_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5">A week had passed since Maria's sermon in the courtyard. The questions that had built inside her demanded answers.

  Maria slipped from her bed well after midnight, when the big house had fallen silent. The wooden cross hung safely around her neck as she pulled a shawl over her nightdress and eased her door open. The hallway stretched dark and empty before her, illuminated only by small, spaced wall lights.

  This was her chance to see what happened when the humans weren't watching—to find the evidence of demonic cruelty that must exist somewhere in this pce.

  She padded silently down the corridor, years of moving undetected through Blood Farm #17 making her steps light and sure. The thick carpet muffled any sound she might have made.

  Maria knew the yout of the main areas by now—the dining room where she took her meals, the library where she spoke with Father Gabriel, the gardens where she sometimes walked. Tonight she would search the pces she hadn't been allowed to see.

  The kitchens were quiet at this hour, though embers still glowed in the great oven. No signs of punishment here—just neatly arranged tools and ingredients prepared for the morning meal.

  Moving deeper into the house, Maria checked rooms she'd never entered before. A music room with instruments she couldn't name. A small chapel with stained gss windows that caught the moonlight. Storage rooms filled with linens and household supplies.

  She peered into servants' quarters, expecting to find cramped, miserable conditions like the resource barracks. Instead, she discovered small but comfortable rooms with real beds and personal belongings. The sleeping servants looked peaceful, not fearful.

  In one wing, Maria found offices with papers and ledgers. She recognized numbers and columns simir to the production records at Blood Farm #17, but couldn't read what they tracked.

  Slipping into the basement, Maria tensed, certain she would finally discover punishment chambers or blood-draining rooms. Instead, she found wine celrs, store rooms, and a undry area—all ordinary, all cking the instruments of torture she expected.

  Hour after hour, Maria searched, growing increasingly confused. Where were the demons hurting humans? Where were the crying resources? Where was the evidence of punishment that must be happening somewhere?