Panting—
her breaths torn apart,
her voice escaping before her mind could catch it:

“Joan!”

Her eyes widened until they ached.

The scene—
the scene returned exactly as it had in the novel,
clear, brutal, unforgiving.

The bloodstained knife.
Blood soaking the entire floor.
The corpse of that unfortunate servant.

She staggered back one step.
Then another.
Her entire body trembling like a soaked leaf.

But—

Nothing.

No blood.
No corpse.
No knife.

Joan turned sharply toward her,
angry eyes, a familiar harsh voice:

“What are you doing here?!”
“Get out immediately! This is the young master’s wing!”

Elizabeth couldn’t answer.

Because there—
was him.

He sat calmly on a chair by the window.
His pale blond hair was drowned in white moonlight,
as if it had been born from light itself.

His cheek—
clean.
Untainted by the blood she had seen a hundred times in her imagination.

A book rested in his hands.
His pale, icy-blue eyes
were fixed on its pages,
calm—
far too calm.

An angel.

No—
worse than that.

An angel who had not fallen yet.

In that moment,
Elizabeth’s heart collapsed.

Her knees gave out,
as if the bones holding her had finally surrendered.
Tears spilled without permission—
hot, panicked, senseless.

Her face drained of color.
Her mouth hung open, soundless.
Her eyes were locked onto him,
like someone staring at a ghost
she had been certain would kill.

It hasn’t happened yet…

The thought struck her slowly, terrifyingly.

This wasn’t the timing.

Did I make a mistake?

And then—

Adrian finally lifted his gaze from the book.

And looked at her.

Adrian’s eyes met hers.

The same color.
That same pale sky-blue—

But not the same calm.

His calm was polished, unwavering,
like a sea untouched by wind.
Hers, however, trembled—
filled with a terror that did not belong to this world.

He smiled.

A gentle smile…
painfully polite.

And he spoke in a soft, even voice,
as though welcoming a guest for tea,
not a maid who had burst into his private wing:

“I see you’ve brought a guest with you, Joan.”

Then he stood.

The movement was deliberate.
Unhurried.
As if time itself stepped aside for him.

He stopped in front of her
while she remained on her knees—
small, shaking,
feeling as though his shadow alone weighed more than her entire body.

He leaned down slightly,
his voice lowering with unsettling kindness:

“Elizabeth… is it?”

She froze.

“I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”

Her eyes couldn’t escape.
His gaze fixed directly on them,
and he saw—

Pure fear.
The fear of someone who knows something.

Behind her,
Joan’s apologies spilled out like a flood:

“My lord! I—I sincerely apologize! I never intended to bring her here! I will reprimand her later—this is my fault, please forgive me—!”

But Adrian raised his hand calmly.

One simple gesture—
enough to choke the words in Joan’s throat.

He turned to her,
smiling with the same kindness
that kills without ever staining its image.

“There’s no need for that, Joan.”

“There is no mistake here.”

Then he added,
in a tone so genuinely gentle it was terrifying:

“You are doing your job perfectly. I have no intention of scolding anyone.”

He forgave her.

Easily.
Kindly.
As if nothing had happened.

But Elizabeth—
Elizabeth knew.

That this kindness…
was the most dangerous thing about him.

Adrian lifted his gaze back to her.

To Elizabeth, frozen in place—
as if her feet had rooted themselves into the floor.

He asked calmly,
his voice carrying not the slightest hint of irritation:

“Are you alright?”
Then added gently,
“What’s wrong? Why do you look so stiff?”

Joan placed the tray of medicine on his desk.
She let out a quiet sigh—one she had long learned to hide her exhaustion within—
then turned toward Elizabeth without a word.

She grabbed her by the arm
and pulled her up forcefully,
whispering sharply as she dragged her outside:

“Don’t embarrass me any further.”

Before closing the door,
Joan bowed deeply and apologized once more.

“My apologies again, master.”

Adrian smiled at her.
That same smile—
kind, polite, flawless.

“Thank you for the medicine, Joan.”
“As always… you take such good care of me.”

He waved at her.

A simple gesture.
Ordinary.

But—

In Elizabeth’s eyes,
his hand was not empty.

