Emily Hunts Monsters - Chapter 1
Someone once said, “It is evident that we are hurrying onwards to some exciting knowledge—some never-to-be-imparted secret, whose attainment is destruction.”
“That’s my secret, Miss Emily. I’ve never told anyone before.”
A person reveals a secret from deep within his soul to prove his love…
In other words, an extremely dangerous situation.
“I see.”
“Of course, I can’t prove my feelings with just this, but…”
A moment ago, the blushing Mr. Henry confessed to me.
“Miss Emily, I have admired you for a long time.”
After reading my first novel, Child in the Dark, he became a fan.
He was happy to attend my public readings and look at me from afar.
“And now… I can no longer ignore these feelings I have for you.”
After having several conversations with me at Helena Blavatsky’s conferences, I realized that his admiration as a fan turned into a crush.
“I don’t know if it’s too sudden, but… Would you be interested in having a relationship with me with marriage in mind?”
I was slightly confused, so I had said, “We don’t know each other well enough yet.”
Thus, Henry Langham told me a secret he “never told anyone before” so that I would know more about him. I was slightly surprised the secret was more shocking than I thought. I smiled politely without revealing any hint of astonishment.
“Since you have told me a secret, I will also share some of my secrets with you.”
Sitting across from me, Mr. Henry leaned in close.
A muscular upper body and wide shoulders. His toned arms were visible beneath his clothes. I think he looks more like a factory worker than a businessman from an upper-class family. Although his appearance is a little crude, he’s still good-looking. Under the sunlight coming through the window, his dark brown hair and handsome features gave off an inconspicuous but gallant impression.
I stared into his dark blue eyes reminiscent of the sea at night. “You must be aware I was married at the age of eighteen and became a widow the following year.”
As soon as I graduated from boarding school, I fell in love with an unpopular author. I ignored my aunt who opposed our relationship and said he was a man with no means of supporting me; it wasn’t long before we got married. I enjoyed the life of a newlywed for about a year, but…
“No one could have expected Mr. Carter, a favorite in the literary world, to have passed away like that.”
I nodded. “Indeed. Anyway, that was when I experienced something remarkable.”
“What do you mean?”
“I remembered my past life.”
Mr. Henry’s eyes widened at the words “past life”.
“In my previous life… I was someone living in the Far East, thousands of miles away from London, in an era that came hundreds of years after the 1890s.”
Mr. Henry’s gaze was filled with admiration. He seemed to believe I was telling the truth.
“Oh my, a hundred years into the future. If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about it? How has Her Majesty’s empire—”
“That’s not the only secret I have. I cannot die, Mr. Henry.”
“…What?”
“Specifically, I travel back to the past before my death. Have you heard of the concept of infinite regress?”
With a puzzled look, Mr. Henry said, “Hm, well, that’s…”
“I don’t care if you haven’t. Allow me to get to the point. I’ve died many times and returned to the past.”
“…”
“…You don’t believe me, huh?”
He shook his head, and a gentle smile appeared on his handsome face. “No, I believe you. I know better than anyone else that there are one or two mysteries that cannot be explained with logic or science.”
…I didn’t expect him to believe me so easily. I continued, “I’m glad. Anyway, I’ve been through many bizarre and terrible deaths. In addition, all the events in my stories are things I have experienced myself.”
For your information, I’m a popular author who writes in the weekly magazines Weird Fiction and Gothic Story.
“Last week, The Two Faces of a Gentleman was published in Weird Fiction.”
“I haven’t had the chance to read it yet.”
The Two Faces of a Gentleman. It was a horror story about the double life of a man considered to be one of the best gentlemen in London’s social circles. It has been the most popular story since the first issue of Weird Fiction. I don’t know if I’m lucky or unhappy he didn’t read it.
“Mr. Henry, I used your life as inspiration. Were you aware?”
“What? But I’ve never seen you—”
“Yes, we’ve seen each other only a few times. But there are other ways to get to know someone.”
He still looked as if he didn’t understand.
“Henry Langham, a young and confident businessman from an upper-class family. He worked under his uncle, Graham Langham. Because Henry inherited the prestigious Langham Hotel, which opened for business in London more than a decade ago, he’s quite popular in high society…”
He looked embarrassed hearing the compliments that followed. I didn’t stop there.
“However, his alter ego is Edward, a man who not only enjoys roaming the back alleys of London at night but also does terrible things that are no different from crimes.”
“…”
Even after I finished speaking, Mr. Henry looked confused and didn’t say anything. If he’s pretending, he’s just as good as a theater actor.
It took a while for him to open his mouth again.
“What… exactly are you trying to imply?”
“It’s exactly as I said, Mr. Henry.”
The handsome man took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his brow. “I believe you are misunderstanding something. My friends often call me by a nickname—”
“Now that you know everything, please stop.”
“…What?”
He deliberately provoked someone who had yet to reveal her hand… or there’s no point in risking his life and throwing away his trump card.
“I have evidence about your double life, so you better be honest with me when saying something nice. If you insist on feigning ignorance until the very end, my friend at the Metropolitan Police Service—”
“…You insolent brat,” a deep voice growled.
I felt a chilling aura from him. Slowly he looked up, but only after the gentle Mr. Henry disappeared. Sitting in front of me was a man who strikes fear into a person’s heart by just existing.
Finally.
His face was just as striking as Mr. Henry’s. Is it because of his eyes that could kill someone with just a glance and contorted lips? Edward, who looks like a completely different person, had appeared.
“You’re going to arrest me? You dare to threaten me?”
I looked at him with some admiration. I’ve seen a lot of anomalies, but this was my first time seeing someone possessed by an evil spirit. Doubt turned into certainty.
I’m positive this is the person I’ve been looking for. He was Mr. Edward Hyde, the protagonist from Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, one of the most famous works in literature.
Edward clicked his tongue. “Girlie, haven’t you heard the saying before?”
“Hm?”
“’It is evident that we are hurrying onwards to some exciting knowledge—some never-to-be-imparted secret, whose attainment is destruction.’”
I named the work of my favorite author in both my past and present life. “Manuscript Found in a Bottle by Edgar Allan Poe.”
A twisted smile appeared on Edward’s face. “You’re very educated, aren’t you? If you already knew that, you wouldn’t have called me out.”
“That’s correct.” I smiled as I watched Edward’s left hand move toward his chest. “Either way, I’ll die by your hands. Why don’t we find out who you really are?”
“…”
His eyes widened. Only for a moment. Pleased, he said, “Do you have clairvoyance? Or are you a prophet? Ah, it doesn’t matter.” He took out a pistol from his inner coat pocket.
As soon as the gun was loaded, he pulled the trigger before my very eyes.
Bang!
“Ugh!”
As soon as the bullet pierced my chest, my vision blurred. The burning sensation and pain were real.
Before my life was extinguished like a dying flame, “he” whispered to me.
“My apostle.”
The whisper filled my head with a cacophony of sounds. I surrendered myself to the voice, feeling a sensation that made my hair stand on end.
“I’ll turn back your time.”
Then it happened. The bones in my whole body were twisted, cells were regenerated, and my brain was squeezed. I can’t get used to it no matter how many times I go through it. Maybe it’s worse than the pain of dying.
I went back to the past.
And as usual, a fragmented memory returned to me.
***
It was one of the most important memories I had forgotten. All of these tragedies began a few years ago with my husband’s posthumous work, The King in Yellow.
I, Emily Carter, experienced twenty deaths, twenty resurrections, and twenty regressions.
One of which involved watching the end of the world with my own eyes.
