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Chapter Text

There was never a friendly word spoken between her and the Madam of the Ushiromiya household. Irritation coated her words when she gave directions. Annoyance slipped between her vowels if she deemed Sayo's work unsatisfactory. If Sayo was told to sweep the foyer, she was commanded with a finger aimed at her heart and a voice made of steel. Even worse, if she made a minor error like forgetting to clean a patch of dust on the corner of a tall windowsill, then Natsuhi berated her with the force of a hurricane in front of her peers, earning giggles from the other servants until Natsuhi redirected her fury towards them, claiming they were also to blame for being careless by not noticing Sayo's mistake.

Naturally, Sayo earned their ire as well. The other servants snapped at her in the hallways. If she swept too slowly, Runon would often snatch the broom out of her hands and show her how it needed to be done. This was followed by the others cackling at her, sneering that she always going to be slow. They disregarded her age and size, following Natsuhi's example of putting her on the same pedestal as them, spewing merciless judgment all while ignoring the tears brimming in the corners of her eyes.

Sayo did what she could to make them proud, but nothing helped. She always lost her keys or cleaning supplies. Sometimes, she forgot to fold the laundry and left them to wrinkle in the drawers. During her morning chores, she played in her thoughts while Natsuhi instructed her, causing another maid to shout at her when she loitered in a corner, a perplexed expression tainting her pale face. Her clumsy, forgetful, and dreamy nature was always on full display when Natsuhi forced her to stand up straight between her peers and remarked that her daily failures needed to end or she would be dismissed.

Though, today, there was something different. The air circulating throughout the mansion smelled stale instead mingling with the salty sweet scent of the ocean or the fresh, rich aroma of the rose garden. She noticed the windows were shut when she went around to dust, disallowing any change of air. Since she wasn't prompted to open them, she kept them closed, but it still struck her as odd.

The other servants didn't comment on it. They continued their duties and ignored her. Sayo didn't want to discuss it with them, knowing they would probably scoff at her or accuse her of shirking her duties with “mindless assertions” as Natsuhi once called her commentary when she claimed a witch stole her master key again.

Puzzled, Sayo dusted and ambled down the hall. She minded her business, but her head quickly filled with dizziness. The stagnant air was like poison, and with each breath, she felt herself becoming sicker. It was like she couldn't get enough air in her lungs despite it surrounding her. She rubbed her chest and breathed in deeply, her vision swimming as she stumbled down the hall. Sunlight filtered through another window and illuminated dust particles like infinitesimal stars, but she swatted through them with her dustpan, only tossing up the dust she had collected. Coughing, she beat her chest and hunched forward, her eyes screwing shut as she pinched her nose, hobbling around the corner while the scarlet-clad witch snickered above her.

“Fool, now you'll have to clean-”

Before Beatrice could finish her sentence, Sayo raised her head. She blinked through her wispy bangs. She felt Beatrice's cold shadow vanish, and she swallowed. She straightened her back as best as she could, feeling like her spine could snap with a shove. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she wasn't sure what to make of the scene before her.

Natsuhi leaned into the wall next to a portrait of Kinzo, his glare leering down at her. She panted, her fingers streaking through her unkempt brunette locks. She pulled at her violet blouse and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Sweat clung to her like a second skin. She sucked in deep breaths and slowly turned around, Sayo noticing a glaze crossing her normally sharp gaze.

“M-Madam,” she said, clutching the dustpan to her chest.

Grimacing, Natsuhi squinted at her. She itched her scalp, her expression twisting in an emotion Sayo couldn't place. She stared through her as if she was a ghost. Natsuhi curled her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat, her eyes widening as she finally took in Sayo's trembling form.

“Shannon,” she said, the name sticking to the roof of her mouth.

“I-I-forgive me.” She bowed her head. “I, um-”

“Can you fetch me some aspirins? They should be in a box in the closet down there.”

