Anyone who played with dolls as a child would understand this immediately.
Furniture of bizarre design, completely out of proportion to reality. Gorgeous, vibrant clothing that was far too uncomfortable and restrictive when actually worn.
The dolls Juliet had played with as a little girl wore roughly the same garments.
From the corset cinched tightly at the waist just below the bust to the stiff texture of the nightgown—the entire ensemble was utterly unsuitable for a living person to wear.
Juliet's gaze drifted to the fake tea set arranged on the table. She saw no signs of use.
She turned the empty teapot upside down to search for a maker's mark. There was none stamped on the bottom.
It appeared genuine at first glance, but closer inspection revealed it to be a cleverly crafted imitation with meticulously designed details.
She couldn't determine precisely by what principle this space—with its decorative objects and furnishings—had been created. But she felt certain everything here was conjured through divine power.
Every door leading outside and every window she'd managed to locate thus far was nothing more than a painting on the wall.
No matter how she examined it, the entire situation seemed utterly absurd.
But what unsettled her most wasn't the fact that such an artificially constructed space existed—someone with sufficient divine power could theoretically create one. What truly disturbed her was being trapped here. By the *bishop himself*, no less.
Moreover, she couldn't summon her butterflies.
At first, she'd assumed it was because her key had been confiscated.
That madman Sebastian had taken not only Juliet's clothing but also the necklace bearing the key.
But after reflection, she realized the butterflies had always appeared instantly at her call, regardless of whether she physically possessed the key.
*This place is probably surrounded by a divine barrier, preventing me from summoning them.*
She recalled the words of a high-ranking priest who had boasted at the banquet that Lucerne was encircled by a dense barrier woven from vast quantities of divine power.
"Which means I'm still in Lucerne."
That was fortunate, at least. They hadn't taken her far.
After thoroughly exploring the dollhouse, Juliet's strength finally gave out. She sank down exhausted in a corner on the first floor.
She had no idea how much time had passed since arriving, but all she'd consumed upon waking twice from drugged sleep was a single apple.
It was strange that she retained any energy at all, given she'd eaten virtually nothing and remained under the influence of potent drugs.
"Is there truly no way out of here?"
Juliet sat with her back pressed against the wall, knees drawn up, attempting to organize her thoughts.
Every door and window that appeared to open outward was purely decorative. The doors that *could* be opened merely led to other interior rooms.
After her thorough examination, Juliet concluded that escaping this place on her own was impossible.
The only genuine entrance and exit was likely the spiral staircase in the bedroom—the one Sebastian had descended so suddenly last time.
"If that's true, then this place must be located somewhere inside the temple..."
And it was surrounded by some form of impenetrable barrier.
Regardless, her disappearance would soon be discovered. People would begin searching for her.
*...But will they be able to find me here?*
She wasn't certain anyone *could* locate her.
Whether from exhaustion or despair, Juliet's thoughts turned increasingly bleak.
Lennox had been so furious yesterday—he'd probably already departed for the North...
And Roy...
Honestly, she didn't know much about the internal situation of his clan. But because of whatever obligations bound him there, he was constantly appearing and vanishing. She couldn't rely on him.
Only Theo and Ethelid remained...
*Well, those two can't exactly be counted on for rescue either.*
What was Bishop Sebastian thinking? For what purpose had this lunatic abducted her?
*Creak. Creak. Creak.*
A sudden sound echoed through the silence.
Juliet froze instantly, listening intently.
The noise was eerie—grinding and creaking, as though something were rotating on poorly lubricated gears. Hollow and rhythmic, like machinery long neglected.
*Wait—is it getting louder?*
Instinct screamed that she shouldn't encounter whatever was producing that sound. She scrambled up from the floor.
Juliet hurried to the nearest door, grasped the small handle, and turned it.
*Click.*
Fortunately, the door was unlocked.
She carefully eased it open and discovered a staircase descending into darkness.
*A basement?*
Unlike the stairs leading to upper floors, this staircase plunged downward into blackness—seemingly without end.
*How deep does this go?*
Juliet gripped the door handle, hesitating at the threshold of that consuming darkness.
*Creak. Creak. Creak.*
The sound grew even more distinct—as though approaching with each passing second.
*I have no other choice.*
She stepped onto the stairs leading down and quietly pulled the door shut behind her.
---
## — Descent —
*Creak. Creak. Creak.*
*Has it passed?*
Pressing her ear against the door and holding her breath, Juliet waited for whatever was making that unnerving sound to move on. But as the noise grew closer, she decided descending was safer than remaining.
