Chapter 11. Scarlet flecks

- No.

My hand closed over their clasped hands, not allowing them to leave. Two pairs of eyes were fixed on me at once, but while some glowed with contempt and rage, like the feelings of the victim's parents in a murder trial, the others expressed something incomprehensible, unknown: like looking into the distance of a river that goes far into a dense forest. Whether it was surprise or confusion.. Gratitude, maybe? I don't know. Karina was too difficult to read, and there was no time to do crosswords.

His hands fell to his sides. First his, strong and wrinkled with age. Then hers, thin and pale, almost transparent. It didn't bode well, but there was no turning back. God knows what this old man might have done to the maid, all because of me. I had to prepare for the worst, not now, but soon. Very soon.

- Who the fuck are you? - With a sharp flick of his hand, my shoulder was gripped by his hard and rough, curled fingers, and the numbness soon replaced the stinging flash of pain. - I'm asking who the fuck you are to treat me this way! - He shook me as if he were about to pull my arm out of its socket. Strands of hair that had escaped from my bun fell into my face.

A loud and slightly wheezing bass resonated with a wet chill in his insides. The Count's silhouette was shrouded in semidarkness, allowing his brain to fill in the eerie details of his already terrifying face: the corners of his lips were downturned, and his eyes were wild and filled with animalistic hatred. However, his grimace was now contorted with immense anger, ready to erupt and curl on his bristly chin.

I swallowed, trying not to show my fear, because that would be a sign of weakness. Weakness is a quick way to lose. Yes, I'm just an ordinary person, and I have the right to feel emotions, but in this particular situation, it's better to keep them to myself, for my own good.

- At least a second person involved in the conflict,- I knew that my retort would only make things worse, but I couldn't afford to back down.

The scene was rapidly spinning into a dangerous spiral, and I would probably have been lowered into the icy, wet ground, which smelled of bones and blood, if it hadn't been for a voice that came from somewhere in the distance:

- Your Grace, Lady.. - a measured, almost indifferent voice fell silent after the address, as if calling for attention, - Everything is ready for departure. I'm not in a hurry - just reminding you, - I thought his serious, but relaxed face twitched slightly with a hint of mockery. It was as if he found this whole comedy amusing, but only.

The knight, the one I had noticed shortly before moving here, looked at all three of them appraisingly, but there were no emotions. He was just analyzing, observing, remembering... And this uncertainty was driving me crazy, I think.

Bernard clenched his teeth as if he wanted to break them on his own tongue, but he didn't say anything. He just gave her a look that was usually reserved for the trash can outside his house.

It was so hard for him to keep all his anger inside. And most importantly, what was the reason? Why did he blame everyone for her death, except himself?

- Pack up your things,- he spat out carelessly, - and don't dawdle.

"Like I have them," - I rolled my eyes, barely audibly clicking my tongue. I wrinkled my face slightly, unsure whether to touch my cheek or my hand first, both of which were tingling from the encounter.

Karina came closer and reached out to touch my reddened, slightly purple shoulder. I couldn't see her expression, as I was lost in thought, staring at the floor, but I suspected it was as steel as always. Only the sparkle in her emerald eyes could reveal a hint of what lay beneath her indifferent facade. I wonder if she intentionally conceals her emotions, or if it's a part of her essence.

Nevertheless, this incident had a serious impact on her. It seems to have solidified her decision to resign.

***

I could have been haunted by a feeling of déjà vu. It was the same carriage, the same faces. However, this time the Count decided to sit next to his son, leaving me in relative "solitude." Unfortunately, there was no more room: the carriage was as cramped as it had been on the day we were transported to our temporary residence, so we sat close together despite our attempts to keep our distance.

The family was sitting across from me. We were separated only by a small table screwed to the wall, but I tried not to look forward. I pretended that I didn't care and that nothing had happened the day before. However, the atmosphere was too... Awkward? No, there was no room for awkwardness with this family. The air was thick, as if a tight canvas of anger was stretched between us. Bernard was like steel, a block, an iceberg... He looked like an ice statue that was ready to come to life and break at any moment. He sat still, as if the mere thought of being near me made him feel disgusted, and his patience was on the verge of breaking. In contrast, Geraldine often stole glances at me. Her glances were sharp and brief, as if she were searching for something that had not been there before. Occasionally, I could hear her tapping her fingers on her knee. Although, maybe nothing was making noise. Perhaps it was just the ringing in my ears, which had been haunting me since this morning and still hadn't stopped by lunchtime. I wasn't usually prone to motion sickness, but I was doing my best to remain composed and not pass out right here in this godforsaken carriage.

