"Ah. If the axe bothers you, I'll put it down right now."
With feigned nonchalance, Diaz tossed the weapon to the floor. The blade spun across the stone, skidding to a halt just at Kinder's feet. It could easily have caused serious injury, but she didn't flinch.
Failing to elicit the reaction he wanted, Diaz changed his target.
"Hey! You still haven't come out, even though your dear daughter-in-law is already here!" His voice rose to a near-shout. "If you don't show yourself immediately, I'll have you dismissed. Furthermore, I'll summon the guards and hand you over on charges of kidnapping and illegally detaining the heir to the marquisate. Keep *that* in mind."
Weather looked up at Kinder with trembling eyes. If she were truly accused of abducting the heir of a noble house, the punishment wouldn't be limited to a fine. And if the truth about Ryder's death came to light, she could very well face charges of murder.
The onlookers had already begun to whisper. The murmur of voices swelled, and within those whispers, one question grew increasingly insistent: *Was the young master truly dead?*
Kinder bit her lower lip until she tasted copper. Her thoughts tangled into hopeless knots; she saw no way out. One more step and she would shatter completely.
Perhaps she already had.
*No. She found Evangeline. Lady Rohanson. She will find a way.*
Where was she? Had Kinder, rushing forward in blind despair, simply failed to notice her?
She glanced around frantically—and froze, catching something blindingly white in the corner of her vision. Her breath seized in her throat.
Lady Rohanson stood very close. Her presence was so clear, so overwhelming, that it seemed impossible Kinder hadn't sensed it before. It was equally astonishing that neither Diaz nor the butler had noticed the lady until this moment.
"H-help... my lady."
Evangeline, who had been observing the proceedings from the sidelines with cold detachment, only moved at this quiet plea. She stepped forward slowly, and with each stride, the very space around her seemed to transform.
With the first step, people flinched—suddenly aware of another presence among them.
With the second, they fell silent, overwhelmed by the weight of her existence.
By the third, most had frozen entirely, unable to move beneath the pressure emanating from Evangeline Rohanson.
"To whom—"
Only Diaz managed to force a sound from his throat, though it emerged as nothing more than a strangled fragment.
Lady Rohanson didn't deign to glance at him. Her entire attention focused solely on Kinder. And in that moment, Kinder forgot the hopelessness of her situation. A strange, almost intoxicating sensation washed through her—as if the entire world had narrowed to her alone, as if she had become a being chosen by something far greater than herself.
Evangeline embraced her gently from behind. A white-gloved hand slid lightly over her shoulder; strands of silver hair tickled her neck. Cold breath brushed her ear, and a quiet, drawn-out whisper—reminiscent of a serpent's hiss—sounded close enough to feel.
Only Kinder could hear this voice. And if she hadn't known what Evangeline truly was, she might have mistaken it for the words of a deity.
"Madame Toten... do you truly wish for the child to return to life?"
"Yes..." The word tore from her throat. "Yes."
"Even if the one who opens his eyes is no longer your son? Even if another being appears in his body, merely *wearing* his appearance?"
Kinder wanted to turn, to ask what exactly she meant—but her body refused to obey. It felt as though invisible coils had wrapped around her from head to toe, leaving no room to move.
These words recalled their first conversation. Back then, the lady had already spoken of *replacement*. So it hadn't been merely an excuse to refuse help. It meant that Ryder—her son, her *true* son—was gone forever.
The realization was excruciatingly bitter. Painfully unfair. Unbearably cruel.
"The choice is yours, Madame. You may officially acknowledge the child's death and bid him farewell. Or you may allow the world to believe him alive—even if only in appearance."
Kinder desperately wanted Ryder to return. But as Evangeline had warned, there was no perfect solution.
She accepted reality almost immediately. Perhaps she simply had no strength left to resist. Ryder's final words floated back to her—spoken so quietly, so seriously, as if he had known the outcome all along.
*"If this is the end of me, let me at least leave my last words."*
*"Even if I am gone, Mother... please protect the Marquis's house."*
Accept her son's farewell, or accept something that would merely pretend to be him.
Given the choice between these two paths, Kinder leaned unhesitatingly toward the latter. She had loved Ryder madly, all-consumingly. So completely that she was willing to use his body to fulfill his final wishes.
Such was her love: selfish and painful, but no less genuine for it.
*"Mom, you love me, don't you?"*
Even selfishness was part of that love.
"Yes." Her voice emerged steadier than she expected. "And yet... I accept it."
With these words, Kinder finally exhaled—as though surrendering her last resistance.
"Melek."
"Yes, my lady."
Evangeline called for the blindfolded servant. How or why he had materialized inside the mansion remained unclear.
They exchanged whispers, and before Kinder could form a question, the servant's outline blurred. He dissolved into black smoke, drifted through the air, and reached Ryder. The darkness was absorbed into the child's still form—but since everyone remained transfixed by Lady Rohanson, only Kinder witnessed the scene.
"The young master moved!"
A maid in the crowd screamed. Kinder recognized the voice—it belonged to Lady Rohanson's servant.
