🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 43
Eva Monz was never particularly outstanding.
In looks, ability, or family background—she wasn’t exceptional in anything.
But at the same time, she wasn’t lacking either.
She had grown up reasonably well, was expected to marry reasonably well, and would have gone on to live a reasonably decent life.
If only her father’s gambling debts hadn’t driven the family into ruin.
Ah… fourteen, that delicate and sensitive age. The crushing despair of being abruptly pushed down into the position she once controlled with just the tip of her finger.
“This is the new maid. Greet her.”
It was sheer luck she managed to remain in the Bastion household by clinging to a distant retainer’s claim, placing her in service to the ducal heir.
“I—I will serve you faithfully, Young Master Wolfgang…”
Meeting him was her misfortune.
Bastion—the strange ducal house carrying the blood of demons, with a notorious and not-so-secret tradition of how that bloodline was passed on.
They were said to be born of the gods, and for them, whether a partner was noble or common made no difference. To their eyes, all were equally “human.”
And so the Bastions always chose their partners purely by will.
That absolute pride, that towering arrogance—it was only natural that the heart of a ruined noble’s daughter would pound in awe.
“I can do it. No—this time, I’ll do even better.”
She dreamed. Dreams that seemed dazzlingly close, ready to be plucked.
Her master was cruel with his hands, frightening even—but he was also dazzlingly brilliant. And because they were of the same age, she was often allowed close by his side.
What’s more, unlike the other servants—trained as assassins from childhood—she was spared from grueling drills.
Of course, the real reason was that she was too old to train and had no talent.
But at the time, she mistook it for special treatment. She convinced herself she was being favored, and secretly walked with her chin a little higher.
“Yes… realistically, I have the highest chance of being chosen.”
After all, even if Bastion claimed not to care about pedigree, surely he’d prefer a fallen noblewoman like her over some lowborn girl with too many ties to cover up. Besides, she was more devoted and obedient than anyone else.
So, she believed that if she simply remained patient, slowly and silently working her way into his guarded heart—then eventually…
“I picked her up.”
“You idiot! Don’t throw her!”
The day her young master personally brought home that insolent girl—the one who had clawed his face and dared to laugh with him—time froze for Eva.
That strange girl in the grotesque mask.
The one who slapped the icy young master, made him laugh, teased him, played with him.
The wretched girl who had never even revealed her lineage, yet somehow became the new lady of Bastion—damned Katrine.
And now…
“Asha Mane.”
Another girl, similar yet different, appeared—and Eva’s insides twisted.
Finally, it was supposed to be her turn. She had waited so long.
She wanted to drive the girl out. If not, then at least break her spirit.
“They say it works for frostbite as well as burns.”
“There’s even an old hag acting like a mother-in-law when she isn’t.”
“Eva! Stop playing tricks and give that back to Asha!”
“Senility, blindness—seems it’s all coming for you.”
But that sly little brat acted as though she knew everything—daring to treat Eva herself as if she were the fool.
Knock, knock.
Eva stopped biting her nails and looked toward the door.
It was night. If it wasn’t Franz, clutching his pillow and frightened by thunder, then who else would it be?
Her eyes sharpened.
“Who is it?”
Silence.
Was she hearing things? Maybe. It had been an exhausting day.
She sighed, brushing her hair back, and glanced at the jacket hanging neatly by the window.
It was precious to her—precious enough to make her lose reason. He had draped it over her himself, on the day of Katrine’s funeral.
The memory calmed her boiling anger a little.
Yes. She only needed to wait a little longer. Once Wolfgang returned, everything would be fine again.
Even Franz—rebellious for the moment, an unwanted burden wherever he went—would eventually crawl back to her side.
Knock, knock.
The sound came again.
Not an illusion.
“I asked who it is!” she raised her voice.
“……”
“Did you not hear me?”
Eva scowled, grabbed the lamp, and rose from the bed.
She strode across the room and yanked open the door—
“Ha.”
The hallway was pitch black. Empty.
What was this? A hallucination? Or someone’s prank?
Uneasy, she turned to retreat—then froze.
“…Why is the mansion so dark?”
Normally, the corridors glowed with lamps and hearth fires scattered throughout. It should not have been this dark, even at night.
Then—
Clatter!
A window burst open. A gust of Bastion’s early winter wind slashed through the room.
