Was it the song of a mermaid? Truly, he had never heard such a beautiful melody before. No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than the sound gradually faded away, eventually swallowed by a profound silence.

His last memory was praying on his bed before drifting off to sleep. So this must be a nightmare—this was the conclusion Kian desperately reached while struggling at the boundary between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Through his foggy mind, he suddenly recalled Matilda’s words: when a nightmare weighs down your body, use all your strength to move. Once you regain consciousness, you’ll realize it was just a bad dream.

She had assured him of this, but now he found himself in darkness without an exit. Despite thrashing his limbs with all his might, he couldn’t reach anything.

His lungs filled with oppressive moisture. He kept suffocating, and the heavy water pressure made even the slightest movement difficult. A sense of helplessness overwhelmed him.

Instinctively, he knew the truth—he wasn’t having a nightmare but had fallen into water and was facing death.

‘Someone help me.’

Though he tried to shout with all his strength, his voice wouldn’t come out through his choked breath.

[It’s alright. I’m here.]

A youthful voice came from somewhere.

‘I’m so cold and scared. Please save me.’

[Don’t be afraid. Everything will be fine.]

The voice whispered back, seemingly in response to his thoughts.

Time appeared to stand still. He felt his body floating upward against the current. Matilda had once told him that when good people die, they’re embraced by angels and taken to heaven.

…So I’m dead.

I must be, since I’ve met an angel.

But was I really a good person?

Strength drained from his entire body, and his consciousness gradually faded. Then, miraculously, a sense of peace washed over him.

* * *

Tap-tap-tap. Kian forced his eyes open at the sound of raindrops hitting the ground. Coming to his senses, he found himself collapsed on a white sandy beach in a downpour.

His entire body trembled violently. The cold seemed to freeze his blood, making it impossible to think clearly.

‘I’m not dead…’

He deliberately filled his lungs and inhaled deeply. Still unable to believe it, he took several deep breaths.

Had it all been a terrible nightmare? No, judging by his soaked clothes, he must have fallen into water.

‘The ship? The others?’

Looking around, he found himself completely alone. Wiping the rainwater from his face with the back of his hand, Kian fumbled through his pockets.

‘The compass is gone.’

He had definitely put it in his inner pocket before sleeping, but it was nowhere to be found. His trembling hands searched the surrounding area before losing strength.

It must have been washed away by the waves. His already pale face grew even more white.

‘…At least I’m alive.’

In the distance, he could hear people murmuring.

‘So cold…’

His eyelids grew increasingly heavy until his vision flickered and went dark.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he had miraculously returned to Larson, almost like that night’s voyage had been nothing but a dream and he had finally returned to reality.

According to Matilda, knights had discovered Kian collapsed on Coral Beach. He had suffered from a high fever for several days before finally being able to get out of bed.

Soon after, a funeral without bodies was held at Larson.

Though everyone kept quiet about it, Kian quickly realized that the Larson ship had been wrecked by sudden heavy rain and rough seas, and he was the only survivor.

Everyone called it divine providence—that he had been washed ashore still breathing, and that the place happened to be Coral Beach, allowing him to return safely.

Hearing this only made his heart heavier. Divine providence was ultimately built upon the numerous misfortunes that had occurred that day.

Throughout the funeral, the Duchess of Larson stared only at Kian. This was strange, coming from someone who had never even glanced his way before.

Was it guilt for being the only survivor? Her empty gaze, devoid of any expression, made him feel almost like he was being strangled.

On the day the funeral ended, Eleanor von Larson, the Duchess of Larson, summoned Kian to the main building.

What she wanted from him was simple: to become a perfect Larson heir, just like Joshua.

Kian recalled the first wish he had made that night on the ship.

If only… I could become someone like Joshua, how wonderful would that be.

It seemed the compass intended to grant his wish.

He felt a heavy, unspoken guilt—perhaps this had all happened because he had dared to make such a presumptuous wish.

Upon entering the main building, Kian’s world turned completely upside down. And it wasn’t a sweet dream, but a continuous nightmare.

* * *

“Your greeting looks exactly like a dumbfounded foal. Joshua was never like that.”

Becoming like Joshua overnight was no easy task.

“For someone like you, this will be more effective than a hundred words.”

