Caruncle sat at a grand table in the garden, hands resting in her lap.

  The sky was a washed-out gray, thick clouds stretching over the estate. The air smelled damp, but no rain fell. The light filtering through the fog made the world feel faded, distant.

  Beside her, Mortimer held a thin volume of history, his voice steady as he read.

  “The country was on the brink of independence a decade ago. But when a group of rebels were captured, the movement collapsed. It has remained a colony of the main kingdom ever since.”

  Caruncle froze.

  Her face went blank, eyes unfocused.

  I took the opportunity to move closer. “Hey, Caruncle, remember that whole independence movement? You know, the one the real Caruncle was supposed to lead? The country was meant to be free, and instead—" I let out a slow clap. “You accomplished absolute dog shit. Well done. Bravo, my friend.”

  She didn’t react.

  I almost felt bad. Almost.

  “Miss Elena?”

  She blinked. Mortimer was staring at her, concern on his face.

  “…Are you listening?”

  She gave a small nod, as if trying to pretend she had been.

  Mortimer sighed, placing the book on the table. “You’re usually very diligent with literature, but you’ve been completely distracted during history and politics. You know what? You’re probably just hungry. I’ll go prepare something.”

  Caruncle nodded, smiling faintly.

  Mortimer turned toward the manor. “I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him leave, listening as he passed through the entrance. Then—

  “Oh, sir, I was just heading to the kitchen to prepare something for Miss Elena and myself.”

  That was Mortimer’s voice.

  But Custodio’s response was too quiet to hear.

  “Not at all! I just thought you were busy and didn’t want to bother—”

  Caruncle frowned. So did I. What were they talking about?

  “Well, sir… if you insist…”

  I yawned. A distant carriage rumbled down the road.

  “Of course. You know I am always at your service.”

  I turned as Sebastian’s carriage pulled up to the garden.

  As always, the man was impeccably dressed, not a single hair out of place. The moment the wheels stopped, he leapt out, running toward Caruncle like an overexcited puppy.

  “Miss Elena, you figured it out! You figured out the spell!”

  Caruncle barely had time to react before a notebook was placed in front of her.

  “See? The memory spell! When I got home, I tried it myself—and it worked! I wanted to remember what my uncle told me before he left for war. He died a soldier, you see, and I saw him one last time before battle. I had always wondered what he said to me before he left.”

  He let out a short, sad laugh. “Turns out he just thought I was annoying.”

  Caruncle stared.

  “And well,” Sebastian continued, “the spell is terrible on the brain. I had a headache for two days. But still, it worked! I know it’s only been a week since I last saw you, but I had to come tell you—thank you. I truly mean it.”

  A week? Right.

  That meant two weeks had passed since her surgery. Two weeks.

  Sebastian’s words came out fast, too excited to notice how silent she was. But as soon as he stopped talking, his expression changed. His usual bright, carefree look dimmed into something more serious.

  “Miss… who are you?”

  Caruncle tensed.

  “You’re not a normal person, are you?”

  She gripped the chalkboard, but hesitation kept her from writing. She looked lost. It was almost funny.

  “Miss.”

  Sebastian dropped to one knee.

  Caruncle’s face turned beet red.

  I nearly choked. What the hell was this idiot doing?

  “I want to make a vow.”

  He took her hand.

  Her face got even redder.

  “I am now pledging my loyalty to you. For life.”

  Caruncle stared.

  “You might be wondering—why?” He smiled. “Because I recognize an extraordinary person when I see one. And you, Miss Elena, are not just an extraordinary person, but an incredible woman, too.”

  She blinked, completely overwhelmed.

  “Anyone who can decipher the sacred spells our reality is built upon is worthy of my devotion. Please, accept my vow. I, Sebastian Lysias, pledge my loyalty to you—even above the Supernal Circle of Mountain Mystics. If your wishes ever conflict with theirs, I will always follow yours.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a light, reverent kiss against her fingers.

  I snorted. "Well done, genius. Now you’re stuck with a talking pet for life."

  Caruncle was still too embarrassed and bewildered to react.

  Sebastian, oblivious to her distress, finally stood and sat beside her.

  “Now! Tell me about yourself! I barely know anything. Where are you from? Why haven’t you joined the Circle? Do you travel often?”

  She shook her head.

  “Oh, so you haven’t traveled at all?” His grin widened. “There’s a secret about you, isn’t there? I can feel it! You have this unnatural aura—” He paused. “I mean that in a good way, of course. But there’s definitely something hidden under those eyes.”

  Caruncle looked uneasy.

  She was holding her breath again—her old habit when she got too nervous.

  Sebastian watched her, waiting for her to pick up the chalk. But when she didn’t, he leaned forward.

  “Do you want to know what I think?”

  She hesitated. Then nodded.

