Hotel Between Worlds

The girl in the painting, who called herself "Irene," was locked in a wide-eyed standoff with Darian, who stood outside the frame. So far, there was not the slightest hint of trust between them.

Darian had no way of confirming whether anything this "person in the painting," who resembled some kind of cursed object, said was true, especially the things she mentioned about "Alice's Cottage" and being sealed inside the painting. He had never heard of any of that before. That's exactly why, when Irene said she didn't know why she appeared in this house, he didn't dare believe a single word.

On the other hand, Irene was convinced that this human named Darian was still thinking about using that lighter to burn her. Her eyes never left the lighter, watching its every move...

"I really think you bought the painting yourself and hung it in your house, then just forgot about it..." Irene repeated. "Isn't that what happens all the time? You humans see something strange and want to collect it, then buy it and let it sit around collecting dust..."

The more she said, the more uncertain Darian felt. Truth was, he really couldn't be sure about where anything in this house had come from. after all, he had only arrived here two months ago. Not only was he unfamiliar with this world, he was unfamiliar with himself. Who knew what the state of the house and its owner had been like two months ago?

Could it have been a different "Darian" back then?

But that thought only flashed through his mind for a moment. Staring into the crimson eyes of the girl in the painting, Darian instinctively shook his head and replied, "That's impossible. Just looking at that painting, it's clearly expensive there's no way I could afford something like that."

"Well, what if it was cheap?" Irene hugged her teddy bear and scooted forward. "These days, there are tons of fake vases, fake fans, and fake paintings. What if I was part of a bulk sale some previous owner bought from a fake antique dealer for a couple bucks a pound? Or maybe a middleman didn't know what he was selling…"

Darian gave her a strange look. "That frame is solid hardwood, and it's inlaid with gold along the edges..."

Irene thought for a moment. "Rosewood veneer with resin inside! And the wire's just copper-plated."

Darian said nothing for a second. "...That already costs more than a couple bucks a pound."

"Four-fifty a pound then. Any more than that, and no one would buy it."

Darian: "..."

Irene stared at him with those crimson eyes. "Hey, why aren't you saying anything?"

Darian squatted in front of Irene's frame, and suddenly found the whole situation funny. Then he actually started laughing. He plopped down on the floor, looked up at the ceiling as he laughed, his upper body leaning back from how hard he was laughing—he had never imagined he'd one day be in a situation like this. Squatting in an empty room, arguing nonsense with a girl sealed inside an oil painting about whether the painting was a knock-off sold by weight...

And not long ago, a frog conjured by freezing rain had almost ripped his heart out.

All of this was just too damn ridiculous.

But Irene was clearly unsettled by Darian's sudden laughter. She and her painting had been taken off the wall and placed on the floor by him. From where she was, she could see the bare ceiling and hear the laughter echoing nearby. Finally, she couldn't help but shout, "Hey! Stop laughing! What's so funny?!"

Darian slowly calmed down. He scooted forward, looked at Irene inside the painting, and suddenly grew serious. "That weird dream I had before, was that your doing?"

He was referring to the dream where he hacked at a locked door with an axe, and heard eerie laughter from behind it. Thinking about it now, that dream definitely had something to do with the bizarre girl in the painting.

Oh right, he had thrown his back out in the dream too. It still hurt.

"No!" Irene quickly shook her head, then paused, her expression hesitant. "Well... not completely no..."

"What does that mean?" Darian frowned. "You're beating around the bush."

"The dream was yours. But I did sneak into it," Irene explained patiently. "I sensed someone dreaming and thought I could reach out for help that way. I wasn't trying to do anything bad! I didn't know you couldn't open that door. And then you got all angry and tried to chop it down with an axe just because you forgot the key..."

Listening to her rambling, Darian gradually pieced things together. "So, you didn't lock the door? You didn't trigger the dream? You just have the ability to enter other people's dreams?"

"Exactly! Actually, I can do lots more than that!" Irene nodded enthusiastically, a proud look on her face but it quickly faded. "But now that I'm sealed in this painting, I'm down to almost nothing... just that ability."

Darian remained skeptical of her explanation, while also finding himself full of questions about what he'd experienced in that strange dream. He asked his second question, "You said you were trying to get someone to help you? Help with what?"

"Well, get me out of here, of course!" Irene said matter-of-factly. "Ideally, out of the painting. But if that's too hard, at least get me out of this room. It's completely empty if there were at least a TV on the wall, that'd be something. Voice-controlled would be even better. I'm not great with remotes. There's a brand I like..."

Darian realized then that the girl in the painting was the typical free-associative type. If you let her talk without interruption, her thoughts would quickly spiral off into completely unexpected territory and usually in the direction of gleeful nonsense.

