Erin stepped quietly into the study.

  She wore a simple white long-sleeve dress with small embroidered flowers stitched along the hem and cuffs. A neatly apron tied around her waist, and a crisp white bonnet concealed her hair. Her posture appeared timid, yet the effort she put into making herself look presentable showed in every part of her outfit.

  Her skin was noticeably cleaner, the grime from before washed away. Only a few faint blemishes remained. Her blonde hair, though unevenly trimmed,had been combed smoother and tucked into her bun.

  Her black eyes swept across the study, taking in the broken furniture, scattered books, and the torn paper pieces scattered across the floor. Her brow knitted, but she kept silent out of respect.

  When her gaze fell upon the blue flower resting on his desk, a flicker of surprise passed through her expression.

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said softly as she offered a respectful bow. “I've finished the first floor. Would it please you for me to begin on the second floor now?”

  ‘So fast? It’s just a day.’

  Arnold couldn’t help but marvel inwardly. The entire first floor looked like a decrepit ruin. It would have taken a normal person several days to clear even half of it. Yet this girl had done it within hours.

  Outwardly, he maintained his usual stillness. Arnold gave a small nod.

  “You can.”

  Erin's eyes filled with delight. She immediately trotted into the study and began her cleaning.

  She dusted shelves, gathered scraps of paper, and picked books off the ground. Her movements were quiet, the soft brush of cloth on wood blending into the room’s stillness.

  ‘This room first? Hmm, that doesn’t matter.’

  To be honest, Erin’s quiet presence calmed him. This girl was shy and reserved, a stark contrast to the boisterous flower girl, Mary, from the morning. Dealing with that kind of relentless positivity had been draining.

  And before he forgot, he wanted to ask Erin something.

  “Did you get kidnapped?”

  Erin froze mid-movement. “…Pardon, sir?” Erin replied with a confused voice.

  Arnold frowned. Were his words really that hard to understand?

  Seeing his expression, Erin blinked rapidly, realizing he was genuinely asking her the question.

  “Oh, no, sir. I came here of my own accord.”

  ‘As expected,’ he thought.

  He had been suspicious from the moment she first woke up. No kidnapped victim would act so nonchalant like this. So Glen’s crew had persuaded her willingly.

  “Then why were you unconscious?”

  “They…They told me it was for my own safety, sir. It might become dangerous if I knew the direction…”

  ‘And you believed them?’ Arnold stared at her. She truly was too naive. Maybe while she stayed here, he should at least teach her a little common sense.

  “And why did you want to go?”

  “…”

  Silence. Erin’s hands tightened around the cleaning rag.

  ‘A sensitive question.’

  “If you don’t want to talk, then don’t. I won’t force you.”

  Erin closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering courage. When she opened her eyes again, a wave of uncertainty flashed in them.

  “I... My family has a great need for wages, sir. So...”

  ‘I see.’

  “So your family agreed to sell you off?”

  “NO!” Erin burst out. Her face went pale immediately. She gasped, aghast at her own outburst, and gave him a deep, apologetic bow.

  “Pwease forgies me, sir! I spoke out of turn. I didn’t mean—”

  Arnold waved a hand, letting her panic settle on its own. He wasn’t angry but lost in his deep thoughts again.

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m eighteen, sir.”

  ‘Eighteen. Looks fourteen… probably because of malnutrition.’

  Arnold tapped his fingers on the desk.

  “Education?”

  “I'm... I'm afraid I've not had much schooling, sir. I can read my letters a little, but that's all.”

  ‘Oh?’

  Arnold took an interesting look at her. He took out a note and pointed at it. “Can you read this?”

  It was the note he had copied from Benjamin’s diary that contained 5 lines of different language.

  Erin took a moment to look at the note, then she sheepishly answered, “I... I can't make it out, sir. My apologies.”

  Arnold nodded and took back the note. He did not expect her to read it, it was just a little experiment.

  He calmly asked again, “Tell me about what you know of our country.”

  Erin tilted her head like a puzzled sparrow. She looked genuinely confused, as though she couldn’t understand why someone would ask such a basic question.

  Her gaze drifted over his bandaged face, then down to his attire, suspicious and unsure.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that…’ Arnold tried his best to ignore it.