I felt like I was on some kind of stupid amusement park ride. Not in the sense that the situations are quite similar: close proximity, unpleasant people in the neighborhood (although they are), but it was comparable to the feeling of a wave of migraines and nausea. There was even a slight sparkle in my eyes.

My condition stubbornly prevented me from concentrating on reading the book I had bought that night - I blinked for a long time, trying not to think about the man who might decide my future in the near future - in order to be at least a little more knowledgeable about etiquette and manners, and not to look like a savage. It would be appropriate to make a sarcastic joke about myself, but I don't even have the energy for that. My head is buzzing like a rusty pipe.

Yes, the memories are ingrained in my head like family, but now, in fact, I have double the volume for the brain. There's not much I can remember very well. It's better than losing your life on the chopping block the day after tomorrow.

I was trying hard to read every line, but now a young man's voice broke the silence:

- Where did you get that?- Finally finding something to latch onto, my brother said suspiciously. He nodded at the object in my hands.

"It's not flattering to be known," - i thought.

Without even raising my cloudy eyes, I replied:

- I found it in the room, - I said, a familiar lie that didn't evoke any response from within. Noticing this, I felt a sense of melancholy, perhaps? I had long since lost the ability to feel remorse for the countless lies that had escaped my lips. When I saw how difficult it was for most people to lie, to hurt someone, even if they were rotten on the inside, and how they could allow themselves the emotions they shared with their loved ones, a strange feeling lingered in my heart, unlike anything I had ever experienced. It wasn't contempt, or misunderstanding, or judgment, or anything like that. Rather, it was... Envy.

After the thought came to a conclusion that was more honest than usual, my inner voice echoed and fell silent.

- You know that I'm annoyed by brevity?- Gerald asked, with a touch of casual disdain and the same laziness that always floats beneath his carelessness.

- I know, - I cut him off immediately, feeling a fierce reluctance to continue the pointless conversation. I'd already had my fill for today.

The streets, groves, and roads passed by the window as we drove far away.

Meanwhile, I was immersed in a sudden idea that was beginning to take shape and grow. Like a cloud before a storm.

It was getting worse. The discomfort wasn't just playing on my nerves, it was like a bad memory that couldn't quite become a dream. The slight trembling in my fingers, the dryness in my mouth, and the ringing in my ears—I could have blamed it on my nerves. I could have...

But I'm not nervous. I mean, not more than usual.

My head felt like glass: every thought was like a ringing sound, hollow and meaningless. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my feelings.

What have I been eating? Almost nothing.

The weather? Usual.

Emotions? Ha. I had a worse hangover psychosis.

Then..

Then it clicked.

Morning. Bitterness on my tongue. A taste I've never had before. It's like...

A glass of water. It was on the table, even though no one had brought it there in the evening, and it was still warm—even though it wasn't hot outside.

…

And whose figure was disappearing nearby?

And there it is, a thought that runs down your spine. Not loud, not panicked. Just...

"Count".

I looked up at my father, exhaling softly. The Count sat motionless, like a monument in the square. Yet there was something in his face...

No, not happy.

Confident.

"Fool, how could I have missed this?'

Even the twitching corner of his mouth, which was hard to miss when we passed each other, was a clear indication of his involvement.

I put down the book and just leaned against the wall, covering my face with my hand.

***

I looked around the new home. It looked spacious, bright, and untouched by dirty hands or words; there was no trace of the rot that hovered over this family like a halo.

- Until the private mansion is built, we'll be staying here?- asked the brother, jumping out of the carriage.

The Count folded his hands behind his back and stood up straight, like a taut string. The maids were already standing in front of us, but only the ones I had seen before.

"Will these poor people be left alone in the whole house?"

- That's right, the Emperor has granted me access to the reserve mansion,- Bernard said as he strolled towards the entrance along the paved path, ignoring everything but the building itself.