First, she was terrified of encountering it. Even if whatever produced that sound passed by now, there was no guarantee she wouldn't stumble upon it later. Second, she suspected this basement existed for a reason.
Initially, she descended cautiously, one hand trailing along the wall for guidance. But once her eyes adjusted to the dimness, conditions proved better than expected.
It wasn't as dark as it had first appeared.
Somewhere far below, she could even detect a tiny source of light.
*If there's light in the distance, perhaps there's an exit?*
*No. Unlikely.*
When Juliet finally reached the very bottom, she identified the light source: a large lamp positioned directly at the entrance to a dark basement chamber.
But the moment she casually turned her head to follow the lamplight, she discovered something that made her instantly clap a hand over her mouth.
*Ah—!*
She barely managed to suppress a terrified scream.
Human limbs—or what *appeared* to be human limbs—lay scattered everywhere.
*Are these... doll parts?*
Or perhaps mannequin pieces?
Fortunately, the objects strewn about in disarray were not actual human remains.
Ethelid's words suddenly echoed through her memory.
*"The rumors about him are quite contradictory."*
*"Furthermore, I've heard that after this man appeared, many people went missing. Others died under mysterious circumstances..."*
That's what Ethelid had said at the banquet.
Terrible rumors swirled around the new bishop. Whether his victims were political opponents or ordinary citizens, no one knew for certain. But the fact that people had vanished without a trace in Lucerne was confirmed.
*Could all those missing people have been imprisoned in this dungeon?*
Juliet began wondering just how extensive this underground space was.
If she remained somewhere within Lucerne's boundaries, this subterranean prison might be located beneath the Terrarium.
Which meant she might be able to escape through these tunnels.
Juliet raised the lamp higher and peered ahead with a fragile glimmer of hope kindling in her chest.
Though the lamp burned brightly, she couldn't determine how deep the passage extended or where it terminated.
"It's no use, miss."
"......!"
Terrified beyond measure, Juliet reflexively covered her mouth when a voice spoke from the shadows. She couldn't have imagined anyone else being down here besides herself.
"What do you mean...?"
In a poorly lit corner, leaning against iron-barred grating, sat a skeletal, gray-haired old man.
"This is a special prison, designed by former inquisitors who hunted heretics. It's specifically constructed to make escape impossible."
The once-magnificent robes—now filthy and worn—combined with his unusual manner of speech led Juliet to suspect this old man was no ordinary person.
"Could you be...?"
Looking more closely, she immediately recognized what his clothing had originally been.
Only one person per generation could wear a crimson stola over white robes.
"You must be Hildegard VIII," Juliet murmured with strange calm.
Hildegard VIII was the distinguished bishop widely believed to have died three years ago.
The gray-haired old man chuckled softly in the dim lamplight.
"Absolutely correct."
---
## — Water and Questions —
After confirming that the unpleasant creaking sound had completely faded, Juliet located a bottle of water and a glass during another circuit of the dollhouse.
She still couldn't find any food anywhere.
When she reported this to Hildegard, he replied that water would suffice.
"I don't know how long it's been since I drank clean water. Thank you," Hildegard said politely, his vision poor in the darkened cell.
"So the new bishop is keeping you here?" Juliet asked as soon as she'd handed him the glass.
"Absolutely correct."
"For three entire years?"
"...It's only been three years?" Hildegard sounded genuinely surprised. "Well, I suppose prolonged confinement blurs one's sense of time. Honestly, I would have guessed at least a decade had passed."
Juliet understood this observation perfectly. She herself had no idea whether one day or two had elapsed since she'd found herself in this terrible place.
There were no clocks. No windows to indicate the passage of time.
It was entirely possible that even a month had already gone by.
Since Hildegard had been imprisoned longer than she had, Juliet began questioning him systematically about what he knew.
Did he know where this place was located? Why Sebastian continued using it, and for what purposes? Was there any possible means of escape?
Hildegard answered all her questions with apparent sincerity, sharing whatever information he possessed.
But gradually, Juliet began feeling slightly uncomfortable while interrogating him.
Though Hildegard had responded honestly to every inquiry, he hadn't asked her a single question in return. This didn't seem like ordinary politeness. Rather, it felt as though he possessed no curiosity whatsoever about who she was or why she was there.
As if he already knew—with absolute certainty—that she would remain here forever.