The curt request slashed through her stammering. Sayo blinked, her shoulders hitching towards her earlobes. She bobbed her head up and down, her throat constricting before she could say anything which would have aggravated Natsuhi. She hurried past her mistress, counting each door that she passed. She knew each room by heart and pivoted to the storage closet, her brows furrowing, wondering why aspirins would be in the closet instead of Natsuhi's bedroom, but she knew not to question her.

Sayo pulled at the doorknob only to wince. It tugged and refused to budge, casting realization on her. Natsuhi must have forgotten her key and needed her to open the door. Fidgeting with her own keys, she prayed she remembered all of them and smiled to herself when she came across the right one. She quickly stuffed it into the slot and twisted it, the click sounding like music to her ears. Sayo forced the door open and greeted the darkness with familiar relish.

She made out the shapes of cardboard boxes filled with Jessica's childhood memories. Sorting through them, she didn't risk tearing them open. She didn't want to do anything Natsuhi hadn't asked her to do, so she focused her efforts in pushing them aside. Even with her short stature, she didn't have a problem reaching the shelf above her, gently stepping on assorted metal safes from Krauss' overseas trips to make up for her height.

By luck, her fingers curled around a smooth bottle when she dug into a plastic bag. She leaped down and gazed at it, the teal and white wrapping confirming it as the aspirins Natsuhi sought. The corners of her lips curled into her flat cheeks, and she scampered back to Natsuhi, keeping the bottle tucked in her hand like she would for her thumb when forming a white-knuckled fist.

Natsuhi's eyes were closed when she returned. Shallow breaths slipped over her chapped lips. She willed one eye to open when she sensed Sayo's presence. Dropping her hands to her stomach, she let Sayo set the bottle in her clammy palms. Her lips twisted as she fiddled with the childproof cap, and when she tore it open, it flipped off like a yen coin spinning in the air.

Sayo gasped and thrust her dustpan up above her head. The cap landed perfectly among the leftover dust. She plucked it out and rubbed it against her corset, her eyes flicking over to Natsuhi, watching her dry swallow two clear capsules.

Sighing, Natsuhi accepted the cap with a grimace. She turned it between her fingers only to place it back on the bottle, saying, “Thank you, Shannon. I appreciate your prompt attention to my...concern.”

Heat burned in her cheeks. She clenched her fist to her chest, a smile splitting on her face. How she had longed to hear such kind words from the Madam. Even though she had been given gratitude from others like Kumasawa and Genji, Natsuhi had been the one she always wanted to impress. There was some chipped part of her heart which needed her acknowledgment, craving her approval in everything she did as a loyal servant to the Ushiromiya household. She continued repeating her words in her foggy mind as if they would evaporate if she didn't continue mulling them over.

“It's odd, isn't it?” Natsuhi asked, slipping the bottle into a fold of her long, dark skirt. Sayo followed her gaze down the hallway. “All of the windows are still shut. I certainly told Benon to open them before breakfast.” She sighed and shook her head. “It's almost noon, and she still hasn't done it. That girl hasn't learned that being slothful is a sin. All she's good for is gossiping.”

“U-um, Natsuhi-sama, are you feeling better?” she asked, fiddling with the lace on her corset.

Drawing her tired gaze back to the child, a hesitant grin played on her lips. “Yes. Continue with your chores. I'll meet you all within the next two hours to inspect everyone's progress.” She set her hand upon Sayo, her long, bony fingers gently squeezing an equally bony shoulder. “Also, don't open the windows. I want to see if Benon remembers what I instructed her to do.”

Nodding, Sayo watched her elegant frame march up the hallway. She became mesmerized by the way her ponytail swayed from side to side like a pendulum. She breathed in deeply, her heart rattling between her rib cage as she heard Sanon call out from behind her to “stop daydreaming.”

