Dressed in a gray robe, Benjamin swept into the attic with an air of urgency. His sharp eyes scanned the chaos, narrowing as they landed on the shattered window. His brow knit tightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.

  Isidora, hidden within her still portrait, forced herself not to act carelessly. The hammer had already been concealed, leaving no trace but the wreckage itself.

  She made a conscious effort not to stare directly at him, instead keeping his figure in the periphery of her vision.

  From the clues she had gathered, Isidora suspected that the old man could sense her gaze to a certain extent. It wasn’t conclusive, but she wasn’t about to risk it. So avoiding direct eye contact seemed necessary.

  The wild spiral of the gale gusted into the room, creating an unsettling cacophony. Spiraling gusts shrieked through the broken window, dragging the curtains into frantic dances. As Benjamin's robe fluttered in the wind, rain lashed across the floorboards and soaked his attire, but he paid it no mind.

  Instead, he approached the portrait where Isidora resided with steady steps.

  Isidora’s imagined heart skipped a beat. However, contrary to her expectation, he didn't mean any harm.

  Instead, with a fluid motion, Benjamin took hold of a white cloth and draped it over the portrait. It was a simple gesture that shielded her from the invading rain and any potential harm.

  ‘Holy hell, this guy still cares about me in the middle of all this?’

  For an instant, a mix of surprise and skepticism colored her internal voice. If he wasn’t this much of a nutcase, she might not mind calling him Grandfather, really. Isidora scoffed.

  ‘Isa, we’ve successfully landed on the ground outside.’

  Through its trembling little body, she felt the sodden ground underfoot. The creature staggered once, then darted through the storm to find shelter.

  The visibility was poor, the rain and darkness making it difficult to see. Luckily, the occasional flash of lightning illuminated the surroundings just enough to guide it to a safe spot nearby.

  Meanwhile, in the attic, the old man moved cautiously to the window. His robe dragged damply across the boards as he crouched, picking up a piece of glass, his eyes filled with contemplation.

  The storm worked in her favor, scattering the glass pieces back into the attic. This made it appear as though the impact had come from outside, not from inside, potentially diverting his suspicion away from her. It was a small but crucial detail that could keep her from being the prime suspect.

  As for what the old man might deduce from the scene, she couldn’t care less about it.

  ‘Izzy, I’m done. You should get ready.’

  Isa had successfully hidden the hammer, placing it down without making a sound. The mouse outside had also found a shelter, allowing Isidora to release some of the mental strain of controlling it.

  Now, with one pawn safely beyond the attic, she could finally turn to the next step of her plan.

  As a cautious person, Isidora never relied on a single plan. She always devised multiple strategies to maximize her chances of success and reap as many benefits as possible.

  If the window-breaking plan failed, she had a backup trick ready to go.

  Finding nothing out of the ordinary but the natural occurrence of a stormy night, Benjamin straightened slowly, slipped a hand into his robe, and withdrew a small bottle. Without hesitation, he began to spread its contents around the attic.

  Isidora, now possessing the draped white cloth, watched curiously. To her, the bottle appeared empty, as if the old man was spreading perfume from thin air. She decided not to dwell on it and instead focused her attention on another mouse outside the room.

  Her Possession ability allowed her to control up to three targets simultaneously. She had tested it and realized her limit was only three.

  However, it required immense concentration and energy, which was why she couldn’t execute her plans simultaneously but had to do so consecutively. She refrained from doing it too often to conserve her energy.

  Still, given enough time, Isidora believed she could operate her two puppets in sync without losing focus on one to control another, thanks to her two independent minds. But time was a luxury she didn’t have right now.

  She hadn’t thought much about it, but it seemed that with the manifestation of her two minds, she could improve her thought speed and calculation significantly.

  Outside the room, the second mouse stirred awake, its eyes blinking groggily before she seized control of its body. Its paws scraped lightly across the wood and darted toward the staircase.

  This was a risky plan, but with the old man’s attention elsewhere, why not seize the opportunity to verify her theory?

  She guided the mouse to nudge a small ball, sending it tumbling down the stairs.

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  ‘Interesting’

  Contrary to her expectations, the lights on the lamps didn’t quiver as the ball tumbled down each step.

  Next, she controlled the mouse to leap straight off without taking the staircase, bypassing the steps entirely.

  Instantly, the lights flickered simultaneously, but her little mouse successfully landed on the lower floor.

  Watching this unfold, Isidora’s mind raced with realization.

  The lamps didn’t react to inanimate objects, only to living beings!

  However, relief was short-lived as another crisis emerged. Before Isidora could form a coherent thought, she felt the warm air again. This time, it was much warmer and carried a strong sense of danger, setting her instincts on high alert.

  Isidora recoiled instinctively, retreating like a frightened rabbit. She released her possession over the white cloth and retreated her mind to a corner, drawing her awareness inward, ensuring the warm air couldn't touch her consciousness.