It was bloodied.
Clutching a knife.

The face that had looked pure just moments ago
was drenched in blood.
His elegant clothes
soaked in crimson,
heavy—suffocating.

She saw him.

Just as she had seen him in the novel.

She saw him
as people would die by his hands.

In her memory,
he leaned toward her,
his eyes gleaming with pure terror,
his voice promising her death.

She trembled.

Her heart screamed inside her chest:

Something is wrong.
Terribly wrong.

And her mind whispered only one thing:

Run.
Run now.

But she—
just before the door closed completely—

felt it.

A gaze.

Adrian was looking at her.

And smiling.

The door finally closed.

Silence returned to the wing,
as if nothing had intruded upon it moments ago.

Only Adrian remained.

His white sleepwear
looked too pure for this place,
untainted by any trace—
or so the world was meant to believe.

He lowered his head slightly.

Then…

He smiled.

Not the polite smile he had offered so generously seconds earlier,
but a deeper one.
A truer one.
One that required no witnesses.

Slowly, he extended his hand
and drew from beneath his sleeve
a knife.

Bloodstained.

The metal gleamed beneath the moonlight
as though it were smiling with him.

He turned calmly,
his steps soft,
measured,
soundless.

He stopped before the heavy curtain
and pulled it aside.

The scene was revealed.

A man—
suspended by ropes.

His limbs…
all severed.

His body was covered in cuts and gashes,
as if someone had been writing upon him,
a long sentence carved without mercy.

The wall behind him
was no longer a wall.

It was a canvas.
Crimson. Chaotic.
Artistic—
in its own sick way.

Adrian stepped closer.

His eyes widened slightly.
There was no pity in his gaze—
only focus.
Curiosity.
A quiet pleasure.

He raised the knife once more
and continued what he had started,
unhurried,
like someone returning to their favorite hobby.

But—

His mind was not entirely here.

It was with Elizabeth’s expression.

With her widened eyes.
With her genuine trembling.
With fear that was not an act.

Strange…

he thought.

That expression…
As if she knows.
As if she saw what lies behind the curtain.
Or…

He paused for a second.

He remembered his hand
when he waved at Joan.

Did she notice?

His brow lowered slightly.

Then another thought surfaced—
heavier than blood itself.

Why did she come with her in the first place?
Isn’t my wing… forbidden?

The knife halted in midair.

His eyes turned cold.

I was going to kill Joan today.
The timing was perfect.

But—

He failed.

Because of her.

---

Joan dragged her violently through the corridors,
Elizabeth’s steps stumbling behind her,
until she threw open the door to the servants’ quarters
and shoved her inside without mercy.

“Have you lost your mind?!”
Joan’s voice was low, but sharp as a whip.
“The young master’s wing is not a place for your little experiments! You disturbed him—right before my eyes!”
Then she added, fury tightly restrained:
“Tomorrow, you will be punished for this recklessness.”

The door slammed shut.

Only the echo remained.

Elizabeth sat on the floor for a few seconds,
then slowly lifted her head,
her mind repeating the same sentence with trembling sarcasm:

Disturbed him?
Adrian… disturbed?
Don’t joke with me.

She wiped the sweat from her brow with a shaking hand,
took a deep breath…
and slowly, her heart began to calm.

Then—
she smiled.

A small, exhausted smile,
but a real one.

She saved Joan.

The scene she had witnessed hundreds of times
did not happen.
It broke.
It changed.

So… the story’s course will change.

But the next thought
was not comforting.

If he didn’t kill Joan…
he’ll find someone else.

The smile faded slightly.

She stood,
dragged herself toward her bed
as if her body were too heavy to carry.
She lay down,
wrapped the blanket tightly around herself,
like someone silently demanding a reward
for courage she never knew she possessed.

A little rest… I deserve it.

But her mind—
did not obey.

His face appeared.

Adrian.

The polite smile.
The gentle voice.
The pale blue eyes
that had seen her fear…
and understood something.

He would have succeeded.
If I hadn’t stepped in.

She pulled the blanket tighter
and whispered to herself in the darkness:

From now on…
I’m inside the story.

And I will stop every one of your attempts to kill, Adrian.