But what happened wasn't a daydream. She had finally been respected by her lady. Her words echoed in her ears and sunk into her mind. Sayo tightened her grip on the dustpan, knowing she had earned Natsuhi's compliment. Awaiting another chance to impress her may never come, so she kept the moment imprinted in her heart.

That afternoon, as Natsuhi roared at Benon for her poor performance, the tears threatening to spill from the older girl's eyes, her friends shivering from the shrillness of the Madam's voice, Sayo grinned behind her dustpan.

Chapter Text

“Oh, please, oh, please, hush.”

The quiet voice cut through her daydream. Sayo straightened, her mouth dropping open as she rose from the arbor. She thought she was the only one in the rose garden, but that was a presumptuous, foolish notion. Anyone could have wandered out to smell the rich flowers, and she rubbed her forearms, ambling down the steps only to freeze, the wailing of a baby piercing through the calm blue sky.

“No, no, no more crying, please. Oh, why must you be so fussy? I know you don't realize that I need to ask Father for a loan, but-but can't you calm down? Just stop already, please.”

Sayo traversed the long rows of roses. She followed the screams, the sharp cries which speared through her ears. She gnawed on her lower lip, wondering how she didn't notice them sooner only for the scent of tea to waft into her nostrils. Supposing Beatrice's tea was too intoxicating for her own good, Sayo made a mental note to be more aware of her surroundings as she came out to a clearing.

She leaned into the roses, their thorns pressing into her arm through the tight fabric of her uniform. Only a yard away was Rosa with her back turned and elbows pressed out to her sides. She hunched forward, fussing over a shrieking bundle in her arms. Rocking from side to side, Rosa hummed an erratic tune, which reminded Sayo of a strangled cat.

Rosa's visit wasn't unusual. She had been coming to the island more recently to ask for help. She noticed Natsuhi usually giving her sympathetic glances, contrasting with the smirk adorning her husband's face when they followed her upstairs to the Master's bedroom. Sayo had noticed her stomach protruding more and more with each visit, and if the gossip she heard from the servants was correct, then it seemed she had finally given birth out of wedlock.

Uttering a quiet, mewling sound, Rosa tucked her bundle to her chest and whispered, “Maria, please, let's shush. We need, um, quiet time. Yes, yes, quiet time, quiet time starting now.”

Her words were met with another round of screams. Sayo made out the white blanket thrashing, and tiny pink fists jabbing at Rosa's chin. Rosa groaned, tossing her head to the clouds, her own desperation more than evident as she stamped her heel into the dirt, her nose and lips wrinkling as she withheld what Sayo assumed was her own scream.

“U-um, R-Rosa-sama?” she piped up, her voice coming out as a whisper over the baby's screams.

Rosa whipped around, her long, sandy brown hair more almost filling the space between them. Her pupils seemed serpentine, a dangerous quality burning in her eyes which caused Sayo to yelp. She sucked down a breath, her expression softening and shoulders slouching. Her fingers threatened to slip around her baby, and Sayo couldn't help but stare at the pudgy, rosy red cheeks of her daughter.

“Oh, hello, Shannon-chan,” she said, a smile gracing her face. She grimaced as her daughter howled, leering at the bundle with squinted eyes, an expression the young servant had never seen on any mother before.

Sayo felt her throat dry. She fidgeted with the hem of her uniform. She couldn't help herself when she looked at Rosa up and down, taking in the faint hint of a double chin, a bigger bust, and the added weight to her hips. Rosa was dressed modestly in a loose, long skirt and a white blouse, a stark contrast to the more fashionable outfits she wore to the family meetings.

“Would you like to hold her?” Rosa interjected, pushing her arms out. “I-I don't think you've met her yet. This is my daughter, Maria.”

Fear seized her. She had never held a real baby before. Only plastic dolls were cradled in her arms as she played house with other younger girls back in the Fukuin House. Since she had been summoned to work directly for the Ushiromiyas at such a young age, she had pushed that training to the back of her mind. Additionally, the Master's grandchildren had grown with her, limiting her experience with childcare despite her education and playing pretend.

