The summer night was thick with the darkness of a new moon, and the air had begun to cool. The towering Benning estate loomed over the region from its hilltop perch. At its rear entrance, two figures cloaked in hoods slipped quietly into the night. Their footsteps brushed against the grass, producing faint rustling sounds, while the crickets around them sang louder, as if to conceal their escape.

“…Are you sure about this, madam?”

The man leading the way was the servant who had delivered the note to Fleur earlier that day—an old colleague. Fleur nodded heavily. She hadn’t expected to receive help to this extent, and now, here he was, risking his life to guide her through this reckless endeavor.

“You should be more worried about yourself than me,” she said quietly. “Are you really okay with helping me like this?”

The servant let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.

“Think of it as an act of goodwill from an old colleague… though I suppose ‘old colleague’ doesn’t quite fit anymore.”

There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. Fleur frowned, guilt flickering across her face, but she quickly shook it off. She needed to focus—on the note and what it contained.

"When your sister died, the Bennings ruled it a suicide. They claimed there were no visible injuries. But it wasn’t. Her death was not a suicide."

It had always seemed strange. Her sister had been despondent after being dismissed from the household, but she had quickly started looking for work at a local inn. She couldn’t simply abandon Fleur, whom she had raised alone after their parents’ deaths. Her will was unshakable—she wouldn’t have given up on life because of slander or a job loss.

“Sister… are you really okay?”
“I’m fine, Fleur. The lady at the inn said I can start tomorrow. Don’t make that face.”

Her sister had reassured her, even stroking her hair. Fleur had refused to believe that the woman who had cared for her so selflessly would choose suicide. Yet, after being taken in by Clovis Benning, she buried her suspicions deep. The other servants had warned her that there was no good to be found in dredging up a case the Bennings had already deemed resolved.

"Theodora Denia was murdered. And I know who killed her."

A cold weight pressed against Fleur’s chest, and her pace quickened. Her lungs burned as though rusted metal scraped with every breath, and her vision blurred under the weight of spiraling thoughts.

"If you wish to know the truth, meet me at the cemetery tonight at midnight."

The word “truth” echoed in her mind, dredging up memories she had tried to suppress. The note forced those memories into the open, demanding her attention. As painful as it was, Fleur knew she had to face it.

"Do not let anyone in the Benning estate know you’re coming—not even your personal guard. If Leon Benning finds out, I cannot guarantee your safety."

That final warning stuck like a thorn. It could be a trap, but Fleur felt an inexplicable certainty that the note was genuine. Her decision to go wasn’t rooted in distrust of her husband but rather a need to confront the truth. Her old colleague, who had volunteered to guide her, didn’t discourage her, though it seemed he knew more than he let on.

“We’re almost there,” he said, raising his lantern. The dim light revealed the faint outline of the cemetery ahead. The crickets had gone silent, and the stillness felt oppressive, as if the entire area held its breath in anticipation.

The servant glanced over his shoulder at Fleur. Her face, normally as radiant as the moon, was now pale and rigid.

“Madam, there’s someone there. They arrived before us.”

Fleur forced herself to nod and followed her guide up the hill toward the cemetery’s entrance. The lantern illuminated only the immediate darkness, carving out a small bubble of visibility. As they reached the cemetery gates, Fleur saw who had summoned her.

“…Bernardo?”

Standing before her was Bernardo Lennon, Leon Benning’s knight. He was unarmed, but his piercing gaze seemed to cut through the night. He exhaled quietly.

“I asked you not to address me so formally.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I only meant for you to be aware of your place.”

Bernardo shifted his attention entirely to the servant. The man nodded and stepped back, leaving Fleur alone to face the knight. Whatever Bernardo had to say, it wasn’t for anyone else to hear.

“No one is ever truly prepared to face the truth,” Bernardo said after a pause. “But you should brace yourself nonetheless.”

Fleur frowned, her expression heavy with confusion and unease.

“But why… why are you telling me this?”

Bernardo didn’t answer immediately, his silence thick and deliberate. Just before the quiet became unbearable, he sighed and spoke again.

“Are you ready to hear it?”

Fleur stood frozen, staring at him. The area was unnervingly quiet, as if every living thing had been subdued by the knight’s imposing presence.

“I won’t faint,” she said at last. “Please, just tell me.”

Bernardo inhaled deeply before beginning. “It happened sixteen years ago, shortly after I joined this household.”

He spoke with deliberate slowness, as though reconstructing the events from fragments of memory. His eyes narrowed as he recalled the past.

