TBMGW 13

Episode 13

He really says “Only serve me” like it’s a death threat.

“I’m your personal servant, young master. How could I ever look at someone else?”

“And how do I know you won’t turn around and ask to serve someone like Rosa Brighton behind my back?”

“It’s fine. You like me, don’t you?”

Ian, who had been moving away from me, stopped and raised one eyebrow.

“What?”

It’s just one word, but I could swear it meant, ‘Did this little rat just say that out loud?’

“You care about me, so I have no reason to look elsewhere.”

In other words: If you ever stop caring, who knows what I might do.

I’ll admit it. I’ve gotten way too cocky.

It’s all because Ian Brighton’s been acting so uncharacteristically gentle lately.

To others, it might not even seem like he’s being gentle—but compared to his usual self, he’s been surprisingly mild with me.

“…Rat.”

Ian suddenly muttered under his breath.

“M-Me?”

Have I seriously crossed a line? Was I too cheeky?

Ian didn’t even glance at me. His eyes, suddenly cold, darted toward something behind me.

His pupils dilated, and a sharp smile curled his lips.

My Ian Brighton had returned to being the Ian Brighton everyone feared.

“Who’s the idiot hanging around near me without permission?”

He shouted toward the back garden entrance.

The shadow cast across the now-silent entrance flinched at his voice.

“Come out.”

His voice turned soft. That tone Ian used to lure someone out—like a flower drawing in bees and butterflies.

A sweet voice, but the words themselves were galaxies away from sweet.

I cautiously stood up.

“I’ll go check, young master.”

“Sit down.”

Normally, when something’s off, a noble sends their servant to investigate.

But since my direct superior told me not to move, I obediently sat back down.

Then we heard hurried footsteps retreating into the distance. Whoever it was had run off.

They’ve got guts. The only people who’d be in the back garden of this estate are servants—maybe a mailman or a coachman at most.

Whoever it was, I hope they never get caught by Ian.

“Would you look at that?”

Then again, they probably will soon.

“Could’ve been a young servant. Like Hanna, the cook’s daughter. Kids panic when they’re scared.”

Really, I’d rather not see any more innocent corpses.

“So if you could just generously let it go—”

“Red hair.”

“Huh?”

“Seventeen, maybe.”

How the hell does he know that?

Ian’s eyes narrowed. With a bored expression, he muttered like he’d just seen it himself.

“A maid.”

Red hair. Seventeen. Maid.

Why does that make me think of lezeta?

No, no way. Haha. No way.

But of course… it was.

“You and the young master looked cozy together.”

I stared at lezeta with dead eyes.

“And you ran away? You should’ve apologized.”

“Put my life on the line just to be a personal servant? What am I, a sacrificial lamb?”

“Listen to me, lezeta. You’re crossing a line. You should stop now, while you still can.”

Do you even know what happens to extra villainous girls like you in houses with actual demons?

“If you don’t… you’ll die.”

But if she were someone who took advice, she wouldn’t be acting like a third-rate villain in the first place.

“You think I don’t know your game? You want to hog the young master’s attention all to yourself!”

Okay, sure, it might’ve looked like Ian and I were pretty close, lying in the sun like that.

But we’re both twelve. Even at best, it’s just kid’s play.

“lezeta, can you honestly look at a swarm of rats or bugs moving in sync and not flinch?”

Her face twisted for a moment.

She set her spoon down. Guess that wasn’t something to hear while eating.

“See? You didn’t say no. That’s just a taste of what you’ll deal with as Ian Brighton’s personal servant.”

“You’re seriously going that far to keep me away?”

Sigh.

“Live your life, lezeta. I’m done wasting my time.”

I only talk to people who are capable of talking.

Still… I don’t want her to die.

It would mess with my head too much if someone I knew turned up as a corpse in a ditch tomorrow.

“You okay, sissi?”

A fellow servant approached cautiously.

“Lezeta’s just stuck in her own head. I might pity her, but I don’t care enough to be bothered.”

“You’re five years younger than her and way more mature.”

As long as the people around me see that, that’s enough.

