Flap.

A bird flew to the window and perched on the sill, drawing Zion’s attention away from his book. He held out his hand to the bird.

“Come here.”

But of course the bird couldn’t understand him.

“Come here,” he repeated, gesturing again. Then, pushing back his chair, he stood and moved towards the window.

As he slowly approached the bird, he made a quick movement and caught it in his hands.

“Why did you fly in here?”

The bird, now trapped in his grasp, flapped its wings desperately but in vain.

A feather fell from his grip.

“Didn’t you come here to be my friend?”

But no matter how gently he spoke, the bird continued to struggle. Finally, with a swift tug, Zion ripped off one of its wings.

Red blood dripped to the floor, and when the bird went limp in his hands, Zion tossed it casually to the ground.

“Die quickly.”

He wiped his blood-stained hands on his shirt, brushed them off carelessly, then returned to his chair and continued reading as if nothing had happened.

***

“So I was the one who had to clean it up,” muttered one of the maids as she scrubbed the dishes.

“There was so much blood, and no matter how hard I scrubbed, the stains wouldn’t come off. Blood-stained feathers… it was horrible.”

“Why doesn’t the master just send the young master to a lunatic asylum? Everyone can see he’s mad.”

“You’re new, so you wouldn’t know, would you? The Master goes to great lengths to keep things quiet about him. He’s always worried about rumours spreading. One of the maids who used to work here was fired for gossiping about the young master. Not that everyone doesn’t know by now, but what can you do?”

“So he really is mad, isn’t he?”

One of the maids asked.

“Some say he’s possessed by an evil spirit. Not that there’s much difference between madness and possession,” another replied.

“When did it start?”

As their hands scrubbed the dishes, their mouths continued to chatter.

“He’s been like that since birth.”

“Since birth?”

“The late Madam died of complications while giving birth to him. People said at the time that she died giving birth to a demon.”

“A demon? Why? Was he already strange even as a baby?”

“The master…”

The red-haired maid looked around carefully.

Only when she was sure that no one else was around did she begin to speak in a low tone. 

“When Madam died, the Master was furious. He blamed the young master for her death, saying that a demon had been born and that was why she had died. He even tried to throw the newborn into the well in the garden. But the elder Madam, who was still alive, stopped him. She begged him not to do it. If it hadn’t been for her, the young master might not have survived. Not that she lived much longer after that… there were many rumours that her death was also due to him.” 

“Why?” 

“She was knitting by the fireplace when she suddenly collapsed. She fell so that the knitting needle pierced her neck. And the only one with her at the time was the young master.” 

“How old was he then?” 

“Four.” 

“That’s frightening… Do you think he really is a demon?” 

“I don’t know, but strange and terrible things have happened since he was born – that’s a fact. And even if he isn’t a demon, no sane person would kill a bird like that”.

“He only kills small animals, right? He wouldn’t kill a human… would he?”

“Who knows? Maybe he does it in secret and buries them somewhere, or maybe he’s just not strong enough yet, so he only kills small animals for now. When he grows up, he might even start killing people…”

The red-haired maid’s ominous tone sent a shiver through the freckled maid, who looked genuinely frightened.

“I’m afraid to go to his room… What should I do? I’m supposed to bring him his dinner tonight.”

“Just deliver the food and leave quickly. Even if he says something, pretend you didn’t hear him. And don’t forget to lock the door on your way out.”

“Yes… got it.”

The young master they spoke of was Zion Verbaine, son of the estate’s master, the Marquis of Verbaine – a boy infamously known as the little demon locked in his room. 

Although only eight years old, Zion, confined to the small room at the top of the house, had gained a fearsome reputation among the maids, who whispered about him in hushed tones, calling him the Little Demon.

“Oh? That sounds like a carriage.”

“The master must be back.”

“And he’s bringing the new mistress with him today, isn’t he?” 

“Let’s go and see.” 

The two maids quickly put down the dishes they had been scrubbing and hurried out. By the time they arrived, other maids and servants had gathered at the main entrance of the estate. 

