「 A couple hours earlier, at the Criswell's mansion 」

“Good morning milord, a package was delivered at dawn, should I bring it?” one of the butlers at the Criswell’s residence asks right after bowing down.

“Bring it in,” a big wooden box is brought and, as he approached it he felt the intense smell of putrescine, making him feel like to filtrate the air with his handkerchief, “What is this horrid smell?”

“I don’t know milord,” the butler states right before opening the box just to reveal a weirdly shaped ball made out of several layers of cloth. As the servant started to remove the layers, the smell became stronger, and soon, a big stain of red tainted the fabrics, “This is...!”

“Leave and call Ryley immediately,” Alvin states and the butler takes his leave, horrified. Even without uncovering the clothes he already knew what was inside it: a human head.

“Did you call master?” after several minutes a young man in his mid-twenties arrives. His left eye held a big scar that went down to his thick lips while his long platinum hair was tied.

“Uncover that,” the man obeys and as he removes the final pieces of cloth, a severed head is seen, “Filthy...” Alvin’s eyes were filled with disgust as he stared at Gilbert’s Averton leftovers. On the other hand, Ryley's eyes were unbothered since he had gotten used to seeing dead bodies ever since he was an infant.

A dark pool of blood was enveloped in the fabrics and the shape of an “N” was carved into the forehead of the assassin. His eyes were still open but the color and life they once held had now gone to somewhere else, somewhere far that all humans end up visiting once. Quietly the Duke walks towards his desk and sits back down.

“This was made by a professional master, most likely the Nomads doing,” Ryley states as he grabs the head by its hairs, analyzing its technique.

‘The cut is perfectly clean, this is someone who is used to killing, there was no hesitation at all,’ the man thought as he noticed the lack of texture in the base of the head.

“The Nomads?” the Duke stares at Ryley, “You do know the weight of your words, correct?”

“Yes, master. This was undoubtedly made by them,” he reassures. He had seen Ophelia grow and her frail constitution wouldn't allow her to pull this kind of achievement.

'Could she possibly...?' Ryley considered another possibility. Maybe the young miss had contracted an assassin to save her but she was naive, there was no way she would know about her father's plans.

“The protectors of justice is it...” he mumbles right before pushing everything on his desk to the floor, enraged.

‘The fucking Nomads... Shit,’ Duke Criswell was well aware of what this meant. Ophelia was now under their eyes. No matter how many assassins he sent, they would all be disposed of, ‘How did they know...?’ he had been extremely careful not to let any information out but somehow they found out.

“Shit!” he yells loudly while Ryley places the head on the wooden box once again, “How am I supposed to get rid of that brat now!?” his frustration was running through his veins. He knew he needed to remove Ophelia from society as fast as he possibly could but now he had no way to do so.

Every single move he made would be under strict surveillance, all the eyes surrounding him had doubled since the Nomads decided to make Ophelia Criswell their protégee.

“Master, if you’ll allow, I think it would be wise to lay low for the time being,” Ryley states as he notices the nerves fill Alvin’s eyes. He knew the Duke's personality better than himself. He was nothing more than a grown child who throws a tantrum if things don't go his way.

The slave knew things were becoming sour to his master. Ophelia should be an easy target to be disposed of but, due to bad luck, her fate has been delayed. Simultaneously, Alvin had to manage the damages to Criswell's reputation after the incident at the party.

'God knows how much he spent in silence...' Ryley didn't have access to his account books but he was aware that the Duke had bought the noble's silence regarding Amanda's outburst. This was all just a pitiful attempt to hide this matter from the king temporarily.

“I didn’t buy you to give me shitty solutions,” the Duke growls in discontent, “Get rid of it and leave.”

“As you command,” Ryley bows and closes the box right before leaving with it under his right arm.

The Duke opens the windows immediately to relieve his nostrils from the intense torture they had suffered and, as he is greeted with fresh air he notices Amanda, having tea in the garden outside. Her beautiful dark crimson hair shuns against the rays of the sun as her smile portraited her naiveness.

‘Could I use her?’ he considered, for a split of a second, to use his daughter as a way to get closer to Ophelia but he soon remembered the events at the tea party. Since her elder sister attempted to murder her it is quite natural that she is under surveillance as well.

'I'm sure they know about it too...!' he grits his teeth in frustration. Things can be easily hidden from the crown but you can never hide them from these types of organizations since you don't even know who their members truly are.

