Kyaaaa—!
"Who's causing such a fuss this early in the morning? Neir, what's going on? Neir, can you hear me?"
With sluggish movements, she pulled the covers down from her face, and sunlight immediately poured in, stinging her eyes. "It's nearly noon…" she yawned. "Why wasn't I woken earlier?"
Her gaze drifted across the grand chamber until it found the one she had called. At the foot of the bed lay Neir, sprawled on the floor, fast asleep, snoring as if the world could end and she would still dream through it.
"…I suppose the sun really did rise from the south today." She raised her voice. "Neir, wake up. It's almost noon."
"Huh? Who am I? What am I? Where am I?"
Neir jolted upright, blinded by the sunlight for a moment. As her vision cleared, she took in her surroundings—only for her confusion to deepen. "Why am I in the Young Mistress's room… and why is it already noon? What's going on?"
"You could ask that a little louder," a voice snapped. Neir turned sharply to see her young mistress sprawled lazily atop the bed.
"I—I'm sorry, my lady!"
"Don't bother. I only just woke up myself. But I'm sure you can hear that noise too."
"Yes. It's faint, but those are definitely cries. Whether of joy or sorrow, I can't tell."
"Go and find out."
"But, my lady, I have—"
"I said don't bother." Her mistress cut her off with a wave. "I need a few more hours of shut-eye. If it's important, leave it be. If it's not, shut it down."
"…Understood."
Neir bowed and turned to leave. But before she could take even a step, a sharp, frantic knocking exploded against the chamber doors, echoing through the opulent room. Both of them froze.
"Okay… this is new."
"My lady, what should I do?" Neir asked, her voice unsteady. "What are you asking me for? Speak."
Neir cleared her throat and took on a firmer tone. "Who is there?"
"Neir, it is Nearo," came the reply from beyond the door, his voice heavy with authority. "If the Young Mistress still sleeps, wake her at once." He hesitated, as though the words themselves weighed on him. "The estate is in crisis. It is the Lord and the Lady."
"Nearo, what are you saying?" The young lady sprang from her bed, fully awake now. "Explain yourself—" She rushed to the door and threw it open.
The man who stood there should have been clad in a pristine butler's uniform, immaculate and composed. Instead, what faced her was a disheveled figure, his clothes in disarray, his expression pale with urgency. In that instant, she knew. This was no ordinary disturbance.
"My lady, there is no time to explain. We must hurry." He seized her hand and broke into a run, Neir following close behind.
As they rushed through the corridors, she saw her other siblings converging from different directions, all moving the same way—confused, breathless, and, like her, as though they had been woken only moments ago. They ran without stopping until they reached the grand doors of the Lord and Lady's chambers.
Breathless and heaving, they found all the maids of the mansion gathered there, standing in silent rows, their faces downcast.
"What's… huff… going… huff, huff… on?" Eliel, the eldest, asked between gasps. He forced his breathing to steady, his heart slowly settling. Then he spoke again, his voice firm, carrying the authority of a noble. "What is the meaning of this? Why are you all gathered here, and what has happened to the Count and Countess?"
Nearo stepped forward. His face had darkened, drained of its usual composure, and when he spoke, his voice carried dread and grief.
"The Count and Countess, they…" He faltered, unable to go on.
"What is it, Nearo? What?" Eliel pressed.
But Nearo could not speak. For a man known throughout the estate for his clarity and unwavering directness to be left wordless—whatever had occurred beyond those doors could only be something beyond imagining.
Looking into the faces of those gathered before the doors, Eliel knew none of them would give an answer. He stepped forward. Some tried to stop him, but their resolve faltered.
He pushed the grand doors open.
Inside, the siblings were met with the cold, pale bodies of their parents.
The sight was gut-wrenching.
"NO—NOT NOW!"
The youngest of the six, who had not been summoned and yet had somehow followed them, burst into a wail the moment his eyes fell upon the scene. His cry reverberated through the mansion, startling birds into flight across the grounds. He had to be dragged away by the others as he struggled and screamed, leaving only Eliel and his two sisters behind.
