Chapter 8:
* * *
Two days ago, when I accepted Henry Jekyll’s courtship proposal, I made a peculiar request.
“Could you invite me to the Langham Hotel you manage?”
The Langham Hotel was an ultra-luxury venue, reserved only for royalty and other carefully selected VIPs. It was notoriously hard to book due to its overwhelming popularity. But for Sir Henry, the hotel’s owner, it must’ve been a trivial matter.
“Of course, Miss Emily. I hope you find it to your liking.”
He probably assumed I simply wanted to experience a place most people could never set foot in. But in truth, this was the real goal:
“To draw out the existence of Edward Hyde from the gentleman-masked Henry Jekyll!”
This mission wasn’t just about taking his life. Judging from the various clues and hints that later emerged before me…
“Emily, about that book you mentioned—I believe it refers to the Book of Eibon.”
According to Helena Blavatsky—London’s most promising Theosophist and an unrivaled expert in esoteric and arcane knowledge—the book the “King” ordered me to destroy was none other than the Book of Eibon.
It’s a forbidden grimoire supposedly written by the high priest Eibon of the ancient continent. Said to contain dark, ancient knowledge, especially forbidden spells and sinister rituals, there are reportedly only 18 English copies in existence.
“And one of them is here.”
This may turn out to be a bigger and more dangerous task than expected.
But for now—
“Wow, this really feels like a palace.”
The room Sir Henry prepared was the very definition of an extravagant suite. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a luxurious parlor in between to receive guests.
The room’s design embodied their slogan: “The guest is royalty.” Every piece of furniture—from the bed and armchair to the smallest ornament—was top-tier.
I lay on the massive bed like a queen and enjoyed the brief sense of liberation. I would’ve loved to just relax, but…
“This isn’t a vacation.”
I sighed deeply and sat up. After changing into lighter clothes, I headed down to the lobby.
As I sat at a table, a bellboy in a red uniform and a sharply angled cap approached me.
“Good evening, ma’am. Is there anything I can assist you with?”
He was quite cute, probably in his early teens. His voice still had the youthful tone of someone who hadn’t gone through puberty.
Instead of looking at the menu he offered, I immediately handed him a tip.
“Thank you! But this is…”
His eyes widened as he realized I’d given him a 10-shilling note. That’s about a week’s wage for most workers. He stammered.
“Th-that’s too much, ma’am…”
Seeing his startled expression, I shook my head.
“It’s not a tip.”
I glanced around, then pulled him closer and whispered:
“I want to make a deal with you.”
“A… deal?”
“I need information about the Langham Hotel.”
“What kind of information?”
“Documents only staff can access, or hush-hush materials not available to the public.”
“But if I get caught…”
When he hesitated, I pulled out another bill and smiled.
“If I’m satisfied with what you bring, I’ll give you more.”
The boy gulped as the 10-shilling note fluttered before his eyes.
“Well? Are you in or out?”
He didn’t take long to decide. Nodding firmly, he asked:
“What room are you staying in, ma’am?”
Perfect. I gave him the details of my request, and he trotted off.
* * *
A few hours later, in the evening—
“Mrs. Carter? Are you there?”
The bellboy returned, arms full of documents and newspapers. He spoke with the composed tone of someone used to dealing with customers.
“These are documents only hotel staff are allowed to see…”
The top page of the pile caught my eye.
[Langham Hotel Employee Conduct Manual]
I looked over it with interest before turning back to him.
“And as you asked, I inquired among the staff about the ‘ghost of Room 333.’”
He excitedly shared the rumors he had gathered. As he continued, my eyes widened.
“…”
Honestly, it was more than I’d hoped for.
I had spent 20 shillings—a fair amount even for me—so I expected decent information.
“Someone saw Henry Jekyll entering Room 333, which is supposed to be off-limits!”
Without showing my excitement, I asked carefully:
“…Could you tell me that employee’s name?”
He hesitated briefly, but when I pulled out another bill, he answered at once.
“Miss Melbourne, a room maid.”
“Miss Melbourne. Got it. And here’s your promised reward.”
His face lit up in joy as he accepted the money.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Carter!”
The boy gave me a deep bow, then practically floated out of the room with glee.
Watching him go, I murmured under my breath:
“…I should be the one thanking you.”
After confirming the door was fully shut, I turned to the employee manual he’d brought.
Langham Hotel Employee Conduct Manual
Welcome to the Langham Hotel, beloved by the elite of London. These guidelines are essential for all staff to understand before beginning work, to ensure smooth operation throughout the hotel.
Staff wages are paid weekly on Mondays.
All employees must wear their designated uniform and name tag.
Always address guests as “Sir” or “Madam,” and treat them with kindness and sincerity.
The hotel operates under a pre-booked membership system. If a non-member insists on staying, contact security immediately.
Deluxe or higher-level rooms may only be booked by members listed as VIPs.
Room 333 is closed due to safety concerns and must not be assigned to any guest. However, it must still be cleaned regularly.
Repeating the name “Eddy” three times in front of the mirror in Room 333 is strictly forbidden. The hotel is not responsible for any consequences resulting from this.
If, while cleaning Room 333, you experience auditory or visual hallucinations, dizziness, or any other disturbances, exit immediately and take a break.
If a guest inquires about the “ghost of Room 333,” do not reveal any information. (Strictly refrain from discussing recent suicides or violent incidents in that room.)
Even if a guest is not on the membership list, if they say, “I know the wisdom of the stars,” you must allow them to stay in Room 333.
If you notice a foul smell coming from the oak wine barrels in the B1 food storage, ignore it. Do not attempt to open them.
Clause 7 has been removed for undisclosed reasons. If your manual contains Clause 7, follow the opposite of what it says.
erruttadeRekh-en-efpanisutksheret... wall mirror... Iwiyin... B'knnetjer... someone is there... Nyarlathotep... behind you... look behind...
This manual consists of 12 clauses. If you find a Clause 13, stop reading immediately.
And whatever you do—never, ever look behind you.
