[Ronald's side]
Meanwhile, the distant shouts and clamor bled faintly through the thick stone walls of the mansion, like an unwelcome draft slipping past velvet drapes.
In the master bedroom, filtered light pooled through tall arched windows, casting golden streaks across polished floors and heavy curtains. Ronald—known to the world as Lord Lerrington—rested propped against a small fortress of silk pillows, skin pale, breaths ragged.
At his bedside, Doctor Stone worked quietly, tools clicking in measured rhythm. Metal against glass. Cotton against fevered flesh.
Ronald's gaze drifted to the window, eyes narrowing despite the exhaustion clinging to his bones.
"What's all that commotion?" he rasped, voice rough, like gravel scraped across stone. A cough racked his frame, sharp and raw.
The butler, a shadow at the side of the bed, leaned forward slightly, gloved hands folded.
"It's nothing of great importance, Master," he soothed. "Just a minor disturbance in the garden. You needn't worry yourself."
Ronald's gaze lingered on the shifting light beyond the window, suspicion threading through the fever haze.
"Hmph… I suppose if it were something serious, the hounds would be barking."
"They already are," Doctor Stone murmured without looking up.
A flicker of irritation crossed the butler's face. "Yes, well, I assure you, the staff will handle it promptly."
Ronald settled back into the pillows, though the restless weight in his chest didn't ease. The muffled barking and scattered shouts beyond those thick walls gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.
'Why does it feel like she's close?' The question rose unbidden, carving a line through the fog. Llyne… her name surfaced, carried on some stubborn breeze of instinct.
A dry, rasping chuckle escaped him. 'For some reason, Llyne is always near whenever something goes wrong. A disaster magnet, that girl — either the culprit, or somehow roped in as the prime suspect.'
Despite the fever biting at his strength, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. But even as his eyelids drooped, the sense of unease only thickened.
Unbeknownst to him, the storm already raged at his doorstep. Llyne was much closer than he dared imagine — tripping alarms, outpacing hounds, and, true to form, scattering chaos wherever she ran.
[Llyne's side]
More footsteps joined the hunt, boots slamming against stone like an angry war drum behind me.
"These people are too relentless!" I shouted mid-sprint, nearly upending a crate of wilted vegetables. "They've been chasing me for almost an hour! Don't they have anything better to do?! I mean, sure—I do like attention, but not this kind!"
Bark!
"Eeek!" My spine stiffened at the sound, cold dread slicing down to my bones. 'Those dogs barked like they had centuries of grudges to settle with my family line.'
Then, as if gifted from the heavens themselves, I saw it: a pair of towering double doors, left ajar, whispering salvation.
"Ah ha!" I grinned, heart leaping in triumph. "Thank you, universe!"
I lunged forward, slammed the doors shut behind me with a satisfying crash, and twisted the lock so hard I nearly wrenched my wrist.
Instantly, fists hammered against the wood. Voices roared. Dogs snarled outside, teeth on splinters.
"Wakakakaka!" I wiped sweat from my brow, chest heaving. "Can't chase me now, can you?!"
Grinning like a fox, I crept forward and peeked through a narrow crack. Outside, the guards stumbled over each other, dogs snapping at shadows, the staff in full-blown panic.
Feeling far too pleased with myself, I strutted over to a tall window, pressed my face against the glass, and stuck out my tongue. Then, with great gusto, I twisted my features into exaggerated masks—eyes crossed, cheeks puffed, lips stretched wide.
"I'm in, you're out!" I declared, laughter bubbling from my chest.
Drunk on victory, I laced my hands behind my head, spun around, and came face to face with—
Steel.
Dozens of drawn weapons. A solid ring of guards surrounding me, expressions set like stone.
My arms fell limply to my sides. "Oui..."
At the rear of the formation, poised and cold as winter marble, stood a silver-haired butler. His tailcoat looked too immaculate for this world, and his gaze could've cut glass.
He eyed me as if weighing whether I was worth the trouble of existing. "Quite a ruckus you've caused," he said, voice smooth as polished onyx.
I bowed low, sweeping my arm with dramatic flourish. "Thank you," I chirped brightly, then shaped a heart with my hands and winked. "It's part of my charm."
The butler's expression remained perfectly still. "It wasn't a compliment, baboon."
"Ouch," I gasped, clutching my chest like his words had left a bruise. "Right in the heart."
One guard cracked his knuckles, stepping forward. I raised both hands, a crooked grin tugging at my lips.
"So… what happens now?" I asked. "Because, full disclosure—I don't do dungeons. Not good for my complexion."
"Grab her," the butler ordered with a flick of his gloved hand, as if swatting away a fly.
They seized me in an instant, cold iron on warm skin.
"Gently now, my skin's sensitive," I huffed, stomping one foot like a scolded child.
The guard on my left rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might tumble out of his head. Together, they dragged me through gilded corridors so polished I saw my reflection tremble back at me, a half-laughing, half-terrified blur.
Down we went. Beneath silk carpets and crystal chandeliers, beyond where gold gave way to mold. Stone walls closed around us, the air growing damp and stale, every footstep echoing like a funeral drum.
At last, they shoved open a creaking cell door and threw me inside.
I crashed to the cold floor face-first. "Ouch!" I yelped, rolling over and rubbing my nose. "That's it! I'm calling for human rights here!"
The butler appeared at the bars, wearing a smile that belonged on a spider about to pounce. "Welcome to your new home. You'll be here for the rest of your life."
I blinked. "What about a trial?"
"Oh, don't worry," he purred, voice sweet as poison. "I'll make sure you never leave this place. Alive or not—that depends entirely on you."
His words dripped finality, a blade disguised as courtesy. Turning on his heel, he vanished into the dark, his footsteps echoing in cruel rhythm.
I stared at the empty hallway. "Are butlers even allowed to be this evil?" I muttered, genuinely baffled.
Looking around, I gave it a good once-over. Mold crept up the corners, and questionable stains decorated the walls like sad, disgusting artwork.
"It's so dirty here. Don't they know anything about hygiene?"
With a melodramatic sigh, I flopped onto the icy floor, arms spread like a fallen starfish. "If I don't escape soon, I'm going to grow moss. Or worse—get mildew on my elbows."
Then something caught my eye in the corner: a shimmer, a sly glint where no light should reach.
Curious, I scrambled toward it on all fours, dust scratching my palms. My fingers brushed cold metal. I gasped, eyes brightening.
"Well, well, well," I whispered, lifting it to the dim light, a grin unfurling across my face. "Looks like my luck is finally rolling in."