Elizabeth’s arm slipped half a centimeter.
Just half a centimeter—
but her body screamed danger.
Her heartbeat roared in her ears until it became thunder.
Her fingers cramped.
And the night…
was an open mouth, waiting.
She jerked her head up violently,
and her eyes—no—were not afraid.
They were furious.
A raw, burning fury.
Unfeminine.
Ill-mannered.
The rage of someone who had crossed past fear.
She growled, her voice low, hoarse, terrifying in its steadiness:
— If you let go of me…
— I’ll take you down with me.
His eyes widened at last.
Not in fear.
But in belated realization.
— Don’t test me,
she continued, her breath breaking,
— I have nothing left to lose.
She tightened her grip suddenly.
Fabric tore.
The shirt ripped further.
Another button snapped loose and fell, its faint clink swallowed by the void.
Her face drew closer to his despite the impossible position, despite her shaking body.
Her teeth were close to his neck.
Her breath was hot—angry—painfully alive.
— Push me.
— Push me.
— Did you think I’d beg you to keep me alive?
He tried to move.
The moment he did, she deliberately leaned back.
Not much—
just enough for him to feel her weight pulling.
Enough for him to feel the abyss tugging at him with her.
— Elizabeth— he said her name at last, his voice cracking for the first time.
She laughed.
A short, hysterical laugh, thick with contempt.
— Now you speak?
He stared at her as she still clutched his torn collar, then said in a low voice, terrifyingly steady:
— What did you mean by that expression you used yesterday…
when you were with Joanne?
— And why do you call me a killer?
— Why do you whisper that all the disappearances in the manor… are because of me?
Inside her, her mind screamed with hysterical sarcasm:
You want me to tell you I read you as a character inside your own story?
How absurd—how could anyone even say that out loud?
She didn’t answer.
She only stared at him.
A steady, defiant look, stripped of all pleading.
And in the next moment—
His hand moved… to her throat.
His fingers wrapped around her neck brutally, squeezing without hesitation.
His other hand rose to her face, his palm sealing her mouth and nose—cutting off air, cutting off sound, cutting off every chance of escape.
The world collapsed inward.
Her breath vanished.
Her chest burned.
Her vision shook.
But the rage—
the rage was stronger than the suffocation.
She forced the words out of her throat with difficulty, broken, scraped raw:
— The q–question…
…is for you.
He tightened his grip on her neck.
— What is your goal?
Why… are you trying… to kill me?
His voice came cold, right by her ear:
— I asked you first.
She smiled.
A shattered, defiant smile, born in the chokehold.
— You… won’t… get an answer…
unless you… answer… my question.
She lifted her eyes to him despite the tears and repeated the question she had asked that morning—this time as a direct accusation:
— What is your goal?!
Then, her voice shaking but sharp:
— What are you trying to reach… through killing?
Are you trying to erase something?
She paused, then whispered:
— Or do you… not want to be human?
And in that moment—
her mind exploded.
To be human…
To be someone with a life, a role, a trace… is a beautiful thing.
And me?
I’m a paper character now.
I don’t exist.
Everything here… isn’t real.
Tears poured down—hot, born of fury, not fear.
She spoke in a broken, trembling voice as she cried:
— If you’re trying… to erase your humanity…
then someone… wants to reclaim it… violently.
And inside her, a silent confession:
Yes… it’s me.
The pressure of his hand stopped.
Below, in the cold stone courtyard, Nellmin was grumbling as she carried a small basket.
“Good grief… why all these chores? The flowers aren’t going anywhere…”
She bent down beside the flowerbeds that bloomed only at night, touching their buds with irritation—utterly unaware that directly above her… a life was hanging by a thread.
Above—
Elizabeth was still clinging on, tears streaming freely, her breathing broken, her limbs trembling.
And suddenly—
Her blue pupils shifted.
Downward.
To that exact spot.
Where Nellmin was.
She froze for a second…
Then—
She smiled.
A defiant, bold, feral smile—nothing like a frightened maid’s, but like someone who had reclaimed her mind at the very last second.
She spoke, her voice shaking but clear, staring straight at Adrian:
“By the way…”
She raised her voice slightly—on purpose.
“We’re not alone anymore.”
Then, louder, sharp as a blade:
“There’s a witness… to your crime.”
Adrian’s eyes widened abruptly.
His gaze snapped downward.
And at that very moment—
Elizabeth screamed.
A real scream.
Full, raw, tearing through the night:
“HEEEEEELP!!!”
Nellmin looked up.
She saw—
A hanging body.
Hair whipping in the air.
A hand on the railing.
She gasped.
Staggered back a step.
Then screamed with everything she had:
“AAAAAAH!!!”
She spun and ran inside, screaming as she rushed through the corridors:
“Head butler!!”
“The maids!!”
“The young master—!!”
Above—
Elise was smiling.
A shameless smile.
Cunning.
Terrifying.
She said, her voice trembling but brimming with confidence as she stared into his eyes:
“You know?”
She leaned closer—not to fall, but to whisper:
“The scariest thing about you…”
She paused.
“…is that you think you’re so very smart.”
And in the same instant—
Her hand suddenly loosened from the collar of his shirt.
But her other hand was faster.
She grabbed his wrist.
And shoved.
Hard.
Backward.
His eyes widened in pure shock.
He lost his balance half a step—
And in that moment—
She let go.
She fell.
Not the fall of a victim.
But the fall of a victor.
The air slapped her face, her hair flew upward, her heart hammered wildly—
But she smiled.
As she fell…
She wiped her tears with her free hand, proudly.
I did it.
I’m not a frightened maid.
I’m… the one who read the ending.
Her body hit the ground.
A dull sound—
Then silence.
She didn’t feel pain immediately.
The impact was too great to process.
The cold stone ground embraced her cruelly,
her hair spread around her head in disarray,
and her eyes stayed open for a second… staring into nothingness.
Then—
The blood came.
Not a gush.
Not a dramatic spray.
Just a dark line,
slowly seeping from the side of her head,
spreading beneath her,
like her shadow deciding to move ahead of her at last.
Her breaths were weak… fragmented.
The world felt distant, blurred, as if being pulled away.
Did I… succeed?
That was the last thought that crossed her mind.
Above—
Adrian stood at the railing,
eyes wide,
his face stripped of all expression.
He looked down.
And saw her.
A motionless body.
Blood beneath her head.
And for the first time—
He was not in control.
Below—
The voices multiplied.
Running footsteps.
Screams.
Nellmin crying.
Someone shouting her name.
But Elizabeth heard none of it anymore.
Only a slow darkness…
And a warm heaviness in her head.
And the last thing she felt—
Was not fear.
But a strange sense of peace.
Even if I die…
this time,
I was not silent.
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