‘No, right now protection is my priority’ he knew there was no way to get close to his second daughter currently. He still had the spies he had planted but he didn’t know how much they had disclosed to the outside in exchange for benefits and money, or how much the Nomads knew. He couldn’t risk the only intel he had to disappear so soon in the game.

“Alfred!” the Duke yells and quickly his butler appears.

“You called milord?” he questions right after bowing down.

“Yes, fire all the maids and butlers that were hired in these few days and don’t hire new ones for the time being,” he states.

‘But wait... How long do they know? Could they have known longer?’ Alvin clenches his fists in frustration.

“No... Make it in the last two weeks," it was still a risky gamble but it would be easier to investigate the remaining servants if needed.

“But milord that’s almost one-fourth of our...” as the Duke glared at the butler he quickly understood he was in no place to make judgments regarding his order, “As you wish milord.”

✽ ✼ ✽ ✼ ✽ ✼ ✽

「 Some hours after 」

As the sun was glowing within all its glory, Aldrich was taking a stroll in the garden just to be interrupted by the loud sound of one of the guards arguing. He walked towards the gates just to see Ophelia Criswell and two of her maids, attempting to enter the palace grounds.

“I understand milady but...” the guard stated.

“Is there a problem?” Aldrich asks as he observes Ophelia carefully. Her charcoal hair was pure black and her blue eyes were as light as a crystal, making her small figure look nothing but a mere temptation for men, “Lady Ophelia, I presume?”

“Yes, and you are...?” her voice was as alluring as her figure and that’s when Aldrich understood the whole commotion.

There had been a rumor growing within the palace grounds for several weeks, even though, by now it almost died down, he could still remember it clearly: the crown prince is fancying the second daughter of the Criswell’s.

With some research he understood that this rumor began because the crown prince helped Lady Ophelia when she was feeling unwell and then, without any warning, things escalated quickly. Maids told butlers, butlers told cooks, and so on.

Of course, as the closest aide to the crown prince, Aldrich needed to know if these rumors were true but no matter how many times he mentioned her, Blake would just look indifferent, like he always did. Even then, he continually found himself curious as to how the lady in question was.

“Aldrich, I am the crown prince’s closest aide,” he thought that, by stating the crown’s prince's power, he would be able to see some reaction out of Ophelia Criswell, seeing her true colors, however, much to his dismay, she didn't seem to care about his remark.

“Lady Ophelia wants to visit Millicia but she doesn’t have permission,” the guard looked conflicted.

“I understand. I will vouch for her,” Aldrich was nowhere satisfied. He needed to understand this woman better as he felt she would become an important key for the future relationships between the nobles and the royal family.

Everyone among the high class and their respective servants knew about the incident already. Some people thought that Ophelia was crazy for drinking the poisoned tea, others called her brave for taking such a risk, others pictured her as lucky for having survived but a small few stated that this was all planned, that everything had been controlled by her from the start.

Aldrich needed to know who this woman really was, what she was after, what were her desires and how would that affect the crown. Part of him felt the desire to dispose of her at the spot as his gut kept telling him that this woman was nothing more than a threat.

“You have a visitor,” Aldrich declared as he touched the iron bars, making some sound. The prisoner, Millicia kept ignoring him just like she did with all the guards until this day. He glared down at Ophelia but her expression remained unchanging, serious, and cold.

“Millicia, do you remember me?” she asks the prisoner but there was no response, “Do you mind if I have a moment?”

“Lady Ophelia I’m afraid but that’s...” Aldrich knew he couldn’t leave both of them alone. It was not wise to allow a prisoner on death row to be alone with a guest, even if their execution was scheduled for the next day. He was afraid that Ophelia would try to give her a taste of her own medicine, like the majority of the nobles did.

“We’re both women, I am afraid I won’t get the information I need if you remain here,” the aide was filled with suspicion but, as he looked at the woman standing before him, he couldn’t feel a single piece of anger or hatred, which only made him more confused.

“Just a couple of minutes, please Aldrich,” Ophelia’s expression turns sad and that made his heart flutter slightly. He didn’t want to see such a beautiful lady carry such an expression.

“Very well, I’ll return in a couple of minutes,” he couldn’t understand very well himself why he had done it, why he had decided to leave the two of them alone, to talk. This behavior was something unusual, something he had never done before.

‘What is this...?’ he kept on thinking about all the rumors he had heard. The fact that Bradley Trace, Layton Verne, Terrel Wharton, and now, the crown prince were head over heels for her.