Still, her hands moved, and she cradled the squirming bundle to her chest. She swallowed, peering through her lanky locks at the now silent Maria in her arms. Bright, too large violet eyes stared at her. Fat fingers gripped at the blanket, which Sayo recognized was one Natsuhi had used to wrap around Jessica at her age.

Rosa sighed and sunk to her knees. She pressed her palms to her eyes. Sayo winced as she observed her, her back straightening as Maria reached up to tug her hair. Rosa smoothed back loose curls and grumbled to herself, wishing she had a hair tie.

“I-I have one,” Sayo offered, leaning to the right and exposing her skirt pocket. “You can have it. Would-would you mind reaching in and getting it yourself?”

Rosa leaped at the chance. She moved faster than a jaguar, her claw carving through Sayo's pocket and ripping out the hair tie. It was worn with a few tresses of blonde hair looped around it. Sighing, Rosa smiled and thanked her, lowering her head to twist her hair through it in to a tight bun.

Sayo remained rigid long after she pounced, her heart stopping, forgetting how to breathe. Watching Rosa move with the ferocity of a wild animal was something she had never seen from usually docile woman. Compared to her bickering, sneering siblings, she was often pushed to the background, an ornament meant to be seen and not heard until the roundness of her stomach could no longer be ignored.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Rosa said, clipping a few locks of hair behind her ears. She chuckled and shook her head. “I, uh, well, Father is being prickly. He said my appearance wasn't fit for an Ushiromiya.”

Like a stone sinking into a lake, her heart fell into her stomach. She knew Rosa wasn't a bad woman. Out of the siblings, she was probably kindest to her, usually asking how about her day or what she was learning at school. Sayo noticed that at times, she was easily startled or left out of the inheritance discussions. When she was pouring tea at last year's conference, she remembered Rosa taking off in tears when Eva snarled that she would never marry. Now, she realized Rosa must have already been pregnant with the cooing baby pulling at her necktie.

“Can you believe that?” She leered at Sayo with wide eyes, her pupils constricting to pin pricks. “And Nii-san agreed with him. I couldn't plead my case with them yelling at me, and then, Maria started crying, so I had to come out here.” She scoffed and pinched her blouse. “At least Natsuhi-san didn't scold me when she escorted me out here.”

“I-I believe Rosa-sama is a hard worker. I've never seen you...not work hard,” she said, her words sounding careless, but they brought another smile to Rosa's face.

“Oh, wow. You calmed her down.” She scooped Maria out of Sayo's arms, her eyebrows raising. Smiling as Maria nestled against her chest, she flashed too many teeth as she grinned down at Sayo. “I appreciate your help. I have to get going, but I'll be sure to put in a good word to Natsuhi-san.”

Delight blossomed in her chest like sunflowers in the morning sun. She blurted her thanks and bowed, her hands gripping her knees to steady herself. Rosa didn't give her an answer and pivoted on her heels, her eyes locked on to her baby's face, listening as she cooed a happy song.

Sayo smiled to herself. She pressed her knuckles to her chin and hoped that the relationship between Rosa and her lovely little baby could bloom like the roses surrounding her. Spinning on her heels, she traveled through the garden, Shannon's form appearing beside her and patting her head.

“That was wonderful! Rosa-sama seemed very pleased with your help,” she said, and Sayo nodded, matching her enthusiasm.

“I hope she puts in a good word for me. She did promise, and Natsuhi-sama has been scolding me more and more recently.” She sighed. “Even though I helped get her aspirins.”

Shannon giggled. “Oh, there, there. I'm sure Rosa-sama will follow through.”

Sayo clung on to that featherweight hope with both hands and nodded again, her belief and resolve unflappable, clueless to the cruelty Rosa would later inflict upon her dear daughter.

