“To which address should I send the reply?” Inquiring about where to send the response, whether it should be directed to Biflten’s mansion address or bear the name of the Acid Merchant on top, the question gave Aden pause for thought.
“To the address mentioned by Ilyin,” he replied. He cocked his head slightly.
“But I don’t think we need to get ready this early.”
“Excuse me?”
Though he hadn’t opened the letter, if it was a letter to the madam, it was likely related to social circles. Usually, for such events, they’d send them out a month ahead for big occasions and a week ahead for smaller ones. So they’d have to respond quickly about whether or not they’d be attending. Just as Milo was about to say something, Aden shook his head slightly.
“I don’t think she’ll send her reply early.”
A wise individual, Aden, chuckled. Milo looked puzzled by the puzzling command. And after a while, he actually received an order through Etra to ‘send the reply to the address of Biflten Mansion in ten days.’
“I wonder if she can read minds.”
Or maybe… Does she only talk about work at night? Shaking off those fanciful thoughts, Aden vigorously shook his head, dismissing any impure notions he had conjured up.
****
Ilyin opened her eyes.
The first thing she saw upon awakening was the mobile hanging from the ceiling. A mobile adorned with ten different-colored fabrics.
This must be a dream. A vision.
It had been a long time since Ilyin had cast her gaze upon interior. As she surveyed the room, she was startled by the presence of an unexpected figure. One, of course, was Ilyin herself. And the other…
“…Still as contemptuous as ever,” she remarked.
Despite clearly being superior, there was no hint of deference in her demeanor. Even if she were to show deference, it would lack any trace of respect. It had been quite some time since Ilyin last laid eyes on that person. No, it hadn’t been that long. She saw her just a short while ago. On the eve of her mother’s funeral. The night her mother passed away.
“Gasp!”
The maid, who had gasped as if witnessing something unspeakable, The same maid who had once uttered negative words, insinuating that Ilyin had been jilted in a previous nightmare.
Before that, when she lived in the mansion, she openly disregarded Ilyin and spread malicious rumors among the servants.
“Who would touch anything with their cursed hands?”
Ilyin had heard her say those words outside the door at some point. She never expected to hear that voice again in this vision. So she would meet that maid again…
“If you continue like this, you’ll end up discarded by Biflten too.”
In the dream, Ilyin listened silently, her lips tightly sealed.
“You are causing trouble in every direction, unable to speak your mind. Are you still waiting for others to do things for you?”
The disdainful maid burst into laughter. Ilyin realized that her attire was unusually splendid for a maid. She wore an exquisite white dress that perfectly complemented her figure. A splendid bouquet adorned her chest. It was an outfit too conspicuous for a maid to wear.
“No, that’s not it,” Ilyin replied in the dream, using informal language.
“I’ve wanted to say this for a while. Even if it’s not a curse, the manor truly has no reason for others to like you, does it?”
The maid spread her hands wide.
“Do you know why you have no one to engage in conversation with in your social circle?”
She sighed dramatically, as if beckoning Ilyin to listen.
“If you just sit there quietly, waiting for others to take notice of you, who do you think will spare you a glance? Your status? The Biflten Duke? Ha!”
Laughter erupted.
“You’re just a family tucked away in some corner of the empire, with no influence in the social circle. It’s just a fleeting interest. While you may be unknown in the land of those monsters, you must realize that in this corner of the human world, there is a Lord Lyon who holds sway!”
Her final words reverberated with malice. The Ilyin in the dream spoke up.
“I…”
With a resounding thud, Ilyin stirred awake, her head throbbing. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for a sliver of light that slipped through the slightly ajar door. A maid stood at the entrance, hastily collecting a fallen bundle of fabric. It appeared that the sound that had roused Ilyin was the cloth hitting the ground.
“I apologize, master, ma’am,” the maid uttered, her head bowed deeply. She seemed prepared to prostrate herself. Etra, positioned in the hallway, mirrored the maid’s gesture. Aden, standing next to Ilyin, bore down on them with his piercing blue eyes.
“Go away.” Aden’s voice reverberated low and sharp, akin to the snarl of a wild beast.
Another thud echoed through the air as the door was cautiously shut. Darkness enveloped the room once more, leaving only the chilling sensation of cold sweat on Ilyin’s forehead. Her instinctual reaction was to raise her hand and wipe away the perspiration.