So he didn't hesitate to cut her off. "If you were trying to get help, then what was with the creepy laughter? When I was trying to 'open the door' out there, what was that mocking laughter about?"

"That wasn't me!" Irene quickly waved her hands, then lifted the brown teddy bear in front of her. "It was him laughing!"

Darian didn't respond. He just stared at her expressionlessly, eyes full of "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"It's true!" Irene seemed to get anxious. She shook the plush bear in her hands. "He was sealed into the painting with me, but I think it's been too long, his brain doesn't work too well anymore. All he does is giggle. Poke him and he laughs like a weirdo. Sometimes he laughs even when you don't poke him. He's scared me more than a few times..."

Darian kept a straight face as he listened to Elara's eager explanation. When he noticed the serious expression on the girl in the painting, he began to feel somewhat skeptical. His gaze finally landed on the plush bear. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. "Then make it laugh. I'll listen and see if it does."

Elara immediately reached out and poked the bear on its head.

The plush bear didn't react at all.

Elara paused, then poked its head again, harder—still no response. She herself looked like she was about to cry.

"S-Sometimes it's like this…" the girl in the painting said with a tearful expression. "Even when I poke it, it doesn't laugh…"

The corner of Darian's mouth twitched.

"So, sometimes it laughs without you poking it, and sometimes it doesn't laugh even when you do. In short, whether you poke it or not, it may or may not laugh," he said, his words like a tongue-twister, before concluding, "So, does whether the bear laughs have anything to do with you poking it?"

Elara froze for a moment, then slowly nodded. "R-Right… yeah."

Darian started to lose all interest in continuing a conversation with this clearly not-so-sane "cursed painting."

And by now, he had also stopped caring about that mocking laughter he had heard in his dream.

His stomach let out a loud growl. The dinner he had missed by falling asleep right after getting home was now making its presence known. Darian chuckled, shook his head, and slowly stood up.

"Hey, are you leaving?" Elara's voice grew slightly panicked when she saw him move. "You're not planning to just leave me lying on the floor, are you? At least hang me back on the wall. There's wallpaper to look at on that side. The ceiling has nothing at all…"

Darian reached out and picked up Elara's frame from the floor gritting his teeth from the pain in his back as he did.

"I'm taking you to the living room, so shut up already," he said offhandedly.

Elara immediately perked up, hugging her plush bear and settling back into her chair inside the painting. She watched as Darian dragged her frame out. "That's good. You're actually kind of nice. Oh, right, is it dinner time now? What's for dinner tonight?"

Darian looked down. "Can you even eat?"

"I can watch!"

Darian felt like he must be out of his mind to still be entertaining her.

Supporting his back, he struggled to carry Elara's frame and slowly made his way toward the stairs that led to the living room. The chatter from the painting didn't stop the entire way...

"Wow, your house is pretty big. I didn't know there was such a big area outside that room!"

"What's in the room across? Your bedroom? Hey, is there anyone else here?"

"Should I say hi to them? Do you think they'll be scared? Ordinary people don't usually see talking dolls and paintings, right?"

"Oh, by the way, I never asked your name! What is it? Darian? That's such a weird name… Wait, it's not like that raw fish thing, sashimi, is it?"

"What's wrong with your back? You're still young and it's already giving out? I'm telling you, you need to take care of your back. Human joints are such a hassle, and you can't even disassemble them easily… huh? Why are you glaring at me? Your eyes look scary…"

Darian finally reached the stairs, clutching his lower back, and looked down at the steps below. Normally, he wouldn't think much of them, but today, with his back strained and the frame feeling unusually heavy, the stairs suddenly seemed much steeper.

He had originally planned to carry the painting down with both hands, but now he realized his body might not allow it.

Darian lowered his head, silently thinking.

The noisy girl in the painting seemed to sense something. Her chatter gradually stopped, and her expression began to grow tense.

Darian lowered his eyelids and glanced at the painting, which had been talking nonsense the entire way and was getting more and more annoying. "Elara."

The girl in the painting jolted. "Y-Yeah?"

"This frame seems pretty sturdy."

"I-I guess so?"

Darian silently placed Elara's frame at the top of the stairs.

"It might be a bit bumpy. Sit tight."

Elara finally realized what was happening, her eyes widening instantly. "Hey, wait..."

"Off you go!"

The oil painting frame began its grand ping-ponging adventure down the stairs.

All the while, Elara's voice rang out in grateful protest:

"Darian, you bastard, I swear—aaaahhhh aaaAAAHHH oh no oh no &%￥#——"

(End of Chapter)

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