Episode 14
I froze mid-scoop of soup and asked dumbly:
“What did you say happened to Lezeta?”
Sitting across from me, my fellow trainee Lea—the same one who had defended me during dessert time the other day—answered calmly:
“She ran away. At dawn. Packed her bags and everything.”
I figured something like this might happen, but it came sooner than expected.
“She’s not dead, right?”
“The milkman saw her leaving the mansion. Said her hair was a mess, she was drenched in cold sweat, looked like a lunatic.”
“Ah…”
There’s no doubt. This has Ian written all over it. It’d almost be an insult to doubt otherwise.
He drove someone to madness just because she ignored him in the backyard when he called out to her.
I was relieved Lezeta didn’t meet some third-rate villain’s death, but the taste in my mouth was bitter all the same.
“I hope this makes her come to her senses.”
As I sat there with a storm in my head, Lea remarked indifferently.
“Will she get the chance to?”
“Don’t worry about girls like her too much, Sissi.”
It’s not that I’m particularly worried about Lezeta.
The real problem is this: if this kind of thing keeps happening, Ian Brighton will get even closer to becoming a literal demon.
And if he does—
‘We’re all out of jobs. Worst case, we’re out of lives too.’
A quiet sigh slipped out before I could stop it.
This isn’t even that unusual.
Lezeta didn’t die.
Her body wasn’t found.
She just ran out of the mansion in a panic that morning. That’s it.
‘It just feels worse because things had been calm for a while. That’s why I’m so anxious.’
I was probably overreacting.
Telling myself that, I finished my breakfast.
But the story of Lezeta spread like wildfire through the mansion.
Naturally, the mood inside the Brighton estate turned grim again.
“Did you hear? The night before she left, Ian was looking for Lezeta. Asked where the red-haired maid was.”
“I heard from the stablehand that she ignored his greeting and walked away, so he scolded her for being disrespectful.”
Facts and exaggerations swirled together, and eventually the servants of the estate reached the usual conclusion:
“Stay away from Young Master Ian.”
“Don’t upset him.”
And then…
“Sisi, please…!”
“……”
It was 8 a.m., and I was packing a picnic basket.
To make it to the bakery in time for their opening—as Ian ordered—I needed to leave immediately, but the other servants were clinging to me, holding me back.
“Even if you ask me…”
“I don’t want to end up like Lezeta! I don’t want to live in fear, wondering what tiny thing I might do to upset the young master and make him snap!”
“Exactly! You’re the only one he’s kind to! Can’t you ask him to go easy on the rest of us too?!”
It’s amazing what they expect from someone barely keeping her own head above water.
Guys, I’m no miracle worker. I’m just a worker ant, crawling through each day like everyone else.
“…That’s why I’m going on this picnic!”
Instead of saying that out loud, I decided to pretend I had a plan.
“If this puts Ian in a better mood, he probably won’t bother the servants for a while.”
Fine. I’ll play the part of Ian Brighton’s trusty emotional support human.
It’s true, after all, that the purpose of this picnic is to lift Ian’s spirits.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you all from him.”
I puffed up my chest and lifted my chin, pretending I had some noble strategy, and the servants stared at me blankly for a moment.
Then slowly, I saw their expressions fill with emotion.
“Sissi…!”
“You’re doing this… for us…!”
Honestly, my reputation was ballooning far beyond what I actually did.
But hey, no harm done.
I stopped by the market and filled the basket with bread and sandwiches perfect for a light meal. But now I was hesitating.
What kind of face would Ian Brighton be wearing right now?
Was he in a good mood after driving out Lezeta?
Or was he still in a foul mood, this all just a continuation of his frustration?
If it was the former, he’d greet me with a kind smile. If it was the latter, a pillow would come flying at my face the moment I walked in.
‘Better use the basket to shield myself on the way in.’
That half-hearted plan was in my head as I made to leave the bakery.
“Miss! Try this bite of campagnard before you go. I spread some homemade blueberry jam on it—it’s delicious.”
“Oh, thank you! Is this fresh out of the oven? It’s so warm.”
“That’s right. Just baked. You remind me of my daughter—makes me want to spoil you.”
The bakery owner is such a kind soul. Just like most of the people working at the Brighton estate.
I consider myself lucky to work among “good people” like this.
I really did make the right choice coming to the estate. Even if I have to cater to a demon-possessed boy every day.
Even if someone literally fled in madness just yesterday.
…Right?
“Isn’t the Brighton estate full of creepy rumors? Are you okay working there?”
“I’m fine. The employee benefits are good, and the work ends quickly.”
Sure, I have to rush to Ian’s room at the crack of dawn if he calls for me, but he hasn’t done that in the past month.
The only time I’ve seen the demon face-to-face was that night at 10 p.m.
I don’t know how long this “safe” routine will last, but…
“That’s good. Colin from the clothing shop said he saw one of the maids leaving the estate at dawn. I was worried something had happened to you.”
“Ah…”
Lezeta, seriously. How many witnesses did you leave behind?
I gave an awkward smile to the kindly baker who chuckled, relieved I was okay.
‘This rumor is spreading too far.’
The Brighton family usually tries to cover up any “incidents” caused by Ian.
Even if people suspect he’s the root cause of all the mansion’s misfortunes, that rumor stays within the walls of the estate.
Servants fear him, but they don’t go blabbing outside that the young master is possessed by a demon.
The Duke makes sure of that with strict silence.
Thanks to that, no clergy have stormed the mansion yet.
And since the Brightons are royal relatives, the temple can’t make a move without solid proof.
But how long will that wall hold?
If suspicions about Ian grow too strong, the temple will eventually step in.
In fact, the reason the protagonist, Cecil, set foot in the Brighton estate after her coming-of-age ceremony… was because the temple sent her.
And from the moment Cecil crosses the mansion’s threshold, the Brighton family’s downfall begins…
‘No way. Cecil wouldn’t show up early… right?’
I suddenly felt anxious.
Lezeta had been jealous of me. Because I stayed too close to Ian too safely, she underestimated the danger.
If my arrival was what pushed her into madness—
If this small change was starting to spiral in the wrong direction…
“She said her younger sibling back home fell seriously ill.”
I forced my voice to stay calm.
“She loved them dearly, so she packed in a frenzy and left for her hometown. I only heard about it this morning, so I can’t say for sure.”
“Oh dear, that’s terrible…”
“Thankfully, the Duke forgave her for leaving the estate without notice. He really is a generous man.”
“Everyone knows the Duke and Duchess are far more compassionate than most nobles, that’s for sure.”
Did that work?
Watching the baker’s face remain serene, I swallowed hard.
“Please tell Mr. Colin from the clothing shop not to worry too much either.”
Sorry, Lezeta. I’ve ended up rewriting the truth.
‘Please understand. I have to delay the temple from discovering Ian too soon.’
I just hope that hawthorn branch I gave you helped you in some way.
Maybe that’ll make up for this lie.
As I stepped out of the bakery, clouds loomed overhead.
And suddenly, I got a strange feeling.
Perched on every barren branch were crows.
Their beady black eyes stared at me in unison, as if watching my every move.
I didn’t feel threatened—but their gaze was undeniably intense.
Were they trying to tell me something?
Or maybe, praising me for covering up Ian’s misdeeds?
But the thought vanished quickly.
Because when I arrived at Ian’s room…
The Duke of Brighton was there.
And at his feet lay Ian Brighton, collapsed on the floor.
I dropped the picnic basket on the spot.
