Chapter Text
The routine cleaning of the grand hallway had been mundane enough, a repetitive cycle of scrubbing and polishing that allowed Wemmbu to retreat into his own thoughts. He liked the quiet rhythm of it the way the math of the tiles aligned in perfect patterns, the predictable physics of the mop sliding across the floor.
Beside him, Jaden and Lopezz were working in silence, until Jaden suddenly stopped mid stroke. His nose wrinkled, and he made a gagging sound.
"Ugh, do you guys smell that?" Jaden asked, wiping his forehead. "It smells like... something died."
Lopezz sniffed the air cautiously, her face twisting in disgust. "It's awful. Like rotting meat and old garbage."
Wemmbu paused, his own nose twitching. At first, he thought it might be something from the kitchens, but the scent was different heavier, more cloying. It wasn't the sharp tang of spoiled vegetables; it was something deeper, something organic and decomposing that seemed to cling to the back of his throat.
"Maybe it's a rat in the walls?" Lopezz suggested, though she sounded uncertain.
"We should check," Jaden said, already moving toward the service corridor. "If there's something rotting in here, the Master will have our heads if we don't find it."
Curiosity and a growing sense of unease drew the three of them away from their assigned section. As they walked deeper into the service passages, the odor didn't dissipate it intensified. It became a physical presence, a nauseating cloud that made their eyes water and their stomachs churn. Each step felt heavier as the stench grew thicker, more putrid.
Wemmbu felt a cold prickle of dread crawl up his spine. His instinct told him to turn back, to run to the safety of the sunlight and the bright, clean rooms above, but the responsibility of the job and the fear of being blamed for ignoring it kept his feet moving.
They turned a corner, the dim lighting of the service corridor casting long, dancing shadows against the stone. The three of them slowed their pace, each holding their breath to avoid vomiting.
Finally, they came to a halt.
The smell was overwhelming here. It was as if the air itself had gone rancid. They were standing directly in front of the heavy, iron reinforced wooden door that led to the basement stairs. The door was slightly ajar, just a crack, and from that sliver of darkness, the stench of decay poured out like something alive.
Jaden reached out a trembling hand toward the door handle. "Hello?" he called out weakly, though there was no one there to answer.
Wemmbu gripped his cleaning rag so hard his knuckles turned white. His nebula purple eyes were wide with terror as he stared at that dark gap. Something was down there. Something that smelled like death.
The three of them shared a look of pure, unadulterated hesitation. Jaden's hand hovered near the iron latch, shaking visibly. "Should we... should we get someone? Like Minutetech or one of the other senior staff?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
"If we don't find out what it is now, the smell will spread to the whole wing by morning," Lopezz countered, though his face was pale as parchment. "And Ashswagg won't be happy if the main floor smells like a morgue."
Wemmbu felt the bile rising in his throat. His mind, usually so good at calculating distances and patterns, was spinning in panicked circles. Logic suggests we report this. Instinct suggests we run. But the fear of failing his duty and the fear of what might happen if they left a potential hazard unattended kept him rooted to the spot.
"On three," Jaden breathed. "One... two..."
On three, Jaden shoved. The wooden door, which had been sealed shut by dust and neglect for weeks, groaned on its hinges with a long, agonized screech that echoed unnaturally loud in the narrow corridor. The sound felt like a warning.
As the door swung wider, a gust of stagnant, putrid air rushed past them. It was warm unnervingly warm and carried the full, concentrated force of the decay. Lopezz immediately spun away, retching into his sleeve. Jaden covered his mouth with his shirt, his eyes watering so badly he could barely see.
Wemmbu pressed the back of his hand against his nose, trying to breathe through his mouth, but the taste of rot seemed to coat his tongue instantly.
Through the gap of the doorway, the basement stairs descended into a darkness that seemed thicker than normal. The dim light from the corridor barely touched the first few steps, but as their eyes adjusted, they saw something that made Wemmbu's blood run cold.
The floor at the base of the stairs wasn't just dirty. A dark, viscous liquid something that might have been water weeks ago but was now something far more sinister was seeping up from the shadows at the bottom, pooling around the bottom step. It glistened dully in the weak light.
And there, half hidden in the gloom where the liquid met the wall, something pale and shapeless lay motionless. It wasn't a rat. It was too large, too angular.
"Is that..." Jaden started, but the words died in his throat.
Wemmbu couldn't finish the thought. His heart was hammering so hard against his ribs he was sure the others could hear it.
...
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the cloying sweetness of decay, and for a moment, Wemmbu forgot how to breathe. The mathematical precision he usually relied on the ability to categorize and understand the world through logic shattered completely.
There was no pattern here. No equation could explain this.
"A... a maid?" Lopezz's voice was a strangled whimper. She stumbled backward, her shoulder hitting the stone wall with a dull thud. "Oh god, oh god..."
Jaden's knees buckled. He sank to the floor, retching violently as the reality of what they were seeing crashed down on them. The pale shape in the darkness wasn't just a random object; it was a human form. The unmistakable curve of a shoulder, the way a limb lay at an unnatural angle, the tattered remains of a uniform that looked hauntingly similar to their own it was undeniable.
Wemmbu felt a coldness spreading from his chest to his fingertips. His eyes were locked on the figure. The maid's face was partially obscured by shadow and the matted mess of her hair, but the stillness that terrible, absolute stillness was what terrified him most. She looked like she was sleeping, except for the way the dark liquid pooled beneath her, and the way the flies circled in the stagnant air.
How long? his mind screamed. How long has she been down here? Why didn't anyone notice? Why was this door left closed?
The silence of the basement felt predatory, as if the darkness itself was waiting for them to step closer. Wemmbu wanted to scream for help, to call for Eggchan, for Ashswagg, for anyone but his throat felt like it was lump.
Wemmbu's voice was barely a thread of sound, cracking on the first syllable. "W We should call the others," he managed to choke out. "We can't we shouldn't be here. We need to get help."
His legs felt like they were made of water. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to flee, to run back up the stairs and never look back, but the horror of the scene held him frozen in place. He couldn't simply walk away from a corpse.
Jaden was still on the floor, gasping for air between bouts of sickness, his eyes unfocused and terrified. Lopezz was hyperventilating, backing away until his spine pressed against the wall, his hands shaking so violently he couldn't even wipe the tears from his eyes.
"Yes," Lopezz whispered, her voice hysterical. "Yes, call someone. Call Minutetech. Call anyone."
Wemmbu didn't wait for another word. He turned on his heel, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambled toward the doorway. His mind was racing faster than he could run. Who should he tell first? If he told the other staff, panic would spread like wildfire. If he told the Masters directly, would they think he was involved? Would they think he had been hiding this?
The thoughts spiraled into a terrifying vortex. His mind flashed to Eggchan Eggchan, who was safe, who was respected, who would know what to do. Eggchan would protect him. Eggchan would make sense of this madness.
Wemmbu burst out of the basement door and back into the corridor, his breathing ragged and uneven. He didn't care about the rules of decorum anymore. He didn't care about looking like a proper maid. He ran toward the main servant's quarters, his nebula purple hair flying behind him as he sprinted through the halls.
"Help!" he wanted to scream, but the word felt trapped behind the bile in his throat. Instead, he just ran, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, desperate to reach anyone anyone who could make the nightmare stop.