Cellar 13 소설 & 이야기

A slight tilt of her head toward the west wing. Midnight. Storage level. It was reckless. I reach the old cellar door and pause, listening. Nothing. No footsteps or voices. Good. I push the door open slowly, slipping inside before it can creak too loudly behind me. The space is dark, colder than the corridors above, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of damp wood. “Mara?” I whisper. A beat of silence. “I’m here.” Her voice is soft, barely more than breath, coming from somewhere to my left.

a sympathetic brother uttered. The men were near the burnt palace premises now, following Jonah behind. There was the sound of someone coming through a partially charred door. It was kept ajar. A young man strode out from it. He stood a few yards away from the men. He was difficult to identify; for his face was partly covered in blood. When he came close, the men cringed in fright, for he wore a skirt of bearskin like theirs. From his belly to his head was bare save for the blood that covered his face, and he had in his right hand, a glittering sword, which he held upward, keeping its sharpest tip above his head. With his left hand, he held a man’s head which had been cut off from the body.

“Alpha Fenriz really knows where to keep the good stuff.” “And you’d sit here alone? The dust is causing my throat to be all scratchy,” I say, and cough for added measure. “Is there a reason you’ve brought me down here?” “You’ll see,” she says just as we reach the end of the winding stone staircase and the interior of a vast wine cellar appears. There’s no dust or decay down here. In fact, it looks like an entertainment area with expensive furniture, crystal decanters on tall tables, and an extensive wine cellar off to the side.

He looked at me for one fast second, his dark eyes burning with that same fierce, protective fire, before he nodded once. We stepped through the narrow doorway onto the top wooden step. The stairs were steep, dropping down into pitch-blackness. Dominic reached out, his hand finding a small light switch on the wooden post. He flipped it down. A single yellow bulb flickered above the cellar floor. The cellar was small, built into the solid granite bedrock of the ocean cliff. Sitting right in the middle of the concrete floor was a single steel folding chair and a small folding table. On top of the table sat a heavy black metal lockbox and a small glass jar filled with fresh water.

⸻ Back at the estate… The forensic team finally completed its examination of Father Gabriel’s belongings. One young investigator approached Lorenzo carrying an old Bible. “Sir…” “We almost missed this.” He opened the worn leather cover. Every page appeared ordinary. Until the final chapter. A section had been carefully cut away. Hidden inside… Was a tiny brass key. Attached to it… A paper tag. Only three words had been written. Cellar 17. ⸻ “Cellar seventeen?” Matteo frowned. “We only have sixteen wine cellars.” Lorenzo looked up. “No.”

Christian seemed to catch my discomfort, because his eyes flicked to mine for an instant, a silent question lingering there. "This cellar is over two hundred years old," he explained, resuming his role as guide. "Some of these walls were built by the first Kensingtons who came to Verdania." "Wow!" Annabelle exclaimed, darting between the massive barrels. "Can we taste something?" "Annie!" my mother scolded. "Don't be inappropriate." "Actually," Christian smiled, "I planned a small tasting after lunch." While he continued explaining the aging process, I noticed Marcus entering the cellar. He approached, greeting everyone with his usual charm — but his eyes lingered noticeably on Annabelle.

**"Comms dark. Cameras looped. Cellar door is mag-locked. Breach in 3... 2..." **BOOM.** A concussive thud shook the ground as Mack planted a breaching charge on the heavy cellar door. Stone dust rained down. The door groaned inward, hanging crookedly on shattered hinges. **"Go! Go! Go!"** Harlan surged forward, rifle up. Leo followed, heart hammering against his ribs. --- **The cellar** was a tomb of damp stone and the cloying stench of blood and spilled wine. Flickering emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows. And there—

Lucifer wouldn't even notice the absence. - I can't; Lucifer would destroy me. - Come on, he won't know. Only those who have the key enter. - But he only gave me the key today. I thought the cellar was here. - No. No. - one of the gluttons says. – the Cellar is located immediately below this room. Let's go there. - I can't take that risk. The greedy and furious faces began to look at them as if they were top-quality steaks.

Thinking about Rose's gesture, Camellia's mood instantly improved. Leaving here won't be a problem. As she stumbled and nearly fell, Herman quickly held her. "What are you doing?" Camellia ignored him and kicked at the ground. "What is this?" A trapdoor. She had kicked the iron ring. "An underground wine cellar," Herman said coldly. Camellia's eyes lit up. "I want to drink." Inside the underground wine cellar, the temperature was low. It wasn't very large, but it contained around a hundred bottles of rum.

“Vivienne left a file. It’s here. Hidden in this house.” Dorian exhaled something sharp and unexpected in the sound. “Where?” “Wine cellar. Behind the fireplace. She said I’d need the chip.” He nodded once. “Then we go.” They didn’t wait. The stair to the cellar was narrow and winding. The house above faded into shadows. The wine cellar smelled of oak and ash. A fireplace sat dormant at the far end, strange for such a room. But when Isolde stepped toward it, she saw the faint outline of a panel behind the soot-blackened brick.