The moment Mirelle left the dining hall, Noir slipped through the edge of Noel's shadow like smoke dissolving into air.
The mansion's corridors were quiet—too quiet. The faint hum of mana-lamps cast long, still silhouettes along the marble walls. To anyone else, it would have looked like a simple walk after dinner. But Noir's instincts prickled.
The woman's perfume, once sweet, now carried something rotten beneath it—metallic, sharp, wrong. Noir's nose twitched as she followed soundlessly, padding across the crimson carpet with her paws barely touching the ground.
Mirelle moved with elegance, chin held high, every gesture deliberate. She didn't look around once, as if she already knew no one would dare follow her. The faint click of her heels echoed ahead, leading Noir toward the side wing of the estate—the one rarely used since the reconstruction years ago.
'Where are you going…?' Noir thought, staying close to the wall.