"It's not bad. But it's tasteless - it was probably built for a similar purpose as it is now," - I thought, taking a timid step forward.

- And if her brains go into a spin again? - the change in intonation already foreshadowed a possible appeal to me, but, in principle, I didn't have to guess - everything was on the surface.

Gerald glared at me as he passed by. However, my father did not respond, too busy admiring the new abode. Even through my migraines, I tried to speak up.

- Is it still smoking? - I could barely contain my smile. His bewildered and frowning face was worth seeing.

- What?- His voice didn't sound like a direct question, more like a rephrasing: he hissed the consonants and furrowed his eyebrows.

- Some things don't fall from the ashes,- I slowly grabbed the sleeve of Karina's uniform, anticipating a crooked walk to the stairs. She took my arm without saying a word.

He probably didn't understand anything. Even if he did, it didn't matter. It was better to sleep with the door open, wasn't it?

Another flash of lightning from inside my head made me put a cold hand to my forehead and hurry. The sunlight was even worse than the darkness of the carriage's curtains.

And yet. I knew that Geraldine was standing there. Why didn't he grab my hand? Why didn't he shout? That was the mystery. His strange behavior was starting to bother me.

I looked at Bernard in front of me.

Okay, this one is drooling over the latest model, but...

Well, I don't really care. Let him stay there if he wants to.

The interior of the mansion was empty. Not in the sense that there is nothing-on the contrary, there were enough items: sofas are covered with fabric, cabinets are filled to the brim with something shiny and unnecessary, in the corners are placed the very vases that always seem fragile, but no one needs even for scrapping. Everything was in order. Everything is in its proper place. Even too much.

The floor was spotlessly clean, without a speck of dust. It smelled of polish and fresh varnish. The new house was trying to make itself known in every possible way—the smell, the echo of footsteps, the glint of light on the handles. But it was trying its best, and it was dead.

In front of our holy Trinity, a line of young girls dressed in a single uniform - diligently ironed gray shirts with rather loose sleeves that taper to the wrist; at the waist, black skirts begin to reach the ankles. Dark ribbon tie tied at the neck. Patent leather shoes with a square toe..

And a few men dressed in gray wrap-around tunics with black straight trousers. There's a pocket on the chest with a neatly folded white handkerchief. A belt with loops for small items like gloves or keys is tied around the waist.

"At least they're not alone,"- I thought, glancing at the staff. - "Otherwise, they'd already be carrying them out."

Everything was just as it should be: no dust, no drafts, and no one in sight. It was spacious, yes. It was bright, of course. But it was cold. Not in terms of temperature, but in terms of feeling.

It's cold because it's not meant for life.

And for demonstration purposes.

The furniture was in place, the wallpaper was wrinkle-free, and the floors were polished to the point of nausea. Even the paintings on the walls seemed to be ashamed of their content, preferring to be mere frames.

I let go of Karina's hand and took a few steps forward.

No crunch underfoot, no breathing of the house — only an empty echo and the glassy politeness of space. And not a single object to catch the eye. Not a single corner to linger on — only a glossy, cold "this is where you will live."

I exhaled quietly, feeling another wave of migraine.

Perfect. Just like this family.

The Count and his son started talking about something after the workers greeted each other. But I didn't even hear the conversation. All I could think about was relaxing my muscles and lying down to ease the pain.

"You bastard. I wish someone would cut off your fingers with something."- I pleaded with Bernard, not knowing what would happen next. My thoughts were becoming increasingly difficult to form.

- What's the matter with you, lady?- A single quiet and concerned voice was heard amidst all the commotion.

I knew who it belonged to. So I didn't even have to look up to just ask:

- I'm fine. Find out... Where's my place to stay?

My cool hand touched my hot forehead, and it felt better. Taking deep breaths helped to balance the sensation as I waited for Karina. She approached the maids and asked about my new room. It didn't take long, and less than a minute later, I was walking down the hallway with Karina and a maid.

The space was beginning to swim, as if we had stepped onto a ship instead of a manor. I was annoyed by the feeling of my own weakness. It's not that I'm usually full of energy, but this was much worse. The illness felt like a slow boil in a cauldron, growing hotter and more painful with each passing moment. Where was my devil stirring the water with a pitchfork? Perhaps in my case, it was the embodiment of the disease's stimulant.

