Wait, What You Mean I Got Reincarnated As A Heroine In Another World? Chapter 128 - 110.1 - Manor

So...

This was Selene’s first ti setting foot in the Lovecraft family estate—a place that’s better described as a forbidden monunt 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 seed to hold its breath.

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

She stood still for a mont, 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 chid in centuries. This wasn’t just an old house. This was a house that... waited.

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

Selene ca 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 ti with Helena.

Why? Because the two of them are weird. Very weird. As in... their bond is sothing 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 ti, was sure they’d poison each other before the age of eleven. But life’s plot twists are a ss—trust . They changed. Maybe not from mutual understanding, but from challenging one another.

There’s sothing 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 sothing far greater. As if their destinies aren’t just fellow comrades... but two pawns on the sa 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 mory. Located at the outer rim of Aethelgarten, the house seed to grow out of the very soil, fusing with mystery and ti itself.

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

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

And yes, you heard that right.

This family still bears the legacy of one na: 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 nas like Nephren, Chthulhu, or Azatoth. Nas that make modern academics scratch their heads and give casual readers nightmares.

But in the magical world, he wasn’t rembered 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 phenonon called magic subversion: a unique ability certain mages possess, separate from common magical paths. Each subversion could be nad, tad, 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, co on!}

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

{Shut it. This is my screen ti—I an, 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 rember.)

* * *

{Now, my turn.}

{Sure, Selene the ever elegant witch.}

{I’d take that as a complint.}

When I first stepped through that gate, I didn’t expect the so-called "Lovecraft family ho" 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 ca here to talk to Helena about sothing 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 sothing that cute right toward ?!

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 volu was high enough for her to hear, no matter what dinsion she was lurking in. Then I reached out to pet the ’cat’, only to be t 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 rembered," I said with a sly grin.

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

{...}

{...}

{You’re an. ow.}

I’m not even gonna deny it.

Anyway...

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

"His na 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."