They stood in silence, gripping what remained of their composure, clinging to their reason so they would not collapse. All six had long known that a day like this might come. They had prepared themselves psychologically. Yet even so, the sight had shattered the youngest, despite his normally unyielding will.
Though the siblings understood the meaning of what lay before them, the servants—and the newly appointed head butler, Nearo—understood nothing.
Just yesterday, the Count and Countess had been in perfect health. There were no signs of illness, no wounds, no trace of poison. And even if such things had been attempted, the Lord and Lady would never have fallen to such mundane methods.
This was something else.
Most terrifying of all was their expression.
They did not look as though they had clung to life.
They looked peaceful.
Elated.
"Nearo," Eliel finally spoke, his eyes never leaving his parents as he struggled to hold back his tears. "What have you done in response to this?"
"I dispatched the guards to detain any suspicious individuals within the county and—"
"Stop." Eliel raised a hand.
"There is no need. Call them back."
"But, Young Master—"
"I said call them back. No matter whom they investigate, no matter whom they interrogate, they will find no culprit."
A chill ran through the servants. The Young Master and Young Mistresses clearly knew something about this.
"Sir… do you know who is responsible?" Nearo asked carefully.
"We do not know of a culprit," Eliel replied quietly. "But we do know that a day like this would come."
He lifted his head.
"Nearo, prepare to announce the news to the county. Begin the funeral arrangements. And do not attempt to investigate this further."
With that, the three siblings stepped forward. One by one, they placed a final kiss upon their parents' foreheads.
Then, without another word, they turned and left the chamber.
Stepping back into her chamber with Neir following, the young mistress—now alone from the eyes of onlookers—completely crumbled. Her legs gave out, and she fell to the floor with a hollow, sorrowful thud. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.
Neir did nothing. She only stared blankly, her mind far away, unable to process what had happened.
The young mistress had imagined countless scenarios for this very moment. She had prepared herself for it, rehearsed her reactions, trained her heart. Yet now that it had truly come, she was empty. She did not know what to feel, nor what to do. Her emotions had been wiped clean, leaving her like a blank canvas.
In the midst of her grief, a burning sensation flared on her right arm. She ignored it at first, but the feeling only intensified, growing hotter, sharper, until it became unbearable.
She screamed.
Her cry echoed throughout the entire mansion and beyond. But hers was not the only one.
The west wing of the mansion belonged to Eliel.
In his chamber, furniture lay shattered, glass reduced to glittering shards, clothes torn apart, appliances and artifacts strewn across the floor. The room looked as though a storm had passed through it. At its center lay Eliel, clinging to consciousness, his body wracked with pain. Across his back, the clear visage of a bird had begun to form.
Minutes earlier—
After returning to his room with his loyal servant, Eliel had sealed the chamber with a soundproof barrier and erupted. He vented his rage upon everything in sight—furniture, artifacts, utensils, walls—nothing was spared. His servant could only stand and watch.
Then, gradually, they felt it.
Mana began to gather.
Slowly. Densely. Powerfully.
They were in disbelief.
The signature was unmistakable.
It was the Count's.
From the condensed mana emerged an artifact, shaped like a miniature ancient temple. Alongside it appeared a sealed letter.
Eliel tore the seal open and read.
The moment he finished, he rushed into the adjoining study. Seconds later, he returned with an envelope in hand.
"Eltz," he said, pressing it into the hands of his loyal servant, "take this to Nearo. Tell him to deliver it to His Majesty the King as soon as possible. Cancel all preparations for the funeral. If he asks why, tell him I will explain."
Sensing the urgency, Eltz bolted from the room.
The moment he left, a tingling sensation spread across Eliel's back.
At first it was faint.
Then it burned.
The pain intensified with every heartbeat, searing deeper and deeper, until it became unbearable. Eliel tried to endure it, but failed.
With a roar that shook the entire mansion, his voice overlapped with his sister's distant scream.
He collapsed amid the wreckage of his chamber.
Across his back, the full visage of a bird had been etched into his flesh, glowing with clarity.