In a distant place—
far from the palace where the blood was still warm—
a luxurious carriage cut through the city’s night roads, moving with solemn slowness.
The wheels made no sound.
The two black horses advanced in perfect discipline,
almost like a prayer in motion.
Inside the carriage—
Sat a woman with amber hair,
shimmering beneath the moonlight like spilled honey,
and eyes the color of golden nectar—warm…
yet deep enough to hide secrets never spoken.
She was
Marquise Serafina Laurent von Valent.
Adrian’s mother.
She was talking.
Talking without pause,
as if silence were her only enemy.
“Do you know, Uruka?”
she said, fluttering her ornate fan.
“On our last journey to the north, I heard a very strange tale.
About a girl who fell from a tower… and did not die.
They said her soul outran her body…”
She laughed softly—
the laugh of a woman long accustomed to wonders.
Across from her sat her maid.
Uruka.
Hair black as a starless night,
eyes the color of ruby, steady and calm,
as though they knew every story
before it was ever told.
She did not interrupt.
She did not comment.
She simply listened.
Serafina continued, her voice bright with childlike excitement:
“And in the south—ah, the south…
They spoke of a palace where maids disappear,
claiming it’s due to a ‘curse.’
But I don’t believe in curses.
I believe in people.”
Then she fell silent.
Lowered her fan.
Drew a slow breath.
And when her voice returned—
it was no longer playful.
“I miss him, Uruka.”
She stared into the void,
as if the moon itself had become her son’s face.
“I miss my little Adrian so much…
I don’t know why, but this time
my absence feels longer than it should.”
At last, Uruka lifted her gaze.
She looked at her mistress—briefly, yet deeply.
Then she spoke, her voice soft and measured,
like a prophecy rather than advice:
“Some children…
do not wait for their mothers’ return
the way we expect.”
The carriage fell into silence.
Outside,
the night continued its slow descent—
Unaware
that a mother was drawing near,
and that the palace
would never remain the same
after her arrival.
****
Sunlight slipped into the palace courtyard
as if it had never heard of what happened a week ago.
Servants filled the space as usual—
hands in the soil,
water poured over flowers,
soft laughter,
whispers of spring’s arrival after winter departed with its heavy luggage.
The world…
had not stopped.
Inside one of the quiet rooms—
Elizabeth lay on the bed.
Her navy-blue hair was scattered across the pillow,
her head carefully bandaged,
her cheek wrapped in white gauze, hiding the mark of her fall.
Beside her,
Lucy—red-haired—
clasped her hands tightly,
murmuring a trembling prayer,
tears sliding freely as she stared at Eliz’s unmoving face.
“Please… wake up…”
she whispered,
as though a louder voice might shatter the miracle.
Then—
Eyes opened.
Blue.
Very slowly…
as if the eyelids had forgotten how to rise.
Eliz stirred,
let out a faint breath,
then sat up with an unexpected calm.
Lucy froze.
Her eyes widened.
Her breath caught.
“…?”
The next moment—
she threw herself at her,
hugging her with a warmth that nearly crushed the bandages.
“Eliz!!”
she cried through laughter,
“I thought— I thought you’d never wake up! You scared me so much!”
She held her tightly,
as if making sure the body was real… warm.
Eliz let out a small groan.
The pain was real.
Sharp.
Far too real.
“L–Lucy…”
she murmured weakly.
Lucy pulled back at once, startled.
“Don’t move! The nurse said your survival was a miracle!
You fell from the second floor… and you were unconscious for an entire week!”
A week?
The word struck Eliz’s mind like a hammer.
Everything…
froze.
The sounds drifted away.
The room felt distant.
Her hand rose—slowly, carefully—
and pressed against her chest.
A heartbeat.
She looked at her fingers.
They moved.
And inside her—
There was screaming.
I didn’t really die…?
But I’m sure…
I saw the void…
She swallowed.
Her heart began to pound violently.
How is this possible…?
Elizabeth stiffened suddenly.
She turned to Lucy sharply, as if time itself were chasing her.
She grabbed Lucy’s shoulders with all the strength she had left,
her fingers trembling, her breaths uneven.
“Lucy—Nilmine! Where is she? I need to talk to her now!
Please… the young master pushed me… he did this…
Nilmine saw it! She was there!”
The words spilled out in frantic bursts,
Eliz’s eyes wide to the point of pain,
one scream echoing in her mind:
They must know.
Everyone.
They must know who did this… who caused all of it.