“When the incident occurred, I was supervising the soldiers under the pretext of maintaining order. Leon was there too, but Count Clovis ordered me to escort him back to the mansion, claiming he looked unwell.”

Fleur’s eyes widened, her mind beginning to piece together a possibility she wished didn’t exist.

“It was during that time,” Bernardo continued, his voice steady but heavy, “that Leon confessed to me.”

He paused, then delivered the words like a blade to the heart: “He told me, ‘I killed her.’”

“Stop!”

Fleur’s sharp cry shattered the quiet of the night. Bernardo didn’t flinch at her reaction, though her face had gone deathly pale as she glared at him.

“Are you mocking me? Are you seriously trying to tell me that my husband, who was only nine years old at the time, killed my sister? Did you bring me here just to spew such nonsense?”

Her voice trembled with fury, but her pale complexion betrayed the shadows creeping over her heart. Bernardo, unshaken, continued in the same calm tone.

“Leon encountered her on her way back from the inn. He strangled her to death. It wasn’t difficult—he was already strong enough to overpower most soldiers in the region at that age.”

Fleur’s lips twisted in disbelief. Bernardo described Leon’s meticulous planning and the cold rationale behind the murder.

“He simply wanted to try it. That was his reason.”

Fleur’s shoulders shook. She wanted to run, to escape from the unbearable story Bernardo was telling her. Yet the lingering doubts she had carried about Leon since the night he first came to her door rooted her in place.

“This is absurd,” she whispered.
“Every action he takes is driven by impulse. It’s not something ordinary people can understand.”

The conversation lapsed into silence. Fleur bit her lip hard before forcing herself to speak again.

“Why are you telling me this now? And why did you wait so long to say anything?”

Bernardo’s expression didn’t waver. He took another deep breath and responded.

“Whether you believe me or not is your choice. I’m not here to convince you to distrust him. I only hope you won’t take these words lightly.”

With that, Bernardo’s inscrutable gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he stepped away.

“The story is over. You may return to the mansion now. Take care of yourself.”

By the time Fleur blinked, he was gone. The oppressive weight in the air lifted, and the sounds of the night slowly returned. An owl flapped its wings in the distance, and crickets resumed their song.

“Madam?”

Fleur turned at the sound of her guide’s voice. He was standing a short distance away, watching her with concern. She closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself against the icy gale that now howled in her heart. When she spoke, her voice was hollow.

“…Let’s go back.”

 

++++

"Research again today?"

A month had passed since that fateful day. Recently, Leon Benning had been working closely with the mages of the Magic Tower. He spent most of his time in a newly constructed underground laboratory, rarely seen above ground.

"Indeed. I'll likely be working late into the night."

No one knew what he was researching. Leon would disappear into the basement with his closest confidant, Bernardo, and a group of mages. Oddly, several of those mages were never seen leaving the laboratory.

"...That sounds exhausting."
"Not at all. I do it because I enjoy it."

Leon spoke with genuine delight, a smile spreading across his face. Fleur watched him with concern as she draped a coat over his shoulders. He picked up a bag he claimed was for his research and stood to leave.

"Well then, I'll be off."
"Take care."

Leon nodded and reached for the doorknob. Then, as if he had suddenly remembered something, he turned back with a theatrical exclamation.

"Ah! I believe I'll complete something interesting today. If the opportunity arises, I might invite you to the basement to see it."

There was an unusual excitement in his voice. Fleur, unsettled but unable to hide a small smile, nodded. She hadn't forgotten the events of a month ago, but seeing this side of her husband was unfamiliar and left her with mixed emotions.

"I'll look forward to it."

Leon left the room, and Fleur let out a long breath, sinking into a chair. The past month had been filled with unease and tension; she hadn’t had a moment to truly relax.

"Theodora, my dear."

In the cradle, Theodora flailed her tiny arms and legs toward the ceiling. Fleur smiled faintly and lifted her daughter into her arms. They say a parent's anxiety can affect their child, and Fleur remembered this as she whispered softly to Theodora.

"It'll be alright. Your mom and dad will be fine."

Theodora soon fell asleep in her mother’s arms, her faint breaths brushing against Fleur’s collar. Fleur gently patted her daughter’s back, but her thoughts drifted to Leon. She had no idea what her husband was planning in the depths of the mansion.

In the mansion’s basement.

Leon Benning examined the paper held aloft by an elderly mage. Their collaborative research with the Magic Tower was finally bearing fruit. The mage gazed at the glowing spell formations on the desk with an entranced smile.