  “Sir... begging your pardon, but I’m not sure I take your meaning...” She stammered, before looking down at her own fingers as if the answer might be written there, then back at Arnold.

  “Just the simple things will do,” Arnold prompted, softer his voice.

  “Yes, sir! Uh, so…”

  She inhaled, pointing a finger at herself as if to jog her memory.

  “The Winterin Village is located at the border of the Conquesita Kingdom, ruled by His Majesty, King Henry the third.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  She raised another finger, gaining a little confidence.

  “The capital city, it’s called Alan City. It’s the same name as the Pope of the Church of White, Pope Alan.”

  ‘Alan? That narcissist guy again?’ Arnold felt his stomach knot. How many times had that name appeared? That old man really spread himself everywhere.

  “Sir, from what I’ve been told, Easton City lies to the left of the capital,” she continues.

  ‘To the left…’ Arnold resisted the urge to rub his temple. It was “in the west.” But correcting her would take longer than the conversation was worth.

  Erin’s cheeks flushed pink. “That’s because our Marchioness Augusta rules there. They call her the Matriarch of the East, the Ice Madam! She’s cold as ice, yet at the same time, her heart is as warm as spring! Many of the womenfolk look up to her, for she’s the only one who looks after the welfare of women and children!”

  ‘Marchioness Augusta…’ Arnold made sure to jot this name down inside his head.

  “That’s what my parents told me.” she murmured, before lifting a third finger. “Beyond that, I only know a bit, sir. Like the city to the top of Easton…”

  “The North.”

  “Ah? The North? Yes! That’d be the Lowell Duchy, ruled by Duke Lowell himself. I’ve heard tales he aided the Praetus Empire, though I’m not certain.”

  ‘The what now?’ Arnold stopped his train of thought.

  “And um… there is also the Night City at the bottom… the bottom…”

  “Wait. Where is the Praetus Empire?”

  He cut her off immediately. An empire? This was the first time he had heard of anything beyond the kingdom itself. It sounded pretty important to be treated as a sidekick.

  Erin tilted her head cluelessly.

  “Where? I don’t know, sir. I only know the names from the old tales. What is a 'Praetus,' sir? And what is an 'empire'?”

  She tapped her chin.

  “Isn’t Praetus a person?” she whispered, completely unsure.

  She lifted her head again.

  “I’m from Rease Town, sir. It’s a small place a few miles from Easton, just beyond the forest.”

  Silence sank into the room. Erin lowered her gaze, fidgeting with her apron.

  “That’s all I know, sir…”

  “Mmm.” Arnold nodded his head. To be honest, it wasn’t very helpful, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

  Arnold thought, his mind processing the meager information. Yet in his Field Vision, Erin’s thin arms and legs stood out. She had more flesh than Isa’s vessel, sure, but thin was still thin. No amount of optimism could change that.

  “You should eat more. Three meals a day. Feel free to take any food from the kitchen.” He leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other.

  “!”

  Erin jolted so hard she dropped her broom. It clattered loudly against the wooden floor. She scrambled to pick it up, bumping her head against the desk in the process, then bowing deeply as if the floor itself demanded apology.

  ‘So clumsy. How did she clean the mansion so fast?’ Arnold wondered. It was baffling how she could be both swift and hopelessly uncoordinated.

  “I… I c—” She struggled to form words.

  “And sleep at a proper time,” Arnold interrupted before she spiraled into stuttering again.

  He paused and rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. Now that I'm thinking about it, what even is time in this world? Do they follow the 12–24 hour format?’ He could guess, but guessing might be wrong. The clocks here looked similar, but who knew if they actually were?

  “On… on time, sir?” Erin repeated in a trembling voice.

  He wanted to say “sleep at 9 p.m.” but he didn’t know if that meant anything here.

  ‘Hmm, I can work with this.’

  “What time is it?” He glanced outside at the night forest swaying beyond the window.

  Erin nervously answered, fiddling with the hems of her apron.

  “It’s… nine at serene time, sir.”

  Arnold nodded. ‘So it’s similar.’

  “Right. You should sleep at this time from now on. No fiddling with your phone.” He pointed his finger at her, the last word slipping out from habit.

  “P… phone?” The girl stiffened in confusion.

