Chapter 10: Quill and Parchment  

“Mr. Nell, did you find anything while coming from the other side of the castle?” 

Hannah asked.  

“Findings…” The middle-aged gentleman frowned, thinking.  

“Before meeting you, Miss Carter, we were searching for a way out.”  

“But this castle is heavily sealed.”  

“We only found one room locked from the inside.”  

Dwight looked expectantly at the viscount’s daughter.  

“What about your side, Miss Carter?”  

Unfortunately, Hannah couldn’t give the answer he hoped for. 

“The path behind us leads to…”  

She paused, then said slowly, “a dungeon.”  

“A dead end?” 

Dwight Nell’s face darkened.  

He should be lounging in a vineyard armchair, sipping fine wine, not trapped like a poor mouse in this grim corner, rotting slowly, awaiting death!  

“It’s not time to despair yet.”  

Hannah comforted him. 

“Mr. Nell, you mentioned a locked room. That could hold the key to breaking this situation.”  

Dwight shook his head. 

“We tried many ways, but couldn’t open that door.”  

Dennis, who had been silent as a statue beside Hannah, suddenly spoke. 

“Such matters should be left to professionals.”  

Clearly, the “professional” he meant was himself.  

Dwight’s eyes lit up with faint hope.  

“You’re right. Let’s head back.”  

“Rosie.”  

A heavenly voice saved Miss Moulton from her awkward predicament.  

The noble lady who couldn’t remember names breathed a sigh of relief, looking at Hannah.

“Are you done talking with Mr. Nell?”  

Hannah nodded. 

“Yes, Mr. Nell will take us to the locked room he found.”  

“And you? What were you talking about?”  

Herman answered honestly, “We were discussing Mr. Sandbek.”  

Rosie: “…”  

You and your big mouth, always yapping.

***  

The locked room Dwight mentioned wasn’t far, but as the group approached within a few steps, they stopped in unison.  

The reason was simple: the door, which should have been locked tight, was now half-open.

Dim yellow light spilled through the gap, casting a pallid glow on the wall.  

Dennis Sandek glanced at Dwight, who was leading. 

“You’re certain this door was locked from the inside?”  

“Yes, I’m sure. Mr. Rhys, Mr. Holmes, and Miss Hardy were all there.”  

Jesse Holmes, not the strongest mentally, spoke with evident fear. 

“Was… was someone in the room, and they came out?”  

Emotions are contagious, especially strong ones.  

Bev Hardy grew uneasy, instinctively moving closer to Dwight Nell, practically clinging to him.  

From Dwight’s reaction, he seemed accustomed to such closeness.  

They might not have a simple employer-employee relationship.  

Having been through her own trials, Rosie’s courage was growing.

Even in this situation, she observed the others’ reactions.  

“As Mr. Nell said, the door was locked from the inside. We tried several times but couldn’t open it.” 

Herman confirmed.  

So, someone had opened it from within. 

Who was in there? 

The one who brought them to this castle, or another victim like them, waking from a coma and leaving?  

Either way, a pair of eyes might be watching them from the deep darkness.  

Dennis showed no fear. After instructing his employer to stay back, he approached the half-open door with the three-pronged candelabra.  

He drew his baton-like weapon, braced it against the door, and pushed it fully open with force.  

Rosie stayed hyper-alert throughout, ready to draw her dagger and retreat, then pull her gun if anything went wrong.  

Fortunately, even as the room’s light cast a long shadow behind Dennis, no anomalies occurred.  

Dennis stepped inside, his face stern. 

After a few seconds, he returned and nodded to the group.  

“No one else is here.”  

Hannah exhaled in relief. 

“Let’s go in and look around.”  

Jesse and Bev looked reluctant but followed the group inside.  

Contrary to expectations, the room was spacious but sparsely furnished.  

Aside from a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, there was only a long wooden table, a few chairs, and compared to the ornate decor outside, it felt somewhat plain.  

Rosie’s gaze settled on the table—a dining table with four sets of cutlery on each side. Oddly, the head seat was empty.  

Even stranger, a plate sat in the table’s center, covered with a silver lid that gleamed coldly under the chandelier.  

One, two, three… seven, eight.  

Rosie silently counted the chairs, matching the number of cutlery sets—and their group’s size.  

Coincidence?  

Herman, closest to the table, examined the eight sets of cutlery. 

He made a new discovery.  

Next to the pristine plates were not knives and forks but dark red quills, and on the plates were dark yellow parchments.  

He raised an eyebrow, picked up a quill, and inspected it, then pointed at the silver lid in the table’s center. 

“May I open it?”  

Dennis nodded. 

“Go ahead.”  

The action carried some risk, but apparently, Dennis only took personal action when Hannah’s safety was at stake.  

Herman shrugged, leaned forward, and lifted the lid. 

No food was beneath—just another dark yellow parchment.  

Unlike the others, this one was inscribed with dark red characters of varying sizes.  

The text was twisted, mixed with pictograph-like symbols, cryptic and hard to decipher.  

As Herman stared at the parchment, struggling with the strange symbols, a female voice spoke.

“This is an ancient script.”  

He turned. 

It was Hannah Carter.  

“Ancient script?”  

Hannah nodded. 

“When I was studying, I took an interest in linguistics, so I know a bit about ancient scripts.”  

“May I take a look?”  

“Of course.”  

Herman handed her the parchment.  

Hannah’s gaze fixed on it, reading the dark red ancient script. 

The first line translated to:  “One name, one salvation.”