This is a story about a deranged world.

Ghost House (#28)

(0/23)

Yuki awoke on an unfamiliar bed.

(1/23)

The mattress seemed large enough to fit at least five people. It was a luxurious canopy bed equipped with curtains on all sides, the kind on which a sheltered princess would rest her weary body and the kind that no commoner would ever encounter during their lifetime.

And Yuki found the bed unfamiliar. As such, it was safe to say that she did not belong to the upper echelons of society.

She sat up, fully roused from her slumber. No blanket was covering her; rather, she had been sleeping on top of one. Her body was positioned diagonally across the bed, her head far removed from a pillow. Under these circumstances, “sleeping” was perhaps not an apt description of the situation. It would be more accurate to say she had been merely “lying down”—or to put it more harshly, that she had been “tossed” onto the bed.

Unsurprisingly, the clothes adorning Yuki’s body were not pajamas. To put it in the simplest of terms, she was wearing a maid outfit.

“…Urgh…” A groan escaped Yuki’s lips as she glanced down at her attire.

A maid outfit. The kind with a characteristically charming contrast of black and white. The kind that had long passed its heyday of popularity yet still enjoyed its share of devoted enthusiasts nationwide. Should that description be deemed insufficient, the following details should satisfy the demands of the people: It was a costume that featured a frilly apron over a dress. Maid outfits typically came with one of two styles of skirts, either extremely long or extremely short, and Yuki’s was the former. This was dubbed the “classical” style.

Yuki got off the mattress, looking quite classical as she did so.

She was in a luxurious room, one that mirrored the character of the bed.

Much to her chagrin, Yuki found herself unable to express the luxuriousness of the room in sophisticated terms on account of her poor upbringing. But if she were to push the limits of her vocabulary, she would describe the room as having an air of elegance. The lofty ceiling stretched so high up that it was difficult to imagine how anyone would even begin to clean it. As if inversely proportional to its ridiculously spacious dimensions, the room hardly contained any pieces of furniture. However, the few pieces that were there gave off a mighty aura, like that of a queen in chess. That last comparison had sprung to mind due to the black-and-white checkered floor, which reminded Yuki of a chessboard.

But the floor was not the only thing in her vicinity devoid of color. The interior of the room featured an entirely monochrome design, from the lofty ceiling and the four walls to the bed and other furnishings, extending even to the classical maid outfit Yuki had on. The sole visible exception was the color of Yuki’s skin, but even she was rather pale in complexion.

That was the sort of room she had found herself in, and not one inch of it was familiar.

She had been “sleeping” on the bed, so she must have rested her body on it at some point in the past. Yet she had no recollection of doing so. Not only could she not remember lying down on the mattress, but she also had no memory of entering the room or of changing into a maid outfit. She had woken up in an unfamiliar place, wearing unfamiliar clothes, on an unfamiliar bed.

What would people normally call this kind of situation?

The bedroom had no windows, suggesting that it was either located underground or simply not adjoined to any external walls. But it did have a door. Yuki began walking toward it, and a short while later—for “a short while” was how long it took to reach the far edge of the room—she stood before it. After a quick inspection, she grabbed ahold of the doorknob.

It turned without any resistance.

The door swung open into the hallway. Yuki slowly peeked out and examined the surrounding area. Like the bedroom, the hallway was luxurious and entirely monochrome, and it extended as far as the eye could see.

Yuki warily exited the chamber, leaving the door open behind her. She proceeded down the hallway, taking care to avoid making any noise. As if compensating for the lack of windows, the walls were lined with doors, each equidistant from one another. Several of them were wide open, similar to the way Yuki had left hers, and she had a fairly good idea of what that meant.

Without there being any windows, the only way to glean information about her current circumstances would be to try one of the many doors, and Yuki had already resolved to open the largest one she came across. That was almost always the correct course of action, and in this case, the largest door loomed at the end of the hallway. Yuki advanced toward it with the vigilance of a soldier traversing a minefield.

When she reached it, she turned the doorknob and stepped through.

The next moment, she found herself in a dining room—one with five maids inside.

(2/23)

Keeping with the theme of the hallway and bedroom, the dining room was completely black and white.

In the center of the room was a table, but it was by no means a modest piece of furniture. It was so large that it was impossible for a single person to carry, and it was surrounded by six chairs, three on each of the two long sides. The table was covered by a white tablecloth, on top of which rested a large plate of what appeared to be sweets. Considering all these elements, the space was clearly a dining room.

Five of the six chairs were occupied—by five maids.

They were all girls. While this may have been a premature conclusion, that was how they appeared to Yuki. She took a closer look at them and speculated that the eldest was around college age, while the youngest was a middle school student. The five were all somewhere on the spectrum of adolescence, the time of life during which they could be referred to as “girls.”

Incidentally, according to a select group of enthusiasts, a maid is defined not by clothing but by personality. The beauty of a servant or attendant lay in their ability to remain calm, collected, and dignified in any situation, neatly resolving every problem with a cool head. By that definition, none of these five girls would be deemed suitable for the role. Not a single one of them exuded an air of sophistication. One was fidgeting, another was anxiously darting her eyes left and right, a third was leaning against the back of her chair and causing it to creak, and a fourth was hanging her head in tears. The fifth was rubbing the weeping girl’s back in an attempt to calm her nerves, but not even her expression could be described as one of composure.

None of them were real maids. They were merely a group of girls dressed as maids.

Naturally, their gazes shifted to the newly arrived sixth maid. With all eyes on her, Yuki walked over to the table, pulled out the empty chair, and sat down in a seat that seemed far too elegant for someone of her nature.

“Hello,” she said. “My name is Yuki. Nice to meet you.”

She was met with silence.

After a lengthy pause, someone finally responded. “…Nice to meet you.”

“I take it I’m the last to arrive?”

“Seems that way.”

Yuki trained her eyes on the girl who replied. “Were you all here from the very beginning?”

“No, we woke up in different bedrooms and made our way here separately…”

“Were you waiting long?”

“Not really. Maybe ten, twenty minutes or so.”

“Sorry about that. I tend to have trouble waking up, so I’m always late.”

“…You seem calm. Unusually so.” The girl narrowed her eyes. “Despite waking up in a place like this.”

“Oh, um… The thing is…” Yuki took a second to choose her words. “I’m not new to this. Though it seems to me like the rest of you are.”