The carriage rolled to a stop and the Marquis of Verbaine stepped out. 

“Please, step down carefully.”

Holding the hand of the Marquis of Verbaine, a beautiful lady stepped down from the carriage, carrying a baby basket.

Inside the basket lay a tiny baby wrapped in white lace, breathing softly in its sleep.

***

“So… when do I get to meet the child?”

At the table, Grace looked at her husband, the Marquis of Verbaine, with a curious expression.

“There’s no need to meet him.”

“Why not?”

“The child is mad. Nothing good will come from meeting a mad child, so it’s better if you don’t mention him again.”

“But he’s just a child.”

“He is…”

The Marquis of Verbaine furrowed his brow and put down the knife he had been holding. He drank a full glass of wine in one swift motion and turned his eyes to Grace.

“He’s a demon. Don’t even think about seeing him.”

The Marquis’s stern reply left Grace silent, unable to mention the boy again. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to – it was just that she couldn’t.

Grace had recently remarried the Marquis of Verbaine. Her first husband had died in an accident before she had the chance to bear him a child.

After her husband’s death, Grace was cast out by his relatives, who accused her of scheming for his fortune and plotting his death. Evicted from her late husband’s home, she returned to her own family, where she gave birth to a daughter.

Then, just last month, she received an offer of marriage from the Marquis of Verbaine.

To properly care for her young daughter, who was not yet a year old, Grace knew she had to remarry. When the proposal came from the Marquis of Verbaine, she had no reason to refuse.

As this was a second marriage for both of them, there was no big wedding. Instead, they exchanged vows before the bishop in the cathedral in a simple ceremony that suited them both.

After moving into the estate, Grace also began to hear the ‘rumours’.

The ones about the so-called little demon of the Verbaine family.

But Grace didn’t believe in such rumours. After all, she was the target of a social scandal herself, branded as the woman who killed her husband for his fortune. She swore to heaven she hadn’t killed him. He had fallen down the stairs that night because he was drunk; she hadn’t pushed him. But no one believed her.

People love gossip. Grace knew only too well how eagerly people latch on to rumours, especially those that hurt others and spread malice.

Perhaps the young son of the Marquis of Verbaine was just another victim of such rumours.

“A child should be brought up with love… A father should not call his son a demon…”

After the Marquis had left the table, Grace murmured to herself. 

She loved her own child deeply and had always believed that every parent should love their child, that every child deserved to be loved. 

But here, in this estate, there was a child who wasn’t loved. 

And wasn’t that really heartbreaking?

***

Clink.

It wasn’t mealtime, and it wasn’t time to change his sheets, but the door to Zion’s room creaked open. Curious, Zion looked in. 

His room was a small attic hidden beneath the roof of the estate. 

Even though he was the son of the Marquis of Verbaine, Zion hadn’t left this attic since he was four years old. The door was always locked from the outside and only the maids entered – three times a day to bring his meals, change his sheets and collect his laundry. Zion had never crossed the threshold of that door. 

His world was limited to the view through the small window in his attic. 

When the door opened this time, the person who stepped inside was a woman he had never seen before. 

Dressed in a black robe, she held a baby in her arms. 

“Hello, are you Zion?” 

The woman approached him with a gentle smile.

She wasn’t one of the maids he was used to seeing. Her expression was different – soft and warm, with a kind smile. Zion had never seen such a face before.

“Your father has passed away.”

Zion didn’t react, his face remained blank.

“Would you like to come to the funeral?”

Zion shook his head.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” she said, her tone still friendly.

“I’m your mother.”

“Mother…? I don’t have one.”

Zion replied quietly. At least he knew that his mother had died giving birth to him.

“You’re a monster who killed your own mother!”

These were the words his father often spat at him. Sometimes his father would storm into the attic, drunk and angry. He’d unbuckle his belt and beat Zion with it, cursing and shouting.

Each time, his father repeated the same words: 

“You’re the reason she’s dead.” 

His father was convinced that Zion was responsible for his mother’s death – and his grandmother’s, too. 

