The next day, Helena didn’t get up until the sun was high above her head.

To be honest, she’d have liked to stay in bed for a few more days – just to indulge in some well-earned laziness.

But the shocking state of the first floor she’d seen the day before wouldn’t let her.

The thought of cobwebs hanging like curtains under her bed, just one wall away from where she lay, made it impossible to lie there any longer.

Getting up, Helena looked at the small table next to the bed.

She expected to find a bell to summon a servant – but there was none.

She looked up instead.

There was a cord dangling over the headboard.

“Oh, that must be it.”

She reached up and gave it a tug.

The cord slid down with a rustling sound… and then flopped uselessly on the bed.

“…What the hell?”

When she examined it, she found that the rope had rotted through – the middle was completely cut off.

“Then how can I call for a maid?”

It was absurd. But there was no other obvious way to call anyone, so Helena had no choice but to get out of bed on her own.

There weren’t even any slippers under the bed.

As she bent down to look for a pair, she discovered several strange objects underneath.

“What now…?”

Grabbing a poker from the fireplace, Helena crouched down and pulled the items out from under the bed.

Covered in dust and practically fused to it were two shirts and five socks.

“Why…? Why are there so many socks under here?”

She couldn’t make sense of it.

Leaving the dusty socks scattered on the floor, Helena opened the bedroom door and called out.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Then she waited quietly.

But there seemed to be no one there. There wasn’t even the slightest sign of movement.

“I can’t believe this.”

With no choice, Helena put on what appeared to be one of Benjamin’s indoor robes over her nightgown, found the shoes she had taken off the night before and stepped outside.

To her surprise, the second floor looked completely deserted.

Cautiously, she looked down the stairs and took in the view of the first floor below.

‘It looked even worse in daylight.’

The soot-covered sculptures and paintings looked grotesque, and thick cobwebs hung over them like tattered curtains.

The carpets, which were supposed to be walkable, were in such a terrible state that she hesitated to step on them.

Just as she was about to descend the stairs, Helena reached for the handrail – then flinched.

A thick layer of grey dust had settled on it, like a snowfall.

‘This is absolutely insane.’

She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy from it all – then suddenly snapped them open.

‘Wait… Don’t tell me… That bastard didn’t just run off with the dowry and leave me here, did he?’

Helena’s face went pale in an instant.

She couldn’t help it.

Doing her best not to touch anything, she quickly made her way down the stairs.

Fortunately, the castle didn’t seem completely deserted – somewhere in the distance she could hear voices.

The tension in her chest began to ease.

She hadn’t realised how comforting the sound of other people could be.

The voices were coming from the kitchen of the castle.

There Helena found one of the maids who had helped her with her bath the day before.

The girl was sitting outside the kitchen, a bucket between her legs, washing vegetables.

Helena stepped in front of her.

The maid, in the middle of scrubbing potatoes, looked up.

“Oh, my lady! What brings you here?”

“Oh my nothing – what on earth is going on here?”

“Pardon?”

The maid blinked up at her with a blank, puzzled expression.

Helena had no shortage of things to say.

Why hasn’t water been brought up?

Why was the string broken?

Why were there socks under the bed?

Why did the whole castle look as if it had been abandoned for decades?

But there was no point in asking this simple maid.

After taking a deep breath to calm herself, Helena spoke again.

“Bring me the highest ranking person here. Now.”

***

To Helena’s surprise, the person the maid had brought was the cook.

The man, who introduced himself as Jones, led her to the cleanest table by the window in the dining room and carefully prepared a warm cup of tea just for her.

With the cup between them, Jones began his confession.

“To tell you the truth… I wasn’t even a real cook. I was just an apprentice – tasked with preparing ingredients. I was about to be promoted to vegetable cook.”

Helena waved her hand dismissively, clearly uninterested.

“Spare me the unnecessary details. I’m sure there are things you should tell me. Just say them.”

At her words, Jones’ expression turned serious, as if to say, “So begin.”

“Everything changed five years ago.”

And with that, as if he’d been waiting a long time for this moment, he launched straight into his story.

“Five years ago, I received word that my father had fallen ill. I was given leave and left the manor for a while. When I left, everything was as it had always been – when the late Count, Damon Ishpern, was alive.”

Jones swallowed dryly and lowered his voice.

“But when I returned two weeks later… everything had changed. The once dazzlingly beautiful estate had been scorched black by fire, and all the staff who had worked here were gone. The only people roaming the halls were terrifying mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries?”

“Yes, my lady. I was completely stunned, but I made my way here – to the kitchen – just to check the place where I used to work. As expected, no one was there. I was just sitting there, not knowing what to do, when these terrible mercenaries came lumbering in and asked me for food.”

“And?”

“They were so frightening… I couldn’t say no. I finally cooked something for them and served it. After they had eaten and left, this stunningly handsome man appeared and asked for food as well. I gave him the same meal and he said, ‘I suppose we’ll need at least one cook.’ And just like that, I became the only cook in the castle.”

“That man must have been Count Ishpern.”

“That’s right, my lady.”

Helena, who had been completely absorbed in Jones’ story, shifted her posture and asked:

“You don’t know what happened during that time? I mean, during the two weeks you were gone?”

Jones furrowed his brow, trying to conjure up old memories, but answered her question carefully.

“I overheard the mercenaries talking. They said the manor caught fire and that the fire took the lives of the late Count and his family. Beyond that, I know nothing.”

“I see.”

Helena stared into the rising steam curling from her cup of hot tea, lost in thought.

‘Whatever this cook doesn’t know… that’s probably the key.’

‘I need to find out what really happened that day.’

And she had a good idea who might know the whole truth.

Benjamin Ishpern.

As the person at the centre of it all, he was sure to know everything.

But asking him… somehow it didn’t seem like a good idea.

In short, after the manor caught fire and the late Count and his entire family perished, Benjamin became the new Count. But there was no way that the process had been smooth or clean.

Perhaps Benjamin, coveting the title, had brought in mercenaries, slaughtered the former Earl and his family, and taken the manor by force.

And if she naively asked, “What happened that day?” there was a good chance he wouldn’t respond with answers, but by locking her away in some unclean outbuilding.

‘Then I’ll have to find the missing servants. There must have been many servants in a manor of this size. It shouldn’t be too difficult.’

Fortunately, she had the right to look for them. Even if it felt like an empty title, her marriage to Benjamin made her the mistress of House Ishpern – at least on paper.

Helena straightened her back and gave Jones a warm, composed look.

“Did you say your name was Jones?”

“Yes, my lady!”

“You’re the one who’s held this manor together so far.”

At her words, a whole range of emotions flickered across Jones’s face – relief, sorrow, pride and a touch of guilt. From those expressions alone, Helena could imagine how much he must have suffered.

She continued in a voice of dignity and command.

“To stay behind in this hellish place where who knows what might have happened… I can only assume it was out of loyalty to House Ishpern. For that, I thank you most sincerely.”

At her words, Jones bowed deeply, his face trembling with emotion.

‘Sniff… My lady…! Those words alone are more than enough for me…!’

Helena placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly.

“Now that I’ve become mistress of House Ishpern, I have no intention of leaving the manor in such a state. But I can’t do it alone. If we’re going to restore the Count’s estate to its former glory, I need people who are willing to help me.”

Jones lifted his head. Though his face was still haggard and greasy, his eyes shone with a renewed sense of duty.

“Three years ago, the former steward of the household, Mr Kurt, visited here. He didn’t say much, but he told me to come to him if I ever needed help.”

Helena’s green eyes sparkled.

“Good. I must meet this man.”