Seoren Hall was eerily quiet, except for the fact that one person had seemingly vanished into thin air.
As Finn stepped inside the mansion, he immediately sought out a familiar face.
“Anna.”
“Finn?”
“Do you have a moment?”
Finn was just a kitchen errand boy, not particularly close to her. When she nodded, he glanced around briefly and gestured for her to follow him to a secluded spot under the stairs. As Anna approached, he handed her something.
“What’s this?”
“Could you slip this under Sir Richard’s door? You’re on cleaning duty today, right?”
“…”
“Please. It won’t cause any trouble.”
It was a sudden and odd request, but his eyes were pleading. She had a hunch about what it might be. Anna nodded and tucked the folded letter into her apron just as a loud voice echoed from the entrance hall.
“Sir Richard!”
It was Janice’s voice. Heading towards the commotion, they saw Richard Kensington, who had been away from the island for a while, standing there.
He handed his gloves and coat to Janice, who had come to greet him, and then glanced around the room. For a brief moment, his eyes met Anna’s, but it was fleeting.
As he climbed the stairs, Janice followed him, speaking warmly.
“Aren’t you tired from your trip? I’ll prepare a bath for you right away.”
“The Earl?”
“He’s out at the moment. He went for a walk with the Madam.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Excuse me?”
“Anna Scott.”
As the atmosphere grew tense, Anna quickly ascended the stairs and stopped in front of Richard. She glanced at Janice, who was looking puzzled, and waited for his next words.
“Where is Charlotte Hegel?”
Anna, with her head bowed, responded calmly, almost as if she had been expecting the question.
“She was expelled.”
“Anna!”
“How?”
Despite the sudden news about his lover, Richard’s expression didn’t change. His voice remained flat and emotionless, just like always. As Janice lunged to silence Anna, a heavy thud sounded behind them, followed by a young maid’s scream echoing through the entrance hall.
“Ahhh!”
“Oh my…!”
The coachman had dragged a sack out of the carriage. More accurately, it was a blood-soaked man covered by the sack.
The figure on the ground groaned and writhed in pain. No one dared to move. The air was thick with tension. The shocking scene made Janice collapse to the floor.
“What on earth…?”
“Pretending not to know, are we? That’s quite cold.”
“Richard…!”
“Is it because you were too far away?”
Richard looked down at Janice’s pale, trembling face and nodded to the coachman. Following his orders, the coachman dragged the writhing sack to the foot of the stairs. Dark red blood smeared the ground, making it look like the entrance to hell.
“Isn’t this a familiar face, hmm?”
The coachman untied the sack. The hair that emerged was unmistakably familiar. It was the man who had attacked Charlotte Hegel, the same man Janice had used and discarded. His face was a mess, beaten so badly he could barely open his eyes.
“Richard…!”
Janice, clutching at Richard’s pant leg, started to speak but fell silent when she saw his eyes. This wasn’t someone who could be reasoned with or pleaded with. The dark, ominous air around him was suffocating. He was like a predator, starved and now sated with blood.
“It’s time for a confrontation.”
He smiled, a violent grin that seemed to come from deep within.
“Bring the Earl.”
“Yes.”
The coachman—no, Carl—responded.
“What on earth is going on, Richard?”
“You’ve arrived.”
The voice was trembling with shock and anger. The urgent call had brought him back to a horrifying scene. The entire place was filled with an oppressive air that made it hard to breathe.
The servants were frozen as if they had seen a ghost. Bloodstains on the white marble floor led to the sack lying there. From inside came the sound of labored, painful breathing. Without even a moment to process the shock, he reached out hurriedly.
“Oh…”
“Chloe!”
He caught his wife as she fainted without a sound. As his eyes moved to the woman sitting on the staircase landing, he realized what was inside the sack. His legs gave out, and he staggered. The steward who had followed him approached.
“Earl.”
“I’m fine. Take Chloe to the bedroom. Franz and Peter too.”
The steward nodded and took the Countess. Following his orders, the staff scattered like shadows. Seymour, watching it all in silence, spoke heavily to the man observing them.
“Let’s talk in the study.”
Leaving those words, he quickly exited the scene.
Inside the study, he drew the thick blackout curtains, plunging the room into darkness despite it being noon. Apart from the crackling fireplace, the room was eerily quiet.
The two men sat on the couch, a stark contrast to each other. Seymour, hands clasped and elbows on knees, seemed suffocated by the pressure, taking slow, deep breaths. Richard, on the other hand, lounged with his legs crossed, leisurely sipping tea.
“Why the sudden confrontation?”
“Do you need confirmation?”
Seymour sighed heavily and straightened up.
“How did you know? How much do you know?”
“Anna Scott, Carl Feilot.”
Richard named them one after the other.