The room, however, was also more stylish than the previous one, which I had first entered a short time after moving in. It had everything a socialite lady needed: a double bed with translucent curtains and freshly made bedding, a large wall of light-colored cabinets, and a table for anything you could think of. There was even a sofa besides the bed! In the corner, there was a door that led to a small balcony. To sum it up, there was plenty of everything, but one thing was missing.

Comfort.

'To be fair, there was a severe shortage of this quality in the burned-down estate. So it's even silly to complain'.

I took a quick look around the room, then walked over to the bedside table and squatted down. I reached out to Karina, indicating that I wanted her to give me my small bag.

After putting the book and a few small items away, I leaned against the edge of the bed and flopped down. It was starting to get dark, and the idea of just going to sleep didn't seem so bad.

A voice I didn't recognize spoke enthusiastically, but not too insistently. Or maybe it was already there as we walked. I don't remember.

- Lady, your newly-sewn dresses are also waiting. If you wish, we can go and see them,- said the girl who had shown them the way to their chambers. She stood in the aisle, her hands clasped in front of her, her black hair, as thick as the night sky, resting on her shoulders from a high ponytail. Her gray almond-shaped eyes expressed a loyalty and kindness that had been honed over the years.

"To be even more disappointed? Thank you, not this time."

- I don't want to, so leave me alone, - my fingers reluctantly moved to my chest and began slowly unbuttoning my shirt. - And, Karina, close the curtains and you can go too.

I heard the girl putting the few clothes I had in the closet.

"I really don't have much personal belongings."

It was difficult for me to get rid of the habits I had in Korea. I can't even log in to social media or watch a bad TV show. It's even harder to think that I'll never go back to those things.

To stop feeling depressed, I just stopped thinking. Like now, with an empty head, I pulled off layers of fabric until I was left in a strapless nightgown. The curtains helped create a more pleasant environment, and I simply lay under the covers.

- Wait.

Karina, who had almost left the room, turned around.

- Lady?

I was thinking, how should I start? With what? What should I say? Why?

Therefore, I decided to limit myself to a distant question.

- Did you see anything suspicious this morning?" - She might have noticed some herbs that weren't there before, for example.

She exhaled slowly, looking away and thinking. The answer didn't take long to come.

- No..Your question has something to do with feeling unwell, right? - I already knew that she wasn't asking. She was definitely convinced and was just being formal.

My ragged moan escaped my lips before I could suppress it. I turned my head to the opposite side of the pillow and lifted my hand from my stomach.

- You didn't see it, then. Okay, go ahead.

The door didn't close immediately.

***

[Evening.]

[Ilissa's room.]

The evening coolness enveloped the tips of my fingers and nose. It simultaneously cooled my overheated body, but also created a sense of raw despair. A balance, in a word.

I realized that I was almost awake. It was dark, so the night was still on me. Nevertheless, my heart was fluttering restlessly, and my confidence that the wind was the cause of the numbness in my limbs was beginning to waver. My breathing was a little ragged, and it wasn't due to discomfort. A strange sensation was resting on top of me, as if it wanted to replace the blanket. A premonition...

It's like I'm not alone in the room.

And this mysterious person is right here. Next to me.

I opened my eyes abruptly, and the first thing I saw was a face looming over me. His eyes were wide with shock.

For the first two seconds, there was silence, and we just looked at each other. But on the third, when I realized that someone was standing in front of me, a scream escaped my throat.

At that moment, a strong man's hand covered my mouth.

- Shh! Don't shout!- It was only then that I realized whose face I was looking at. The yellow iris of the eyes, captivated by the night, shone brighter than the stars, and the pupil narrowed to the size of a bread crumb.

Our frightened faces must have been similar, but mine was more of a mix of bewilderment and horror, while his was a mix of surprise and a touch of panic. His eyes darted around my blue, frost-covered eyes like a trapped bird. He removed his hands from my mouth and backed away. He moved his lips as if trying to say something, but I was the one who spoke first.

