I moved to the bedside table and examined it closely.
The drawer was locked, but Debug Vision showed me the mechanism, simple, designed more for privacy than security.
I needed something thin to pick it with. My eyes swept the vanity table... hairpins.
I grabbed one and bent it into a makeshift pick, then worked at the lock with shaking hands.
Come on. Come on.
Click!
The drawer opened.
Inside, there was a leather pouch, a personal journal, and several sealed letters.
I reached for the pouch first.
[Object Analysis - Alchemical Pouch]
object_id: "poison_storage_01"
contents: {
primary_toxin: "nightshade_extract"
secondary_compound: "ironbane_powder"
catalyst: "silver_dust"
}
This was it. The physical evidence I needed.
But I couldn't just take it, Vivienne would notice immediately and know someone had been in her room.
I needed to document it somehow, or...
Wait.
I pulled out one of the sealed letters and held it up to the light filtering through the curtains. The wax seal bore an unfamiliar crest... not the Raith family symbol.
[Debug Vision!]
[Object Analysis - Sealed Letter]
sender: "Merchant Greaves - Capital Alchemist District"
contents_summary: "poison_supply_confirmation" | "payment_received" | "next_shipment_details"
date: "3_weeks_prior"
Holy shit.
Vivienne had been buying poison from an alchemist in the capital. There would be transaction records, correspondence, a paper trail.
This letter was evidence. Of ongoing conspiracy.
I couldn't take the original without her noticing, but—
I pulled the journal from the drawer and flipped it open to a random page.
Vivienne's handwriting, neat and precise:
"Jin's condition continues to deteriorate as expected. The dosage remains effective without raising suspicion. Halloway's visits provide excellent cover, everyone believes it's natural illness. Three more months at current rate should be sufficient."
My blood ran cold.
Three more months.
I flipped to another page, this one dated two months ago....
"The maid Agnes is becoming problematic. She watches too closely, asks too many questions. May need to remove her from Jin's care. Cannot risk exposure now, not when we're so close."
So she'd been planning to get rid of Agnes for months.
I kept reading, my hands trembling.
Page after page of cold, calculated documentation. This journal was a complete confession.
But again—
I couldn't just take it. She'd know.
Unless...
I looked at the journal more carefully with Debug Vision.
[Object Analysis - Personal Journal]
total_pages: 87
incriminating_pages: 23
paper_type: "standard_parchment"
binding: "leather_string"
Twenty-three pages of evidence. If I could remove just those pages without destroying the binding...
No. Too risky. She'd notice pages were missing.
I needed a different approach.
My eyes fell on the writing desk—ink, quills, and most importantly, blank parchment.
I could copy the most damning entries.
But that would take time.
For now, I needed to document what I'd found and get out before—
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
My heart stopped.
Vivienne's footsteps.
She was coming back.
Shit shit shit!
I shoved the journal and letters back into the drawer and closed it as quietly as possible, my hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped the hairpin.
The footsteps were getting closer.
I sprinted back to the servant panel, diving through the opening just as I heard the door handle turning.
I pulled the panel shut and pressed myself flat against the wall of the narrow passage, not daring to breathe.
Through the peephole, I watched Vivienne enter her chambers.
She moved to her vanity table first, checking her appearance in the mirror. Then she walked directly to the bedside table.
My heart hammered so loudly I was sure she could hear it through the wall.
She opened the drawer and pulled out the leather pouch.
For a long, terrible moment, she just stared at it.
Had I put it back exactly right? Had I disturbed something? Left evidence of my presence?
Then she tucked the pouch into her dress pocket and closed the drawer.
She moved toward the door, and I heard her voice calling for a servant in the hallway.
The door closed behind her.
I stayed frozen in the passage for a full minute, my heart gradually slowing from its panicked sprint.
That was too close. Way too fucking close.
But I'd found something. Multiple somethings.
Now I just needed to figure out how to secure copies without getting caught.
And I still needed witness testimony.
I made my way back through the servant passage, emerging in the hallway and carefully closing the hidden panel behind me.
The rest of the afternoon passed in careful observation.
I returned to my room and spent hours tracking Vivienne's movements through the manor. Every time she left her chambers, where she went, how long she stayed.
She had a routine—morning in the kitchen supervising meals, afternoon managing household affairs, evening before dinner checking on "my health" with poisoned food, night in her chambers.
The opportunity would be late night, after she'd gone to sleep but before the servants woke for early morning duties.
That's when I'd copy the journal entries.
As evening approached, a maid brought my dinner. She set it down without a word, her expression carefully blank but her eyes holding poorly disguised contempt.
I ate the poisoned meal without hesitation, feeling my resistance kick in and reduce the damage to almost nothing.
[Poison Resistance: 58%]
Getting stronger every day.
As night fell, I lay in bed and waited.
Listened to the manor settle into silence.
Waited for the footsteps to fade, for the lamp lights to dim, for that deep quiet that meant everyone was finally asleep.