"Isn't it magnificent, Count? This is the culmination of our efforts. This research has opened my eyes in ways I never thought possible. How could others in my field have overlooked such potential?"

Leon smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming.

"I'm pleased to hear it was worthwhile."

The mage shook his head vehemently, his excitement palpable. The report in his bony hand fluttered as he gestured emphatically.

"Worthwhile? Count, don't belittle your role! You're not a mage, but you were as vital to this project as any of us. You're practically a co-author!"

Leon observed the mage calmly, suppressing his distaste for the man’s exuberance. He disliked noise and chaos, especially when it risked jeopardizing his plans. As the mage continued to ramble, he seemed to sense Leon’s displeasure and quickly composed himself, clearing his throat.

"Well then, shall we proceed?"

Leon glanced at Bernardo, who stood silently in the shadows. A subtle nod summoned him forward. The mage looked up, startled by Bernardo’s imposing figure as he approached.

"Ah, is this the volunteer? Impressive physique…."
"Not a volunteer," Leon interjected smoothly. "I instructed him to participate. Isn't that right, Bernardo?"

Bernardo met Leon's gaze without flinching. He didn’t know the full details of Leon’s experiments, but it was clear they were anything but ordinary. Still, he had no other choice.

"Yes, Count."

The mage chuckled and dragged Bernardo to a chair, making him sit.

"Volunteer or not, it doesn't matter. Count, shall we begin the experiment?"

Leon gave a slight nod. The mage drew a silver dagger from his robes. Bernardo's eyes narrowed as the blade caught the light, but he said nothing.

"Don't worry," the mage said, grinning wickedly. "The dagger is just to carve the spell into your flesh. It will hurt, but nothing you can't endure."

Bernardo’s gaze flickered between the mage and Leon. His expression was devoid of humanity—a stark contrast to the boy who had confessed his first murder at nine. He had long abandoned the hope that Leon might bring meaning to his hollow existence. Refusal was no longer an option.

"It’s fine. I can endure pain well enough."

Without warning, the mage pressed the dagger against Bernardo’s hand. The cold steel sliced into his skin, and blood began to drip onto the floor. Bernardo flinched but showed no sign of pain.

"Impressive tolerance," the mage muttered. "Now, let us proceed."

The mage chanted softly as he dragged the blade slowly across Bernardo’s flesh, completing the intricate spell circle. As the incantation filled the room, a sharp, searing pain spread from Bernardo’s hand to his entire body. His head throbbed unbearably.

"Bernardo Lennon."

At Leon’s call, Bernardo’s body convulsed violently before collapsing forward. His chair toppled over with a clatter, and blood streamed from his wounded hand, where the glowing spell mark had been carved.

"You will now be my eternal knight," Leon declared, his voice low and commanding. "You will leap into the flames if I command it, slaughter a million if I desire it, and offer your beating heart if I demand it."

Leon’s words reverberated like a curse, twisting the loyalty Bernardo had once held into something grotesque.

He is taking everything from me—my body, my mind, my soul.

Bernardo’s hand twitched, reaching out instinctively to resist, but his will was slipping away. His pounding heart refused to answer him.

"Now, Bernardo."

Leon’s voice was calm and soothing, almost gentle. Bernardo writhed against the invisible chains binding him, but his fractured self was unraveling like dandelion seeds in the wind. Leon’s smile widened—a chilling echo of the boy he once was.

"I have always known everything about you," Leon said, placing a hand on Bernardo’s head.

Fleur has no idea, does she? About your hidden affection for her? About your plan to reveal the truth and help her escape with my daughter? Did you forget whose estate this is, Bernardo?"

Bernardo’s eyes widened in horror, but Leon’s grip tightened.

"It would have been a shame to kill you outright. Your talents are far too valuable. Consider this an inevitable necessity."

Leon turned toward the exit, his voice lifting as he addressed a servant waiting nearby.

"Bring Fleur here."

No.

Bernardo reached out feebly, but Leon was beyond his grasp, watching him with a triumphant smirk.

Footsteps echoed down the hall—light, graceful, unmistakably Fleur’s. Time slowed as the door creaked open, flooding the room with light.

"Is it ready?" Fleur’s voice trembled with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

The last thing Bernardo saw was her silhouette framed in the doorway before his world went black.

The knight died, and a monster rose in his place. Bernardo grasped a nearby blade, blood dripping from his carved hand.

"Kill her," Leon commanded.

+++

 

"How much did Bernardo tell you?"

So, he knew everything. He had always known everything. As the door to the basement closed behind her, Fleur realized the full extent of the truth. Everything Bernardo had told her was true. And today, she would not leave this place alive.

