The next few days passed quicker than she expected. She did her best to stop overthinking—thankfully, Erion's absence helped. His busy schedule, flying back and forth, gave her more time to sort through her thoughts. But that didn't mean it was easy.
"Aren't you lonely?" Nova asked. She had finally convinced them to give her a simple task—she was bored out of her mind.
The three of them were in the kitchen again. As always, Luna was at the stove, stirring the pot, while she and Nova prepared ingredients.
Confused by the question, Evah glanced at her.
"I mean Lord Erion is away—always working. Almost no time for you," Nova said, plucking leaves from the vegetables without looking up.
"No," Evah replied. "He's always like that."
"That's sad!" Nova commented. "I don't think I could deal with that if I were you."
"Then it's a good thing you're not," Luna chimed in from the burner, dryly. Nova gave her sister a less-than-amused look.
But those comments barely registered with Evah. Nova's words echoed louder in her head than they should've.
Being with Erion—the Major General—wasn't like being someone's girlfriend. It meant understanding his world, accepting that he treated duty like gold.
Even if unspoken, she silently agreed with Nova.
Me too. I could never. It's too dangerous. Too much for someone like me.
Later, she lay on her bed, eyes fixed on the cloud-patterned ceiling she'd grown familiar with. Just like Erion's penthouse ceiling.
The conversation replayed in her mind.
I could never, she repeated.
But Erion's sleeping face flashed again in her memory—so calm, almost childlike, like someone you'd want to protect. But when the light flickered, revealing his other side, she wasn't sure she'd be spared.
"Ah!" she groaned, "Why am I acting like a confused teenager?"
I'm here because I broke into CGO headquarters. I'm a prisoner. I need to act like one.
She sighed, glancing at the old clock ticking steadily into midnight.
Just like some nights before, she knew—she wouldn't sleep at all.
INT – CORRIDOR – 12:30 AM
Evah walked barefoot through the corridor, trying to clear her mind.
Outside, the rain poured heavily, unapologetically. She wandered, looking at antique displays lining the hall, her feet carrying her deeper into the maze of doors.
Honestly, at this point, she knew she was lost in the house, so her only option was to keep wandering.
It had been a week, but there were still parts of this mansion she hadn't seen—corners she didn't know existed. There was a pool table on the second floor. A hidden bar tucked in the first.
She passed a large painting that looked like a family portrait. The occasional flash of lightning made the hallway look like a horror movie set.
In the painting, a younger Mrs. Macquaide sat on a red velvet chair, a little boy in a black suit and shorts resting beside her.
Is that Erion? Wow. He looks harmless.
Standing on her right was a man in a navy-blue suit. He held the hand of a teenage girl in a white dress, her blonde hair falling in soft waves.
She's beautiful. That must be his sister.
They looked like royalty.
And Erion… he felt familiar.
"Miss Arsenault," a voice spoke from the darkness, perfectly timed with a crack of thunder.
She jumped. It was Silas—the head of the household.
"My apologies if I startled you. Do you need anything?" he asked, stepping closer. His expression, as always, unreadable and stern. Those ever-judging eyes hadn't changed.
"No—no, I'm fine," she said quickly, waving her hands with an awkward smile.
"I must ask that you return to your room at this hour. It's dangerous to wander in the dark. You might encounter an accident."
"Okay," she replied politely, though part of her wanted to keep exploring. The mystery of this house—its charm, its secrets—pulled at her curiosity. It was something out of a book.
But she didn't want to disagree—not with Silas and those sharp, disapproving eyes of his.
"This way, please," he said with a bow.
Just as he finished, a loud scream pierced the air.
"What was that?! Did you hear it?" she gasped, turning toward the sound.
Is there a ghost?! That scream… it wasn't the first time she'd heard something like that.
"I heard nothing, Miss Arsenault. Please proceed to your room." His tone was firm, final.
But she couldn't shake it.
Then, another groan echoed—louder, rawer. It sounded like someone in unbearable pain.
Are they hiding something?
"It came from this side!" she said, moving toward the source. The closer she got, the louder the screams became.
Is there a hostage here?!
Her heart raced. A thousand thoughts formed a story in her mind.
"Miss Arsenault, I must insist you stop," Silas called out.
But Evah didn't listen.
Silas, alarmed but not surprised, watched her retreating figure as she ran toward the room where the sound had come from.
Lord Erion had warned him about the Lady's curiosity—with an amused smile, no less.
Now he understood exactly what his lord meant.
'She's like a bunny, hopping into places she shouldn't be,' were his exact words, said with a quiet chuckle.
Left with no choice, Silas sighed and followed after her.
She followed the cries until she stood frozen in front of a wooden door at the end of the East wing. Her breath caught. She had never seen this room before.
Most of the mansion's activity happened in the West wing—near the ballroom, kitchen, and front halls.
The left side was silent. Deserted.
Are they hiding something?
Is Erion hiding something?
A flash of Erion's bloodied face returned to her—cold eyes and, this time, a jester's grin twisting slowly across his stoic expression.
A tortured wail snapped her out of it.
What's happening in there? Why is someone screaming like that?
Why… am I scared?
Just staring at the door made her feel exposed. Vulnerable.
Erion…
What are you hiding?