After all, if they had been destined for disposal, these shoes could hardly be called relics. And I couldn't very well leave Madame Toten barefoot—their arrival was perfectly timed.
We departed with Madame Toten, who had already changed into the borrowed shoes, and made our way to the carriage. Since we planned to stop at the marquisate before heading directly to the palace, I had arranged for everything to be prepared in advance.
When Melek, his blindfold pulled low over his eyes, led out the carriage drawn by black horses, I finally understood why the Count had chosen to leave early.
The rain blurred the lower portion of the harness into a gray haze, creating the eerie impression that the horses possessed no hooves at all. The carriage looked like something conjured from the pages of a horror novel. However, considering it was driven by a ghost, that wasn't far from the truth. Few would dare to climb aboard in the face of such a sight, even if driven by mortal fear.
"Are we... going to travel in *this*?"
"Yes. Please, sit down."
Madame Toten hesitated for a moment. However, she no longer possessed the strength to object. She climbed obediently into the carriage and settled herself on the seat opposite mine.
"We'll stop by the Marquisate of Toten first, then proceed directly to the palace."
"Understood. Please be careful."
Daisy bowed, and Kanna, waving her handkerchief, watched us depart with a look brimming with regret. I patted her lightly on the shoulder before climbing into the carriage. Since Hena was the most knowledgeable about palace etiquette, she would be the one to escort me inside.
Jelly also climbed aboard, citing security concerns. In reality, he was my trump card in case of unforeseen circumstances at the marquisate—if necessary, he could intervene with magic and bring any situation under control.
He lounged back in his seat, crossed his legs, and began whistling softly. Madame Toten glanced at him and frowned visibly.
"This man..."
"I am the owner's dog—"
"My assistant."
I cut Jelly off before he could spout more nonsense in front of Madame Toten. Even jokes required consideration! Did he think Raphael and Madame Toten were the same?
"I understand, lady assistant..."
"Then let's be off."
Madame Toten seemed to experience a moment of confusion, but before she could correct me, Melek set the carriage in motion. Despite the torrential rain, we didn't bounce over bumps or lurch on turns. The handling was impeccable. I couldn't help thinking that such a driver would be worth keeping by my side for life.
The journey to the Toten Marquisate proved shorter than I had anticipated. Soon, the carriage began to slow smoothly. Had we truly arrived already? I pulled back the curtain and peered through the rain-streaked window.
The Toten estate materialized through the glass. It appeared far more gloomy and dismal than I remembered—shrouded in a gray haze, the rain lending it an almost spectral quality.
---
## — Kinder's Vigil —
Kinder sat holding her breath for the entire journey.
She felt as though even the quietest exhalation might seem too loud to those around her, so she tensed involuntarily, trying to breathe almost imperceptibly. She watched Evangeline furtively, capturing every movement, every subtle shift in expression.
Evangeline Rohanson hadn't pushed away Kinder's extended hand. When she asked for help, the lady had agreed without hesitation. True, she had admitted upfront that she couldn't be the perfect solution to every problem—but wasn't that incomparably better than those years when endless prayers had brought no answer?
_Why can't it be perfect? Is there something impossible about Ryder's resurrection?_
Kinder, feeling the shoes were slightly too large, carefully tapped her toes together. She was wearing the shoes of the late Countess—the lady's mother. Evangeline had given them away seemingly without a second thought, but it stirred a strange, hard-to-explain feeling in Kinder's chest.
There had been no emotion in the lady's voice when she mentioned the Countess. Now Kinder was beginning to understand where the rumors had originated—the whispers that Lady Rohanson had somehow become a different person entirely. Perhaps that was the reason. And if Ryder were also resurrected... would he behave like a hollow doll, forgetting all his affection for Kinder, just as the lady seemed to have done?
"We've arrived."
"Well done, Melek."
The blindfolded driver, guiding those strange, seemingly legless horses, announced their arrival. Although he spoke from outside the carriage—and the drumming rain should have drowned out his words—his voice reached them with remarkable clarity, as if he stood right beside them.
Lady Rohanson descended the carriage steps, accompanied by the creature she called her assistant. It moved with deliberate submissiveness before her, practically presenting its belly and wagging its tail like an ordinary dog. A maid quickly opened an umbrella over the lady, sheltering her from the downpour. The creature, apparently intending to do the same for Kinder, extended its hand toward her.
Kinder turned away pointedly and descended the steps herself.
The monster seemed to find this amusing and chuckled softly. Kinder's mind flashed back to their first encounter—standing hesitantly at the gates of the Rohanson house, when the man had appeared without warning and wrapped his fingers around her throat.
_"Oh, I was wrong... You were too noisy, and I almost killed you. Can you keep it a secret that I strangled you? The Mistress said to bring you back safe."_
He had said it so casually, as if it were nothing more than a minor mistake, then threatened that she was under no circumstances to tell Lady Rohanson about it. But she hadn't screamed or made a sound—so what had he meant by "noise"? Kinder's heart began pounding so violently she found it difficult to breathe.
"It's noisy inside, isn't it?"
Goosebumps crawled across Kinder's skin at the mention of noise, and she quickly averted her gaze.
"Did something happen...?"
