"What's so special about her anyway?!"

  Adele grumbled to herself as she made her way toward the spare mansion of the Konrow Duchy.

  "Spare" was a generous word for it. The mansion sat in the southern part of the estate, technically only a kilometer from the main building — but that was just the distance to the entrance. The actual mansion was another three kilometers beyond that.

  So in other words, walking there was a pain in the ass.

  Luckily, Adele was a 7th-tier mage and had already marked the entrance as a waypoint. A simple teleportation spell saved her from the unnecessarily long trek.

  Unfortunately, getting inside was a different problem entirely.

  She materialized at the entrance and immediately noticed something was wrong.

  The hedges were too perfect. Trimmed so precisely that not a single leaf was out of place. The iron gate gleamed like it had been polished moments ago. The entire entrance looked untouched by time, by weather, by so much as a stray breeze.

  Which was impossible.

  The only people supposedly on the other side were Josephine and her maid. No groundskeepers. No maintenance staff. And yet the estate looked like a palace on its best day.

  Adele narrowed her eyes.

  She was a 7th-tier mage — one of the most powerful individuals in the empire — and she was currently hunched at an iron gate, peeking through the bars, trying to figure out if she could just walk in or if she needed to start blasting things open. She was not going to think about what that said about her life.

  Her goal was simple. Get information on Josephine.

  Her problem was equally simple. She was not invited. And Konrow properties had defenses — ones she herself had helped establish.

  She muttered a detection spell under her breath, scanning for active enchantments—

  "What exactly are you doing, Lady Adele?"

  Adele almost jumped out of her skin.

  Almost.

  A maid stood directly in front of her. Head slightly bowed. Expression perfectly neutral. Not a flicker of surprise or amusement anywhere on her face.

  Adele hadn't noticed her at all.

  Adele, who could sense mana disturbances from an entire battlefield away, had completely failed to register a single person standing right in front of her. It was only when Jane — Josephine's dog — actually spoke that Adele registered her presence.

  "…Interesting," Adele muttered, resisting the urge to step back. She folded her arms instead. "I was just, ah. Appreciating the architecture."

  Jane tsked.

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  Right at her.

  Something fundamental shifted in Adele's soul. Who gave her the audacity?

  "Spare me the excuses," Jane said flatly. "Since you're still a Konrow, I'll invite you inside."

  The way she said it made it sound like she'd rather drag Adele by the hair.

  "Well, since you insist~," Adele said pleasantly.

  Jane didn't acknowledge her theatrics. She simply stepped to her side and raised an umbrella, shielding Adele from the sun with the practiced efficiency of a trained maid.

  Except it felt nothing like simple etiquette.

  Jane was analyzing her. Adele could feel it — the slow, methodical way her eyes moved, cataloguing everything. Posture. Gait. Breathing patterns.

  How deeply, deeply unpleasant.

  And then —

  "For all the strength the Konrow bloodline boasts, I expected more refinement."

  Adele stopped mid-step.

  Jane continued, voice perfectly even, eyes forward. "You lack discipline. Strength without control is nothing more than a liability."

  Adele stared.

  There was genuinely no one — no one — in the entire duchy who spoke to her like this. She was the young lady of the Konrow family. A 7th-tier mage. A terror on the battlefield. And this maid was treating her like a misbehaving child who'd tracked mud onto a clean floor.

  She hadn't been like this before.

  Jane used to be neutral. Professional. Respectful.

  Something had changed.

  Adele ran the calculation quickly. Jane was strong — too strong. Probably stronger than her father at this point, which was its own problem. But more importantly — if Josephine had a supporter like this in her corner—

  That was a massive problem.

  Before she could probe any further, Jane dropped something that stopped her cold.

  "My lady went into a coma a few weeks ago. She has always been weak."

  Casual. Dismissive. Like it was common knowledge.

  Adele barely contained her reaction.

  Josephine. Comatose.

  On one hand — convenient.

  On the other — wait.

  "You must be pleased," Jane continued, cutting straight into her thoughts. "With that information."

  Adele stiffened. She really, genuinely hated her.

  "But that's not why I invited you here." Jane stepped aside and gestured forward. "I need you to retrieve your dog."

  "…My what?"

  Jane didn't elaborate. She simply pushed open the grand entrance doors with a soft click. "Welcome to the mansion, Lady Adele."

  Adele stepped inside.

  And immediately hated it.

  The silence hit her first. Not the comfortable quiet of an empty house — something heavier than that. The kind of silence that meant there was genuinely nothing here making sound. No servants. No distant chatter or rustling papers or clinking dishes. Nothing.

  Adele had grown up in the Konrow estate. She knew what a spare mansion felt like on its emptiest day.

  This wasn't that.

  She turned to Jane. "Where is everyone?"

  "There is no need for servants."

  Ah. Sure. Completely normal.

  "So you and Josephine maintained this entire mansion yourselves?"

  Jane didn't answer. Just kept walking.

  Adele, very much not trusting any of this, activated a detection spell—

  —and felt her mana warp.

  The spell distorted mid-cast. Like the mansion itself had reached out and twisted it.

  She exhaled slowly. "Jane."

  Jane stopped. "Yes?"

  "Is this mansion real?"

  For the first time, Jane smiled.

  "No."

  Adele stepped back immediately. "What—"

  "Relax." Jane turned to face her fully. "You're not in danger."

  That did not help.

  "Explain. Now."

  Jane studied her for a moment.

  "This place is an illusion. A construct. My lady's personal domain."

  Adele stared at her.

  She wanted to laugh. She wanted to call her a liar. She wanted to say it was impossible — that Josephine didn't have that kind of power, had never had that kind of power, was the weakest member of a family of mages and always had been.

  But she could feel it.

  The way her spells weren't working correctly. The way the mansion felt too perfect, too seamless, too whole. The way Jane was telling her this information with zero concern for how she'd react.

  This wasn't a normal illusion. Normal illusions had seams. Fluctuations. Gaps where a skilled enough mage could push through.

  This had nothing.

  It was a domain.

  And domains were the power of monsters, legends, and gods.

  Adele's throat went dry.

  Josephine. Weak, fragile, chronically ill Josephine.

  Had this.

  "I see," Adele said.

  Jane tilted her head. "That's all?"

  Adele smiled pleasantly. "Oh, I am screaming internally."

  Jane smirked.

  Adele wanted to punch her.