A Survival Guide for a Counselor in the Apocalypse – Chapter 114

Author: Cireng

Chapter 114

The “narration,” which had briefly paused at my confused reaction, began to flow again. As if trying to suppress my confusion, it grew even stronger.

“I will visit you again later, Master. By then, I hope you will have changed your mind.”

As Ernst moved to carry the boy outside, the boy’s father’s voice followed behind him.

“And I hope that by then, you will have come to understand my intentions.”

A towering, massive shadow… fell into the boy’s sight.

To the boy, Ernst was the largest of all. His father was also large, but Ernst was the largest. In truth, from the boy’s perspective, everything in this mansion was enormous.

If one were to name the smallest thing in this mansion, it would be the dwarf flowers, and next would be the boy himself.

Even the nanny, who was considered short, looked big to him.

The boy stared at that great shadow for a moment, then instinctively wrapped his arms around Ernst’s neck.

For some reason, it felt like Ernst might get angry.

At the boy’s small movement, Ernst let out an awkward smile. Then, as if urging himself forward, he resumed walking outside.

“Ernst.”

“Yes.”

Ernst softly called the child’s name. The name itself was muffled, impossible to hear clearly.

“Are you angry? Father must have said something harsh to you again, right?”

To the boy, the relationship between master and disciple was strange. It was obvious that the two cared for each other, yet his father always tried to teach Ernst.

But from the boy’s perspective, there were many times when what Ernst said seemed more correct.

‘Ernst is a hero. He’s already a hero. Of course, Father is amazing too… but Ernst is different…’

“No.”

The two fell silent for a moment. Only the sound of footsteps echoed through the vast corridor.

Then, as if something came to mind, Ernst set the boy down.

He placed something into the boy’s hand.

It looked like a small whistle, about the size of a finger.

The boy tilted his head and looked at Ernst, who then spoke lightly:

“I remember you said you wanted to become a hero.”

His voice was gentle.

The boy nodded eagerly. He had definitely said that before. To him, Ernst was both an admiration and a dream.

He wanted to become like him.

Ernst smiled warmly and said:

“This is a whistle that will make you a hero. If a dangerous moment comes, put it to your lips and blow hard.”

The boy instinctively raised it to his mouth, but Ernst gently stopped him, covering his lips.

“But this can only be used once. So you must only blow it in a truly dangerous moment. Once you use it, you will become a hero.”

“Really?”

The boy’s eyes sparkled.

Ernst looked at him with a slightly awkward smile, then hung the whistle around the boy’s neck and tucked it inside his clothes.

“Yes. So don’t tell anyone. Keep it with you, and when a truly dangerous moment comes… when you need help, it will make you a hero.”

As expected of Ernst!

Ernst knew everything.

How to make rings out of clover, how to find edible wild berries, how to hunt, how to resolve strange phenomena.

Yes… Ernst knew everything.

He even understood the boy’s dream and gave him the means to achieve it.

That’s why Ernst was always right.

The boy held the whistle close to his chest.

And he kept it a secret from everyone.

He possessed something that could make him a hero.

That he would soon become a hero!

‘Then Mother, who is sick, will get better too.’

Pure joy flushed across his face.

“Well done, my baby. My son.”

His mother’s gentle voice echoed in his ears.

His chest swelled with pride.

***

The situation had simply become urgent.

The boy just didn’t understand it yet.

He only realized it when no one came to comfort him as he locked himself in his room, crying after losing his mother.

That the “dangerous moment” had already begun.

He couldn’t remember when things became like this.

When, exactly… well.

At some point, night began to persist in this mansion.

And the boy remembered that as “a day.”

Though the mansion felt empty, it remained spotless.

The statues standing throughout would only lower their heads unpleasantly whenever he moved.

It took him a long time to realize what they were.

Because it took him that long to notice that the statue in front of his door wore the same ring as his nanny.

But it’s too small.

The nanny wasn’t this small.

Of course, I wouldn’t know!

It looks just like me!

Around the time he began to feel that something was wrong, that irritating something in the air… which Ernst and his father had told him not to read, spoke to him.

—

[Only you and I are here.]

—

That “something” spoke about everything he did, even if the boy didn’t respond.

When did it start?

When was it?

—

[No… does it matter when it started? Perhaps it existed from the very beginning. The boy thought that was certainly strange.]

[Matching the boy’s simple thinking, it was narrated in a similar manner… simple, urgent, and somewhat unrefined.]

[Yes, it was certainly not aesthetic. However, even unrefined, raw things could be aesthetic. Narration from a child’s perspective required more practice.]

[Of course, nothing is perfect from the beginning. Perfection is born through countless failures, so it decided not to rush.]

[Rather than responding, the boy took out the whistle he had kept hidden in his arms.]

[Wheee]

[Ah, no. The whistle made no sound. The boy only perceived that it did.]

—

“Stop it!”

—

[At last, the boy responded.]

[But it was already too late.]

[In the backyard, the boy’s father was buried, and the boy’s hero was summoned by the whistle and became bound to this mansion as well.]

[Because, without realizing it, the boy had called the “hero” dozens of times.]

[Without even knowing what it was, he kept blowing it over and over… thus, he had already become a cog in this space.]

[A child’s memory is always biased, so it seemed he did not remember that in the final moment, the “hero” tried to comfort him before leaving.]

[Perhaps it is simply difficult to recognize something as the end.]

[In any case, the mansion’s endless darkness began. The mansion had already chosen its master.]

—

“Shut up! Be quiet!”

—

[The narration continued regardless. The mansion was very wise… having devoured its previous master, it had become very intelligent.]

[It buried the already-dead master and seated a new master in their place. □□□□□. Yes. It was you.]

—

“Ernst!”

—

[The boy ran.]

[Following a faint flickering light, he sprinted through the corridor… hoping it was the right choice to go find his hero.]

[The mansion, expanding itself to match the master’s perception, became vast. With the boy’s small legs, even descending three floors was not easy.]

[The ceilings were high, and everything was enormous. That was how the world appeared from the boy’s perspective.]

—

“Father!”

—

[Because the boy was too small.]

[He raised his voice, calling for those who would save him.]

—

“Mother!!”

—

[He called for those already dead.]

[In the silent corridor with high ceilings, nothing could be heard. It was simply quiet.]

[Escapism.]

—

“Vanessa!”

—

[Despite running without rest, the boy never escaped the third floor. Sadly, his cries did not reach his hero, Ernst, who should have been on the first floor.]

[But conversely, because the boy was now the master of the mansion, he began to hear everything.]

[Everything filled his ears.]

—

“Ern–Ernst! Ernst!!”

—

[Crack]

[Ahh……]

[Sob……]

[Master? □□□□□?]

[…shff—]

[Sounds of uncertain origin filled his mind.]

[Because the “mansion,” in its desire to help its master who shut himself away and only cried, faithfully recorded everything it saw and heard.]