- Are you a real jerk?! - the throat burst out in a ringing whisper, not paying attention to the pain that had come again, - What are you doing here, you psycho?!

He put his finger to his lips, still a little nervously.

- Hush, you fool!..

I raised myself on my elbows and bent my knees, resting my head on the headboard.

- You have a new hobby, don't you? - She lowered her voice slightly. - I'd be more excited about a ghost.

Pretending not to hear, Geraldine exhaled wearily, burying her face in her hands and leaning against the nearby wall.

- Don't worry, I was just sent to wake you up. Who knew you were so scared?- His voice was confident, but it shook slightly with surprise. He ran his hands through his hair, staring into space.

But even such skill couldn't make me believe.

- Yes? Why is that?

The brother hesitated, and, not knowing what to say, bit his lip.

- You're lying. Like hell you'd come here for a reason like that.

I wrapped my arms around myself, mirroring his fixed gaze. Now we were both sitting in a dark, freezing room, staring at the wall.

Finally, he gave in and broke the silence by speaking in a whisper.

- Okay. Fuck,- Gerald cursed, pulling one knee up and resting his hand on it, - I've been looking for you.

I tilted my head to the left, looking at my brother, ignoring the ache.

- What? What does that mean?

- Think for yourself, I don't want to spell it out.

He reminded me of a remark I had made to him under similar circumstances. I snorted in amusement at his remark.

- Pf-f-f. I didn't know you were such a vindictive, boy.

His brother chuckled bitterly, lowering his head and shaking it.

- I'm not your boy, dear.

However, he didn't have much patience. Almost immediately, he gave up:

- You're too suspicious and strange. Now you're out of this world, and I'm trying to figure out what's going on. Have you been hiding your true identity for so long?- His question seemed so silly and unpleasant. After living with your sister for nineteen years, how could you believe in the theory of pretense? It was almost insulting.

But I tried to drown out these insignificant feelings as always. With irony. With sarcasm. With bitterness. With anything to keep the cracks from forming on my shield.

- I'm strange and suspicious, but you break into someone else's room like a regular murderer and scare the crap out of me,- she retorted, wagging her finger. - Since when have you been so attentive?

- Since when have you been so rude?

- Compared to you, I'm a sweetheart.

Our pointless bickering would have continued for a long time, until my pain returned with a vengeance. But Geraldine seemed exhausted. Or simply unwilling to "socialize."

- That's enough. I won't fall for your tricks again,- which was probably another reference to my door-slamming maneuver that had forced him out of the room.

'Sure doesnt'.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr- my ears rang, preceding an increase in my temperature. I'm so tired of this.

He seemed to want to add something else. But a female figure appeared in the aisle just in time.

- Lady, I heard...- The confused quiet voice faltered when the owner saw someone she hadn't expected at all. Gerald also turned to look at her and stood up. He walked slowly and deliberately towards the passageway, stopping near the maid. She glanced at me sitting down and lowered her eyes, folding her arms.

I felt for a pillow with my hand and aimed it at the back of the annoying guy. The maidservant, who saw this, waved her hands in a cross-shaped motion in fear.

As if sensing something, he moved forward and disappeared into the corridor without saying a word.

I was thrown to the side, and I closed my eyes, digging my fingers into my hair.

- M'lady, what a..?- She was still confused, and she came closer, crouching down at the edge of the bed.

- Nothing important, as usual,- the illness that I had forgotten about during my argument with my brother had returned. Even stronger. Much stronger.

- Water? Or is it better to call someone? - she asked sadly. It was sadness, wasn't it? What was the tone of her voice? What was she even talking about?

I was getting worse.

- No, don't... don't... don't,- I didn't want the Count or his snakes to mock me. I didn't want them to look. I didn't want them to see. I didn't want them to know how weak I was.

The feeling of wet coughing swallowed the words, and it was unbearable to even speak. The only thing I said was almost perfectly intelligible:

- A complete lunatic.

- What?.. - Karina asked in a breathless voice, not understanding. The next second, I burst into an uncontrollable coughing fit. It felt as if my chest was being pierced by countless sharp needles, and my temples were being squeezed by a vise. My heart was racing feverishly, causing a stream of cold sweat to roll down my body.

The palm was covered with a blanket of scarlet specks.

- ...