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Chapter 11
“Ah, the lights are back on now.”
The rain still poured outside, but the thunder had finally stopped.
Having barely calmed down, Isabella looked up at Claire with an exhausted face. Noticing the embarrassment mixed into the child’s gaze, Claire spoke carefully.
“Shall we go to the bath?”
“Okay.”
Carrying Isabella in her arms, Claire moved into the bathroom connected to the bedroom.
The child obediently entrusted herself to Claire’s care as she stepped into the tub. Thankfully, hot water came out immediately.
“Thank you for coming. Isn’t it silly? I’m already nine years old and still scared of thunder.”
Perhaps because the warmth had eased her tension, Isabella spoke shyly.
Her expression looked comfortable now, as if all her wariness had completely disappeared after tonight’s incident.
Claire poured warm water over Isabella’s shoulders and shook her head.
“Not at all. I was afraid of ants until I was twelve.”
“Ants?”
“Yes. Because they were small. Everyone has different things they’re especially afraid of. There’s nothing strange about it at all. Close your eyes for a moment.”
“Okay.”
Feeling Claire gently washing her hair, Isabella suddenly remembered something.
“But how did you know I’m scared of thunder? I never told you.”
“Young Master Theodore told me, so I came right away.”
“……Brother?”
Isabella’s blue eyes quickly filled with tears.
“Brother worries about me? He doesn’t hate me?”
Claire was startled.
When Theodore learned Isabella had been left alone in the annex, he had looked utterly distraught with worry.
“Of course not. He was very worried about you. If he had been healthy enough, he would’ve come himself.”
At those words, Isabella smiled brightly, clearly overwhelmed with emotion.
For the first time, she looked like a child her age—fresh, innocent, and carefree.
“That’s a relief. I thought Brother hated me forever.”
“Is that why you never met with Young Master Theodore directly?”
Claire remembered seeing Isabella secretly hiding in the garden, watching Theodore from afar.
But judging from her reaction now, she clearly wanted to see him.
“I wanted to see Brother too. But I was told I shouldn’t, so I held myself back.”
“What?”
Fidgeting with her fingers, Isabella whispered quietly.
“When I meet Brother, his madness gets worse.”
Claire’s eyes widened.
“He gets angrier and suffers more. That’s why I shouldn’t meet him. I promised Uncle Gregory.”
Madness that worsened only around a specific person. A consistent pattern.
I’ve felt this before, but… is this really ordinary madness?
Claire’s expression darkened.
Come to think of it, not a single maid has come here yet.
The weather had been violent enough to knock out the mana lamps.
No normal servants would have left a nine-year-old noble girl alone this long.
Suddenly, Claire recalled Alice, the maid from the main house—the obvious shock on the servants’ faces when Claire walked out of Theodore’s room unharmed.
She had known from the start that something about this estate was wrong.
I planned to earn some money and leave without getting deeply involved in troublesome matters.
But watching the softened raccoon siblings, a thought suddenly crossed her mind.
Could I really just leave them behind?
Claire lifted the now-drowsy Isabella from the bath and dressed her.
Not long afterward, she emerged from the bathroom carrying the sleeping child in her arms. Isabella’s eyes were still red from crying, though her breathing had become steady.
The warmth from the small body felt unexpectedly comforting, and Claire let out a long sigh.
* * *
After making sure Isabella was tucked safely into bed, Claire returned to the main mansion where Theodore was staying.
I should hear the full story from the young master first.
Thinking that, she dragged her exhausted body into the building—
“Hm?”
The atmosphere inside the main house was different from usual.
Unlike the normally lax environment, every servant was gathered in the lobby wearing full formal uniforms.
What’s going on?
Had the count returned from the border?
Hiding behind a pillar, Claire quickly scanned the situation.
Who is that?
Then she noticed the back of a man standing at the center of the servants.
A tall man dressed in a black suit, with dark blue hair tied neatly down to his waist.
The servants all bowed toward him as though the true master of the estate had returned.
“Hm?”
Perhaps sensing her presence, the man slowly turned his head and looked directly at Claire.
The moment their eyes met, Claire’s body stiffened.
Sharp eyes. Black irises that seemed bottomless.
That man is a predator.
A chill crawled down her spine in warning.
The fact that he had immediately noticed Claire despite her hiding her presence proved he was no ordinary person.
“Is she the new girl?”
The head butler’s face turned pale.
“T-that is… she has been attending Young Master Theodore since early spring.”
“Theodore’s?”
The man’s lips curved upward with interest.
His face was beautiful enough to appear almost androgynous, but Claire felt something deeply unsettling in his smile.
I see it now. His eyes aren’t smiling at all.
Watching the man approach leisurely, Claire clenched her fists to stop the cold sweat forming on her palms.
In the forest where her cabin had stood, Claire had naturally been the apex predator.
The only human who visited the remote mountains was Angela, and even savage beasts had never been her match.
But she had not always ruled the forest.
He reminds me of the wolf I saw when I was young.
Claire stared at the approaching man with wary eyes.
Back when she had still struggled to control her strength, she once encountered a black wolf.
A massive alpha that led its pack and behaved more cunningly than humans at times.
The approaching man overlapped perfectly with the image of that wolf.
“H-hurry and bow your head!”
The head butler snapped at her while nervously watching the man’s reaction.
Reluctantly, Claire lowered her head.
“Enough, Bender. You may raise your head.”
A calm, low voice sounded above her.
When Claire carefully looked up again, she saw the man smiling gently.
“What is your name?”
“Claire.”
He did not respond immediately.
Resting one hand against his chin, the man silently considered something before smiling again.
“I see. Claire, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Theodore’s uncle.”
Uncle.
Only then did Claire realize his identity.
He was Gregory Voltaire, the second son of Count Voltaire.
He doesn’t resemble the young master or the young lady at all.
The man before her was a predator who could devour the raccoon siblings in a single bite.
“Claire, how old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Hm. And where is your hometown?”
At his question, Claire recalled the fabricated background Angela had prepared for her.
“I came from the outskirts of a small southern village called Rosibel.”
“Rosibel…”
Gregory smiled with an unreadable expression before extending his right hand.
“I see. Please continue taking good care of Theodore.”
Claire had no choice but to take his hand.
Behind him, she could feel the servants’ dissatisfied stares, but she had no time to care.
The moment she grasped his hand—marked with the traces of countless battles—she became certain.
He’s strong. I might not be able to beat him head-on.
Claire continued staring at Gregory’s back until he completely disappeared.
Only after the dark blue hair vanished around the end of the corridor did she hurriedly head toward Theodore’s room.
* * *
Theodore sat curled up in front of his bedroom door.
Why was Bella alone? Why would Uncle leave her by herself?
Drops of sweat dripped from his forehead onto the floor.
His body trembled with confusion.
Now that I think about it… everything has been strange.
Ever since his madness began two years ago, moments of clarity had been extremely rare.
If I had never met Claire, I probably still wouldn’t even be capable of coherent thought.
After the onset of his condition, the siblings had naturally come to rely on the nearest adult figure: Gregory.
Gregory had always been considered perfect.
A gentle and considerate personality. Exceptional swordsmanship. Flawless social grace.
He had been Theodore’s role model, the only adult Theodore could trust after losing his father.
At least… until now.
When did the servants start changing?