  Sebastian smirked. “I think you went through that surgery your father was working on.”

  Caruncle burst into laughter.

  Or, well—her version of laughter. A strange, breathy wheeze, as if she was struggling to breathe. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was choking.

  Sebastian sighed in awe. “Woah. The laugh of a fairy.”

  Caruncle froze.

  Then turned away.

  After a moment, she calmed down. The shock of his insane guess settled into something quieter—acceptance.

  She had planned to keep that secret for life.

  Yet somehow, this overenthusiastic idiot had figured it out on his own.

  I made a mental note.

  Maybe Sebastian wasn’t as dense as he looked.

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  But his fairy comment?

  I rolled my eyes. What a stupid, annoying thing to say. She was no fairy.

  She was no fairy.

  “But do you see what I mean?” Sebastian insisted. “I know something. Not everything, but something. And even then, my vow stays intact—because the person I admire is you. Not anyone else.”

  He leaned forward, eyes searching hers. “So please. Tell me. Who are you? Really? I wish I could have known you sooner. I would have worked so much harder to earn your trust.”

  Caruncle tapped the chalk against the board.

  Then, finally, she wrote:

  "It’s just funnier if I don’t tell you."

  Sebastian blinked. “…What?”

  I burst out laughing. His entire face crumpled into disappointment. Oh, oh, that was priceless. The way all his enthusiasm just evaporated in an instant—my god.

  "So you're not gonna tell me?" His voice was so genuinely sad that I almost felt bad.

  Caruncle shook her head, smiling slightly despite herself.

  Sebastian looked like a kicked puppy. "But… I thought—"

  She wiped the board clean and wrote: "I’m sorry. I don’t think I can tell you."

  "Like, never tell me? Or just not now?"

  Caruncle hesitated. Then:

  "I don’t know. Probably never. It’s just not wise. I’m sorry."

  Sebastian let out the most heartbroken sigh. “Aww, man.”

  He leaned back in his chair, gazing dramatically at the sky. I noticed a slight sheen in his eyes—was he actually tearing up?

  Oh, this was fantastic.

  Minutes passed. Then maybe half an hour. The longer the silence stretched, the more awkward it got.

  Where the hell was Mortimer?

  I was getting bored. But then—finally—Sebastian spoke again.

  "You know," he murmured, "even if you can’t talk… I think you’re really interesting, Elena."

  Oh boy.

  This guy wasn’t winning any girl over the normal way. He was gonna need a lot of money.

  Caruncle turned her head slightly, eyes fixed on the table. She looked like she wanted to laugh from nerves but didn’t know if she should.

  And then—the frustration crept back in.

  The helplessness. The anger.

  She wanted to say something. Anything. But no matter how many times she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

  It was infuriating.

  I heard her complaining in her head, over and over.

  She hadn’t expected this. She never thought she’d be mute forever. And now, every night, she still found herself trying to speak before sleep—only to choke on saliva instead.

  It was annoying. It was infuriating.

  And I knew, because I was the only one who could hear her.

  Caruncle stared down at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fingers. It was surreal. Having fingers again. Sometimes they went numb, like her body still wasn’t sure they were real.

  She tried to remember the last words she had spoken.

  Nothing came.

  The memories of the basement were hazy now.

  Had it been a cry for help?

  She didn’t know.

  "It pains me to see you like that," Sebastian said suddenly.

  She glanced up.

  "Your face…" He hesitated, looking genuinely upset. "You’re beautiful, Elena. So beautiful. But you always look so sad."

  Caruncle froze.

  "And I feel like my heart is clenched so tightly, I can’t bear it." His voice shook, just slightly. "I don’t want to see such a beautiful face look so sad."

  She turned away.

  But I heard her. Even if she couldn’t speak—I heard her.

  Deep inside, she liked the attention.

  It made her stomach feel hollow.

  And beneath that—there was fear.

  A deep, sick fear she couldn’t shake.

  If Sebastian ever found out the truth—

  If he knew she was a man—

  If he knew what she had wished for—

  Would he turn mean? Would he turn violent?

  She didn’t know. And not knowing was terrifying.

  Her small smile was gone.

  Sebastian gently took her hand again. "Miss Elena."

  Her breath hitched.

  "If there’s anything I can do for you—anything—let me know, okay? I will do as much as I can. For you."

  Caruncle looked toward the manor.

  Where was Mortimer?

  It had been so long.

  She turned back to Sebastian. Her hands were shaking. But she forced herself to pick up the chalk.

  She wrote carefully.

  One word at a time.

  Then, she turned the board toward him.

  "I want you to help me kill a man."

  ***

  Caruncle had fallen asleep.

  The house was silent.

  The air felt thick. The darkness pressed in, absolute. Not a single creak of the floorboards. Not a single gust of wind through the trees.

