"Mama..."
Perido pressed his cheek against his mother's chest again, whining softly. When he fussed like this, Mama always gave in. She always took his side.
"It's time for Mama to go. Perido—can you count to five hundred correctly?"
She pushed him back gently but firmly.
Startled, Perido looked up at her face.
When Mama called him *Perido*—not "baby," not "little one"—it meant he couldn't argue. It meant he had to obey without question.
Her black eyes gleamed in the darkness, demanding a promise.
"Uh-huh..." He nodded before he could stop himself.
"Good boy. My clever little one." She cupped his face in her hands. "Once you reach the secret room, don't go outside under *any* circumstances. And don't let anyone in."
"...Until when?"
"Until Mama comes for you."
Perido's eyes widened. He stared at his mother with sudden, desperate hope.
If Mama said it, then she would come. *She would.* Mama always kept her word.
"Okay." His voice grew stronger. "I won't look for my sisters. I'll wait for you. So come quickly!"
"I will. It's a promise."
She extended her little finger.
Perido hooked his own around it.
Mama's smile was dazzling—not quite the same as usual, but still so beautiful.
"Yes!"
She pulled him into a tight embrace.
*How nice Mama smells.*
"And not a sound," she whispered against his hair. "Hide in the closet and sit quietly."
"I will. Like hide-and-seek—I'll be so quiet. I'll hide in the closet and won't make a peep."
"That's right." Her voice was warm with pride. "My baby always listens to his mama."
She paused. Her fingers stroked his head—gentle, tender.
*Hehe. It would be nice if Mama petted him forever.*
"And if... if Mama is late for too long..." Her voice dropped lower. "Only *one* person is allowed to open that door."
"Who?" Perido blinked. "Sister Daya?"
Mama's hand continued its slow, soothing rhythm through his hair.
"No." Her whisper was fierce with something he didn't understand—something that sounded almost like *pride.* "Duke Vines. Duke Gerald von Vines. Your maternal uncle. He will find you. He will protect you."
*Who is he, that Mama speaks his name like that?*
"Duke... of Vines?"
"Yes. You must remember this name, my little one..."
---
## — The Secret Room —
*"Mama, when will you come? I miss you..."*
Perido sobbed—then froze, terrified by his own sound.
He clamped both hands over his mouth and sucked in a shuddering breath.
*Can't make noise. Can't be found.*
At that moment—
Footsteps.
Perido curled tighter, making himself as small as possible. A snail retreating into its shell.
*Was it because I made a sound? Did they find me?*
*Mama, I'm scared.*
---
## — The Bell Tower —
Gerald climbed the bell tower stairs as confidently as if the path were lit before him.
*Knock.*
A small heart—faint, fragile—began to beat somewhere above.
*Someone is here. A child.*
A child who, in a place where no one would think to look, was trying desperately to swallow his tears.
Gerald's steps quickened.
He reached the highest landing and moved toward the sound.
*Knock.*
His foot found the obstacle first. He reached forward—rough wood met his fingertips. A thick wooden door.
He grasped the handle and pulled gently.
Locked. From the inside.
*Knock-knock-knock.*
The child's heartbeat spiked—louder, faster, thundering with terror.
Gerald could have shattered the door in an instant. But he didn't want to frighten the child any further.
"Olive." His voice was low. "How do I open this door without scaring him?"
Olive arrived moments later, winded from the climb. His eyes widened at the scene, but he recovered quickly.
"Did the young master truly lock it himself?"
Only one heartbeat sounded from within. The child had bolted the door alone.
"Is Perido *here?*"
Daya reached the top landing, gasping for breath. Her eyes went wide with disbelief.
Neither man answered.
Without waiting, she pushed past them and planted herself directly before the door.
*BOOM! BOOM!*
"Perido! *Perido!* Are you there?! It's me—Daya!" She pounded desperately against the wood. "Perido! *Answer me!* Perido!"
Inside, the child's sobs—audible only to Gerald—grew sharper. But even hearing Daya's voice, the boy did not move.
"Perido... *please.*" Her voice cracked. "It's your sister! If you're there, just say something! *Perido!*"
Silence.
Daya pressed her forehead against the door, shoulders slumping.
"Your Grace... Perido isn't here." Her voice was hollow. "If he were, he would have answered me. He would have..."
"He may believe his family is being held under threat."
At Olive's calm explanation, Daya shook her head.
"He's only *six years old.* How could he possibly think—"
"My sister would have warned him."
Gerald's quiet words silenced her.
He remembered Monica. His wise, careful, *thorough* sister.
Daya lifted her head slowly. Her deep green eyes—glistening with unshed tears—fixed on Gerald with sudden intensity.
"Break down the door."
"The child will be terrified."
"If you won't do it, I'll summon the servants."
"My lady." Olive's voice was gentle but firm. "I understand your worry. The young master is undoubtedly frightened beyond measure. But I believe we should give him a moment—"
"I've *never* seen Perido come here." Daya's voice wavered. "Are you... are you *certain* he's inside?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Olive produced a handkerchief and offered it to her silently.
Meanwhile, Gerald stood motionless, thinking of his sister.
*What else did you tell him, Monica?*
*If it were you... what would you have said?*
Slowly, he raised his hand and pressed his palm flat against the door.
Olive and Daya stared.
"I am Gerald von Vines."
His voice was quiet. Steady. Absolute.
"Whoever is inside—I will protect you."
---
*The Vines keep their word.*
Behind him, Daya trembled.
From within the room came the faintest rustle—a small body uncurling, crawling forward inch by inch.
Somewhere inside, another door creaked open with a long, agonized groan.
Feather-light footsteps approached the wooden barrier.
*How long did he starve?*
"What is he—"
*Tick. Tick.*
A metallic scraping sound—the bolt.
Daya's eyes went wide. She froze.
The child was trying to lift it. But he was too weak—the mechanism wouldn't budge.
Again. Again. Again.
Finally—*thunk.*
The bolt slid free.
The three of them held their breath, afraid to make a single sound that might frighten the boy.
The door began to open.
Slowly. Painfully slowly—as though the child was putting every last ounce of his strength into the effort.
A small shadow appeared in the crack.
Gerald couldn't see him. But he *felt* it—the child's gaze, fixed directly upon him.
The boy raised one trembling finger and pointed.
His mouth opened. No words came out—only a dry, rasping wheeze.
But Gerald understood.
"Yes." His voice was soft. "I am Gerald von Vines."
Daya saw her brother's face—gaunt, hollow-eyed, ghostly pale—and her heart shattered.
"*PERIDO!!!*"
At her scream, the child's legs gave out.
He collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.
Gerald caught him before he could hit the floor.
The boy weighed almost nothing—a bundle of bones wrapped in dirty cloth, fragile as a dried leaf.
Gerald held him close.
*Sister.*
*The youngest is safe.*
*No matter what happens—I will protect your children.*