“Good heavens. So you were my son’s fiancée all along!”
“Ha ha…”
I rubbed the back of my neck with an awkward smile.
Carson Hardeion.
The vagrant from the square had been living here all along.
At least I didn’t faint this time. The prior shocks of Katherine and Kayrin had built up a certain immunity.
‘Ivelina. In order to facilitate smoother communication, I believe some additional measures are necessary. I intend to place a trusted escort knight with you shortly, to serve as a liaison. Should any sudden outing arise, they will pass word through this person.’
A beat.
“He spoke of you as though leaving a child unsupervised near a river. He said — of course the escort knights would be watching over you — but there was a concern that your tendency toward excessive helpfulness might lead you into unpleasant situations with swindlers. He also mentioned that your generous nature was such that you might share your last bean with a fraudster.”
I felt a twinge of something.
‘I think I can see why Kael said that…’
“My love! Didn’t I tell you! I said she was absolutely perfect for Kael!”
“You did. You saw that clearly.”
“My boy, listen to your old father —”
The former duke, Carson, proceeded to relay the whole story in full.
It was nothing particularly remarkable.
In four lines:
1. He had been lurking in the square disguised as a vagrant when a kind young lady came over, gave him food, and kept him company.
2. She had made such a good impression that he had desperately wanted to match her with his son.
3. He had come home — and to his astonishment—
4. The very same young lady turned out to be his son’s fiancée.
I looked on at the three of them chatting and laughing with a hollow, somewhat vacant expression.
Kael himself appeared to find his father’s tale tedious in the extreme.
‘Dizzy. I’m genuinely dizzy.’
* * *
The following day.
Having lain awake through the night, Ivelina went looking for Emily first thing.
“Emily?”
“Yes? Is she somewhere?”
“She mentioned going to help Mr. Brendan earlier. You might try near the greenhouse.”
Mr. Brendan.
The man who tended the estate’s gardens lived in a small cottage beside the glass greenhouse. Hearing that Emily had gone to help him, I set off slowly in that direction.
But in among the trees — which came up to waist height — I spotted a familiar round little head.
That small, dark, tousled head—
“Kayrin?”
“Sister-in-law?”
Kayrin was parting the underbrush with a magnifying glass in hand.
“Good morning. Out early, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Did you sleep well last night, Sister-in-law?”
‘In truth, I didn’t sleep at all.’
“Yes, very well. Kayrin — have you seen Emily by any chance?”
“Emily? Hmm. She went that way earlier.”
He pointed in the opposite direction and added:
“The iron frame near the hunting ground got damaged. She went to help fix it.”
“I see. Then I’ve gone the wrong way.”
I’d have to turn back. But leaving Kayrin there without a word felt like a waste — so I crouched down beside him.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Insect collecting.”
“…Insect collecting?”
“Yes. Usually I collect small animals and plants as well, but today I thought I’d just take some insects.”
Kayrin Hardeion.
According to the original novel, his hobby — and particular talent — was collecting insects, and dissecting animals and plants.
“‘Oh!'”
In the next instant, Kayrin reached out and caught a stag beetle with his bare hand.
‘Bare-handed.’
His red eyes fixed on the beetle with a gleam of keen intensity.
‘My heart nearly stopped.’
The beetle was thrashing its legs wildly. Kayrin deposited it into a bucket without ceremony.
I swallowed hard.
Then Kayrin straightened to his full height in a single fluid motion.
The look in his eyes had gone instantly to that of a small predator. He studied the trunk of a nearby tree with concentrated focus — then snatched something with the speed of light.
A wasp.
He had caught a wasp. And then he held it between his thumb and forefinger, and turned toward me—
“Here. A gift—”
“‘I’m sorry, forgive me, I was wrong!'”
I ran with everything I had.
‘Huff. Huff.’
I collapsed against a large tree at the edge of the hunting ground, chest heaving. I had been running flat-out for nearly five minutes. The image of that wasp struggling inches from my face was burned into my memory.
“I honestly thought I was going to die.”
I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and let out a long, shaky breath.
All right. Breathe. Look around.
Emily had gone to fix the iron frame near the hunting ground, hadn’t she?
“Is this the place?”
I stood at the entrance to the hunting ground, before the area marked as a restricted zone.
I had absolutely no intention of going inside. The iron framing ran along the outside of the grounds anyway — it should be fine.
I followed the wide perimeter of iron fencing that marked the hunting zone.
About five minutes of walking.
“Heh heh.”
A low, unsettling laugh drifted from somewhere nearby.
A chill crawled up my spine. My body shivered involuntarily.
“Who’s there? Is someone here?”
I walked in the direction the sound had come from.
And then—
“Beautiful.”
On the other side of the fence, inside the hunting ground, stood a large man. Only his profile was visible — but those bright blue eyes were gleaming.
“Father-in-l—”
He was caressing the carcass of a dead bird.
Carson Hardeion.
There had been a passage in the original novel describing his hobby.
‘Carson’s hobby was taxidermy. In his private villa in the capital, there was a room lined on every wall with stuffed animal carcasses.’
The sight of him stroking every individual feather of the bird with the air of someone admiring something precious made my head spin.
A scream was building at the back of my throat. I pressed both hands over my mouth and backed away. Step by step, until he was no longer in sight. And from that point to the main house, I ran until I could taste blood.
* * *
“Oh… I’m dizzy…”
I sagged against one of the main house pillars, gasping.
‘Where on earth is Emily?’
When she passed the iron frame near the hunting ground, it had already been repaired and looked perfectly sound.
I looked around.
Fortunately, a maid was nearby, polishing a statue.
“E-excuse me—”
“Oh! My lady! Are you all right?”
The maid scrambled down from where she had been perched on the statue’s base and hurried to support me.
“I’m fine. Do you happen to know where Emily is right now?”
“Oh! Emily? She went to the receiving room a little while ago — with some of the new maids. The Dowager Duchess had something for her to help with.”
“The receiving room?”
“Yes. She only left maybe ten minutes ago. She’s probably still there!”
“Good. I’ll go check. Thank you.”
I dragged my thoroughly wrung-out self into the main house.
The receiving room door was wide open.
“I’ve brought the girls as the Dowager Duchess requested. They say they can start working immediately.”
“Oh, good. Welcome, all of you.”
I caught a brief glimpse of Emily and the Dowager Duchess. Something about the exchange struck me as vaguely ominous — I stopped short in the hallway and pressed myself against the wall instead of going in, listening.
“There are three of them. They’re all eleven — the same age. I’ve prepared a record of their details here.”
“Thank you, Emily.”
Katherine Hardeion.
I turned over what the original novel had said about her.
‘Katherine enjoyed bathing in the blood of young maids. She would not take on any girl older than twelve — she believed the younger the blood, the better for the skin.’
I slid slowly down the wall until I was sitting on the floor.
My mind was going blank.
‘I thought they were all good people.’
It felt like being swindled by an entire family at once.
I was pressing slowly at my throbbing temple when a familiar voice came from just above me.
“What are you doing there?”
* * *