‘Maybe this is what they feel... This need to satisfy that woman,’ after thinking about it he realized that the reason why he had left was that he needed to obey her, to make her happy, to make her smile. This was not a simple desire, this was a necessity, almost as a human must breathe, it was necessary to make her happy.

Understanding the situation, Aldrich rushes back inside just to see Ophelia walking towards him, with a slight smile on her lips while the prisoner was holding the bars, following her with her eyes with an expression filled with hope and anticipation.

“Did you manage to gain the information you needed milady?” he questions her in a futile attempt to gain some knowledge on the situation. He couldn't help but find it extremely intriguing.

“Yes, I was very enlightened, thank you for helping me in my selfish request,” she smiles politely.

“It was my honor,” Aldrich states as they both head down the stairs.

✽ ✼ ✽ ✼ ✽ ✼ ✽

「 Later that day 」

“What did you say?” Patricia was having her hair combed as one of her maids entered her room, informing her that a carriage from the Wharton’s had arrived.

‘Don’t tell me...’ she quickly gets up and heads downstairs, walking at a fast pace. She needed to know who was this unknown visitor.

“Lady Ophelia?” as Patricia reached the gates she saw Ophelia Criswell leave the carriage as the guards helped her.

“Lady Patricia, it has been so long, I hope you are doing well!” her lips portraited a kind, innocent smile making a shiver run down Patricia’s spine.

She still recalled everything that had happened at that event. The gruesome violence that she had seen, the fear she had felt.

Once she saw Ophelia holding the knife against her neck with a grin on her face she knew. She knew that Ophelia had never been drugged, she knew that everything she had stated has truth had been a complete and utter lie. That is why she decided to keep her distance from her once she left the estate and try her best to ignore Amanda as well.

'They are both insane...' Patricia's mind kept on rewind to the crimson-haired girl's outburst, 'Who knew they were this unstable...?'

The Criswell's frightened her. The rumors going on about the Duke orchestrating the whole thing just made him seem like a man without honor or respect. A man whose trust can be gone as easily as a flower can be picked.

“Indeed... What do I owe the honor to?” Patricia was confused as to why she had returned so quickly to the Hillgarden's estate. It was completely unexpected since Ophelia didn't send any letters after leaving and, truthfully, Patricia couldn’t find it within herself to send that girl a letter, after all, she had seen a side of that monster that was worse than any plague.

“I’m terribly sorry for my sudden visit but I needed to urgently meet with Earl Hillgarden,” she begins walking towards the mansion while Patricia tried to stop her.

‘With father? But why...?’ she had a bad feeling about the whole situation.

“Father isn’t...” as she was speaking Ophelia interrupts her.

“Earl Hillgarden!” her voice grows louder purposedly as she marches towards the man standing in the front door of the mansion.

Patricia follows her, quietly and steadily, in a hopeless attempt to remain in the shadows of this woman whose glare froze souls.

“Earl, I’m sorry for coming here without any warning but I had an urgent matter to discuss with you,” Ophelia declares after grabbing the hem of her skirt and bowing down slightly.

“Of course, I was currently going to review some business over a cup of chamomile tea, would you like to join?” his smile looked welcoming but everyone knew that it was only hiding his true goal: befriending the daughter of the Criswell’s, purposely.

“I’d love to!” Ophelia smiles politely and they all walk inside.

“You should go do something else child,” the Earl states right before opening his study room door.

“But father...!” Patricia wanted to know what they were going to talk about, she needed to understand what Ophelia was after.

“Patricia Hillgarden! Don’t make me repeat myself twice!” the Earl raises his voice and they both enter the room, leaving Patricia outside, frustrated and worried.

“So, what can I help you with my lady?” the servants place the tea on top of the table and then take their leave, making both Ophelia and the Earl in complete seclusion from the rest of the house.

“You see Earl, I visited Millicia today,” she grabs the teacup and takes it to her lips, drinking it slowly so she wouldn’t burn them, “She is going to be executed tomorrow.”

“My lady is indeed a kind person, visiting a criminal on death row takes extreme bravery,” the Earl smiles thoughtfully.

“I thank you for the generous compliments Earl, however, I come to you with a personal request,” he smirks and leans his body forward. Deep down he already knew someone like Ophelia wouldn’t come just to catch up on the news.

