081
She was burning with rage to the point it took her breath away.
Panting and clutching her chest, Luarel eventually grabbed a pillow and started slamming it against the wall.
‘They said they’d tell me everything! Said they’d help me become the real daughter!’
But then!
Why?!
‘Why did they leave out such crucial information?!’
Thud!
“Ah!”
Luarel’s silent tantrum, face twisted in fury, stopped only after she smashed her hand against the wall.
“…Ha.”
Looking down at her hand, she let out a dry, bitter laugh.
She had hit the wall so hard her hand was damaged.
The sunken skin was webbed with tiny cracks—just looking at it was grotesque.
‘Let’s think calmly. First of all, Elzen and Cedric—they’re on her side. No matter how pitiful I act, their eyes are always cold.’
She gently touched the injured area, and with a soft, tearing sound, bits of flesh came off.
She brushed the flakes off the bed and bit down on her lip in frustration.
‘There’s no point trying to win them over. Better to aim for Mikard.’
He seemed more simple-minded and less sharp than Elzen—there was still some hope with him.
A possibility… that she could establish herself as a ‘younger sister.’
‘And… I need to build my own allies.’
She needed people who would stand up for her no matter what happened.
‘But really, how did I end up like this? This wasn’t part of the original plan.’
She couldn’t understand why she was being treated so poorly.
The child they thought was dead had returned. Instead of welcoming her, people everywhere just made things harder.
Even her so-called father hadn’t shown his face.
Even during mealtimes, he only ever appeared briefly and that was it.
At first, she was thrilled—showered with expensive gifts, dresses, and shoes. But after what happened today, she realized.
All she had been given were things.
There was no affection.
And whose fault was it?
‘Shupetty Pashayen… That girl. Everything got ruined because she showed up before I did.’
Luarel—she had been discovered by the Velarion family about two years ago.
At that time, she was living under the name ‘Parnati.’ Yet somehow, they had found out her former name—Leslie—and came to her.
What could she possibly do when facing such a powerful house that already knew everything?
There was nowhere to run where their shadow didn’t reach.
But surprisingly, what they wanted wasn’t her insignificant life.
‘Become Pashayen. We’ll provide the information. You just need to enter that house as the long-lost daughter.’
Silver hair, red eyes.
Before the cruel beauty of those noble colors, she quietly surrendered.
What’s the point in resisting? I’d only end up dead like a dog.
Besides, she was long fed up with her miserable, bottom-dwelling life.
‘After everything I’ve been through, all the suffering, there’s another daughter? She got here before me and just took the place that should’ve been mine? Even the heavens are heartless!’
The original plan had been simple.
Luarel would appear before the admiral of the Pashayen family, who had lost his daughter long ago.
With a pitiful, sympathetic appearance, she would slowly draw closer and bond with the family.
Evidence that she was Luarel and had lived in West Gripel? The Velarion family promised to fabricate that.
All Luarel had to do was act—play the shy girl who stuttered, so no one could question her too deeply.
It had seemed like a perfect plan.
‘Sigh… this is so annoying.’
Her poor-quality skin cracked and broke with the slightest shock.
She was being told nonsense like, ‘You can breathe underwater.’
And Velarion? They had clearly known everything from the beginning, yet didn’t tell her during all those months of preparation.
‘I hate it. I hate all of this!’
It was the noble lady of Velarion, Diorose, who had taught Luarel everything—from acting to manipulation.
Despite being so young, Diorose always looked down her nose*, with her haughty air and probing gaze—it made Luarel sick.
She hated that she was beautiful, hated the way she saw through people.
But Luarel endured it, suppressing her disgust for the sake of something greater.
When she was finally told it was time to go to Pashayen, she thought she was free at last.
But now—
Aaaagh!
Luarel stomped silently, screaming internally, clutching her chest as her breath came in shallow gasps.
‘No… calm down. Calm down!’
What should she do now?
What must she do to survive?
‘Think. Just think. I’m not Luarel, or Parnati, or Leslie. I’m me. If I want to survive…’
‘I have to fix my hand first. And my cheek—if anyone sees it, it’s over.’
