The next few days, in order to avoid him, Eloise would leave early, before he woke, and return late, after he had fallen asleep.
However, she couldn't continue this for much longer. One day when she came back from work, he stood directly opposite her room door, arms crossed and his back resting against the wall. He had waited in the corridor for hours to confront her. He was like a predator waiting for its prey.
"Did the butler forget to tell you that you are not allowed to work for that Ashbourne bastard?"
His voice was sharp, dripping with disdain. The words cut into the silence of the corridor like a blade.
She clenched her hands tightly at her sides and tried to speak in a steady voice, but her trembling gaze betrayed her.
"Who are you to decide that for me? We're not even real siblings, are we?"
Oberon stood silently, his figure cloaked in shadow, his face partly hidden by the darkness. She could feel the tension radiating from him, pressing down on her chest, and her palms began to sweat.
She steadied her heart and turned on her heel, trying to ignore him as she headed for her room. But before she could escape, he grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her back, stepping closer.
"Isn't it all the more reason to keep you closer and safe?"
His breath lingered against her skin. She could not bring herself to look him in the eyes. He loomed over her, tall and suffocating, his presence overwhelming.
"How very gentlemanly of you, my brother. After tormenting me all these years since I first stepped into this household, you now act as though you're my savior, while trying to confine me from the outside world."
"Did I not tell you not to talk back to me? And it's for your own good, my dear sister."
His grip tightened like an iron shackle. He moved closer, closing the distance between them, forcing her into a suffocating embrace.
"You can only be safe in here. Have you not heard all the rumors about them, hmm?"
His whisper was low and poisonous, each word laced with possessive intent. Eloise's chest rose and fell rapidly; she struggled to breathe, struggling in his hold.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"He's just playing with your feelings, my innocent sister. He will hurt you sooner or later, I can vouch for that, Eloise."
The sound of her name on his lips made her shudder with disgust. His grip finally loosened, and Eloise seized the chance, shoving him away with all the strength she had.
"Don't call my name with that filthy mouth of yours!"
Her cry was sharp, echoing through the hall. He staggered back a step, his eyes widening as though struck.
"Fil... thy...?"
"Why? Are you not the filthy trash?!"
"You are crossing the line now."
Eloise tilted her head and, for the first time, looked him squarely in the face, her eyes burning with defiance.
"Is that so? If that's how you see it, then yes... yes, I am. So what would you do?"
"Now you are truly making me lose my cool. Don't make me furious or I might end up hurting you."
His hand reached out to grab her arms again, but she stepped back.
Her breathing quickened; the wide-eyed retreat was all the answer he needed. She put distance between them, one foot against the doorframe as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.
"Don't come closer to me!"
He froze for a moment, then let his hands fall slowly to his sides, palms open in a mock surrender. The facade of gentleness barely concealed the intensity in his gaze.
He lifted his hands and shrugged.
"Alright. I won't. But promise me you will not go there ever again and resign at once. I don't want to hurt you, my lovely sister. However, if you still choose otherwise and go against my wishes, I will be very upset."
Eloise's jaw worked for a heartbeat before she nodded twice, a brittle, defeated gesture. Her fingers clenched at the edge of her sleeve, knuckles whitening.
"Alright. Fine. What do you want? Do you want me to stay here in this manor all my life?"
The question came out sharper than she intended, edged with panic and something like dare. She stepped forward a hair, testing him.
"Yes. Why not? I will keep you safe."
The promise sounded rehearsed, protective in tone and possessive in meaning.
"Ha-haha. No, I'd rather never step outside my room. At least then I won't have to come face-to-face with that maniacal obsessive of yours."
She spun away without waiting for him to reply, her skirts whispering over the floorboards as she crossed the room in measured, furious strides.
"I'll send a letter to inform him that I will no longer be working. You'll at least let me do that, won't you?"
"Yes, certainly. I will at least allow that much."
He answered from the doorway, voice low and controlled, as if promising a concession he intended to regret later.
With that she shut the door and sat down on the floor, breathing heavily.
For a moment she stared at her hands as if seeing them for the first time. Rage flared and sank, leaving a tight, bitter knot in her chest.
'Bastard...! Do you think I would give up that easily...? Never!'
***
Rammmbble~!
The sound of thunder rolled across the sky as the carriage slowed and halted before the gates of Whitmore Manor. The iron gates loomed tall and unyielding, flanked by two armed guards.
The men stiffened at the sight of the Ashbourne household's crest engraved on the carriage door, unmistakable even from a distance.
One of them stepped forward, posture rigid, and leaned toward the carriage window.
"Sir, we have been informed not to let anyone in."
From inside, Ralph shifted the curtain aside and let his sharp gaze meet the guard's.
"Open the gate at once. Do you not recognize the crest of House Ashbourne? This is Lord Ashbourne. He had an appointment with the Baron."
The guard faltered but answered with visible hesitation.
"Pardon? But my Lord is not home at the moment."
The carriage door opened, and Ralph stepped down, his boots crunching against the gravel. He squared his shoulders and stared down the guard.
"Then what do you suppose we do? Do you want my Lord to head back after coming all the way here?"
The guard hesitated as he repeated himself like a parrot.
"But we were told not to let anyone in."
Ralph's expression hardened into ice. He cast a brief glance at the carriage, as though seeking guidance.
"Master, they say we are not allowed to enter."
The curtain on the opposite side shifted slightly. Arthur leaned just enough for the light to catch the signet ring gleaming on his finger. His eyes, calm yet sharp, locked onto the guard.
"Allowed…? Who asked for permission, did I? Open the gate and summon any family member who is currently at home."
The guard faltered, his face paling.
"B-but…"
Arthur's gaze sharpened like steel before he slowly drew the curtain closed once more.
"I suggest you open the gate. Otherwise, you may not survive the anger of my lord."
The weight of his words sank in, and the guards exchanged uneasy glances before nodding. With reluctant hands, they pulled the gates open.
Ralph returned to the carriage, his steps firm and measured. The vehicle lurched forward and rolled past the gates of Whitmore Manor.
Arthur glanced sideways at him with a faint smile.
"Good work."
Ralph bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you, master."
***
Inside the moving carriage, Arthur crossed one leg over the other and fixed his eyes on Ralph, his tone calm but heavy with intent.
"My men are currently searching for your brother, so worry not. They will find him sooner or later. For now, give your full attention to the matter at hand."
Ralph straightened his back as a determined look flashed across his face.
"Yes, young master."
Arthur tapped his fingers against the head of his cane as his eyes narrowed slightly.
"I want you to act as intensely with the guards as possible."
Ralph blinked in slight confusion.
"May I ask why?"
Arthur leaned forward as his voice dropped, carrying the weight of strategy.
"Because they will surely try to prevent us from entering the house. However, we cannot afford to come here again. We must gain entry at all costs while the Lord of the house is absent. If he arrives before we achieve our goal, everything will go astray. Do you understand? Your role is the most important here."
Ralph's jaw tightened as he bowed his head.
"As you wish, young master."
Arthur gripped his cane more firmly, his knuckles whitening. His gaze, cold and resolute, bore into Ralph's.
"And remember this once we have crossed the gate, I want you to act as if I am not merely some nobleman, but as if the King himself had arrived."
The words settled heavily in the carriage's air.
Ralph's expression hardened into resolve. He gave a short, firm nod.
"I understand."