The Criswell's Curse

After a handful of hours, Ophelia left Mace’s study room just to be greeted by Olivia, who was hastily heading back to the garden. With a wave of her hand, the maid was promptly dismissed.

Swiftly, she returned to her chambers just to see Nero all curled up on the bed, sleeping soundly. His small chest waved up and down in a rhythmic motion, methodically and mechanically.

“I wish I had your life, Nero...” She sighed. “I’m so tired...”

An intense ache pounded in her head, as if a powerful migraine had consumed her. She had hoped that, until she met Terrel, no further complications would arise, but her hopes were, once again, shattered.

I knew he hated me, but... Ophelia couldn’t bring herself to believe Alvin was greedy enough to murder his own daughter for personal gain. How could he...?

It seemed her locked emotions still had some lingering attachments as, when faced with an unprecedented scenario, sorrow and regret still stung her heart. Selfishly, she grabbed her hair, hiding the tears that eloped from her eyes.

“Why... just what did I wrong...”

Ignorance twirled her stomach around, as hope was a mere delusion that somehow still twisted its heart alive in her soul. She could blame God, the angels, the Devil, the demons, but all of them were mere beliefs that served as excuses to prevent the intense self-loathing hiding deep in her core.

Nero jumped to the table, rubbing his hand against her hand. Surprised, she glanced at him, cheeks completely flushed, tears rolling down, falling onto the wooden desk.

“Are you trying to comfort me?” Surprisingly, he allowed her to pet him, not running away or complaining with his claws as he often did.

That heart-warming moment didn’t last long as someone knocked on the door, rather aggressively. Hurriedly, she cleaned her tears, returning to her part of a perfect, graceful noble without any attachments nor worries.

“Lord Bradley is here to see you, milady.” Ivy entered the room with her brunette curls and hazelnut eyes, head hanging low as usual.

The more Ophelia compared them, the more estranged they became. Olivia was a ray of sunshine, striving to enter her heart while Ivy simply stood there, existing, striving to do the best she could not to bring any attention to herself. One of them was a spy, or maybe both of them were. She couldn’t know for certain since everything was based on the simple assumption her father was the culprit.

“Tell him I’m busy. He should come back another day, after agreeing to a date that will work for both.” The noble lady got up and walked to a small cabinet. It was only then that she noticed Ivy’s troubled expression.

“But milady...” As she was about to reply, a male voice cut in.

“You hurt my feelings like that, Lady Ophelia. I even brought this wonderful gift to thank you for your generosity.” Bradley popped from behind the door, holding a gigantic bouquet of red roses.

“My Lord, are you alright?” She walked towards him as Ivy placed the flowers on a large glass jar on top of a pillar. “A sane and sincere, engaged man wouldn’t be courting his fiancée’s younger sister, would he?”

“Of course. I would never do such sinful deeds.” His sweetly voice and honey coated words made Ivy blush slightly. “I am simply caring for my fiancée’s family.”

“In that case, My Lord, please don’t forget to take some roses to the Duke. I’m sure he will be moved by such heart-warming gesture.” Ophelia mocked him, forcing his smile to turn into a thin line. How could she always have an answer up her sleeve?

As Bradley was about to reply, the noble lady attention fixated on the man passing by the hall, slowly and cautiously, hoping to take a peek inside the room. Butlers couldn’t enter the chambers of a female guest nor of any female for that matter, unless they worked directly under Edgar’s wing - thus it was harder for him to collect the information he required for his little job.

Let’s play a game, little rat. Ignoring the young noble, Ophelia quickly exited her room, stopping right by the assassin. It’s time for you to pay me back... a hundredfold.