"If you already know, why bother asking again?"

Even now, she couldn't bring herself to truly hate this man. Leon Benning, the person she had spent most of her life with, remained pitiable to her—a man who would forever be her young master. But the Leon Benning who faced her now wore a smile so devoid of humanity that he seemed unrecognizable.

"Yes, it’s true. I killed her. By the lake, I strangled her to death."

Fleur’s face didn’t twist in anguish, nor did her heart sink. She simply stood frozen, nodding slightly, as if accepting an unchangeable fact. Leon watched her with a strange curiosity before laughing softly.

"How odd. That’s not the reaction I expected."

Fleur’s voice trembled as she spoke.

"You will always remain this kind of person, won’t you? Even the time we spent together—nothing more than a passing curiosity for you."

Leon shrugged at her words, dismissive. Behind him, Bernardo stood, his eyes dull and lifeless, glowing faintly in the dim light. Fleur’s gaze met his, and she saw only emptiness.

"It was interesting," Leon admitted nonchalantly. "But now, it’s time for the most interesting thing yet."

Leon turned to Bernardo, who stared at Fleur with a gaze devoid of his former self. There was no need to elaborate on what Bernardo might have felt—or not felt—at that moment.

"Bernardo Lennon."
"Yes, my lord."

Bernardo’s voice was hollow, mechanical, like the sound a puppet might make if it were given the ability to speak.

"Kill her."

Shing!

The blade slid from its sheath with a cold, resonant sound. As Bernardo raised his sword, a single tear slipped down Fleur’s cheek.

"I’ll take very good care of Theodora," Leon said, his voice almost kind, before gesturing for Bernardo to proceed.

The sword flashed.

Thud.

Fleur’s death was swift. Leon watched her lifeless body crumple to the ground with indifferent eyes. Blood pooled on the cold stone floor, painting the basement red. Turning away from her corpse, Leon let out a languid chuckle.

"Moderately interesting, I suppose."

 

"How much did Bernardo tell you?"

So, he knew everything. He had always known everything. As the door to the basement closed behind her, Fleur realized the full extent of the truth. Everything Bernardo had told her was true. And today, she would not leave this place alive.

"If you already know, why bother asking again?"

Even now, she couldn't bring herself to truly hate this man. Leon Benning, the person she had spent most of her life with, remained pitiable to her—a man who would forever be her young master. But the Leon Benning who faced her now wore a smile so devoid of humanity that he seemed unrecognizable.

"Yes, it’s true. I killed her. By the lake, I strangled her to death."

Fleur’s face didn’t twist in anguish, nor did her heart sink. She simply stood frozen, nodding slightly, as if accepting an unchangeable fact. Leon watched her with a strange curiosity before laughing softly.

"How odd. That’s not the reaction I expected."

Fleur’s voice trembled as she spoke.

"You will always remain this kind of person, won’t you? Even the time we spent together—nothing more than a passing curiosity for you."

Leon shrugged at her words, dismissive. Behind him, Bernardo stood, his eyes dull and lifeless, glowing faintly in the dim light. Fleur’s gaze met his, and she saw only emptiness.

"It was interesting," Leon admitted nonchalantly. "But now, it’s time for the most interesting thing yet."

Leon turned to Bernardo, who stared at Fleur with a gaze devoid of his former self. There was no need to elaborate on what Bernardo might have felt—or not felt—at that moment.

"Bernardo Lennon."
"Yes, my lord."

Bernardo’s voice was hollow, mechanical, like the sound a puppet might make if it were given the ability to speak.

"Kill her."

Shing!

The blade slid from its sheath with a cold, resonant sound. As Bernardo raised his sword, a single tear slipped down Fleur’s cheek.

"I’ll take very good care of Theodora," Leon said, his voice almost kind, before gesturing for Bernardo to proceed.

The sword flashed.

Thud.

Fleur’s death was swift. Leon watched her lifeless body crumple to the ground with indifferent eyes. Blood pooled on the cold stone floor, painting the basement red. Turning away from her corpse, Leon let out a languid chuckle.

"Moderately interesting, I suppose."

Thud.

Leon Benning snapped out of his reverie. The door to the main hall was shut. Standing before him were two figures, both glaring at him. One, a knight with light brown hair; the other, a knight with radiant platinum locks that swayed softly in the air.

Ah, what now?

Leon rose slowly from his seat, his gaze settling on Theodora and Maxim. With a voice as warm as sunlight, he greeted them.

"Welcome, my dear daughter."