TVMF 21

Chapter: 21

“It’s true! The restroom is in such a remote spot that I guess no one bothered to restock the toilet paper.”

“…….”

“Oh, and I don’t just use anything, you know. The Utel family uses a special kind of toilet paper with a silky texture. The way it’s made is—”

Snap.

The sound of Rasmin’s patience finally breaking.

Then came the heavy, pounding footsteps of someone storming toward me.

Seizing the moment, I gently twisted the joint of the hypnosis orb.

—Ding!

[ITEM: ‘Hypnosis Orb’ is functioning normally.]

According to The Sacrifice of the Thorned Golden Flower, the hypnosis orb isn’t all-powerful—you have to first draw out a moment of carelessness from the target.

In the novel, Erden controlled Lexia psychologically through various methods.

When I used it on Melisandra, I stirred her latent desires with words and persuaded her first.

And now, I had driven Rasmin into such a rage that she lost her reason, creating an opening for the hypnotic mist to seep in.

“Uh…….”

As a result, Rasmin’s eyes went blank the instant she yanked open the restroom door.

“Go and report to Melisandra. Tell her the Utel young lady has been safely locked away.”

“…….”

Suddenly locking me up somewhere like this—it had to be Melisandra’s order.

“And say that she still hasn’t answered any of the questions.”

After a moment, Rasmin slowly nodded, turned around, and walked away.

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs echoed.

Once they had faded far enough, I stepped out of the restroom and headed down the stairs myself.

Good.

I’d lost quite a bit of time.

Since Adrian was the harder one to control, I decided I should go to the butler first—and just as I finished that thought, there was a thud from below, as if something had collapsed.

“What… what is it?”

Frightened but forcing myself onward, I went down to check—and gasped.

Rasmin was lying sprawled in the empty first-floor corridor.

In front of her was a small side door at the eastern end of the main building, the one closest to the laundry building where the butler worked.

Standing with his back to the side door was a huge man—clearly the one who had knocked Rasmin out.

When I recognized who it was, I was left speechless.

Graying hair, and a refined face that didn’t quite match his large build.

“Butler…?”

An apron stained with detergent and water marks.

A soaked shirt and trouser hems—he looked exactly like someone who had rushed out in the middle of working.

The moment his brown eyes turned toward me, I knew.

His memories have returned.

“Oh, young lady!”

The butler cried out warmly, as though he remembered me.

Yet even then, there was a strange air of confusion and urgency in his demeanor.

“You came to find this old man together with the young master. Judging by that beautiful hair and those green eyes… are you not the young lady of House Utel?”

“Yes.”

As expected of a butler from a great noble house—once his memories returned, he recognized me at a glance.

I hurried to speak. I needed to tell him about Adrian’s condition.

“Butler, this isn’t the time.”

“Indeed, young lady. This is no time for that.”

“…?”

“…?”

“You first, young lady. Has something happened?”

“Adrian is furious. He’s trying to kill everyone—including Melisandra.”

“What? The young master is gentle and upright—how could he possibly…?”

There really was a generational gap between us.

In the butler’s generation, it seemed the words “gentle and upright” carried a meaning very different from the one I knew.

“Still, thank goodness the young master is safe.”

Is that really what you’d call safe?

But the seriousness in the butler’s expression as he continued made it impossible for me to interrupt.

“Allow me to ask you this, young lady. Is the head of the house safe?”

“The head of the house?”

That would be Duke Bellas.

In other words, Adrian’s father.

“The head of the house’s life is in danger.”

“What?”

“If there is nothing more urgent, then please hear the rest as you come with me.”

With that, the butler entered an office that was clearly very familiar to him—and as we went, he told me everything in detail.

Oinos Restrom.

The butler of House Bellas.

A man who had lived his entire life believing that protecting House Bellas was both his duty and his pride—until one day, a crisis struck.

Melisandra, Duchess Bellas.

The woman who entered the ducal household through Duke Bellas’s remarriage.

He realized that she harbored a preposterous ambition—no.

Not merely ambition, but malice that went beyond it.

From overhearing her conversations with her subordinates, it became clear that her sole objective was to swallow House Bellas whole.

If not through affection, then through murder.

“So the duchess wasn’t just wicked—she was insane enough to resort to murder?”

“Yes.”

My head reeled at the unimaginable truth.

In any case, the butler had tried to inform the head of the house, but…

By unfortunate coincidence, Duke Bellas had left for the north to suppress monsters.

He attempted to contact his lord in secret, avoiding the duchess’s eyes, but—

‘Not a chance, you old fool.’

