the sky was overcast,
weeping a light, soundless rain.

Elizabeth walked through the long corridors,
a stack of dishes cradled in her arms,
each step taken with extreme care,
just as Karen had instructed her.

High quality… breaks easily…
She repeated the words in her mind
as she moved quietly.

But her heart—
felt light.

Suspiciously light.

She smiled to herself.
For the first time in a long while,
she felt—
that she had done something.

A heroine, right?
she thought with gentle sarcasm.

It's only been one day since I came here…
What will happen next?

—

"Elizabeth!"

The voice came from behind her,
panicked, broken.

She turned slowly,
her smile still resting on her lips.

It was Lucy,
running toward her.

But something was wrong.

Tears streamed endlessly down Lucy's face.
Her breathing was choked,
her complexion pale,
as if the rain had soaked her from the inside.

She stopped in front of Elizabeth
and grabbed her arm tightly.

"Liz…"
Her voice trembled.
"Lady Joan…"

Elizabeth's smile froze.

"She's dead."

Elizabeth's eyes widened,
as if the sky had collapsed inside them.

"…What?"

The word barely escaped her lips.

The dishes slipped from her arms.

They shattered against the floor
with a sharp sound
that tore through the corridor—
and through her heart.

White fragments,
scattered everywhere,
like her thoughts.

"Dead…?"

The air vanished from her lungs.

But…
I saved her.

I was there.
I changed the timing.
I changed the scene.

One step back.
Then another.

Her heart began to pound violently,
as if trying to escape on its own.

"How…?"

But she didn't want the answer.

Because one thought
was rising slowly—terrifyingly—
from deep within her:

The story…
didn't change.

Elizabeth's eyes widened even more,
and she began to whisper unconsciously,
as if the words were trying to escape
before suffocating inside her:

No… no… I was there… the timing changed… the scene changed…
That's impossible… that's impossible…

She repeated the same sentence over and over,
her voice fractured,
like someone trying to convince herself
before convincing the world.

Then—

Lucy suddenly grabbed Liz's hand.

"Come."

She didn't wait for an answer.

She dragged her quickly through the corridors,
her steps unsteady,
her mind—
shocked, screaming, trying to understand.

Something will be said.
Something official.
Something that will either deny my instincts… or confirm them.

They entered a wide hall.

All the maids were there.

Some were crying silently.
Others whispered in fear.
The air was heavy,
as if the atmosphere itself was dressed in black.

At the front
stood a gray-haired man,
his back straight despite the weight of the moment.

Andrew.
The head butler.

He began to speak in a low, formal voice,
like someone delivering a funeral announcement:

"Lady Joan… passed away this morning."
"According to the findings, she fell while climbing the stairs."
"An unfortunate accident…"

Fell.

The word struck Elizabeth's ear
like a slap.

Lies.

Her heart said it instantly.
Without hesitation.

She didn't fall.
She was killed.

But no one else could see it.

Andrew continued speaking,
as if the world hadn't just shattered:

"Due to this incident, today's duties will be rescheduled."
"The tasks Lady Joan was responsible for… will be redistributed among you."

He began listing names.
Instructions.
Order.

But Elizabeth—
heard only one voice
echoing inside her head:

I didn't save her.

I didn't change the story.

Adrian… was one step ahead of me.

She clenched her dress
until her knuckles turned white,
her eyes fixed on nothing.

If he made it look like a fall…
then that means…

She swallowed hard.

He noticed me.

Then—

Andrew lifted his gaze from the list
and stopped at a single name.

“Elizabeth.”

Her body trembled against her will.

She raised her head slowly,
her eyes wide.

“Me…?”

The question slipped out as a whisper,
as if it didn’t belong to her.

Andrew spoke in a steady voice,
one that allowed no argument:

“Starting today, you will be responsible for the young master’s medication.”

The blood froze in her veins.

The medication?
Adrian’s medication?

He began to explain,
his voice practical, cold,
as if what he was saying didn’t carry a death sentence:

— Precise schedules,
— Dosages with no room for error,
— Delays that were permitted…
—and delays that were not.

Then he added:

“The medicines are kept in the eastern cabinet, lower drawer.”
“The key will be given to you.”
“Any mistake, any forgetfulness, any delay…”
“You will bear full responsibility.”

She nodded automatically,
while her mind screamed.

This was Joan’s job.
This… was her place.

She felt the maids’ gazes turn toward her—
a mixture of pity, envy, and silent fear.

But she—
felt only one thing:

An invisible hand
pushing her forward
toward the mouth of the beast.

So this is the change.

She didn’t save Joan—
she replaced her.

---

After standing in silence
before Lady Joan’s grave,
praying for her with pale faces—
faces that no longer knew
whether they were mourning from fear
or from grief—

the maids returned to their duties
as if death
were simply another item
on the day’s schedule.

Elizabeth tightened her dress
and hurried
toward the lower staircase beside the kitchen.

The eastern cabinet.
Time is running out.

Her steps were fast—
faster than her frail body could endure—
her heart pounding
as if it were racing ahead of her
toward its fate.

On the other side,
Lucy prepared to go with her,
but Andrew’s voice stopped her:

“You’ll be cleaning and organizing the young master’s room today.”

Lucy halted,
then nodded in agreement.

But—
before she could move,
Andrew spoke again, his tone formal:

"Stop.”
“The master doesn’t wish to see anyone today.”
“He’s secluded… and appears to be grieving Lady Joan’s death.”

Lucy lowered her head respectfully
and stepped back.

Elizabeth had heard everything.

She stopped in the middle of the corridor,
one hand gripping the railing.

Grieving…?

A cold laugh trembled in her chest.

That monster feels grief?
When he’s the one who killed her?

Impossible.

But the crueler truth
was unmistakable:

She would go alone.

No Lucy.
No Joan.
No one.

Just her—
and that forbidden wing.

She swallowed hard,
her legs growing heavy
as if the staircase itself were stretching longer.

This is what the story wanted.
And this is what he wanted.

She lifted her head
and forced herself to move.

How terrifying.

But she knew—
from now on,
fear would no longer be a choice…

but a traveling companion.