“To which address should I send the reply?” Inquiring about where to send the response, whether it should be directed to Biflten’s mansion address or bear the name of the Acid Merchant on top, the question gave Aden pause for thought.
“To the address mentioned by Ilyin,” he replied. He cocked his head slightly.
“But I don’t think we need to get ready this early.”
“Excuse me?”
Though he hadn’t opened the letter, if it was a letter to the madam, it was likely related to social circles. Usually, for such events, they’d send them out a month ahead for big occasions and a week ahead for smaller ones. So they’d have to respond quickly about whether or not they’d be attending. Just as Milo was about to say something, Aden shook his head slightly.
“I don’t think she’ll send her reply early.”
A wise individual, Aden, chuckled. Milo looked puzzled by the puzzling command. And after a while, he actually received an order through Etra to ‘send the reply to the address of Biflten Mansion in ten days.’
“I wonder if she can read minds.”
Or maybe… Does she only talk about work at night? Shaking off those fanciful thoughts, Aden vigorously shook his head, dismissing any impure notions he had conjured up.
****
Ilyin opened her eyes.
The first thing she saw upon awakening was the mobile hanging from the ceiling. A mobile adorned with ten different-colored fabrics.
This must be a dream. A vision.
It had been a long time since Ilyin had cast her gaze upon interior. As she surveyed the room, she was startled by the presence of an unexpected figure. One, of course, was Ilyin herself. And the other…
“…Still as contemptuous as ever,” she remarked.
Despite clearly being superior, there was no hint of deference in her demeanor. Even if she were to show deference, it would lack any trace of respect. It had been quite some time since Ilyin last laid eyes on that person. No, it hadn’t been that long. She saw her just a short while ago. On the eve of her mother’s funeral. The night her mother passed away.
“Gasp!”
The maid, who had gasped as if witnessing something unspeakable, The same maid who had once uttered negative words, insinuating that Ilyin had been jilted in a previous nightmare.
Before that, when she lived in the mansion, she openly disregarded Ilyin and spread malicious rumors among the servants.
“Who would touch anything with their cursed hands?”
Ilyin had heard her say those words outside the door at some point. She never expected to hear that voice again in this vision. So she would meet that maid again…
“If you continue like this, you’ll end up discarded by Biflten too.”
In the dream, Ilyin listened silently, her lips tightly sealed.
“You are causing trouble in every direction, unable to speak your mind. Are you still waiting for others to do things for you?”
The disdainful maid burst into laughter. Ilyin realized that her attire was unusually splendid for a maid. She wore an exquisite white dress that perfectly complemented her figure. A splendid bouquet adorned her chest. It was an outfit too conspicuous for a maid to wear.
“No, that’s not it,” Ilyin replied in the dream, using informal language.
“I’ve wanted to say this for a while. Even if it’s not a curse, the manor truly has no reason for others to like you, does it?”
The maid spread her hands wide.
“Do you know why you have no one to engage in conversation with in your social circle?”
She sighed dramatically, as if beckoning Ilyin to listen.
“If you just sit there quietly, waiting for others to take notice of you, who do you think will spare you a glance? Your status? The Biflten Duke? Ha!”
Laughter erupted.
“You’re just a family tucked away in some corner of the empire, with no influence in the social circle. It’s just a fleeting interest. While you may be unknown in the land of those monsters, you must realize that in this corner of the human world, there is a Lord Lyon who holds sway!”
Her final words reverberated with malice. The Ilyin in the dream spoke up.
“I…”
With a resounding thud, Ilyin stirred awake, her head throbbing. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for a sliver of light that slipped through the slightly ajar door. A maid stood at the entrance, hastily collecting a fallen bundle of fabric. It appeared that the sound that had roused Ilyin was the cloth hitting the ground.
“I apologize, master, ma’am,” the maid uttered, her head bowed deeply. She seemed prepared to prostrate herself. Etra, positioned in the hallway, mirrored the maid’s gesture. Aden, standing next to Ilyin, bore down on them with his piercing blue eyes.
“Go away.” Aden’s voice reverberated low and sharp, akin to the snarl of a wild beast.
Another thud echoed through the air as the door was cautiously shut. Darkness enveloped the room once more, leaving only the chilling sensation of cold sweat on Ilyin’s forehead. Her instinctual reaction was to raise her hand and wipe away the perspiration.
