The morning mist over Fawley Manor had not yet fully dispersed when Luna was already awake.
A faint, grayish light filtered through the small attic window, falling over the coarse linen clothes she had folded neatly.
She rubbed her eyes.
When her fingertips touched the fabric, all she felt was still a vague, indistinct sensation.
Ever since she had lost eighty percent of her sense of touch, even getting out of bed had become something that required deliberate awareness.
Today was Jonah’s eleventh birthday, and also the day his Hogwarts letter was supposed to arrive.
The manor had long since become busy.
The scent of toasted bread and roasted meat drifted from the kitchen, yet it could not pierce through Luna’s stolen sense of smell.
From the corridor came the hurried footsteps of the house-elves, along with her mother Isabella’s sharp orders.
“Polish that set of silverware until it shines!
Don’t let the Malfoys notice anything lacking!”
Luna put on her clothes and skillfully folded her quilt.
Her task was to clean the banquet hall, dust the expensive oil paintings, and prepare the pastries for afternoon tea.
For a Squib who was “about to be thrown out of the house,” these were probably the last few things she would do for the Fawley family.
She walked to the door and instinctively wanted to call out, “Rabbi.”
Rabbi was the only creature in the house who would smile at her.
That house-elf, who was always dressed in an old, tattered pillowcase, was quiet and reserved, yet he would always secretly slip her a piece of hard, dry bread whenever she grew tired from cleaning.
When her mother scolded her, he would silently help her pick up the scattered mess on the floor.
Sometimes, late at night, he would even quietly come outside the attic and use a faint bit of magic to cover her window with a warming charm.
But today, the space outside the attic was completely silent.
There was no sign of Rabbi’s distinctive sound of dragging footsteps.
“Rabbi?” Luna called again, her voice sounding thin in the empty corridor.
Still, no one answered.
Strange.
Luna frowned, a trace of unease flashing through her heart.
Rabbi never skipped work.
Even when he had trembled with exhaustion these past few days from helping prepare Jonah’s birthday surprise, he had never once missed his morning duties.
She quickened her pace toward the kitchen, intending to ask the other house-elves.
But just as she reached the corner of the corridor, she ran into the butler, Kreacher.
Kreacher was a thin, dry old man with grayish-white hair.
He was always dressed in a neatly pressed tailcoat, and the way he looked at Luna was forever filled with contempt, as though she were the most unsightly speck of dust in the manor.
“What are you standing around for?” Kreacher frowned, his tone harsh and mean.
“The carpet in the banquet hall still hasn’t been properly cleaned!
Do you intend to let the young master of the Malfoy family step in covered in dust?”
“Mr.
Kreacher,” Luna asked softly, “have you seen Rabbi?
I’ve been looking for him all morning.”
Kreacher let out a sneer, as if he had just heard a joke.
“He’s only a house-elf.
If he’s gone, then he’s gone.
What’s there to look for?
Hurry up and get to work.
If you delay Miss Jonah’s banquet, don’t expect these last few days of yours to be pleasant!”
With that, he adjusted his bow tie and walked away without looking back.
Luna stood where she was, the unease in her heart growing stronger.
Rabbi was not just an ordinary house-elf.
He was… her friend.
At the very least, he was the only existence in this cold manor who had ever given her warmth.
She bit her lip and forced down the thought of searching for Rabbi.
Now was not the time to think about that.
She knew her mother’s temper better than anyone.
If anything went wrong with the banquet, only harsher punishment would be waiting for her.
In the banquet hall, sunlight poured in through the tall French windows, casting bright patches of light across the floor.
A snow-white tablecloth covered the long dining table, which was set with silver candlesticks and crystal vases filled with fresh white roses.
They were Jonah’s favorite flowers.
Holding a feather duster, Luna carefully dusted the oil paintings on the wall.
These paintings were all of the Fawley family’s ancestors.
Each of them wore magnificent robes, their expressions arrogant and their eyes cold, as if silently condemning her, the Squib who had “tainted the purity of their bloodline.”
Her movements were quick, but because her sense of touch had been taken from her, she nearly knocked the frames off the wall several times.