“Oh, right. Don’t you work with Rejeta? In Lady Rosa’s dressing room?”

“Yeah. We’re not really close, though. She never talks to anyone she thinks is beneath her.”

“Ah… I see.”

Didn’t realize her reputation was that bad. That alone feels like a death flag.

“If it’s okay, could you slip this into Lezeta’s bag? It’s a hawthorn branch—they say it repels vampires.”

It’s probably just superstition, but the rosary the heroine Cecil always carries is made from hawthorn and black onyx, so it might actually work.

“It’s more of a symbolic gesture. Like a prayer that the darkness inside her goes away.”

“I don’t really get it, but sure. It’s not that hard.”

Let’s hope it at least helps Lezeta survive.

Can’t say I’m confident it will, though.

Lezeta Aeriot was a girl full of ambition.

She was tired of the dirty, worn-out maid uniforms.

She wanted sweet food on a fancy table.

And after ten years of dreaming, she came up with a plan—become the lover of a noble’s son.

Even if, in her new workplace, the young master of the Brighton duchy was five years younger than her.

Ian Brighton had the face of an angel.

So beautiful that people on the street would stop in their tracks to stare.

Demon-possessed child. Mad scientist duchess.

The terrifying rumors made her want to flee at first—but once she met the duke and duchess in person, they were just ordinary nobles.

A month passed in the duke’s estate, and Lezeta became sure of it:

The rumors were all lies.

There’s no way a boy that pretty could do something terrifying.

“Laughing while standing over a corpse in a ditch? Ridiculous!”

She had to find a way to become his personal servant.

The moment she saw sissi’s room filled with snacks, the seed of desire took root.

Lady Rosa, whom she served, was kind and unusually warm for a noble.

But it wasn’t enough.

She wanted the recognition and admiration sissi received to be hers.

But how?

How could she take sissi’s place?

Frame her? Make her disappear…?

Just as vile thoughts began creeping into her mind like a devil’s whisper—

sissi’s voice echoed in her memory:

“Listen to me, Lezeta.”

“Shut up!”

“What’s so loud?”

In a fit of frustration, Lezeta threw her rag to the ground. A soft voice reached her ears.

Startled, she looked toward the sound.

There he was, bathed in the light of the setting sun—a dazzling, radiant boy.

Wearing a gentle smile. Eyes red like blood.

Lezeta stared at his face, entranced.

“Well? Tell me. What’s so loud?”

Blushing, Lezeta lowered her eyes.

She folded her hands together—meek and shy.

“It’s nothing, young master…”

She thought:

Maybe this is my chance.

Be sweet. Smile pretty. Win him over.

If little Cici did it, she could too.

“Was it my footsteps that were loud?”

“No, not at all! I didn’t even know you were there!”

“Of course not. The loudest thing right now… is your voice.”

Lezeta blinked in confusion.

That… didn’t match his tone at all.

“You seemed to have plenty to say before. Why’d you run off without a word?”

“Th-That’s…”

He was talking about the garden. Lezeta stiffened, staring at the floor.

She hadn’t expected that incident to come back to bite her.

Then something strange caught her eye.

It was Ian’s shadow.

Something was writhing and shifting.

Ian was at least a head shorter than Lezeta. It made sense, given the age difference.

But why was his shadow… bigger?

No—growing.

It swelled, overtaking the wall. It wasn’t her imagination. It was real.

“Hey.”

One side of the hallway was completely swallowed by a huge shadow.

She should’ve looked away—but she couldn’t.

From that abyss-black darkness, countless whispers poured out.

Lezeta, you idiot. Lezeta! Lezeta! Lezeta!

“Stop…”

Rule Three: Never make eye contact with Ian Brighton’s shadow at sunset.

When she came to, everything was dark.

Lezeta scrambled to run—but the shadow at her feet wrapped around her ankle.

Ian leaned in and whispered softly.

“Go ahead. Try to run.”

She should’ve begged for her life. The mouths inside the shadow were already salivating for her.

But Lezeta couldn’t say a word.

The next day, Lezeta Aeriot left the Duke’s estate.