“They’ve served as my eyes since I arrived on Corlen Island.”
“Why?”
“Because Janice seemed suspicious.”
“Richard!”
It was as if he had anticipated this outcome. Despite his calm demeanor, the fingers in his hand gripping the cup were starkly visible.
“She orchestrated all of this.”
“That can’t be.”
Richard placed his cup down and gave Seymour a cold smile as he shook his head.
“Shall I bring the baron back? Put a gun to his head again, and he’ll spill everything.”
“You did that? Are you insane?”
The Earl stood up abruptly, his anger flaring. Even though the baron came from a less influential family, he was still part of high society. If this went to trial, it would undoubtedly lead to a scandal.
“This is all because of Charlotte Hegel, isn’t it?”
There was no answer. The redirected anger flared up like a fire catching on dry twigs.
“It’s all because of that woman! That vulgar, presumptuous…”
“That’s enough.”
Crash.
The teapot and cup shattered on the floor, sending hot tea steaming across the wooden boards. Richard had kicked the table, and shards of porcelain scattered onto his jacket, which he brushed off nonchalantly.
“You’d better not provoke me any further.”
“…”
“I’m barely restraining myself from putting a bullet through both your heads.”
The voice was icy, sending a chill down Seymour’s spine. As he stood frozen, facing Richard’s cold contempt, Richard quietly rose and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“…”
“Where…”
Seymour hurriedly followed Richard, who was leaving the wrecked room. He felt a sense of finality, as if this might be the last chance. Richard paused briefly and coldly brushed off Seymour’s hand that had caught his arm.
“It’s all over.”
“Richard!”
“Janice Brown. You handle that crazy woman. Kill her quietly or lock her up in an asylum. Do it before I change my mind.”
“Don’t… don’t call her that.”
That woman…
The words rose to his throat but sank heavily back down. Seymour, clutching Richard’s shoulder desperately, spoke almost pleadingly.
“I wanted to give you land and a title.”
“…”
“If you want… even Mistymoor Hall.”
‘Brother.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Brother, I…’
‘Don’t speak to me!’
His heart felt like it was collapsing. It was as if he was reaping the consequences of his past actions.
There had been a time when he ignored and pushed away what he didn’t want to acknowledge. A son born to a woman he once loved but who had betrayed him. A son who resembled neither him nor her.
“If you want…”
He had hated him. Perhaps even more than he hated her. When the boy enlisted, he hadn’t given him a warm embrace or a farewell.
‘I understand now why you treated me the way you did.’
‘…’
‘I’m leaving for good now. I hope you find happiness with your wife. …Brother.’
He had tried to live as if he had forgotten the image etched inside his eyelids. He ignored it until the news of his death in action arrived at Gredel Hill.
“Not even able to recover the body…?”
It was as if the ground beneath Seymour Arthur Kensington’s feet had given way. The grief was unbearable, a torment that he couldn’t even bury in his heart.
Then, a miracle happened.
“Why, have you seen a ghost?”
One night, as he was sinking deeper into despair, he returned, battling through the storm.
Cynthia, the nanny, had a fit, screaming that he wasn’t the same person, that he was a monster wearing the shell of a dead man. But Seymour didn’t listen. Richard Daniel Kensington was his eldest son, his child. He knew him better than anyone.
Or so he thought.
“If you want, it’s all yours… When I grow old, I’ll pass everything on to you.”
He had to pause to catch his breath, his throat tightening.
“So please, Richard… please…”
The pleading voice caught Richard’s attention, and his gaze turned towards Seymour. The moment their eyes met, the Earl felt a chilling sensation spread from his fingertips. Though Richard’s features were as sharp and cool as ever, it felt like a massive black snake was coiling behind him, staring down with venomous fangs dripping poison.
“Why should I?”
“…”
“Why bother waiting to inherit it all?”
“Ri-Richard…”
A curse. The monster of the Kensington lineage passed down through generations.
The Earl took an involuntary step back, feeling the cold scales of the snake in his mind. His back hit the mahogany desk.
Richard stepped closer, one step at a time, facing the Earl who looked as if he had seen a monster.
“I could just kill you now, and your wife, and your kids too.”
He could do it immediately if he wanted. The only reason he hadn’t was because the Kensington family was useful in many ways. They helped him blend into society, provided him with prey, and kept his secrets tightly sealed to avoid tarnishing the family name.
Richard leaned on the desk, looking down at the cowering Seymour, who turned his head away.
“You won’t see me again.”
“…”
As he turned the doorknob, he spoke one last time.
“Father.”
Click. The door closed. Left alone, the Earl slid to the floor, covering his face with trembling hands. He choked on his sobs, unable to fully cry out, and sat there for a long time, shaking.
It was a cry of utter despair.
🍉🍉🍉
Whaaat… I’m speechless