At the maid's suggestion, Kinder tilted her head in confusion for a moment—then her face drained of color. She rushed toward the mansion without another word, not even pausing to check if Evangeline followed.
Only one possible reason for the commotion came to mind.
_Ryder._
They had found him. They had discovered he was dead. Usually, no one but her cared about the child's well-being—so why now? Why *today*? Perhaps because Kinder had been acting so differently than usual, they had grown suspicious and decided to check the room.
"Madam, you need to see the young master immediately. Mr. Diaz—"
"Madam, is it true that the young master has passed away?"
The servants who had been whispering in the corridors surrounded Kinder, pelting her with questions. She pretended not to hear a single word, clenched her teeth, and quickened her pace.
Ryder's room—which had once been the brightest, warmest place in the entire mansion—now seemed like its darkest, most repulsive corner.
"Why has the lady returned already... and especially *now*?"
The servants crowded around the doorway, their murmuring pressing against Kinder more heavily than any shout.
"Butler. Nanny. What is happening here?"
Kinder's voice trembled despite her efforts to steady it. The nanny, standing beside the butler, averted her gaze, not daring to meet Kinder's eyes. She, at least, seemed to understand that what was occurring had crossed every conceivable line.
"Madam."
The butler called out to her, his tone laden with confusion.
Kinder clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. The door to Ryder's room had been split in half with an axe. Through the gaping wound in the splintered wood, the interior of the chamber lay exposed. Behind the ruined door, a maid trembled violently, clutching the child tightly to her chest.
"Daughter-in-law. You've returned early."
The culprit was Diaz. Axe in hand, a brazen grin stretching across his face, he greeted Kinder as though nothing were amiss. He—who was supposed to arrive late that evening—had appeared during her absence and was now wreaking havoc.
"Diaz, what are you *doing*?"
"What am I doing?" He tilted his head with mock innocence. "I simply wanted to check on my dear nephew. But what *that* maid is doing—now *that's* a whole other story."
Diaz pointed shamelessly at the servant behind the shattered door, who still clutched Ryder desperately to her chest.
"M-Mistress..."
The maid's voice cracked with desperation. It was Weather—the same servant to whom Kinder had entrusted Ryder. The girl's face was streaked with blood, likely from splinters and shards of the broken door. Even half-dazed from the impact, Weather had carefully wrapped Ryder in his blanket and covered him, holding him as tightly as if trying to shield his small body from the entire world.
Kinder's head spun. Holding the child so close, Weather couldn't possibly have failed to notice he was already dead. And yet she continued to protect him.
_Why?_
Why did she carry out Kinder's orders to the very end? If not for her, Ryder's death would have become public knowledge long ago.
"I merely wanted to see my nephew's face, but she wouldn't let me in. Didn't that seem suspicious to you?" Diaz shrugged with theatrical nonchalance. "So I took an axe and knocked down the door."
"There was nothing suspicious." Kinder forced the words through gritted teeth. "It was my order. When Ryder finally calmed down after his illness, I instructed that no one be allowed in. The maid was simply following my commands. Didn't she tell you as much?"
"Ah..." Diaz stroked his chin. "Now that you mention it, I believe she did say something of the sort. I simply assumed she was lying." He spread his hands. "My mistake."
His lips curled into a smile as he lowered the axe. But the look accompanying that smile held no humor whatsoever—only something cold and predatory. And he still didn't release the weapon entirely.
"Now that you've returned, that's that. You must be exhausted from your journey. Come inside and rest."
"Yes. I will." Kinder swallowed hard. "But, you know... doesn't it strike you as strange? With all that commotion, my nephew hasn't so much as stirred. He's sleeping remarkably soundly." Diaz's eyes glittered. "Almost as though he were *dead*, wouldn't you say?"
"I told you." Kinder's voice emerged steadier than she felt. "He's been bedridden with fever for five days and has only now truly fallen asleep. He's so utterly exhausted that the noise around him won't wake him."
The smile vanished entirely from Diaz's face. He raised the axe once more.
Kinder's heart seized with terror. She closed her eyes, bracing for the blow.
No pain came.
Opening her eyes a fraction, she saw that Diaz had merely slung the axe over his shoulder, watching her with evident amusement.
"Did you really think I'd just keep swinging my weapon around? I have common sense too, you know."
Heat flooded Kinder's cheeks—humiliation burning hotter than fear. He had staged that gesture deliberately, purely to frighten her.
"Besides," Diaz continued, his tone light and conversational, "since you're here now, daughter-in-law, I don't need to break down any more doors. The maid will open them for you. In your presence, I'll be able to check on my nephew without any hindrance." His smile returned, sharp as a blade. "Isn't that right?"
Kinder bit her lip until she tasted copper. There was nothing she could say in response.
It seemed Diaz no longer harbored any doubt that Ryder was dead. And to Kinder, the child—exhausted by illness, drained of every last spark of vitality—looked no different. He didn't breathe. He didn't stir in his sleep. If you watched him long enough, it became impossible not to realize that life had already fled his small body. And if the blanket that Weather clutched so desperately were removed... surely traces of postmortem changes would be visible.
"Have the door opened." Diaz's voice hardened. "Why are you hesitating? Aren't you, as a mother, concerned about your own son's condition?" He gestured expansively toward the ruined doorway. "Let's go in together and see."