With an emotionless gaze, Eleanor gestured, and the servant beside her struck Kian’s back with a belt. After repeated lashings, his knees buckled, and his body was thrown to the floor.

“You don’t deserve to sleep in a bed. Tonight, you’ll sleep somewhere more suitable for you.”

SLAM! The stable door closed. Darkness fell before his eyes. Though he tried turning the doorknob, it only spun uselessly—the door wouldn’t open.

Kian slumped against the wooden door. His back stung and throbbed where his skin had split open.

“I’m being punished now.”

No matter how he thought about it, this was the only answer.

Wanting to be like Joshua—why had he made such an impossible wish?

He had coveted something that was never his to begin with and ultimately taken it. Now he was paying the price.

“When you know which direction to go, you won’t be afraid even if you can’t see the path for a moment.”

He had lost the compass Joshua had given him. So he needed to remember those words more desperately.

Kian recalled the last wish he had made that night.

“And please make me a strong Larson.”

Yes. If this was the price he had to pay, he would endure until the end and survive.

Kian clenched his fist tightly.

* * *

Friday, 3 PM. As always, the obligatory tea time was taking place in the Duchess of Larson’s office.

“Changing the staff at the mansion requires a proper procedure.”

Her eyes remained unchanged—empty, devoid of emotion.

“What kind of procedure?”

If anything had changed, it was that Kian’s eyes now matched hers exactly.

“Eva is someone I brought here. She has worked at Larson for a very long time.”

“From what I’ve heard, Matilda has worked at Larson longer than Eva.”

His demeanor was frighteningly calm, showing no hint of guilt for his unilateral exercise of authority.

“Even so, there’s no way to dismiss the head maid so suddenly. Shouldn’t you have at least consulted with me first?”

“Ah, so I should have consulted you about what to do with an embezzler?”

A faint smile played across his lips. With his long legs crossed, he moistened his lips before setting down his teacup.

“Seeing how protective you are, perhaps I should investigate where that money went.”

“What?”

Eleanor’s face turned ashen.

“Indeed. Without someone turning a blind eye, it would have been impossible for the accounts to be so noticeably inconsistent for such a long period.”

This was the first time Kian had shown his claws.

According to imperial law, one couldn’t inherit a title before coming of age.

He had transformed completely as soon as he came of age and inherited the title. Since he was a child, he had always taken beatings without resistance and done whatever he was told. His consistently docile behavior made this change completely unexpected.

“Since you appreciate proper procedures, I’ll follow them. Since you say she was brought by the previous Duchess from her family, I’ll pay special attention to the matter.”

Kian, who until now had never once met her gaze, didn’t avoid her eyes.

“I’ll consider my intentions fully conveyed and take my leave now.”

Just as he rose to depart, Eleanor gestured for him to stop.

“Even ingratitude has its limits. Have you forgotten who put you in that position?”

“No. I remember clearly. Eleanor von Larson. It was you.”

Kian stood looking down at her, “But you didn’t have any other options anyway, did you?”

“What?”

“I’m well aware that you were about to lose both the title and the territory to your cousin. So please don’t pretend to be benevolent. I’ll continue to overlook things as I have until now.”

His eyes held an arrogant look, gazing down at her as though he had been born noble.

“At least Joshua…”

She paused mid-sentence, closing her eyes momentarily before opening them again. She seemed to be forcibly maintaining her composure.

“…didn’t act so arbitrarily.”

“I’m sure he didn’t. How could I not know that?”

Kian didn’t bother to deny it.

Whenever he deviated from being like Joshua, he had been locked up somewhere and beaten. It would be stranger if he didn’t know.

“What can we do? Unfortunately, Joshua is no longer here. I am the master of this cursed Larson now. And since I am also your creation, you might as well wake up from your dream and accept it.”

Eleanor’s pupils trembled, but he drove the final nail in.

“You’ll need to vacate this room soon. The bedroom too, of course.”

“W-what are you saying…!”

“Since it would be awkward for both of us to face each other, I’ll prepare quarters for you in the annex. The mistress’s room should be emptied for a new person to enter, shouldn’t it?”

The day Eleanor von Larson’s solid world crumbled, she made a resolution.

She would never die alone.