The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

Chapter 105 In the Mist (1) The Ice Age Arrives Early

"Sh ...

A somewhat familiar, subtle sound arose in the quiet of the early morning, like countless tiny mice scratching at the walls of the mansion at the same time.

The young maid yawned as she climbed out of her small bed, shivering at the sight of the surroundings.

She groped her way to the window of the servant's room, pulled back the curtains, and her eyes widened immediately.

Under the dim light of dawn, snowflakes, as fine as feathers, fluttered and danced, emitting a faint and cold light.

They fell silently, covering the rooftops, branches, stone steps, and lake shore.

As far as the eye could see, Paradise Island was now enveloped in an ever-thickening white velvet blanket.

"My God—" the maid murmured to herself, momentarily forgetting the low temperature around her.

She rubbed her eyes in disbelief and wiped the fogged glass with her sleeve.

But the scene remained unchanged.

So she excitedly went to wake up the maids who shared a room with her and told them the unexpected news.

"It's snowing!"

At the same time, the butler, who had just dressed up, strode through the servants' quarters, saying the same thing.

"Peter, work with the maid to check the fireplaces in each room to make sure there's enough fuel. If there's not enough coal, get some from the west storeroom."

The male servant beside him obeyed and left, while Butler Carson was met by the cook who came to greet him.

"Mr. Carson, the snow came unusually early this year... Is this normal?"

The slightly plump Mrs. Patmer lowered her voice dramatically as she spoke her last words, to emphasize her concern.

"In any case, you can prepare some hot soup. Next, I will send people to clear the snow from the roads. It's always good to be prepared in advance."

Upon hearing the butler's words, the cook slapped her hands on her apron: "Hey, everything's ready, Mr. Carson."

Everything's ready!

She went back to the kitchen.

Carson returned to the butler's room and waited for a moment. Sure enough, a male servant brought news of the island's keeper.

"Mr. Carson, Mr. Hammer sent someone to tell you that the lake has frozen over."

"I understand." The butler was not surprised to hear the news, but his face turned worried after the male servant left.

"It seems the troubles of this year are not over yet."

He muttered something to himself, then straightened the collar of his dressing gown, stood up, and continued to perform his duties as butler.

The atmosphere at the breakfast table was subtle.

The curtains were all open, and the pure white snow made the outside world exceptionally bright, revealing an astonishing view to everyone without any obstruction.

Mrs. Patmore's smoked cod with scrambled eggs was still excellent, but the diners seemed more distracted than usual.

"This snow is really heavy." Uncle Albert looked out the window, his tone clearly doubtful. "I remember the first snow usually falls in mid-November—"

Arthur, biting into a slice of toast smeared with orange marmalade, casually interjected, "Breta's climate is always unpredictable; this might be an interesting exception."

George glanced at the viscount, who sat calmly in the main seat, but didn't notice any different reaction from him.

After breakfast, Sybil suggested going to the lake.

"The snow is so deep, perfect for ice skating." Her eyes sparkled with a rare light. "Remember when we used to make ice skates out of planks and iron bars when we were little, George?"

George nodded, recalling the days in the original owner's memory when the brother and sister stumbled and laughed along the lakeshore.

Sybil, pulling Miss Kelly along and calling several young servants, marched in a large group toward the frozen lake shore.

Elliott naturally followed behind George, while Lieutenant Bates and Arthur Tumbert were also drawn in by the excitement and joined the snowman-building team.

The shallow waters along the lake shore were frozen solid.

Sunlight streamed through gaps in the clouds, illuminating the undulating snow and ice surfaces and refracting countless sparkling points of light.

Sybil indeed found a large wooden plank, and two servants helped tie simple iron bars to it to create a sliding surface.

"I want to try too!" Arthur rubbed his hands together and, without saying a word, pulled Bates to squat on the edge of the wooden plank.

Bates smiled helplessly, and the two quickly glided across the ice in a crooked trajectory, drawing laughter from the onlookers.

The snowman was quickly built on the lake shore.

Sybil directed her servants to roll out three snowballs of different sizes, stack them together, and then found coal for eyes and carrots for noses.

Miss Kelly contributed her red scarf to wrap around the snowman.

Arthur, on the other hand, somehow produced a crooked hat and put it on the snowman's head.

"He's missing a pipe," my uncle commented with a laugh. "Our gentleman needs a bit more style."

""

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George stood to the side, looking at his sister's rosy cheeks and hearing her long-lost, clear laughter, and felt a little relieved.

Although he knew very well that this unusual weather would likely be the prelude to some kind of change.

At noon, the kitchen served up a surprise.

Mrs. Patmore used her stored strawberries and pistachios to make pink and light green ice cream, sprinkled a thin layer of cinnamon powder on top, and served it with her homemade waffles and chocolate sauce.

When the ice cream was served, Uncle Arthur's eyes lit up: "Good heavens, this is way better than apple pie!"

Inspector Douglas took a bite and immediately looked surprised: "Mrs. Patmore, this level of skill is rarely seen even in high-end restaurants in London."

"The aroma of pistachios and the tartness of strawberries are perfectly balanced," Miss Kelly commented, elegantly scooping up a small piece.

Afterwards, Mrs. Patmore, who was invited up by the old lady, accepted everyone's praise, bowed, and introduced the dishes with a hint of pride in her tone.

"Strawberries are a rare treat in October; it was my wife who taught me how to preserve them when she was still alive."

The old lady nodded slightly, a hint of nostalgia flashing in her eyes.

George noticed that the Viscount barely touched his food.

However, Frederick had a good appetite; he ate a large plate of beef in unprecedented quantities and could still eat two more servings of ice cream.

After lunch, Inspector Douglas found the Viscount and George, and the three gathered in the Viscount's study.

"This snowfall is unusual," the inspector said bluntly. "And so is the speed at which the temperature has plummeted."

"Indeed, it wasn't just the temperature," the Viscount said. "Last night, while you were all asleep, I sensed some unusual fluctuations in the Dream Layer, so I performed a synesthetic exercise."

He put down his teacup: "A response has come from the seal; the calamity of the Decaying Lake is not yet over—"

George recalled the "darkness" that Eliot had mentioned.

There were originally five, how many are left now?

"What does this mean?" he asked.

The viscount turned to him and said slowly, "It means that winter is coming, and we will face more than just the weather."

He paused for a moment, his gaze falling on George.

"I won't intervene directly from here on out, George."

His tone left no room for negotiation: "In a way, this disaster is also a rare opportunity for growth—now, it's your turn."

"So, what do we need to do?" George finally asked.

The viscount's lips curled up slightly, revealing a smile that was almost imperceptible.

"Get ready," he said. "Get ready for the long winter, and believe that you belong to the invincible summer."