  He nodded, not bothering to correct himself. With their main body’s Field Vision, monitoring her schedule would be easy. Of course, they would grant her some privacy… probably.

  ‘But why is she so nervous? Something happened?’ He swore that the first time she had talked to him, she hadn't been this twitchy. What happened?

  “Why are you so nervous? Something on your mind?”

  “Ah! No! Sir! Young master! Nothing at all!” Erin waved her hands frantically, panicking as if he accused her of crime.

  “…”

  Arnold narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

  But knowing Erin, it was probably something stupid. If she didn’t want to say it, he wouldn’t bother digging.

  “You are dismissed. Go to bed.” He waved his hand dismissively.

  “Ye–yes!” The girl hurriedly bowed and stepped backward like a terrified cat.

  Just as she reached the doorway, something lit up in Arnold’s mind.

  ‘Right, I almost forgot.’

  “Hey.”

  Erin froze. “Y… yes?”

  Arnold tapped his finger against the table.

  “The attic is forbidden. Don’t approach it.”

  “Huh?” She blinked in confusion.

  He tapped again, emphasizing his point.

  “Don’t even step foot in the attic. Do you understand?”

  “Yes!” She straightened her posture and nodded vigorously. With another curtsy, she disappeared down the hall.

  Silence returned as Arnold moved toward the window, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked at the spot where Erin had stood moments ago, his expression complicated.

  If they really left this place, then…

  ‘What about Erin?’ Inside the vessel, Izzy shifted one leg to another, a flicker of uncertainty in her thoughts.

  To be honest, that girl had nothing to do with her. Izzy didn’t care much about her.

  If they left, Erin could stay in the village. The Herald’s purpose was most likely Isidora herself, Erin wouldn’t be a target.

  However, If Erin still wanted to remain in this mansion, then it wasn’t her problem.

  Steeling her mind, she looked over her shoulder toward the bookshelf.

  A gray-haired doll sat silently atop the middle shelf. Its porcelain head tilted slightly to the side, its long lashes lowered as though in permanent contemplation. The doll’s delicate hands rested on its lap, and its glassy navy eyes gazed downward with vacancy.

  The doll looked exactly like Isidora, it was as if she were looking at a miniature replica of herself.

  This strange doll had somehow appeared in Arnold's room.

  ‘Is this Isa’s doing?’ Izzy wondered. After all, only Isa had access to the attic, and the girl had seemed to hate this doll so much she had thrown it into a corner.

  Perhaps Isa had bitter memories whenever she looked at it; perhaps it reminded her of Benjamin. That’s why she had put it here, so Izzy could keep an eye on it.

  ‘By the way, where is that old man’s corpse?’ Did Isa bury him somewhere?

  Her thoughts blurred. A wave of sleepiness suddenly washed over her.

  Wait, what had she been thinking?

  ‘Right, I forgot to ask Erin when the next full moon will be.’

  She scrunched her nose and turned her gaze toward the window. Beyond the glass panes, the moon glowed through drifting clouds, thin light spilling across the wooden floorboards.

  ‘What is wrong with me lately?’

  It seemed she was becoming more and more forgetful. She forgot things often and had become increasingly careless.

  ‘Maybe my mind needs some sleep.’

  The idea made her both delighted and sad at the same time.

  ‘At least I don’t need drugs anymore.’

  In her past life, insomnia had driven her to the brink of insanity. And the drug-induced sleep always came with nightmares.

  Eventually, she signed up as a test subject for the “sleep without dreaming” project once a month. It numbed her brain, turned her nights into empty voids where dreams could not reach.

  Since becoming this strange existence, she no longer needed sleep. There was no exhaustion. Sleepiness no longer assaulted her, and the irritating hallucinations had vanished. It was so peaceful that she forgot what fatigue even felt like.

  Still, sleep was the nature of the living. She had never tried to sleep since awakening, so she didn’t know if it could affect her, positively or negatively.

  ‘Now that I think about it, what is Isa doing right now?’

  There, for those who ask for the world. What? It’s not even relevant to the storyline of volume 1, but here you go, folk.

  Is this chapter scary? idk? What was it again?

  I'm shameless, very shameless.

  I write when they weren't watching. Mmm, they hadn't returned for some time...