  In her opinion, this warm air bore a distinctive similarity to the energy she consumed to wake up and use her abilities. Avoiding it was straightforward, she simply refrained from reaching out to absorb it, allowing it to sweep past her consciousness without stirring its natural breeze.

  She also released her attention from the mouse on the lower floor, fully focusing on evading the warm air that spread around her like wildfire.

  Blindness overtook her. With the white cloth still draped over the portrait and no possession to anchor her elsewhere, her world was muffled into shadow, unable to monitor the old man any further.

  She realized sharply how vulnerable this made her. This realization highlighted another of her weaknesses.

  ‘If the portrait is covered from all sides… I can’t see anything unless I possess something else.’

  No, it wasn’t entirely that limited. At the very least, she could perceive vague outlines and the shape and motion of objects and figures around her, likely due to the thinness of the cloth. But that was the extent of her perception.

  She couldn’t discern the old man’s emotions or precise movements. She could only guess his actions based on sound cues.

  ‘Is this related to the mass of an object?’

  She wondered. This matter could be studied later.

  In any case, for now, with nothing to do but hide from the warm air, she reconnected her mind to the mouse downstairs, controlling it to find a hiding place. She needed to ensure the mouse was safe and hidden, ready to explore further when the opportunity arose.

  Outside, the storm still raged without restraint. Thunder boomed in rolling waves, and lightning carved the night into jagged fractures of white fire.

  For a moment, Benjamin stood still, his gaze sweeping the room. Strangely, even as he stood by the open window, no rainwater could touch him, as if it evaporated the moment it reached his robe, leaving him untouched.

  As the warm air slowly dissipated, Isidora cautiously re-possessed the white cloth. Her mind stirred with anxiety as she observed the old lunatic in the corner of her eyes.

  In her gaze, he stood silently in front of the window, his gaze fixed on a piece of broken glass. Relief might have washed over her if it were just any shard, but she recognized it immediately.

  ‘That’s the jagged edge where the mouse’s blood was spilled!’

  Her mind spiraled as a brainstorm of possibilities tore through her. Could that be, had he noticed it? It was just a small bit of mouse blood, barely visible, how could he notice? It made no sense!

  Benjamin's fingers traced the jagged edge slowly, then brought his index finger to his eyes.

  Lightning split the heavens again. The flash lit his silhouette and cast a long shadow beneath him, his shadow stretching across the attic floor like a dark specter.

  His eyes suddenly glowed with a crimson light, reflecting off the glass at a low angle, painting his face into a mask of otherworldly malice.

  He turned, looking outward into the storm.

  Then his head swiveled back, his crimson gaze aligning with the portrait, creating a faint trail of blood directed at her.

  Isidora’s heart jolted, startled by the implication.

  ‘Stop spooking me, you old bastard!’

  A palpable sense of dread welling up inside her. Isidora swallowed hard, or at least imagined doing so.

  The wind howled louder, filling the room with its ceaseless wail. Yet despite the storm’s chill, the attic felt feverishly hot, as if the temperature was rising with each passing moment.

  Time seemed to stretch to infinity, each second dragging on interminably.

  It wasn’t until the old man closed his eyes, the crimson glow disappearing as if it had never existed, that the tension eased slightly.

  His expression softened, returning to that of a gentle, tender old man. He stroked his gray beard, his robe fluttering in the howling wind.

  “Oh dear, how could this happen?”

  The words almost made her have a stroke, if she had a body to suffer one.

  The old man acted as if the unsettling events moments ago were nothing more than an illusion. The atmosphere in the attic gradually returned to the chilling cold of the stormy night.

  His lips curved into a gentle smile, but to Isidora, it only deepened her unease.

  Benjamin glanced around the room, his eyes settling on the hammer half-hidden near the corner. With practiced ease, he retrieved it, along with a small stack of wooden planks that had been tucked away behind a draped fabric for whatever reason, and began nailing wooden planks over the window.

  “Haha, isn’t it splendid? I put them here in case this happens, and it actually is.”

  ‘So that explains the presence of the hammer and nails here. It made sense now.’

  The sharp and steady sound of nails driving into wood followed, sealing the broken window shut.

  With a final touch, he pulled a sheet of oilcloth over the gaps, securing it neatly to keep out the draft. The storm still howled beyond the room, but inside, the space slowly reclaimed its silence.

  With all the tenderness of a doting elder, he turned back to the veiled portrait.

  “I hope you have sweet dreams, my dear daughter, Isidora.”

  He said softly, not forgetting his customary goodnight phrase before exiting the room swiftly.

  ‘...’

  ‘This guy… comes in like a storm, but exits swiftly like a breeze?’

  Isidora exclaimed exhaustedly, at a loss for words.