[EVA]
When consciousness finally returned to me, it did so as a gentle whisper — the soft weight of a blanket, the faint perfume of old wood and lavender oil.
I opened my eyes.
I was lying on a bed.
A bed that was not mine.
The room that greeted me was foreign and yet… hauntingly beautiful. Wooden walls polished to a deep mahogany sheen. A carved ceiling overhead, beams aged and sturdy from a lifetime of stories. Capiz shell windows filtered moonlight into fractured pearls upon the floor — old-world elegance wrapped in mystery.
It felt like a home that belonged to a forgotten era — a mansion where Dons and Doñas once ruled with crowns of gold and secrets of blood.
Nothing here matched the fast-rising, glass-and-steel city I grew up in.
"W-Where… am I?"
"You're awake."
The voice — smooth, deep — pulled me from my daze.
I turned sharply.
Mr. Jones sat handsomely at an old study table — sleeves rolled, hair slightly damp like he'd recently bathed. He was dressed casually now, yet he still looked like perfection sculpted into human form. Except—
His eyes.
Those cool blue eyes shimmered with restrained fury.
"M-Mr. Jones?" The stutter escaped before I could hold it back. "How did you get here?"
He studied me, gaze traveling from head to toe — not inappropriate, but assessing, ensuring I was truly alive.
Then he exhaled a long breath as he stood.
"Because of a certain someone," he said, stepping closer, "I had to rush here as quickly as possible."
"M-Me?" I squeaked.
His eyelid twitched.
The silence alone made me want to bury myself beneath the covers and never emerge again.
"Who else could it be?" he murmured, voice laced with exasperation.
"I… I'm sorry," I whispered. "There were… circumstances that forced me to leave immediately. I didn't want to trouble you."
He didn't reply. He simply looked at me — that unreadable, weighing stare that held more than words could carry.
"But… where am I? What happened last night?" My voice trembled, and my fingers clenched the bedsheets.
"I remember… I remember being scared but… I can't…"
I shivered.
Cold dread blossomed beneath my skin like a bruise. My mind clawed at the fragments — the darkness, the monsters, the blood…
But everything blurred into . . . nothingness.
"I-I can't remember anything after—"
After what? After the screaming? After those glowing red eyes?
My heart pounded too fast.
Mr. Jones' expression softened a margin — not warm, but protective. He leaned slightly forward.
"You were found unconscious along the road," he said quietly. "Likely from exhaustion and hunger. You collapsed. Fortunately, you called me just in time. I contacted the Noctirs and arranged for you to be retrieved."
"Retrieved…" I echoed, numb.
He nodded once — absolute, final. No more questions.
Something inside me recoiled. My body remembered what my mind could not.
"S-So nothing… else happened?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He held my gaze for a beat too long.
"No," he answered simply.
Before I could question him further, he straightened, smoothing the cuff of his shirt.
"You are now in Setio Arcanis," he announced, "the ancestral mansion of your grandmother, Doña Esmeralda. This is where you will stay for the month required to finalize the inheritance."
My breath caught.
"I'm already… here? But I thought that . . . my grandmother's properties is in Setio Luna?"
"The farm yes. But the mansion is here, in Setio Arcanis. You're safe her. Safe within these walls."
But why did that sound like a warning instead of comfort? Like he was secretly saying that I shouldn't leave this mansion?
My stomach grumbled loudly — humiliating and human.
Mr. Jones' stern façade cracked — a faint exhale that might have been a suppressed laugh.
"I'll have the servants bring you food."
"Mr. Jones—" I began, unsure of what I wanted to ask. Why he came so quickly? What exactly he was so furious about? Who had really found me on that road? Why can't I remember what happened yesterday?
But he was already opening the door.
Within moments, footsteps approached — soft, synchronized.
Two servants entered — dressed impeccably in crisp black and white uniforms. Their heads bowed low, eyes never daring to meet mine. They were led by a tall man with silver-streaked hair and a presence that demanded silence.
"This is Sebastian — the head butler," Mr. Jones introduced, stepping aside. "If you require anything, he will attend you."
Sebastian bowed deeper — a gesture of respect that felt almost… unreal.
"My Lady," he said, voice smooth as aged wine, "welcome home."
…Home?
The word twisted strangely in my chest. Warm… but suffocating. Inviting… but dangerous.
Mr. Jones remained in the corner of my vision — arms crossed, leaning against the wall now. Watching me. Watching everything.
Sebastian looked about sixty in years, yet his posture was firm, his jawline still strong. There was a vigor in him that felt entirely out of place for a man his age — unsettlingly preserved.
"I am honored to finally meet you, Lady Eva," he said, voice smooth as velvet yet edged with steel. "The Doña spoke fondly of you while she still drew breath."
A sharp pain twisted beneath my ribs.
If she truly cared… Why did she never come for me?
But I swallowed the bitter thought and forced a small smile.
"You must be hungry," Sebastian continued. "Please restore your strength."
They rolled a bed tray in front of me — so much food that I didn't know where to begin. Fresh fruit glistening with dew. Warm bread releasing the sweetest aroma.
Vegetables plated like art.
My stomach growled embarrassingly loud.
I began to eat — cautiously at first — but something felt off.
As I raised each bite to my lips, I could feel them watching.
Not cruelly.
Not kindly.
But evaluating — like they were judging my every breath.
The two maids behind Sebastian seemed frozen in place, staring far too intently. And for a heartbeat—just a moment—
I could swear their eyes flashed red.