Suddenly—
Lucy’s expression slackened.
Her mouth fell slightly open.
Her head tilted in a slow, unsettling way.
Her eyes…
looked dark.
Empty.
The room faltered.
“Eliz…” she said softly, anxious—yet confused.
“Are you feeling alright?”
The blood in Elizabeth’s veins turned to ice.
“…?”
Lucy continued hesitantly,
“Who… is Nilmine?”
Elizabeth’s heart fell.
“Hah…?” she whispered, barely audible.
She lifted her head slowly, staring as if she hadn’t heard correctly.
Then she spoke again, her voice desperate with insistence:
“Nilmine. Our friend.
She was washing clothes with us last week…
with Krista. With Margaret too.
Lucy, what’s wrong? She’s our friend.”
Lucy’s features grew more troubled.
She shook her head faintly.
“No… I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
She swallowed.
“There’s no one by that name in the palace.”
Then, as if soothing a frightened child, she added quickly:
“And the young master… pushed you?
That’s… that’s impossible.
You must be… hallucinating.”
Hallucinating.
The moment the word was spoken,
the light drained from Elizabeth’s eyes.
Something went out.
A short laugh slipped from her lips—
broken.
Unsteady.
“…Impossible,”
she whispered, then repeated, slightly louder,
“Impossible… impossible… impossible…”
She began to laugh.
And cry.
At the same time.
She clutched Lucy’s dress tightly,
lowered her head,
her hair hiding her face.
Her tears soaked the fabric.
Lucy panicked,
wrapped her arms around her quickly,
patting her back as she whispered:
“Calm down… calm down… you’re safe now…”
But inside Elizabeth’s mind—
Hell stood wide open.
Nilmine… never existed?
But I saw her.
She was there… she was there!
She laughed again, closer to a sob.
By hell’s name…
By this world…
What is happening here?
Elizabeth shattered.
Not a quiet, sorrowful break—
an explosion.
She grabbed Lucy’s arms with frantic strength, her eyes wide with madness, her voice suddenly rising like the scream of a wounded animal:
“Don’t lie! Don’t tell me you don’t know her!
Nilmine was here! She was standing in the courtyard!
She saw! She saw Adrian pushing me!”
Her words tangled, spilling out in chaos, as if a dam had burst inside her:
“He’s a killer!
He killed Joan!
He killed the maids!
He hanged a man in his room!
He pushed me off the balcony—I died! I really died!”
Lucy shook violently, tears flying, her voice hoarse:
“I’m not insane!
I know what I saw!
Nilmine was there! She was screaming!”
Lucy began crying herself, terrified, helpless, trying to pull away:
“Eliz, please… stop… you’re hurting me…”
At that moment, the door burst open.
The nurse rushed in—a middle-aged woman with a stern face and commanding voice—followed by two frightened maids.
“What is going on here?”
But Elizabeth did not stop.
She spun toward them, hair wild, face pale, eyes reddened as if she hadn’t slept in centuries:
“Ask them!
Ask everyone about Nilmine!
She was washing clothes with us!
She watered the flowers!
She was there the day I fell!”
A heavy silence fell.
The maids exchanged glances…
then one slowly shook her head.
“No… we don’t know that name.”
The other, hesitant, added:
“No maid by that name has ever worked here.”
Elizabeth felt the ground vanish beneath her.
She screamed, her voice breaking:
“Lies! All of you—liars!”
The nurse stepped forward quickly, gripping Elizabeth’s arms firmly, trying to hold her still, her tone sharp and professional:
“Calm down. You’re injured. You were unconscious for an entire week.
Shock can cause hallucinations.”
“No!”
Elizabeth shouted, struggling to break free.
It’s impossible… I saw it with my own eyes…
The nurse motioned to the maids:
“Hold her.”
They tried to calm her, forcing her to sit on the bed while Elizabeth resisted, laughing and crying all at once.
“If Nilmine doesn’t exist…”
she whispered, voice shattered,
“then who screamed?
Who ran?
Who called for help?”
No one answered.
The nurse placed a steady hand on Lucy’s trembling shoulder and said in a practiced calm:
“Step outside for a moment.”
Then she turned to Elizabeth, her voice lower now, sharper:
“You need rest.
Do not try to remember things that aren’t real.”
Not real.
Elizabeth’s resistance collapsed all at once.
She lay back, breathing ragged, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes.
And in her mind—
one question echoed, slow, cold as death:
If they can erase an entire person…
who’s next?
Me?
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