The assembled onlookers finally tore their gazes from the lady and looked at Ryder. And indeed: the motionless child stirred, as if his sleep had been disturbed. His lips parted slightly, almost petulantly, and then his eyes flew open.
"*Hah*—!"
Someone gasped, hand flying to cover their mouth. Kinder did the same. She had asked for this. She had chosen it. She had consented.
But seeing the *alien thing* that now inhabited her son's body, she felt violently ill.
Ryder's hand twitched.
"W-what is this...?"
Weather, who had been cradling Ryder the entire time, was understandably the most terrified of all. She could feel the corpse moving in her lap.
"Yes... unsettling."
Hena, who had experienced something similar, murmured with deep sympathy—recalling Evangeline's own funeral.
---
## — The Demon's Bargain —
It was truly a shock.
I had come here in response to Madame Toten's plea for help, but I couldn't have imagined things had deteriorated this far. This wasn't merely a dispute over inheritance anymore. The late marquis's younger brother, Diaz, was wielding an *axe* and practically attempting to murder a child.
A single maid had barricaded herself in the room, clutching the boy to her chest and shielding him with her own body. Meanwhile, the butler, the nanny, and the other servants made no attempt whatsoever to intervene. There was simply no one here to rely on.
Now I understood why Madame Toten, driven to despair, had turned to me—an outsider—for help.
"Since you're back, that settles things. You must be exhausted from your journey; come inside and rest."
"Yes. I will." Diaz's smile didn't reach his eyes. "But, you know... doesn't it strike you as strange? With all this commotion, my nephew hasn't so much as stirred. He's sleeping remarkably soundly." His voice dropped to something almost tender. "Almost as though he were *dead*, wouldn't you say?"
"As I told you." Madame Toten's voice trembled with the effort of control. "He's been bedridden with fever for five days and has only just fallen into true sleep. He's utterly exhausted—the noise won't wake him."
Diaz continued his threats, demanding immediate access to the child, while Madame Toten struggled desperately to maintain control of the situation. But he was impossible to reason with. He held the axe as though ready to use it at any moment, insistently demanding entry to the room.
"And what does he hope to achieve by poking around a dead child...?"
Jelly clicked his tongue with something approaching pity. The words made me shudder. Who was he talking about? *Ryder?*
"Sir Jelly... what do you mean?"
Hena's voice quavered. My stomach clenched—I wanted to ask the same question.
"You really don't understand?" Jelly tilted his head. "He's not breathing. And... you can't hear it? Then look more carefully: his skin is pale, his arms are limp, and his jaw and neck have already begun to stiffen."
I quickly peered through the gap in the shattered door. Ryder was tightly wrapped in a blanket, so I couldn't see him fully. Only his face was visible, and it truly did appear too white. Not the pallor of illness, but... *emptiness*. As though the color had simply been drained away.
Hena went even paler. She swallowed anxiously and glanced toward the Marchioness of Toten.
"Madame Toten..."
Her quiet whisper was swallowed by Diaz's voice.
"Have the door opened. Why are you hesitating? Aren't you, as a mother, concerned about your own son's condition?" He spread his hands in mock bewilderment. "Let's go in together and see."
He was deliberately pressing on her most vulnerable point. And yet, Madame Toten never once agreed to check on Ryder's condition.
"She already knows the child is dead," Hena murmured.
I had reached the same conclusion. Madame Toten knew Ryder was dead—that was precisely why she resisted Diaz's demands so desperately. If the boy were officially declared deceased, the marquisate would pass to Diaz, not to her.
She was fighting with everything she had to prevent that from happening.
"You understand why she came to the Mistress," Jelly chuckled softly. "To ask for the return of a dead child. You won't find such requests anywhere in the world... except perhaps with our Mistress."
Now everything fell into place. That was why Madame Toten had turned to me and asked if I remembered my earlier words. During our first meeting—when I'd been deceived by the butler and said there was no way to heal, only to console—I must have let something similar slip.
Meanwhile, Diaz shifted his focus to the maid, apparently deciding she would be easier to break.
"Hey! You still haven't emerged, even though your daughter-in-law is right here! If you don't appear immediately, I'll have you dismissed. Furthermore, I'll summon the guards and hand you over on charges of kidnapping and illegally detaining the heir to the marquisate!"
"H-help, my lady..."
Madame Toten's gaze swept the corridor in confusion before landing on me. She extended her hand—and in that moment, she looked as though she stood at the very edge of a precipice.
Someone else might have tried to pull her back.
All I could do was take a step forward and guide her toward a choice.
"Madame Toten, do you wish for the child to return to life?"
"Yes... *yes*."
"Even if the one who opens his eyes is no longer your son? Even if it is a different being, wearing only his shell?"
*Just as in my case.*
Madame Toten considered my words. Then she clenched her teeth and, without breaking eye contact, replied:
"Yes. And yet... I accept it."
A dead child could not be restored to life. But the marquisate could still be saved.
Faced with the choice between total loss and preserving even a fragment, she had chosen the latter. Since Madame Toten had found the strength to cast aside her grief and make this decision, the least I could do was help her—by resorting to my backup plan.
"Jelly. Summon Melek immediately."