Ch.776You Want Me to Sleep Here?

The interior of the mansion was even more outrageous than the exterior. The sculpture I saw earlier seemed almost restrained by comparison.

“Is this a human residence or a beast’s den?”

Everything visible was filled with werebeasts. I began to suspect that Frider might actually be some kind of werebeast fetishist, given his suspicious obsession.

Not just the sofas, but even the curtains were made of werebeast hide with the fur texture still intact. Tables, wardrobes, shelves, and pillars—without a single exception—were all adorned with werebeast decorations or had werebeast reliefs carved into them.

The hallway, lined with torches at regular intervals, was filled with taxidermied werebeasts of all varieties casting shadows that created an atmosphere of terror.

They looked so lifelike they seemed ready to lunge forward with claws extended at any moment.

Each time the torches flickered, the shadows danced, creating the illusion that the mounted specimens were actually moving.

‘Only a psychopath or serial killer would live in a place like this.’

[That would be you.]

Hersella blurted out nonsense.

…Or was it nonsense?

Come to think of it, maybe I am a psychopathic serial killer…?

I have another personality in my head, which fits the textbook definition of mental illness, and while they all deserved to die, the number of people who’ve died by my hand could fill mountains, so I can’t exactly deny being a serial killer….

Well, whatever.

Aren’t I fairly normal by this world’s standards?

This world is full of bizarre eccentrics who inspire awe, so a mentally ill human-killer like me isn’t particularly special.

Right?

—-

The hallway contained more than just taxidermied werebeasts. Between the specimens, on every empty wall space, hung vividly colored paintings displayed like decorations.

Some were normal landscapes or still lifes, but most depicted something resembling me.

Eating werebeast flesh in the middle of a city engulfed in flames.

Running through a forest, fleeing from an avalanche.

Clinging like a spider to the walls of Faelrun.

Wearing a werebeast’s head on my hand and using it to bite other werebeasts.

Howling with laughter while tearing apart various werebeasts in the middle of a battlefield.

Grabbing Rurik by the collar, peeling off his fur with red tentacles and a longsword, smiling like a woman with a split mouth.

These appeared to be depictions of my actions as witnessed and heard by Frider. Except that my appearance was portrayed like a demon from a religious painting.

“So this is how he sees me…?”

Whether human or monster.

The invading werebeasts were portrayed almost as pitiful victims caught in a calamity.

“Well… I can’t deny it, can I? If the Were Eater still possesses a human conscience.”

“My conscience is telling me to smack you on the head.”

“Your Imperial language skills are lacking. That’s not conscience, that’s malice.”

Looking at Frider’s smirking face, I felt the urge to not just bury him in snow but submerge him deep in a frozen lake.

—-

The building—which someone, probably Frider, had named “Wolf Mansion”—had a three-story structure that narrowed toward the top.

The first floor contained storage rooms, bathrooms, servants’ quarters, and a kitchen, while the second floor had guest rooms.

The entire top floor was dedicated solely to my space, consisting of a small study that could serve as both an office and reception room, and a bedroom with an attached small bathroom.

“This place is relatively normal.”

Demian nodded slightly as he looked around the reception room, muttering quietly.

“Indeed.”

Certainly, compared to the bizarre first floor, this space seemed reasonably normal.

While there was still plenty of werebeast hide like the lower floors, here the number of wall hangings and taxidermy specimens had noticeably decreased, apparently in consideration of living comfort.

Even the paintings were different from downstairs—just a single normal portrait.

“It looks exactly like you, unnie!”

Lena pointed at the portrait with a grin.

She had looked like she wanted to say something when we passed the paintings downstairs but had just stared at Frider with restraint. Now, seeing a normal portrait, she seemed to finally feel better.

“Uh… does it…?”

But to me, these portraits were equally distasteful.

‘Who is this woman?’

I muttered blankly, dumbfounded by the portrait that seemed to beautify my face a hundredfold.

The gently flowing hair was as lustrous as ebony, and the blue eyes were like clear lakes perfectly captured.

The softly smiling eyes conveyed intelligence, gentleness, and something akin to maternal warmth, while the slightly upturned corners of the mouth naturally blended aristocratic elegance with the freshness of a young maiden.