Once, her elbow bumped into a suit of armor beside her.
She only felt the faintest trace of vibration and failed to notice that the sword hanging from the armor had already begun to wobble dangerously.
“Be careful!”
A sharp voice rang out.
It was her mother, Isabella.
She was wearing a sapphire-blue silk gown and was directing several house-elves as they arranged the tableware.
When she saw that Luna had nearly knocked down the sword, her expression instantly darkened.
“So clumsy!
As expected of a useless Squib!” Isabella walked over, her gaze scraping across Luna’s face like a blade.
“If you damage your great-grandfather’s sword, I’ll send you into the Forbidden Forest to feed the wolves!”
Luna lowered her head and tightened her grip on the feather duster in her hand without saying a word.
“Oh, right,” Isabella added casually, as if she had suddenly remembered something.
“When the banquet is over, go to the backyard and take a look.
That foolish Rabbi didn’t know his place and angered Miss Jonah.
Jonah accidentally killed him.
Go dispose of it and throw it deep into the Forbidden Forest.
Don’t let the guests smell anything.”
“…What?”
Luna abruptly raised her head, her pale gray eyes filled with disbelief.
Rabbi… was dead?
Killed by Jonah?
How was that possible?
Rabbi was so gentle.
No matter how much Jonah bullied him, he would only lower his head and endure it.
How could he have “angered Jonah”?
Although Jonah was spoiled and arrogant, she was still only a twelve-year-old child.
How could she…
“What are you staring at?” Isabella snapped, irritated by the look in Luna’s eyes.
“It’s only a house-elf.
If it’s dead, then it’s dead.
What’s there to make such a fuss about?
Jonah is the heir of the Fawley family.
So what if she killed a house-elf?
We can simply buy another one!”
She paused, as if realizing that her words had gone a little too far, then added another sentence, though her tone remained just as cold.
“Jonah didn’t do it on purpose.
It was a burst of accidental magic.
It’s perfectly normal for a child to lose control of their magic the first time.
Hurry up and get back to work.
Don’t stand here being an eyesore!”
With that, she turned back toward the dining table, picked up a silver plate, and examined it carefully under the light, as though what she had just given was nothing more than a trivial order.
Luna stood where she was, her entire body cold.
A burst of accidental magic?
Accidentally killed him?
Those words were like poisoned needles, stabbing viciously into her heart.
She thought of Rabbi’s drooping ears, of the cautious look in his eyes when he secretly slipped her bread, of his figure lingering outside the attic late at night…
That little elf, who had always silently protected her, was just… dead?
And he had been killed by Jonah?
A rage she had never felt before surged through her chest like molten lava.
Her fingers clenched tightly around the feather duster, her knuckles turning white from the force.
In a body robbed of its sense of touch, even anger seemed to come slowly.
But her eyes clearly saw the undisguised indifference on her mother’s face.
She saw the silverware and roses on the table, symbols of so-called “nobility.” She saw just what kind of cold-bloodedness and cruelty was hidden inside this so-called “pure-blood family.”
“…Yes.”
Luna lowered her head, her voice hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against wood.
She turned around and continued dusting the oil paintings.
Only this time, the arrogant faces of those ancestors seemed, in her eyes, to be nothing but ugly and hypocritical.
Time passed little by little, and the guests arrived one after another.
First came Lucius Malfoy with young Draco.
Father and son were both dressed in black robes, their expressions haughty.
In response to Abrak’s enthusiastic welcome, they merely nodded faintly.
Then came members of the Rosier family.
Felix Rosier was there as well.
He had just graduated from Hogwarts and was dressed in a sharp suit, the way he looked at Jonah carrying obvious admiration.
After all, the heir of a pure-blood family, one who was about to enter Hogwarts, was an excellent marriage prospect.
There were also members of several other pure-blood families.
They gathered in the drawing room, discussing the movements of the Ministry of Magic, boasting about their own children’s magical talents, and occasionally casting glances toward Jonah, whom her mother was leading around for introductions, their tones full of flattery.
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