Zion couldn’t understand how a newborn or even a four-year-old could kill someone, but his father kept saying it. Always blaming him. Always hitting him in anger. 

“This child is your little sister. Would you like to see her?”

Grace asked gently, holding the baby closer. 

“I would like to.”

Zion replied quietly. 

He got up from his chair and walked over to Grace. 

He had never seen a baby before. 

The baby in Grace’s arms was so small. 

As the small, fair-skinned infant babbled softly and looked up at him, Zion’s eyes widened.

“She’s so small…”

He murmured. He had never seen anyone so small.

At that moment, the baby burst into a happy laugh. It was the first time anyone had ever smiled at Zion like that. Both Grace and the tiny baby in her arms were the first smiling faces he had ever seen.

“Her name is Leah. She’s your little sister.”

“My sister… Can I touch her?”

“Of course, go ahead.”

Zion gently pressed a finger against the baby’s cheek. It felt soft, like a melting cloud.

Then the baby grabbed Zion’s finger. 

Her tiny hand, much smaller than his own, grabbed his finger and brought it to her mouth, nibbling and sucking on it. Zion’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise. 

“Looks like Leah’s hungry. Maybe she likes your finger.”

Grace said with a warm smile. 

But her voice barely reached Zion. His gaze was fixed on the little child – her soft lips around his finger, her sparkling eyes full of curiosity and innocence.

***

Following the death of the Marquis of Verbaine in a riding accident, life at Verbaine estate changed dramatically. 

The newly widowed Marchioness, Grace, brought Zion down from the attic, ending his years of confinement. From then on, Zion was never locked up again. 

Although Zion continued to kill small birds and animals, Grace never scolded or punished him. 

“Let’s bury it so it can go to heaven.”

Instead of reprimanding him, Grace helped Zion make a small grave for each bird he killed. 

As time passed, the number of graves they made together gradually decreased, and by the time Leah took her first steps, there were no more new graves in the garden. 

The widow of the Marquis of Verbaine remained in the estate for the most part, bringing up her stepson, Zion Verbaine, and her daughter, Leah Verbaine, from her previous marriage. 

Despite the rumours of the little demon, Zion Verbaine grew up like any other boy of his age. 

At first, the tutor in charge of his education was afraid of him because of the rumours. After two or three years, however, she changed her mind. When she recommended him to a colleague, she described him as a remarkably intelligent boy. 

When the Marquise of Verbaine occasionally took Zion and Leah into town to buy hats and gloves, people often commented on what a harmonious family they seemed to be. 

Zion Verbaine, with his striking platinum blonde hair, grew into a remarkably handsome boy, while Leah Verbaine, who inherited her mother’s red hair, was a lovely little girl. 

However, a dark shadow fell over the seemingly happy Verbaine household when Leah Verbaine turned ten. 

***

It was a day of unrelenting rain. 

The doctor stepped into the carriage waiting outside the estate and brushed the raindrops from his coat. He glanced at the young man standing nearby, holding an umbrella. 

“I’ve done all I can. It’s time to prepare.”

The doctor said solemnly. 

The young man, eighteen-year-old Zion Verbaine, the eldest son of the Verbaine family, nodded silently. 

“With the medicine I’ve given her, she should be able to die peacefully,” the doctor added. 

The doctor then tipped his hat in farewell and tapped the carriage wall, signalling the driver to leave. Zion stood and watched as the carriage disappeared into the rain. 

He lowered his eyes to examine the small vial in his hand. 

The vial the doctor had given him contained a powerful and lethal drug. 

He had explained that it would cause a painless death, allowing the person to pass away as if they had simply fallen asleep. 

The Marchioness of Verbaine’s illness had progressed beyond any hope of recovery. 

For a year, the doctor had visited the estate, prescribing every possible treatment, but nothing had worked. Now her breathing was labored, and each night she writhed in agony, suffering intensely. 

“Mother.” 

Zion approached the bed where Grace lay, her frail body barely able to bear the pain. He gently took her withered hand in his own. 

