Chapter 20: Secrets of the Twilight Tower

Ignis stared at the gray, decayed mist in the air.

Since the first time he saw it, it had reappeared multiple times over the next week. Every time, Villanelle and Heinrich showed no reaction, even when they were walking directly through the mist.

Ignis guessed he could see these things because of some kind of vision-related skill he possessed. By now, he was almost able to turn it on and off at will.

There was no deep or complex learning process; he just gradually became capable of it.

This ability seemed to have been deeply branded into his body from the start, and now he was simply reclaiming his power.

Of course, during this period, Ignis had also sneakily eaten quite a bit of the Emotional Energy permeating the tower. After consuming it so many times, he had grown accustomed to the bitter, fishy taste.

However, the changes in his body did not seem particularly obvious.

On the second floor, the color of the gray mist had already become very faint.

‘It looks like I’ve been eating too greedily lately,’ Ignis thought.

‘I should go down to the first floor and take a look.’

Descending the spiral staircase step by step, he reached the first floor.

The first floor consisted of a foyer, kitchen, storage room, and several empty rooms. The Emotional Energy here was not thick; compared to the second floor a week ago, it was much thinner.

Butler Heinrich was busy in the storage room. The clinking of jars occasionally drifted out from behind the half-open door.

Ignis hesitated for a moment before deciding to find a more remote corner to start his meal.

It would be troublesome if the butler saw him. He did not want to expose his abilities, nor did he want Villanelle worrying that he was losing his mind.

Ignis turned into a corridor where several empty rooms were located.

The windows here were boarded up tight. Only a few slivers of light stubbornly squeezed through the cracks, illuminating the dust motes suspended in the air.

For some reason, the gray mist here was significantly thicker than in the foyer.

‘Could it be because Emotional Energy within a certain space tends to dissipate?’

Ignis looked back. Standing here, he could still see the half-open door of the distant storage room and the lamplight glowing from within.

From this angle… he might still be seen.

After thinking it over, his gaze locked onto one of the empty rooms. Pushing open the dusty, dilapidated wooden door, the scene inside the room came into view.

Rather than a room, it was more like a forgotten junk yard.

Furniture abandoned by previous owners—including, but not limited to, high-backed chairs with broken legs, dressing mirrors with peeling carvings, and plush carpets with suspicious stains—was silently piled here like a mass grave.

The air was colder and damper than upstairs, and the smell of dust and decaying old wood was much stronger.

Through the mist inside, he could faintly hear some sounds.

Heavy sighs, suppressed sobs, the scraping of wooden furniture being dragged roughly, and a certain humming sound coming from underground.

These were sounds that had once echoed here.

Despite having multiple previous experiences reading the memories of the Twilight Tower, Ignis still felt dazed for a fleeting moment.

Although the “food” here had a stronger and worse taste, the energy it contained seemed more primitive and massive.

Just as he was preparing to eat as usual, he noticed something strange.

The vast majority of the gray mist was being pulled by an invisible gravity, slowly gathering and sinking toward a certain corner of the room, as if there was…

An invisible “drain.”

It was this “drain” that sucked these emotions and memories toward the ground. At its location, several large, empty wooden crates and a roll of almost completely rotted tapestry were piled up, looking utterly unremarkable in his physical field of vision.

Additionally, a pale mist that was nearly transparent permeated that corner.

This mist did not gather from other locations; rather, it seeped out bit by bit at an exceptionally slow speed from deep within the wall near that “drain.”

Unlike the heavy, painful gray mist, this pale mist gave Ignis a very strange feeling.

It wasn’t intense pain or anger, but a cold focus mixed with restless longing and a near-manic joy.

This white mist did not flow into the “drain.” Instead, it spread through a small nearby area like a spiderweb, surrounding those empty wooden crates.

‘Hoh, a new discovery.’

Curiosity overcame his instinctive desire for the thick, gray mist energy. Ignis skirted around an overturned table and cautiously approached the corner.

As the distance closed, that cold sense of focus became clearer. At the same time, he also felt the dull humming sound coming from beneath his feet strengthen slightly.

Ignis stopped in front of the piled wooden crates.

In his vision, the pale mist was seeping precisely from the floor beneath the crates.

He extended his claws and gently moved the top crates aside one by one. The crates were light and empty, leaving trails on the dust-covered floor as they moved.

Underneath were ordinary stone bricks, no different from any other part of the tower.

But Ignis immediately noticed that several stone bricks were loose.

He carefully pried the bricks up with his claws and set them aside. After a moment, a metal trapdoor was revealed beneath the bricks.

The trapdoor looked very old, its surface covered in rust, and it did not appear to be locked.

Ignis’s heart pounded.

‘A basement? Does Villanelle know about this?’

Now, a question sat before him.

Should he wait for Villanelle to return tonight to inform her, or should he explore it himself first?

It was currently morning. Choosing the former would require waiting at least ten hours. If he chose the latter…

First, what lay below was a complete unknown. Second, this basement had clearly not been opened for a long time; the concentration of carbon dioxide—if such a thing existed here—would definitely exceed safe levels, making it very dangerous.

‘I might be a Dragon, but I’d still suffocate if there’s no oxygen, right?’

After thinking back and forth, Ignis decided to open the door and take a look first.

At least he could confirm how deep it was.

He took a deep breath, grabbed the handle of the trapdoor, and yanked it open.

A pungent, musty smell immediately rushed toward him, carrying the cold and decay unique to basements, making him wrinkle his brow in disgust.

Below the trapdoor, a crude iron ladder was deeply embedded in the wall. After extending downward for a few meters, it connected to a narrow stone platform.

At the edge of the platform, a steeper staircase spiraled further down.

At that moment, a continuous, faint current of air slowly rose from below, brushing against the dragon scales on the tip of Ignis’s nose.

There was a draft.

‘Is there a passage below connecting to the outside world?’

The presence of the wind slightly dispelled his concerns. At this moment, it wasn’t just curiosity at work; there seemed to be another invisible force calling to him, urging him to go down quickly.

Since the basement below was ventilated, it shouldn’t be that dangerous. Perhaps he could try going down to take a look.

Having made up his mind, Ignis gripped the rough edges of the stone bricks tightly with both claws and cautiously lowered his lower body into the newly opened darkness.

His two hind claws stepped precisely onto the first horizontal bar of the cold iron ladder. An overwhelmed creak immediately rang out, shedding a layer of reddish-brown iron rust, but it held his weight.

Ignis stabilized himself and slowly climbed down, his scales occasionally scraping against the ladder with a rustling sound.

With every step he descended, the light from above grew a bit weaker, and the sensation of being enveloped by the darkness and cold below became clearer.

The white mist grew increasingly thick, like living tentacles slowly wrapping around his body and limbs. Within it, the emotions of “madness” and “focus” seemed to become even more pronounced.

Finally, his hind claws stepped onto the solid stone platform. The platform wasn’t large, but it looked big enough to hold at least three Villanelles.

The Suppression Collar on his neck was glowing faintly, looking particularly conspicuous in the darkness.

Ignis looked toward the deep staircase. The darkness ahead could not block the Dragon Race’s powerful night vision.

Standing on the line where the unknown met the known, between light and shadow, he did not hesitate for long. He moved one leg and stepped lightly onto the first stone step extending downward.