It was nighttime. Noctis’s eyes reflected faintly blue in the darkness from the light of his desk lamp. He repeatedly went through both sets of diary entries again and again, yet he still couldn’t find any clear similarities between them.
Looking at the earlier diary entries and comparing them with the ones he had found, Noctis came to the conclusion that only the first, seventh, and the last entries aligned with the new ones.
“But that would mean the other diary entries were fake,” Noctis murmured to himself, letting out a long sigh that carried exhaustion.
“Did this mansion tamper with the contents of the diary? But why?” he thought while staring at the ceiling.
After reading through both sets once again, he came up with six conclusions—
- Clarisse and Ilya might be like Silas — not governed by the time loop. For them, perhaps each day was not a reset but a continuation.
- Meeting Clarisse was simple. Just knock on the door. She might be like the head maid — appearing whenever someone breached a certain authority.
- The crystal, the chandelier, and it falling were somehow related to Noctis’s escape. He just didn’t know how yet.
- He needed to escape before six months passed, or he would begin losing his memory of who he was. He had already spent around two months in this mansion, meaning he had roughly three to four months left.
- Silas Weasley was the man who had written the diary — or at least part of it. The current Silas might be a corrupted version of him.
- Silas didn’t have to solve any puzzle to get a pass to the third floor — for some reason.
Noctis checked the time.
10:42 PM.
After deciding that tomorrow he would finally confront that maid, he went to bed.
Morning came.
Noctis got ready. He put on a coat and hid the revolver behind him. After climbing the stairs, he once again stood in front of Ilya’s room — this time ready to knock.
He stopped in front of the door.
His hand rose slowly, fingers curling into a loose fist.
It hovered there for a second.
Then he moved his hand toward the door to knock—
“Hey!”
A voice interrupted him.
“What are you doing there?”
Noctis turned to his side.
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Brown hair tied into a bun and sharp yellow eyes — a woman in a maid’s outfit stood there, staring at him intently.
“Are you deaf? Can’t you hear me?” she questioned, her tone as rude as ever.
“Ah, sorry. I was just a little lost in thought. The reason I’m here is because I wanted to offer my thanks,” Noctis replied while observing her carefully.
“Thanks? For what?”
“Well, the young miss helped me get a pass to the third floor. So, I wanted to thank her.”
“She helped you? And how should I believe that? Does she even know you?”
“If you’re suspicious of me, you can ask her yourself. Also, I’m here to return something that might belong to her.”
“It’s fine. I don’t want to disturb the young miss over trivial matters like that. What do you want to return?”
Noctis stretched his hand forward toward the maid, holding the ring engraved with the name Ilya Vexwood.
“This. Her name is written on it. So, I assumed she might have lost it. I found it in the basement while looking for new tools.”
“The ring is certainly the young miss’s. But did you say you found it in the basement?”
“Oh, yes. It was on one of the shelves.”
Placing a palm on her face, she muttered, “She just can’t stay in her room, can she?”
“Is there something wrong?” Noctis asked after noticing her reaction.
“No. It’s nothing. I’ll call the young miss.”
“Oh, alright then. But I think we should at least introduce ourselves.”
She turned toward him and nodded slightly.
“My name is Clarisse Miller. The personal maid of Young Miss Ilya,” she said, bowing slightly.
“My name is Noctis Graham. A gardener,” Noctis replied.
Clarisse walked to the door, knocked three times, and called out—
“Miss Ilya, someone is here to see you.”
There was silence for a moment.
Then the door clicked open.
Ilya stepped out and asked excitedly,
“IS IT DAD? Where is he?”
The hallway fell silent.
Clarisse lowered her head and shook it slightly, a faint sadness appearing on her face.
Disappointed, Ilya turned toward Noctis.
“You! What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Noctis, confused by the sudden hostility, looked around briefly before pointing at himself.
“Me?”
“Yes, you! Who else is here?” Ilya snapped, anger visible on her face.
Noctis took a slow breath before answering.
“Well, I came to thank you for helping me acquire the pass to the third floor.”
“Oh, you managed to find it? That’s surprising. You’re not as stupid as you look.”
“Miss!” Clarisse intervened.
“It’s fine,” Noctis said calmly before looking at Ilya again. “I also found this ring with your name engraved on it.”
Ilya’s expression shifted from anger to shock instantly.
“Wha—Where did you find it? I thought I had lost it,” she asked while gently taking the ring from his hand.
“I found it in the basement, on one of the shelves,” Noctis replied, a faint smile forming on his face.
“Th-Thank you. But I have a question.”
“Hm? What is it?” Noctis asked.
“How do you know that today is my birthday?”
“Oh—well, I found a note in the library. Considering the handwriting, I assumed it was written by you.”
“A note? Wait—are you talking about the letter I wrote for my dad?” Ilya asked in panic, her cheeks turning red with embarrassment.
Noctis nodded slightly.
Her face flushed even deeper.
“You—GET OUT OF HERE!” she shouted before rushing back into her room and slamming the door shut.
Silence lingered in the hallway.
After a few moments, Clarisse spoke.
“Uh—I’m sorry about the young miss’s behavior. She gets a little sensitive when it comes to her father.”
“I understand. I assume it’s related to him not visiting her on her birthday?”
“You’re right. Sir Ian is always cooped up in his office. He rarely visits Ilya anymore.”
“I see. I should take my leave now,” Noctis said before nodding slightly to Clarisse and walking away.
He descended the stairs and returned to his room.
Sitting down at his desk, he leaned back and looked at the ceiling.
“So… she has daddy issues, huh.”