mysterious smile. Oldred followed, standing beside her.
???: "Alright, how about… you jump?"
Oldred: "....."
He just stared at the woman, then looked down into the abyss ready to swallow him. Slowly, he took a few steps back. As if he'd lost his nerve.
???: "Heeheehee~, scared, are you? It's okay. It's only natural for a mortal like you—"
Oldred didn't let her finish. With one swift and efficient movement, he strode forward and kicked the woman from behind, squarely in the back, launching her into the darkness below.
???: "YOU FILTHY N-"
Her very unladylike shriek echoed as she fell, before it was suddenly cut short by a sound.
"THWACK!!"
A strange impact. Not the sound of crushed flesh, but rather like something hitting an invisible floor down below.
It seems... she wasn't lying.