Then I moved.
The hidden passage was my friend now. I navigated it in near-total darkness, memory guiding my steps.
Back to the panel leading to Vivienne's chambers.
I pressed my eye to the peephole first, confirming the room was dark, the bed occupied by a sleeping form barely visible in the moonlight.
I lifted the latch with agonizing slowness and slipped into the room.
My bare feet made no sound on the carpet. I moved like a ghost toward the bedside table, every breath carefully controlled.
The drawer opened with the faintest click.
I extracted the journal and carried it to the window where moonlight provided just enough illumination to see.
Then I began copying.
Page by page, entry by entry, trying to capture every word before dawn came or Vivienne woke.
All of it. Every confession. Every cold calculation.
I worked for what felt like hours, my eyes straining in the dim light, my hand aching.
Finally, I finished the last entry I needed.
Seven pages of copied evidence, carefully folded and tucked into my tunic.
I returned the journal to the drawer, closed it, and retreated back through the servant passage.
When I emerged in the hallway, the first grey light of dawn was starting to filter through the windows.
I'd been in there for hours.
But I had what I needed.
[Main Quest: Expose the Poisoner]
[Evidence Gathered: 1/3]
One down.
Two to go.
I made it back to my room and collapsed on my bed, exhaustion pulling at every muscle.
--------------
I barely slept three hours before dawn light pulled me awake, my body refusing to rest properly despite the mental and physical drain.
I sat on my bed, staring at nothing, when I heard it.
"IT'S NOT FAIR!"
Cedric's voice, shrill and loud, echoed from somewhere down the hall.
"I WANTED THE BLUE DOUBLET, NOT THIS ONE!"
A crash. Something being thrown.
I sighed and rubbed my temples. Another one of Cedric's tantrums. The kid threw them
More yelling, then rapid footsteps in the hallway outside my room.
My door burst open without warning.
Cedric stood in the doorway, his face red and blotchy with tears, his fancy clothes disheveled. Behind him, a terrified-looking maid clutched what looked like a torn shirt.
"YOU!" Cedric pointed at me accusingly. "This is YOUR fault!"
I blinked. "What?"
"Mother said the seamstress had to fix YOUR clothes first because you're sick!" His voice cracked. "So MY new doublet isn't ready! Because of YOU!"
Before I could respond, softer footsteps approached.
"Cedric, darling, what's all this noise?"
Vivienne appeared in the doorway, her expression perfectly concerned. She wore a soft lavender dress, her hair pinned elegantly.
"Mother!" Cedric immediately turned to her, tears streaming. "Jin ruined everything! The doublet I wanted isn't ready because the seamstress had to work on HIS clothes!"
Vivienne's eyes met mine for just a fraction of a second.
Something cold flickered there, then vanished beneath maternal warmth.
"Oh, sweetheart." She knelt beside Cedric, pulling him into a gentle embrace. "Come here, darling. It's alright."
"It's NOT alright!" Cedric sobbed into her shoulder. "Nothing is FAIR anymore!"
"Shh, shh." Vivienne stroked his hair with practiced tenderness. "I know, my love. I know."
She looked up at me over Cedric's head, her expression soft and understanding.
"Jin, dear," she said gently, "I know you didn't mean to cause problems. Your health has required so much attention lately..." She trailed off with a sad smile. "It's no one's fault, really."
The way she said it—so kind, so reasonable—made it sound exactly like it WAS my fault, but she was too gracious to say so directly.
"The seamstress has been working on reinforcing your clothes," Vivienne continued, still holding Cedric. "You've lost so much weight, everything needs to be altered. I asked her to prioritize your wardrobe because I was worried you'd catch cold in ill-fitting clothes."
She sighed, that same sad, martyred expression.
"I didn't realize Cedric had his heart set on that particular doublet for this week. If I'd known..." Another sigh. "Well, I suppose I can't be everywhere at once, managing everyone's needs."
Cedric pulled back slightly, looking up at her with watery eyes. "You do so much, Mother."
"I try, darling. I try." She cupped his face with both hands. "But sometimes, with so many demands on my time..." Her gaze flickered to me again. "Sometimes things slip through the cracks."
She wasn't saying I was the problem. She wasn't blaming me directly.
She was just... gently implying that my existence created extra work. Extra stress. Extra complications that made it harder for her to take care of her "real" child.
And doing it so sweetly that arguing would make ME look like the ungrateful on.
"Oh, Jin." Vivienne's voice was warm honey. "You don't need to worry, dear. You can't help being unwell."
Another perfectly placed barb, wrapped in kindness.
You can't help being a burden.
She stood, guiding Cedric gently toward the door. "Come, darling. Let's go speak with the seamstress together. I'm sure we can have your doublet ready by tomorrow if we ask nicely."
Cedric nodded, still sniffling, and let her lead him away.
But at the doorway, Vivienne paused and looked back at me.
Then she was gone, closing the door behind her.