The fur collar and coat covering the neck and shoulders gave a wild yet sophisticated impression, and the protruding chest was so enormous it could feed ten children and still have plenty left over.

There was even a halo of light illuminating the back of the head.

No matter how I looked at it, this wasn’t my face. It was as if the artist had been asked to paint their ideal image of a saint or holy mother, then simply colored the hair black.

[Can’t you tell? That’s me.]

As I stood dumbfounded before this excessively beautified portrait, Hersella suddenly started spouting nonsense.

[Hehe. That Frider woman may have terrible taste, but she has a keen eye. To capture the figure of me trapped inside you so perfectly.]

‘Where did you sell your conscience?’

What crazy talk. Where did that nonsense come from?

If this were your face, Isabella would be a holy mother, not a witch.

“Hmm… I think the paintings downstairs are closer to Haschal’s actual appearance.”

“Don’t you agree, Demian?”

At Demian’s comment, which as usual earned him a beating, Frider nodded vigorously in agreement.

“It was a gift from Archbishop Elmaine, so I had no choice but to hang it, but isn’t the beautification too extreme? I think that woman has some vision problems.”

…So it was a painting from Lacy.

That immediately explained why this portrait alone had such tremendous beautification compared to the others.

—-

Leaving Demian in the reception room with the excuse that a man shouldn’t casually enter a woman’s bedroom, the three of us opened the door to the bedroom and explored inside.

As expected of a mansion built by Frider, the bedroom was equally extraordinary.

The taxidermied Rurik in one corner wasn’t particularly surprising. I had already guessed he would be placed in my bedroom when I didn’t see him among the specimens on the first floor.

“Using such precious hide for something like this…”

I sighed while stroking Rurik’s fur. His expression was as fierce as in life. They had even recreated the armor he used to wear.

Using the hide of a werebeast king—beyond expensive, now completely unobtainable—for teasing a friend. I wasn’t sure if this showed incredible generosity or complete insanity.

“This isn’t just a simple decoration. Unlike the ordinary specimens downstairs, this one has a practical use.”

Frider smiled confidently as she approached the specimen and flung open Rurik’s breastplate.

The inside of the specimen was hollow like an empty vessel, perhaps made by stretching hide over a translucent skeleton. Inside the vessel, wax with a wick filled it like a candle.

“If you light this…”

Frider took out a match, lit the wick, and closed the breastplate again.

Immediately, along with a fragrant scent of incense mixed with beeswax, a crimson light leaked from Rurik’s wide-open mouth as if he were about to breathe fire. The eyes, which had looked like embedded rubies, also flickered with fiery light, and the glow seeping through the white fur dyed it crimson, gently illuminating the entire bedroom like a mood light in a luxury hotel.

Of course, given the shape of the light fixture, it created more of a horror effect than a romantic one.

Rurik’s specimen, emitting a crimson light and casting flickering shadows, literally looked like a wolf-headed monster breathing fire from its entire body.

“What do you think? Isn’t it cool?”

“Uh…”

If it had been a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur, it might have been cute, but creating a 3-meter monster lamp and proudly showing it off left me at a loss for words.

Am I supposed to sleep with this in my bedroom?

I’d probably have nightmares every day of the year.

“……”

Lena too was speechless, looking back and forth between my face and Flame Rurik with an expression that seemed to ask if this was really okay.

…I’ll have to move it to a corner of the reception room later.

—-

Aside from the outrageous Rurik specimen, the bedroom itself wasn’t much different in structure from my room during my academy days.

A large fur bed was placed in the middle of the wall with a smaller bed for Lena prepared beside it.

However, there was one thing different from the academy…

“No, what are those?”

I pointed at the items neatly arranged on the bed while looking at Frider as if she might be insane.

Black iron chains as thick as my wrist, with handcuffs and shackles attached to the ends. They were clearly not items that belonged in a bedroom but rather things that should be kept deep in an underground dungeon.

If they had been thinner, I might have thought they were tools for someone with perverted tastes, but these looked like military equipment meant to restrain werebeasts.

“You said you wanted to sleep with Lena like sisters but were worried about hurting her with your night terrors, right? So I prepared these.”

Frider answered with a smirk.

…Wait, so…

You want me to wear handcuffs and shackles to bed?

Are you crazy?

I could only laugh in disbelief.