The Transdimensional Inn

The Girl in the Painting Escape Plan

Irene's tirade was nothing short of appalling.

Noah couldn’t quite fathom how a doll, trapped inside an oil painting, could possess such an extensive vocabulary—nor how she managed to curse so continuously, even while sliding down the stairs without pausing for breath. Perhaps, he mused, it was because she was, after all, a doll and lacked the need to breathe.

Still, Noah remained composed. As Irene tumbled from the stairs and continued her rant, he leisurely made his way down, hand on the railing, his pace unhurried—not out of calm but because his back ached, and he simply couldn’t move any faster. By the time he reached the ground floor, he bent down with some effort, picked up Irene’s frame, and hoisted it upright.

“Are you insane?” Irene clutched a plush bear in her painting, glaring with disheveled hair and clothes. “Who just throws someone down the stairs like that? What if the painting got damaged?!”

“My back hurts. Your painting is heavy. I couldn’t carry it down the stairs,” Noah replied, his face a picture of serenity as he slowly walked toward the dining room with the frame in hand. “Besides, I’ve already checked. The frame is pretty sturdy, and if it does break, maybe you’ll finally be freed from it.”

“If it were that easy, do you think I’d still be sealed in here?” Irene retorted, her frustration mounting as she slumped back into her painted chair. “Ugh, my head’s spinning…”

Noah suddenly stopped and gazed down at the girl within the painting, his expression unusually serious.

Irene felt a chill under his intense scrutiny. “W-What are you doing now? I swear, if you throw me down the stairs again, I’ll haunt your dreams! Every time you dream of taking a test, I’ll ring a bell. Every time you dream of playing a game, I’ll pull the plug. Every time you dream of leaving the house, I’ll chase you with a dump truck. And if you dream of having a date, I’ll—”

How could one doll possibly talk so much nonsense?

Noah fought the urge to toss her down the stairs a second time, struggling to keep a straight face as he attempted to appear serious. “I just wanted to ask—what’s the deal with this ‘seal’? You mentioned needing someone’s help to free you... What exactly needs to be done?”

Irene was caught off guard by his question, staring blankly at him for a few seconds before responding with disbelief, “You... You’re going to help me get out of here?!”

“Didn’t you say you needed someone to help break the seal?” Noah frowned and added, “I’m just asking, not promising anything.”

But Irene seemed to ignore his latter statement entirely, speaking in a hurried excitement. “There are three... no, two ways! The first one’s the best. We need to find my original body. I don’t know where it is, but it has to be somewhere nearby—maybe not far from this painting. Once we find it, everything will be easy. Just bring me close to it, and I’ll be able to break free from this cursed painting.”

“And if we can’t find it? Or if your original body has been destroyed?” Noah asked, his brow furrowed.

“In that case, we’ll have to resort to the second method: creating a new body. But the new one won’t work as well as the original. It’ll take some time to adjust, and it might feel—”

“Create a new one?” Noah interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t I just buy a doll from some store?”

“Of course not!” Irene snapped. “I’m an ‘Alice Doll’—a blessed living doll, don’t you get it? I’m not like those mass-produced dolls you find in shops.”

She paused briefly, her tone becoming more solemn as she continued. “Living dolls are born in the garden of Alice’s Cottage. Our original bodies come from there. But I’ve lost my connection to the garden, and I can’t leave the painting to return there. However, even without the garden, there’s still a way to create a temporary body here in this world... though it won’t be easy.”

She glanced at Noah, who was listening intently, before listing the materials. “First, you’ll need hair that grows on its own, soil that writhes like a living creature, the bones of the dead that break and mend themselves, and a single tear from a living doll—two tears would be even better. That way, my new skin would be smoother. Then, with some alchemy, you’d reactivate the materials and—wait, why are you making that face?”

Noah sighed deeply, his expression flat. “Let’s just focus on finding your original body, alright?”

Irene blinked. “You don’t know alchemy?”

“Is that supposed to be something everyone knows?!” Noah retorted, his patience fraying. “And even if I did, where am I supposed to find all those ridiculous materials? Hair that grows by itself? Bones that heal themselves? This sounds like something out of a third-rate fantasy novel! If I could find another living doll, I’d just hand you over to her and let your ‘sister’ take you home! It’d be way easier than dealing with all this nonsense.”

Irene’s cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment. She shifted in her chair and mumbled, “Well, I suppose you could use other materials... maybe some clay, paint, and a wig from an online store...”

Noah’s face twisted in disbelief. “What...?”

She shrank a little further. “I was just hoping for a body that works well. But, y’know, even a basic one would do...”

“Even with those ‘ordinary’ materials, we’ll still need your blood and a bit of alchemy to bring it all together. I can teach you—it’s simple, really, even for a regular person.”

Noah didn’t respond immediately, falling into a contemplative silence. After a few seconds, he spoke again, “Earlier, you were about to say there were three ways, right? What’s the third one?”

Irene hesitated before waving a dismissive hand. “The third way... it’s not good. It comes with a cost. You wouldn’t agree to it, and I don’t want you to try it. We don’t know each other that well, after all.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “If you know that, then stop wasting my time with nonsense.”

Irene bit her lip, her expression cautious. “So... will you help me get out of here? The second method’s pretty easy. Even if the body you make is rough, I can reshape it once I’m inside. Just... don’t make it too ugly. At least make it look human.”

This time, Noah didn’t banter. He thought quietly for a long moment before finally giving her a serious response. “I can’t promise anything right now. I need time to think.”

He didn’t trust her, not completely. Though she seemed earnest, chatty, and harmless, that was just a surface impression after knowing her for less than a day. Beneath her endearing quirks, she was still something mysterious, something sealed within a painting.

And Noah wasn’t eager to see what might happen if she were released—especially if she turned out to be more dangerous than she appeared.

He’d only recently died once. He wasn’t keen on dying again anytime soon.

Irene seemed to understand. After a long pause, she nodded. “Alright, I get it.”

Noah was surprised. He had expected a long, drawn-out argument, yet she yielded so easily.

“After all, we don’t know each other well yet, right?” Irene flashed a smile, her painted eyes twinkling. “Once we’re closer, I’ll ask again.”

“Sure, we’ll talk later,” Noah replied with a smile, setting the frame against the dining room wall before heading toward the kitchen. “I haven’t eaten yet. I’ll make dinner first.”

“Okay... but could you turn on the TV before you go? I want to watch something.”

“You’re so demanding.”

Noah rolled his eyes but obliged, switching on the television opposite the dining table before grabbing the groceries he’d picked up earlier and heading into the kitchen.

He actually enjoyed cooking, and since arriving in this strange, familiar city, he found that preparing his own meals brought a certain comfort. The only place free from the eerie shadows lurking in the streets seemed to be this house.

While he didn’t mind encountering spooky figures on his journeys, he refused to let them intrude during meal prep or eating—those were sacred moments.

Now, though, even this “safe haven” had its own peculiar resident: Irene.

Still, compared to the ghosts and shadows outside, this chatty doll trapped in a painting seemed almost charming—at least she wasn’t trying to rip out his heart.