My eyes blinked wide in surprise.
Was the Marquis truly going to grant Mother’s request?
I had never imagined he would actually bring someone new into the household.
I knew well enough that he was strangely helpless before Mother, but still—when it came to the family’s affairs he usually drew a firm line. I hadn’t expected him to yield so easily.
“What? I don’t need anything like that, really, it’s fine…”
“No! You do. More than anything!”
A servant? What servant. I had no wish to keep some attendant by my side.
If I wanted to save Zachary, I needed time alone. I had intended to refuse so as not to endanger my plans—yet before I could, Mother crushed my objection with a horrified expression.
“Just imagining you collapsing all alone like this—I can’t live in peace.”
She spoke as if she had truly thought she’d lost me this time, tears welling the whole while. Her beautiful amber eyes trembled with grief, and I couldn’t bring myself to argue further. The Marquis, all the more, seemed utterly unable to gainsay her.
“If Oscar won’t state his conditions, then I shall.”
She even rolled up her sleeves, as though ready to strike while the iron was hot.
“Adele.”
“Mother.”
The Marquis faltered, clearly unnerved, while I too called to her, trying to restrain her—but she ignored us both, signaling a servant to fetch a notebook and write down her words.
“First, I want someone Oscar’s age.”
Her first condition was that the servant be my peer.
At first I wondered why, but then recalled how Mother often lamented that my frailty had left me no chance to make friends my own age. Perhaps that was why she insisted.
The Marquis glanced at me, confused, then looked again at my feeble body, still unable to rise from the bed. His expression said he understood her reasoning.
“Your age, you say?”
But then he froze.
No wonder.
The Marquis would never bring in someone in their right mind.
Even if not a full servant, he would intend to have them trained. But a child of my age who had committed a crime grave enough to end up in House Serpentine’s hands was rare indeed. His unease was plain.
“There’s a second condition.”
Mother continued unbothered.
“As I said, no criminals. This child will tend to Oscar. I won’t have hands that committed foul crimes touching my son’s body.”
Second, not a criminal.
“I… see.”
The Marquis’s expression said, Where would I even find such a one? But Mother wasn’t finished.
“Lastly, they should already have received some training—and they must be willing to devote their life to Oscar.”
At that final condition, both the Marquis and I were stunned.
The Serpentine estate was shrouded in secrets, more carefully guarded than ever. Mother knew well that if the prince’s presence here leaked beyond the royal family, the Empire would learn in no time.
So perhaps insisting on some degree of “education” made sense for security. But still…
Does she mean to select from among those already marked for training in this house?
Where would she ever find one that met all three demands?
I glanced sidelong at the Marquis. As usual, his intentions were impossible to read. But given his conservative stance on family security, surely he wouldn’t bring someone in from outside.
That meant he would select from those already here.
But no one could possibly meet those conditions… wait.
There was one.
One who had committed no crime. One of the noblest blood, untainted, pure.
…Zachary?
He had not been brought here for any sin, but trapped by adult schemes. As an imperial prince, his bloodline was the most exalted of all. He had even undergone considerable training. He alone fit Mother’s conditions.
Zachary, a servant? The thought was absurd. Yet…
In the original, the brainwashing succeeded, and he did become part of House Serpentine.
By the time he slaughtered them all, he knew the mansion’s structure and the family’s relations well. He had butchered every one of their bloodline without mercy.
For him to hold such knowledge even after being reduced to a half-wit by sorcery, he must have been a servant. Servants hid their faces and never went outside; no one would ever know.
“……”
The Marquis seemed deep in thought.
In earlier times, they said, there had been untrained servants here. But one by one, unable to withstand the house’s oppressive air, they had left—and spread rumors. Worse, others coveting the sorcery tried to plant spies. It was only natural the Marquis now rejected any untrained outsiders.
Or will he choose from the Retributors?
The remaining staff in the mansion were either trained servants or Retributors—chefs, physicians, specialists.
A “Retributor” first had to possess some special talent, and make a pact to avenge their personal grudge through the Marquis. Once vengeance was complete, they pledged their life in service.
House Serpentine made sure the revenge was morally justified, carried it out, and in return claimed the avenger’s whole being.
Retributors underwent training, too, but unlike the servants, they needed no torture. Having had their revenge fulfilled, they already wished to give themselves wholly to the house. They did not need endless rounds of sorcery and pain until they became mindless.
“Marchioness, please, don’t hold him so tightly. It may harm the young master’s body. Calm yourself.”
Like the physician now restraining my mother, Retributors looked ordinary.
Most served in technical or scholarly roles—cooks, doctors, accountants.
But no Retributor child exists.
In my ten years here, I had never seen one my age. At that age, how could anyone prove their skill? And who would pledge their whole life to vengeance so young?
Which meant… the only one in this house who fit Mother’s demands was Zachary.
What is Mother plotting?
For some reason, I felt she had him in mind.
She knew Zachary was here, undergoing “education” in the Marquis’s workshop.
My age. All the conditions pointed to him.
“There… is one who fits the bill.”
The Marquis surely knew it too.
I fixed my eyes on his lips, tense.
“…I will consider it.”
That ‘consideration’ can’t mean what I think…
I stared, unable to hide my dismay, as the Marquis excused himself to check something. Before leaving, he wished me a swift recovery, and the physician bowed, saying he had matters to discuss, and followed.
Only Mother and I remained.
She straightened her back, then at once came to sit by me. Her hand reached out, brushing my damp hair back, and she spoke with a serene smile.
“I opened it out of curiosity, you see.”
She smiled faintly.
“It looked usable. Well-tamed already.”
Surely she didn’t mean what I thought.
Tamed? The last time I saw Zachary, he hadn’t looked tamed at all. Sorcery hadn’t even taken hold.
Could more time have passed than I thought?
True, this was the longest I had been sick in years. But no matter how hazy my sense of time, at most it should have been a dozen days.
“Mother… how long have I been ill?”
“About a month.”
A month…? My God. Nearly thirty days since I last saw Zachary.