The hearth fire went out at once.
“What on—”
She turned back toward the room—
Fsshh!
The lamp in her hand flickered and died.
In the blink of an eye, Eva was trapped in total darkness.
Of course. Of course, this would happen to her.
She stood still for a long moment, and faint outlines began to emerge from the black. Not enough to move safely, though.
“Is anyone there?” she called.
But the only people on the second floor tonight were herself and Franz, who had stubbornly insisted on moving up here.
Still, her attendants should have been making rounds by now.
Eva swept her hair back and glanced around. She couldn’t just sit here in the freezing dark forever. She had to find someone—or at least some light.
Clap!
A handclap.
Franz? Maybe he was calling her.
She pressed one hand against the wall, fumbling her way toward his room.
“Young Ma—”
Clap, clap!
Eva stopped dead.
The sound had come from the opposite direction.
This side? Or that side? She couldn’t tell.
The corridor was vast, cavernous. Even the tiniest sound echoed endlessly.
But one thing was certain—
“A prank. That wretched brat again.”
Her teeth ground together. And then—
Clap clap clap clap clap!
Her shoulders trembled. Her face drained of color.
The mansion she had lived in her entire adult life suddenly felt terrifying.
She couldn’t tell where Franz’s room was in the dark, and it was too far to retreat back to her own.
She wanted to cover her ears, sink to the floor, and wait for it to end.
Then—
“…Oh dear, she looks scared. Should I stop?”
A clear, bright voice cut through the darkness.
That girl. She was here. Hiding. Laughing at her.
Eva trembled violently. She spun toward the voice—only for a small hand to grab her.
“Eva.”
“……”
“Don’t go. It’s a trap.”
Franz, holding a tiny lamp, pulled her closer. Even with his injured palm, he held her gently, careful not to hurt.
In the wavering glow, Eva met his eyes.
Violet eyes.
Like hers. Staring at her with kindness, with pity.
“…The same.”
“Eva?”
“Those eyes. I always hated those violet eyes behind the mask.”
Clear, bright, shining—like amethysts.
She hadn’t wanted to envy them, but in the end, she had.
“Eva—”
“Don’t look at me with those eyes!”
Smack!
Franz staggered as Eva shoved him.
The lamp flew, casting brief light—and Eva realized too late where they were.
“Oh.”
The staircase.
A steep, endless fall.
She instinctively reached out—but pulled her hand back just before touching him.
“Franz…!”
Asha burst from behind, screaming—
And hands.
Hands caught him from below.
Hands. Dozens of them.
Fwoosh!
Light flooded the mansion.
Eva swayed, dizzy, as she saw.
Corridors and stairs, filled with eyes. Every pair of eyes fixed on her.
“My God, the head maid just pushed the young master…!”
The eyes of the servants—eyes once filled with respect and trust, now stripped bare.
The red eyes—so like Bastion’s—staring with cold contempt.
The amber eyes—usually smiling annoyingly at everything—now frozen, grim.
“Eva. What on earth have you done?”
“I-I… it was an accident…”
“An accident?”
Asha scoffed. The excuse was pathetic.
Perhaps pushing Franz had been unintentional—but what she did after? How could that be explained?
It was obvious. She had planned to swoop in, pretend to nurse him back to health, to bind him to her.
Maybe even twist it so that Franz had fallen because of Asha’s prank.
Whatever the scheme, Franz’s safety had never truly mattered to her.
“Unbelievable. You really are Eva… Eva to the core.”
Asha’s expression was one of pure disgust.
She had intended to expose Eva’s nature—but even she hadn’t expected it to sink this low.
We’ll make her center stage. Hide the audience, fill the hall. If I say I just want to play a prank to reconcile with her, the servants will gladly help. Who wouldn’t want to ease tension between the head maid and the future lady? Of course, I’ll keep the second-floor staff out—just in case.
That was the plan.
Fine, let’s add a little bonus for our kitten. Franz, this way, you’ll get closure no matter what happens.
“…What?”
Give Eva one last chance yourself.
…
And if she rejects it, then she’s done. Just like our operation’s name.
Operation: “Eva the Tuna, Straight Into My Net.”
And now, it was over.
Levi, gripping Franz tightly, gave the cold order:
“Take her away.”
Ah, Eva. We almost couldn’t believe it ourselves.
But this is strike three. You’re out.
