A Ghastly Morning and a Shocking Night

“My lady, what do you mean, ‘disappeared’?” a young man asked.

In the castle’s Hall of Affairs, Matilda Wenser sat at the head of the table.

Flanking her at the long table were a few scattered ministers.

Her father had left them behind, deeming them too old or infirm for the campaign.

The more capable and shrewd among them had long since departed with Duke Wenser.

In the center of the hall stood a young man who introduced himself as Martin, a gardener from the flower fields.

Before him lay two corpses.

One was as pale as paper, its skin shriveled and clinging tightly to the bones.

Two neat puncture wounds marked its neck, the surrounding flesh faintly blackened.

The other corpse was a mangled mess of flesh and blood, its clothes torn to shreds.

Its exposed skin was covered in bite marks, with chunks of muscle gnawed away.

The face was a horrific sight: the mouth ripped open to the ears, a mangled tongue lolling between torn cheeks, and the eyes gouged out, leaving only two dark, empty sockets.

Matilda struggled to suppress the unease and fear rising within her.

She stared intently at Martin, forcing herself to observe the proper decorum of a lady of the house while averting her gaze from the two horrifying corpses.

“Sherry was laid to rest in the cellar, but yesterday morning, we found her coffin open and the body gone,” Matilda said, her voice trembling slightly.

‘Damn it all!’

Ever since their mother had led the troops away, her eldest brother, Charles, had been completely unrestrained, indulging in endless revelry under the grand excuse of “dispelling fear.”

He held banquets day after day, carousing with the heirs of nobles who had not gone to the front, and invited bards and circus troupes to perform in the castle.

Charles had even befriended a theater troupe, treating them like sworn brothers, drinking and making merry, and inviting them deep into the castle to perform in his private chambers.

As for the domain’s affairs, Charles never once set foot in the Hall of Affairs, and all incoming correspondence was left to languish in the messenger room…

Now, Matilda was left to handle everything, and the towering stacks of letters made her head spin.

Charles had finally deigned to appear in the Hall of Affairs today, and Matilda had hoped to encourage him to gradually resume his responsibilities to the family, or at the very least, share the burden of these duties with her…

That way, when their father returned, Charles, as the heir, would have something to show for himself to the Duke.

But instead, the first thing this morning, this fellow below had hauled in two corpses, scaring Charles so badly he had lost control of his bladder.

Matilda had no choice but to have the servants carry her brother away.

A faint, lingering stench of urine still hung in the hall.

“My lady, I suspect that maid isn’t dead,” Martin said, pausing for a moment.

“She’s become a monster.

Perhaps one of these two bodies is her handiwork.”

Matilda narrowed her eyes.

The young man before her, with his manner of speaking and his bearing, seemed nothing like a simple gardener.

“Where did you find them?” Matilda asked.

“In an alley in the outer city.

They were killed last night,” Martin replied.

“How can you be certain they were killed by… er… a monster?” Matilda said.

“It could have been wild dogs, or even another person.”

“My lady, look at this corpse, its desiccated state…” Martin moved closer to the bodies.

“And this one—based on an analysis of the bite marks, they were made by a human mouth…”

“Sir, regardless of the cause, the dead do not rise!” Matilda interrupted him.

“You claim a deceased maid from our household has become a monster, yet you have no proof whatsoever.”

“But, my lady…” Martin began, then hesitated.

“The body was surely stolen.

I will have the guards investigate,” Matilda said with a wave of her hand.

“If you are truly concerned, then pool some money together and hire a monster hunter.”

Martin said nothing.

“If a monster is truly caught…” Matilda sighed.

“We will reimburse you for your expenses.”

“My lady, monster hunters cannot deal with this kind of creature,” Martin said, his expression grave.

“I came only to warn you that an evil being has invaded your lands.

You must grant the Order greater authority to establish defenses…”

“Enough!” Matilda shouted, losing her composure.

‘These charlatans again!’

Just the other day, her brother Charles had fallen for the persuasion of these very fanatics, conducting some sort of improper rituals in the castle to seek protection.

On one occasion, Charles had even demanded that all family members cut their fingers and squeeze out half a vial of blood for him and those fanatics.

‘How absurd!’

To appease her brother, Ilisia and the others had complied with some of Charles’s demands, but Matilda eventually couldn’t stand it any longer and had the guards throw all the charlatans out.

This so-called gardener before her was certainly not making a good impression.

“Yes, my lady.”

Martin’s face fell, and he said nothing more.

He had the associate behind him wrap up the bodies and carry them out of the hall.

It was merely a small incident in a long morning; Matilda still had many people to see.

****

Night had fallen by the time Ilisia hurried back to the castle.

Hearing the strumming and singing of a bard and the loud recitation of lines from the theater troupe on the second floor, Ilisia couldn’t help but frown.

Her brother Charles was at his revelries again.

Yet, as much as Ilisia disapproved of her brother’s behavior, she knew she hadn’t contributed much herself.

Lately, she had either been moping in her room or rushing off to the Delarose’s small estate to sift through piles of letters with her former “arch-rival,” Bella, searching for any news of Adrian.

Sometimes Bella was too afraid to look herself and would ask Ilisia to find some good news to read aloud.

Ilisia would go through the letters one by one, and whenever she came across bad news, her heart would sink.

She would clutch the parchment so tightly it would crinkle and rustle.

Every time that sound was made, tears would well up in Bella’s eyes before she had even seen the letter…

As for Lady Delarose, she had her own network of informants—it was said she even had people among the rebels—so she was likely well-aware of her son’s situation.

But whenever Ilisia visited the estate, Lady Delarose was either just about to leave or had only returned to grab something before hurrying off again.

She refused to speak a word about Adrian.

Ilisia noticed that Lady Delarose’s once-rosy complexion had become utterly haggard in recent days.

At times, she would even see a faint redness around Lady Delarose’s eyes, as if she had just been crying.

“Find something to do, or the anxiety will tear you apart,” Lady Delarose had once advised Ilisia and Bella, unable to bear watching the two girls sobbing at home any longer.

Lady Delarose was naturally worried about her son, but if worrying did any good, she would have spent her days praying to the gods.

Her only recourse was to exhaust herself with work to ease the anxiety in her heart.

Ilisia shook her head and started up the stairs.

She paused at the top of the staircase, listening to the stillness of the night.

There was no wind in the castle, only the faint crackle of burning torches.

‘If only Mother or my second brother, Simon, were still here…’

‘Then my sister wouldn’t have to work so hard…’

Ilisia made her way to Matilda’s door, intending to check on her sister after her long day.

She reached out and pushed the door open.

The room was pitch-black, with heavy curtains blocking out all light.

It was so dark she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face.

‘Is sister not here?’

Just as Ilisia was about to leave, she heard a heavy, pained gasp.

She took out a match and struck it, lighting the lamp’s wick.

A warm halo of light slowly spread, illuminating the room.

And then she saw it—

The bed curtains stirred slightly.

Amidst a tangle of sheets, a figure slowly turned over, revealing a familiar face flushed with a mixture of shame and anger.

“Gods above!” Ilisia cried out, unable to stop herself.

“Ilisia?!” Matilda shrieked.