“And what could I assist you with milady?” he questions as his eyes glimmered filled with curiosity.

“I would like you to remove your claims against Millicia,” she places her cup of tea on the set and stares at him.

“An easy request but extremely intriguing if I say so myself...” she knew this wasn’t going to be something the Earl would do just because the daughter of the Criswell’s was asking.

“I’m sure we both know who was the real criminal behind it Earl,” Ophelia smiles coldly, “So wouldn’t it be wise to reutilize a pawn?”

‘She wants to use her against her father? This girl is extremely interesting,’ he couldn’t stop but to feel intrigued every time he talked with Ophelia. Even though she was still a fifteen-year-old girl, he couldn’t help but feel that he was speaking to someone way smarter than it seemed.

“I understand but I wonder how much profit will come from it?” the Earl wanted to know what was in it for him. Even if this was nothing but a simple request, he was a businessman, after all not every commoner can get to where he is now by pure kindness.

“Didn’t you know that the crow’s like to eat the seeds from the south?”

‘The granaries in the south? I heard they were completely empty for the past years, they always need help from the rest of the granaries...’ the Earl couldn’t understand her reasoning.

“What type of seeds do they prefer?” as she heard his words she smiled politely. They were on the same page.

“Well they particularly like pumpkin seeds,” the Earl's eyes widen in surprise right before his eyebrows are furrowed down.

From her past lives, Ophelia knew that the majority of the southern granaries had subsided due to bad management. The nobleman behind them, Lord Tuck had been stricken with an incurable disease that kept on getting worse every day. Without any heir he is left all alone, to take care of his business, however, she also knew that during this past Frosting some merchants went to the land and sold several pumpkin seeds.

For several years, the north tried to cultivate pumpkins but they failed miserably because of the harsh climate and poor soil conditions: the nobles were blessed with fake information stating that the pumpkins can only grow in cold weather when in fact, is the other way around. Currently, all the pumpkins are imported so the person who gains control of the granaries, overflowing with seeds, will be able to sell them at an extremely high price and make a fortune. It is the perfect scenario of the monopolization of a business, at least for this harvesting season.

“The crows don’t wait for no one Earl, they will move soon to have their meal,” Ophelia knew that Duke Criswell found out about this matter and would invest in them so this was nothing more than a warning: if you don’t hurry, you will lose your chance.

The Earl smiled politely right before heading to his desk. Ophelia continued to drink her tea in silence and, several minutes later he sat back down again.

“I will send this to be delivered to the castle and then we will celebrate with a freshly baked pumpkin pie,” she knew that the man in front of her had taken her lead.

'Wise choice mister,' a smile filled her lips as she found this man's intuition amusing.

It wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t trying to deceive the Earl, in fact, this was only a small taste of the fortune she could provide for a man whose greed fell on status.

“If it's alright, please allow me to deliver it,” she smiles coldly and he gives her the letter, “I shall take my leave, thank you for your time.”

“I’ll be sure to keep in touch my lady,” Ophelia could read between the lines: if it doesn’t work, I will make sure to repay you tenfold.

“I will be waiting,” she leaves the room and starts walking towards the entrance.

Waiting at the door was none other than Patricia, anxiously nervous, walking around like a silly cockroach.

“Lady Patricia,” Ophelia states, waking up the young miss from her daydream.

“Lady Ophelia! Are you done? Then have a safe trip!” her expression looked terrified, she definitely didn’t want to be close to her whatsoever. The idea of an “innocent little puppy” had been shattered at the party and Ophelia knew it.

“Thank you, my lady,” Ophelia places her hand on Patricia’s shoulder and whispers, “I’m sure we will be seeing each other often so let’s get along, yes?”

“O-Of course!” Patricia’s eyes were filled with horror as she felt Ophelia’s cold hand leave her body.

“Well then, have a good day,” Ophelia walks out the door and Patricia falls onto her knees.

‘She’s a monster... She’s not normal...’ her hand covered her mouth as she felt tears run down her face.

Patricia was scared of this girl. She couldn't help but have an uneasy feeling in her gut, yelling for her to run away, to hide whenever that beast was present.

“Are you alright sister?” Patricia’s head turns and sees Frederick, her older brother, and the next heir to the property. His dark brown hair contrasted with his light brown eyes.

“Y-Yes brother, I’m alright,” he helps her get up and, as he looked past the open door he saw a figure of a woman with deep black hair walking towards a carriage.

‘Could it be...?’