  Then I realized.

  I was back in control.

  I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why.

  But I was here. I was awake.

  I flexed my fingers—Elena’s fingers. It felt wrong. Not painful. Just… wrong. Like wearing a suit tailored for someone else.

  Still, I stood.

  A month and a half had passed since she fell from the window. The body moved fine now. Just a dull soreness, but nothing unbearable.

  I walked—barefoot, careful, silent.

  Down the hall. Toward the voices.

  “…So? Do you think she’s ready?”

  A whisper. Custodio’s voice.

  “Sir, I believe emotionally, she is. But her leg injury—while mostly healed—could reduce… performance, if you know what I mean.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that.” A pause. “If she’s emotionally ready, we need to begin preparations. You’ll send the letter tomorrow. The island must be ready when we bring her.”

  “…Understood, sir.”

  I turned away, walked back to her room.

  Laid down. Stared at the ceiling.

  I waited. And waited.

  But time… didn’t move.

  No footsteps. No wind. No crickets. No distant hoot of an owl.

  The house felt deserted. As if the world itself had stopped spinning.

  The stillness pressed down on me, thick and suffocating. I had to get out.

  I stood again, moving quietly. I had found a suitcase in one of the rooms a while back, filled with my clothes. I changed. Grabbed it.

  Then I walked—barefoot, silent, slipping out the door like a ghost.

  I was tired of this place.

  The lessons, the embroidery, the useless etiquette. The endless fog, the constant gray skies, the absence of sunrises and sunsets.

  Most of all, I was tired of Custodio.

  I didn’t want to wait and see what he was planning.

  Once outside, I put on the slippers, picked up my pace.

  I didn’t trust the forest at night, so I stayed on the road—but I had to be fast. By the time they noticed I was gone, I needed to be too far to catch.

  I knew Caruncle would freak out, but I had a plan.

  I’d find Sebastian. I had no idea where he lived, but I’d figure it out. I had stolen money from Custodio’s desk last night—I could find an inn, ask for directions.

  Caruncle would thank me. Once we were far, far away, she could start fresh. A new life. No more creepy men. No more people selling her away.

  And maybe, just maybe, I could take control of this body again.

  I stretched my arm out, opening and closing Elena’s hand.

  It was freaky. Everything felt unreal. But if I focused on the physical sensations, it helped me ground myself.

  I walked. And walked.

  How long had it been? An hour?

  The road stretched on and on. The land was mostly flat, but now, slight slopes made the walk harder.

  Then I saw it.

  And I nearly lost control of the body from the sheer shock.

  The road was changing.

  With every step, more trees lined the path.

  Thicker. Darker. Closing in like silent watchers.

  Up ahead, the road curved sharply.

  I turned the corner—

  And stopped dead.

  A massive iron gate loomed in front of me.

  Three meters tall.

  Locked with three padlocks.

  I walked to the side. Surely it ended somewhere—I could just walk around it.

  But no.

  The iron fence stretched into the trees. As far as my eyes could see.

  I didn’t understand.

  Was it always locked? Or just at night?

  How did Sebastian enter during the day?

  I stared at it, heart pounding.

  I could try the forest. But it was dark, damp, unknown.

  I could climb it. But the metal was smooth—nothing to grip. My body still felt weak. Another leg injury would ruin everything.

  I was stuck.

  Then I heard it.

  Horses.

  I panicked.

  They were coming.

  For Elena. For me.

  I turned, ready to run into the trees—

  But before I could move, a figure emerged from the curve.

  Mortimer.

  On foot.

  Had he followed me the whole way?

  His voice was calm.

  “Miss Elena.”

  I couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark. But his breathing was heavy.

  “I know you’re upset. That you want to explore. That you want to start living your life.”

  He took a slow step forward.

  “But please. Come back home.”

  I tried to speak—and choked.

  I had mocked Caruncle for it. But now, I understood.

  I couldn’t say a word.

  “It’s okay, Miss Elena.” His voice was gentle. Too gentle. It pissed me off. “You’re afraid. And that’s our fault.”

  I took a step back—felt the iron gate at my spine.

  The horses were getting closer.

  Mortimer kept walking, slow, deliberate.

  “We just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  Another step.

  “So, please… let’s go home. There’s no need to make this more complicated than it has to be.”

  Closer. Closer.

  Until he finally reached for me—

  And touched me.

  I jerked back.

  And in an instant—I was gone.

  Ripped out of the body.

  Caruncle collapsed.

  Mortimer almost yelled in alarm.

  “Miss Elena? Elena!”

  Then—Custodio.

  Arriving in a large, black carriage.

  He said nothing. Just scooped Caruncle into his arms. Carefully. Like something fragile.

  Mortimer took the reins.

  Without another word, they turned back toward the manor.

  And disappeared into the night.