“Are you in much pain, Mother?”

For her comfort, Zion had left only a single candle burning, casting a dim, soft light over the room. 

The shadow of death was on Grace’s face. She knew as well as he did that there was no hope of recovery. 

“Mother, would you like me to ease your pain?”

Seeing the vial in his hand, Grace managed a weak nod. 

“Just wait a moment.” 

Zion poured the contents of the vial into a glass and mixed it with wine, then helped Grace to sit up so she could drink. 

He watched in silence as Grace slowly sipped the mixture, her breathing steadying as she finished. 

“Shall I bring Leah to you, Mother?” 

“No…”

Grace shook her head. 

“Don’t let her see me like this…”

“Yes, mother.”

“When I’m gone, you must take care of her. You two may not share blood, but in this world you only have each other as family…”

“Yes, Mother. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of Leah.”

“Leah only has you. Without you she would be all alone, so never let her cry….”

“Yes, mother.”

“You’re such a good child….”

Grace’s voice faded with each word, her strength slowly draining away. Zion could feel the life draining from her hand in his. 

The breaths that slipped past her dry, cracked lips grew shallower with each passing moment. 

And then – silence. 

As he released her, Grace’s lifeless hand fell limply to her side, her tightly closed eyes now still. Zion understood that her soul had left her body. 

‘Let’s bury it so it can go to heaven.’

“I will bury you. So that you can go to heaven.”

He looked at Grace’s peaceful face, now free of pain, before turning. 

In the slightly open doorway stood a red-haired girl watching him. Their eyes met and Zion rose from his chair and walked towards her. 

“Brother, what about Mother?”

“She’s asleep.”

Zion picked Leah up when she looked up at him.

“So let’s not wake her, okay?”

“Okay. But, brother, who’s going to read me a story?”

“I’ll read to you today.”

“Really?”

“From now on, I’ll always read to you.”

“So we should be quiet so we don’t wake Mom, right?”

“Yes. Let’s be quiet.”

Not knowing that Grace had died, Leah smiled innocently. Zion glanced back and forth between her and Grace, who was lying on the bed, before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Then he walked slowly down the stairs.

Now only Leah and himself remain in the estate. 

There is no one else left in the House of Verbaine. 

There was no one to protect his little sister but him, and no one he could call family but her.

Zion looked out the window. 

The rain was pouring down, just like the day his father died. 

He remembered that day well – he had slipped out of the attic by climbing down a rope tied to the window. 

He had made his way to the stables and partially cut the reins of the horse his father often rode. From his vantage point in the attic, he was well aware of his father’s daily riding routine. 

The next day, his father fell from the horse and died instantly, having lost his balance when the reins broke. 

People called it an accident. 

An accident. 

But only Zion knew the truth, whether it was an accident or murder. 

He also remembered the day his grandmother died.

She had been knitting and Zion was just four years old at the time.

Sitting in her rocking chair, she kept insulting Zion as she knitted, until she dropped her ball of yarn.

When she got out of the chair and knelt down to pick it up, Zion took the knitting needle she had put aside and stabbed her in the neck.

She had died instantly, but no one suspected a four-year-old child. 

Except his father, of course. 

Since then, Zion had continued to kill. 

In the past, he had only killed small birds that flew in through his window, but after Grace set him free, he moved on to rabbits, squirrels and cats. 

Of course, he stopped killing in front of Grace because she didn’t like it, but he just found other places to do it where she wouldn’t know. 

For example, the maid who was supposed to have run off with the silverware after only ten days – she was actually in the basement, buried there by Zion after he killed her.

The reason? She had spoken ill of Grace. 

Another maid who secretly pinched Leah met the same fate, buried in the basement.

Anyone who bothered him, hurt Grace or Leah, or spoke ill of them – Zion killed them all and buried them one by one in the basement. 

To Zion, people fell into two categories: 

Family and those who were not family. 

If they weren’t family, it didn’t matter if they died; if they were family, he had to protect them. 

But now, with Grace gone, the only family left was Leah. 

Now there was only one person he could not kill.