[EVA]
"A… property? In Tres Noches Province?"
The words echoed inside my skull like an incantation, impossible and unreal.
Tres Noches — a place I had only heard in passing, a name carried by the sea wind of distant provinces. An hour by plane… two days by boat if the waters was calm. A land far enough to feel like a different world.
I stared at the man across the table — the lawyer who had come to shatter the little life I thought I knew. He didn't resemble the dusty, hunched attorneys in the movies.
No… the man before me looked like someone carved from old money and polished secrets — tall, immaculate suit, lenses glinting coldly over sharp eyes. A face made for luxury magazines, not funerals and legal readings.
"Correct," he replied, his voice smooth yet strict, like the snap of a velvet whip. "Your late grandmother on your mother's side has left you a property in Setio Luna, Tres Noches Province. Now that you have reached the age of twenty, you are eligible to inherit."
The folder on my lap felt heavier, as though the papers inside carried bones instead of ink. Family crest stamped in gold. Seals unbroken. Contracts that looked older than me.
Real… too real.
"But… I've never even heard of Setio Luna," I muttered. "Why would she leave me something there? Why did no one ever tell me?"
He didn't blink. "There were reasons." His tone implied they were not pleasant ones.
My throat tightened. The world I knew — flimsy, exhausting, cruel — suddenly felt like a painted illusion. Behind it, something deeper lurked.
Something I had been kept from.
"Can I just… sell it?" I asked, though the request tasted cowardly on my tongue.
A flicker of offense crossed his perfect features. "You may sell it only after it is legally under your name. And to accomplish that, you must fulfill your grandmother's conditions."
"Conditions?" The word dripped dread into my stomach.
"One," he raised a single long finger, "you must be at least twenty — which you are."
He lifted a second. "And two, you must reside in the estate for one full month."
"Live there? Alone?"
A chill crawled up my spine. "Why?"
"That was her wish."
Whose?
The grandmother who watched me live in misery from afar?
The grandmother who loved me enough to leave me a fortune… yet never enough to come for me?
"I don't know anyone there," I tried again, clinging to excuses like a drowning woman to driftwood. "My job is here. My life is here. My… boyfriend—"
Ex-boyfriend.
Who was probably tangled up in my cousin's sheets at this very moment.
"I have nothing in that province."
"You have more than you realize," the lawyer said, tapping the folder. "If you refuse, the property will be transferred to the Noctirs."
"Noctirs?"
It sounded like a name spoken behind closed doors — unfamiliar and foreboding.
"My relatives?" More relatives?
"Servants," he clarified. As if he had said something ordinary.
The air left my lungs.
"Servants of whom?" I didn't know whether to whisper or scream the question.
"Your grandmother, and now yours." His voice didn't waver.
My blood ran cold.
"That estate," he continued, posture stiffening with professional detachment, "is ten hectares of farmland. Plus a one-hectare manor. A functioning poultry operation. Fruit and vegetable income. Estimated value…" he paused, "hundreds of millions. Possibly reaching to billions if you add up the many properties across the globe."
My vision blurred.
Hundreds of millions? Billions?
Mr. Marble-Statue-Lawyer stared at me like this was obvious — like somehow I should have known I was sitting on a throne of wealth all along.
"Your grandmother was a wealthy Donya," he explained. "She funded your living expenses after the accident."
The world around me fell silent.
The faint hum of the air conditioner.
The distant screech of a jeep outside.
Even the harsh burn of betrayal inside my ribs — everything froze.
"My… living expenses?" I repeated, barely breathing.
"Since you were ten," he continued, "she sent hundred thousand every month to your aunt and uncle. Enough for your school, clothing, and personal needs. She also sent one million on each of your birthdays."
"…You're lying."
Because that was impossible.
I wore second-hand uniforms with holes.
I sold bread before sunrise to buy notebooks.
I starved when they said money was tight.
And every year — every single birthday — they left me in an empty house while they traveled.
A hundred thousand every month.
A million on my birthdays.
My pulse roared in my ears.
Where did my money go?
Where did my life go?
He watched the realization devour me.
His eyes softened — only slightly.
"They never told you," he said. "Your grandmother requested that you be well taken care of. She intended to visit but… certain complications prevented her."
Complications.
A clean word for burdensome.
Since childhood, I was told that I was nothing but a burden.
"And now she is gone," he said quietly. "The funds stopped. And they immediately sent you to work. Correct?"
The truth — dark, ugly, truth — strangled my voice.
"Yes."
He nodded. He already knew.
All my aunt's venomous words replayed in my skull, each one slicing deeper than the last:
You owe us everything.
You are nothing without us.
Don't forget who feeds you.
They fed themselves.
With my flesh. With my future.
They drained me dry.
Mr. Jones — because I finally remembered his name — placed a single envelope before me. Thick. Ornate. The ink on the address shimmered like it breathed.
"When you decide," he said, standing tall, "contact me. The Noctirs will prepare the mansion for your arrival… should you choose to claim your inheritance."
Expecting me.
How long had they been waiting?
Before I could speak, he bowed and left — the door shutting behind him like a seal on fate.
The silence that followed felt different. Alive. Watching.
I opened the envelope with trembling fingers. The words Setio Luna curled on the page in elegant cursive — beautiful and ominous.
Moon Setting. Or… The Setting of the Moon.
It didn't sound like a place meant for the living.
My heartbeat thundered, my skin prickling as though unseen hands brushed down my spine.
Who was she — the grandmother I never knew?
Why did she wait until now to contact me?
Why did she leave me in the hands of wolves?
Why… didn't she come for me?
Was I unwanted?
The room dimmed as clouds swallowed the sun outside, and a cold, unfamiliar determination coiled itself around my heart.
A month in a remote estate… In a province named for three nights… With servants loyal to a family I never knew…
But more than wealth, more than anger, more than freedom…
I wanted answers as to why my grandmother left me a fortune but never once called or visit me.
Answers buried in the soil of Tres Noches.