The client is a weirdo?

We stopped before a dilapidated, eerie mansion.

Its weathered walls were overgrown with ivy, and parts of the structure were crumbling, exposing gaping holes patched with crude wooden boards, barely signaling someone lived here.

Knock, knock.

Olivia rapped on the worn-out door.

“Margaret, we’ve completed your commission.”

“…”

No response.

Knock, knock!

“Margaret? Margaret!”

“…”

Still no answer.

Knock, knock!

“Margaret! Are you there? Margaret!”

Olivia’s knocks grew faster, her hand hitting harder.

Then…

CRASH!

With a loud bang, the entire door collapsed.

“…”

The young lady and I stared, dumbfounded, while Olivia remained composed… though her trembling hand betrayed her.

“Haah… Who’s that? So noisy…”

A yawning girl appeared, seemingly the master of the house.

Petite, with long, disheveled black hair nearly reaching her feet, she wore a heavy black gothic lolita dress despite the summer heat. Dark circles hung beneath her black eyes, her pale face stark against her dark attire.

Seeing the wreckage at her doorstep…

She half-opened her eyes, her voice dripping with exasperation:

“…Olivia, do you have a fetish for breaking my door every time you visit?”

This wasn’t the first time?

The young lady and I couldn’t help but shoot Olivia helpless looks.

Stung by our gazes, Olivia flushed slightly, flustered:

“How’s this my fault?! She never answers! You both saw, didn’t you? She kept ignoring me!”

True, the homeowner’s delay in answering wasn’t entirely blameless.

“So why didn’t you respond this time?”

Olivia crossed her arms, questioning the homeowner.

She, however, remained nonchalant, digging in her ear with her pinky and flicking away the debris.

“You know I sleep at this hour. Why would I answer?”

“It’s already afternoon!”

“I’m nocturnal. Is it weird to sleep now?”

“You’re human!”

…Their banter was like a comedy routine, oddly entertaining.

“So, why are you here?”

“To complete your commission!”

“Commission? Was there such a thing?”

“You forgot your own commission!? The Red Dragon materials!”

Olivia looked ready to faint from frustration.

“Oh, right, that. Sorry, I’ve been up too many nights. My memory’s fuzzy.”

The homeowner scratched her head, looking innocent.

“…”

Olivia, speechless with anger, could only stew.

Then, the homeowner’s gaze shifted to us behind Olivia.

“Oh, there are others here.”

…Haven’t we been standing here the whole time? She only noticed now?

I thought she was just a bit eccentric, but this is beyond that…

“I’m Caterina Anist, eldest daughter of the ducal house. This is my maid, Ailena.”

The young lady stepped forward to introduce herself.

I followed suit, curtsying in proper maid fashion.

“Good day, I’m Ailena.”

“Oh, I see… I’m Margaret Noy, that’s it.”

…A noble with a surname?

Yet she lacked any trace of noble refinement or grace… Even the carefree Olivia carried some aristocratic air in her gestures.

And I’ve never heard of a noble living in such a remote, rundown mansion…

“Hm… I’ve said too much. Come in and sit.”

Following Margaret’s lead, we entered the mansion.

…Unlike the desolate exterior, the interior was surprisingly tidy, though the aged structure still showed its wear.

This only deepened my doubts.

Margaret gives off such a lazy, unkempt vibe—does she really bother cleaning this huge mansion?

My questions were answered upon entering the living room.

A gray-haired maid was dusting a corner with a feather duster.

I tried to see her face, but half of it was wrapped in bandages.

More surprising was her striking resemblance to Margaret… No, it was like they were carved from the same mold, differing only in hair color.

…Wait, if Margaret has a maid, why did she answer the door herself?

But Olivia didn’t seem surprised.

Noticing our confusion, Margaret explained:

“Sorry for the spectacle. This is my older sister, Elizabeth Noy. She’s deaf and mute… and half her face was ruined by a potion, hence the bandages.”

Though her tone was flat, I sensed an indescribable anger and resentment in her trembling eyes.

…So she has a disability? No wonder she didn’t answer the door.

I felt a pang of sympathy…

As I reflected, Margaret approached her sister, gently tracing patterns on her hand with her fingers.

Maybe it was my imagination, but Margaret’s gaze held three parts sorrow, six parts tenderness, and one part emotion I couldn’t decipher.

Elizabeth nodded and left the living room.

“She’s gone to make tea. Please wait.”

Sitting across from us, Margaret reverted to her usual listless demeanor.

“Speaking of which, where are the commissioned items?”

“Here.”

Olivia hoisted a large bag onto the table.

Margaret quickly opened it, inspecting the contents.

“Oh… Fresh Red Dragon horns and flame sacs… I can do more experiments now.”

She seemed noticeably more energetic handling the materials.

“And even a rare dragon crystal! Hehe… hehehe…”

…Okay, less energetic, more terrifying.

“Pardon my asking, but what are you using these for?”

They’re high-grade materials, so I’m curious about their purpose.

“Hm? You really want to know?”

Her dead-fish eyes stared at me, doubling my unease.

Then, she let out a creepy chuckle:

“Hehehe… Don’t be scared, but these materials…”

—They’re all offerings for my ‘curses.’