Thankfully, this enormous mansion was full of ‘materials.’
No one would notice if one or two went missing.
‘They must see me as a poor, pitiable thing. No one will suspect me.’
They might suspect she’s a fake.
But that only meant they’d come closer—to investigate, to test her.
‘Not realizing they’re walking right into the maw of a man-eating flower.’
Luarel enjoyed devouring such fools.
‘Maybe a doctor will come. I should wait until the night deepens before I sneak out.’
She needed to hide this wretched, ruined hand.
‘And what’s with the maids? I went swimming and no one even came to help me change. Isn’t that their job?’
Annoyed and conflicted, she finally crawled under the covers.
Her cracked and throbbing hand was making her feel even worse.
***
Ssshhh… ssskkk…
A strange, dragging sound echoed through the dark hallway.
Daisy, who had stepped out in a hurry needing the restroom, flinched at the sound of fabric scraping the floor.
‘What was that? Did I hear that right?’
She adjusted her glasses, glanced behind her once, then shivered and pulled her shawl tighter.
Even though it was summer, she felt a sudden chill.
Of course, the maid quarters—tucked in a remote corner of the first floor—were always cool since sunlight barely reached them. But today’s cold felt… different.
It wasn’t physical.
It was unnerving.
‘Ugh. I’ll just hurry and get it over with.’
There were five maid-designated bathrooms throughout the mansion, but naturally, the closest one was fully occupied.
Daisy, shifting from foot to foot in discomfort, eventually decided to head to the second closest one—out in the back courtyard.
Even if she was scared, she had no choice.
‘What are the odds anything actually happens?’
Step, step…
Squish. Step… Step, squish.
She walked while holding a lantern and suddenly spun around.
She was sure she had heard something echoing her footsteps—but out of sync.
“Weird… no one’s there.”
Still uncertain, Daisy stood still for about three seconds.
Then took off running at full speed.
Thankfully, the washroom near the outdoor laundry area was vacant, and she quickly took care of business.
Just as she was about to step out—
“Kyaaa!”
She screamed in horror.
Standing silently right in front of her, like a ghost, was a shadowy figure.
At first Daisy had thought it was a ghost—but on closer inspection…
“Miss Luarel? Wh-what are you doing here?”
This hallway was for the maids only.
A noble young miss like her wouldn’t even know the way to the laundry courtyard. The estate was designed so nobles and servants wouldn’t cross paths.
“M-my lady?”
Her voice trembled involuntarily.
There was something deeply ominous about Miss Luarel being here in the dead of night.
“Let me take you back to your room. Are you lost?”
Terrified, she tried making conversation.
But Luarel didn’t reply.
Of course, Daisy wasn’t in a position to simply run away either.
So, with great hesitation, she slowly stepped forward—and then, in the very next moment.
“Huh?”
Gulp.
“This isn’t enough. I need more. More.”
Luarel licked her lips coldly, mumbling to herself.
Her whisper didn’t sound desperate—it was compulsive. Like an animalistic instinct: not out of necessity, but out of obsession.
“Ptooey.”
Then, after swallowing, she casually spat something out.
It was Daisy’s glasses.
This was her little ‘hobby’—
Collecting a keepsake from each ‘ingredient.’
Why? Well…
She read somewhere that serial killers do that too.
She’d tried it once—and found that she liked it.
So she kept doing it.
“Eh? Miss Luarel? What are you doing here?”
Just then—
Another maid, headed toward the same courtyard restroom, spotted Luarel.
At that moment, Luarel slowly lifted her head and smiled in the darkness.
“Oh dear, you saw, didn’t you?”
“S-saw what?”
“Well, whether you did or didn’t, it can’t be helped now. I guess I’ll have to eat you too.”
“W-wait, what?! No—nooo!”
Gulp, gulp.
“…..…”
A grotesque belch echoed across the eerie, abandoned washyard.
When Luarel casually left the crime scene—
Under the moonlight, a shadow that had been holding its breath the entire time finally emerged.
It was Joy.