‘Rasmin… even you!’

He lost his memories at the hands of the duchess—and Rasmin, the servant who had joined her side before he even realized it.

“Th-then… did you beat Rasmin like that because you remembered her betrayal? Out of resentment?”

“Of course.”

The butler smiled with a dignified yet refreshing smile.

“An affront from one’s subordinate is unforgivable. Treason, even more so.”

“Haha, of course.”

As I resolved never to get on this butler’s bad side even by accident…

He led me up to the reception room where I had nearly been imprisoned, then pressed a slightly protruding brick inside the fireplace.

With a clunk, the space behind the fireplace slid open, revealing stairs leading downward.

“Gasp!”

I clapped a hand over my mouth.

Amazing. Incredible.

Of course—every noble house needs a secret passage like this.

Anyway, while the butler—who had forgotten even who he was—had been reduced to an excellent laundry machine…

…Didn’t something come back to you?

Please, think carefully.

Adrian and I had come to find him.

The perfume we left behind and the song we sang lingered in his mind.

“That scent and melody awakened something within me.”

Something on the verge of remembrance, something teasing an old sensation.

When his memories finally returned in full, the butler threw aside the laundry basket and detergent and ran.

To save his master, who might already have fallen victim to the duchess’s greed.

“There are passages throughout the Bellas estate that lead to the central underground chamber.”

As he spoke, bursts of white light popped into existence before my eyes as a mini-map unlocked.

“This is one of them.”

“Wow…”

The passage was dimly lit by glowing masses embedded in the ceiling.

So I’ve actually come here.

Judging from the novel’s descriptions, House Bellas—possessing exceptional martial power—handled monster subjugation in the north, and with it, the authority to process monster corpses.

Selling processed monster parts brought immense profit to the ducal house.

For example, the monster cores embedded in the ceiling, emitting light, could fetch astronomical prices depending on their purity and size.

And located in the central underground chamber, connected to all parts of the estate, was—

A terminal that allowed direct communication with the head of the house at any time… and even the ability to summon him.

Because the Bellas head frequently left for the distant north, the family always faced certain risks.

Being swept into political strife in the capital.

Or a second-in-command leading a rebellion in the lord’s absence.

In the novel, Adrian just used it to monitor who was making advances toward Lexia while he was away in the north…

In any case, a facility designed for such contingencies now lay before my eyes.

When we emerged from the narrow passage into a vast space, even purer monster cores—crafted into chandelier-like forms—hung from the ceiling, lighting it up as brightly as day.

Just how much is all of that worth?

At the center stood a pillar rising from a circular platform.

“Head of the house, please answer us at once!”

The butler shouted, rushing to the pillar.

I hesitated.

I knew this from the novel, but the existence of the Bellas underground chamber was a top secret known only to the head of the house and his most trusted aides.

That was why Melisandra, even after seizing control of the family, remained ignorant of it and failed right under her nose.

But was it really okay to reveal this to a daughter of a completely different house?

“Um, wait a moment. I’m not mentally prepared yet—”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

The butler’s utterly innocent face turned toward me. And then—

Crackle.

Sparks danced through the air above the pillar, and a man materialized.

“…!”

Black hair and blue eyes.

A tall, powerfully built frame.

A handsome man who looked exactly like what Adrian might become in fifteen years.

That man is Duke Bellas.

Now that I thought about it, in the novel The Sacrifice of the Thorned Golden Flower, Adrian’s father—the former Duke Bellas—hardly appears at all.

Even though he was certainly alive when Adrian was imprisoned, he was never mentioned again after the night Adrian escaped and slaughtered everyone.

Given that Adrian ascended to the ducal seat without any controversy, it was highly likely that the duke had died around the time of Adrian’s rampage.

I thought he was a monster who even killed his own father.

But as Rasmin’s diary revealed, Melisandra’s goal had been to seize control of the household while her husband was away on campaign.

What if…

What if, in the original story as well, Melisandra had sent assassins to kill her husband while Adrian was imprisoned?

That would explain why Adrian’s father was never mentioned at all in the original work.

A chill ran down my spine.

But in any case, Melisandra hadn’t yet made her move, and the duke was thankfully still alive in the north.

“…That is the situation.”

While I was lost in thought, the butler finished reporting the current circumstances to his lord.

[So that’s how it is.]

The duke in the sparking three-dimensional projection spoke in a voice that sounded unmistakably similar to Adrian’s.

[No wonder I found a fellow loitering around the camp kitchen carrying a vial like this.]

When I saw what the duke pulled from his pocket, I was horrified.