So...

This was Selene’s first time setting foot in the Lovecraft family estate—a place that’s better described as a forbidden monument rather than an ordinary residence.

But hey, I’ve got to narrate this calmly.

(Because if I don’t, that one’s gonna complain.)

The morning sky outside the city of Aethelgarten was still blanketed in a thin mist, while the scent of dew and wet earth greeted Selene at the foot of a massive black gate adorned with carvings beyond comprehension—almost like etchings drawn from fractured logic. So mysterious, even the air around it seemed to hold its breath.

"Oh, so this is it..." she murmured softly, as if a loud voice might disturb something slumbering within the manor’s shadows.

She stood still for a moment, observing the neo-arkane styled building from top to bottom. Mossy pillars, stained-glass windows depicting bizarre symbols, and a bell tower that hadn’t chimed in centuries. This wasn’t just an old house. This was a house that... waited.

"Make no mistake. She didn’t come just to hang out," I said, not just as a narrator, but as a living witness (uh, living?) to these two girls’ journey.

Selene came with purpose: to discuss her unfinished thesis, dig up information on the Geflügel race—bird-descended beings said to be extinct—and of course... spend time with Helena.

Why? Because the two of them are weird. Very weird. As in... their bond is something even magic might struggle to explain. They used to hate each other. Even I, who was just learning how to construct complex sentences at the time, was sure they’d poison each other before the age of eleven. But life’s plot twists are a mess—trust me. They changed. Maybe not from mutual understanding, but from challenging one another.

There’s something you don’t know yet—but you’ll feel it later.

Selene and Helena’s relationship, which seems like two opposites united by ambition and academic curiosity, actually harbors something far greater. As if their destinies aren’t just fellow comrades... but two pawns on the same chessboard, moved by different hands.

Selene, at fourteen, was already too mature to call any of this "just playing around." She wanted answers. About magic, about the past, and maybe... about herself. And Helena—she might be the only one who unknowingly holds the key to that truth.

The Lovecraft Manor stood far from the crowds, like it was purposefully erased from both maps and memory. Located at the outer rim of Aethelgarten, the house seemed to grow out of the very soil, fusing with mystery and time itself.

The Lovecraft family, true to their name, were legends.

But not bedtime story legends—more like tales whispered in hushed tones, because saying their name too loudly might attract the wrong kind of attention.

And yes, you heard that right.

This family still bears the legacy of one name: Harry Lovecraft.

An eccentric sorcerer from the 20th century (if we’re going by the Olam calendar), known not just as part of the Eldritch Order—the precursor to the International Magic Association—but also as a shadowy literary figure. Many magical texts and story books were published under pen names like Nephren, Chthulhu, or Azatoth. Names that make modern academics scratch their heads and give casual readers nightmares.

But in the magical world, he wasn’t remembered for his writings, but for his ability called Pictography—a magic that could manifest imaginary beings through narrative power and symbolic language. A marvel that went beyond basic transmutation or evocation.

In fact, he was the first to define a phenomenon called magic subversion: a unique ability certain mages possess, separate from common magical paths. Each subversion could be named, tamed, or... discarded. Yes, discarded. But that fact was deliberately hidden. If the public ever found out subversions could be replaced... well, the underground magic market would explode overnight.

{You’re terrible at narrating, Kairi.}

{Be patient, girl. This part’s important! Don’t you know who Lovecraft is? This is worldbuilding lore, come on!}

{What you just said wasn’t lore. That was an 8 AM lecture that made me yawning.}

{Shut it. This is my screen time—I mean, narration. So I need to take it seriously. You’re the one distracting the readers.}

Anyway... that’s enough history for now.

(Don’t worry, I’ll pick it up again later. If I remember.)

* * *

{Now, my turn.}

{Sure, Selene the ever elegant witch.}

{I’d take that as a compliment.}

When I first stepped through that gate, I didn’t expect the so-called "Lovecraft family home" to look like this.

No. This wasn’t a house.

This was a palace.

And my house is no small thing either.

If you’ve ever heard Kairi’s story about waking up in this world and finding herself in a bedroom big enough to play hide-and-seek in—yeah, my house is like that too.

But the Lovecraft Manor takes it to an entirely different level.

The ceilings were high, rippling like frozen air, with crystal chandeliers that didn’t reflect light—but slowly devoured it. The scent of aged wood and faint incense filled the air, both calming and spine-chilling at once.

I let out a slow breath. I came here to talk to Helena about something important.

But I wasn’t prepared for... this.

"Seleneee~!"

That cheerful voice echoed through the hall, and before I could even find its source, Helena was already descending the grand staircase, her steps light and was followed by her smile like the ever-so graceful morning sun.

And in her arms... there was a cat.

Its white fur as pristine as snow, its big sapphire eyes peering into your soul and... oh dear. That was adorable.

I wanted to look away, really.

But why... why did she bring something that cute right toward me?!

My body... why won’t it move? Why are my knees weak? Why are my hands trembling...?

{Good grief... don’t be so dramatic. Oh gods, just admit it. You like cats.}

...Oh great, she’s back. Calling a kettle black.

{Admit it. Cats. Cute. Cuddly. You. Weak. Simple.}

"Silence. At least I’m not in denial like you are," I muttered internally—though I made sure the volume was high enough for her to hear, no matter what dimension she was lurking in. Then I reached out to pet the ’cat’, only to be met with rejection.

"Don’t act all innocent. Aren’t you the one who loves being petted like this?"

{E-eh?? Huh?? What’s that supposed to—}

"Oh right... I just remembered," I said with a sly grin.

"You’re just like a cat. Only in a different form. And the difference is, you’re mine." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

{...}

{...}

{You’re mean. Meow.}

I’m not even gonna deny it.

Anyway...

Helena giggled. "He just had a bath," she said, stroking the puffball’s head.

"His name is Chthulhu. He’s our family’s symbol."

I froze.

"...Sorry, what?"

"Chthulhu," Helena repeated casually. "He’s our family symbol. A tradition passed down for generations. If Lovecraft represents mystery and fear, then Chthulhu is its sweeter face."