Chapter Text

She was in love. It had been so easy, as simple as taking a step forward. The way her heart beat faster and faster whenever she thought about him and how she felt butterflies in her stomach when he smiled at her, it all culminated in her deep adoration for Ushiromiya Battler.

Everything about him charmed her spirit and ignited a hope she had never felt before. He taught her about the heart of mysteries He shared theories about the culprits in their novels, never forsaking their emotions as he deduced the reason behind their crimes. And the promise he made to arrive on a white horse when taking her off the island, it made her cheeks heat up with a rosy hue and her body feel like she was floating beyond the clouds to the stars dotting Heaven.

Shannon sighed as she poured over the anthology of short stories he lent her. The tale she was currently on was a rather simple mystery, one he claimed to have solved within an hour. The killer was criticized by his family and found comfort with his wife, who then went on to commit adultery with his friend. Naturally, this killer stewed with anger, pretending to go along with his daily life before enacting his crime, and although, Shannon understood his heart, she condemned him. This crime was too gruesome. Selfishness marred his motive when he refused to change. His wife had begged him to stop gambling, but he continued, entranced in his addiction while believing she would stay by his side forever.

Of course that wouldn't the case, but she's at fault, too, she thought, turning the page and starting a new story. She abandoned him. A good wife would stay by her husband's side no matter what, right?

She raised her head and gazed at the ocean. Recalling the family conference from only a few weeks ago, she smiled. The cousins had been so lively and playful. Even little Maria splashed in the waves with them. They shared bento boxes and chatted about their lives, Jessica complaining about her strict parents when they commented about her speech.

But even that couldn't compare to what she shared with Battler. The years they spent swapping stories and intimacy culminated in the secret of their love. He vowed to return, and she waited for that blessed year of 1981 to come with baited breath.

Stretching her legs on the checkered towel, she breathed in sea salt and watched the cerulean waves lap at the shore, leaving behind a film of white foam. As seagulls hopped past her and seaweed swayed in the water, Shannon smiled only to notice an odd shadow covering her.

Blinking, she jerked her head over her shoulder, and her mouth fell open. She quickly suppressed a scream before it could jump from her mouth. Clapping the book shut, she hurried to stand only for the woman to chuckle and shake her hand.

“I'm sorry, Shannon-chan. I didn't mean to startle you,” Asumu said, crouching next to her, her blue buttoned dress gently blowing in the wind.

“A-Asumu-sama! I'm sorry. I didn't know, er, I didn't know you were coming.” She bowed her head as Asumu sat next to her, confusion brimming in her eyes. Either her break had gone on for too long or Asumu materialized out of thin air.

“Well, that's because I didn't tell anyone.” She chuckled. “I had a private boat take me here.”

Shannon hummed and nodded. She had seen a white jet boat on her way to her favorite spot by the sea. Instead of questioning it, she assumed it was one of the Master's eccentric friends coming to visit or a new delivery of ingredients the Madam ordered.

“Um, may I ask why you're here?” Shannon wondered, fiddling with the stem of Battler's book.

Asumu closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her knees. Shannon maintained her smile, knowing this woman deserved her utmost respect. She was Battler's mother, always kind and considerate, the peacemaker during the family conferences. Around the servants, she never treated them like they were beneath her. She always honored them with gratitude and offered her assistance whenever she saw their workload was too heavy. Asumu helped her sort and fold clothes last year, chatting about Battler's mysteries and popular trends in Japan, which kept Shannon going even after Eva sneered at her for stumbling over her own two feet.

She really was so much like her son. They shared the same shining personality. The same twinkle glimmered in their eyes when they smiled. Always eager to help and make someone laugh, those were the characteristics Shannon treasured in them.

“I'm here to...” Shannon noticed she gulped. “...announce a pregnancy.”

She gasped, her breath hitching in her throat. “C-congratulations!”

A tired grin split on her lips. She sunk her fingers through the golden sand. Clearing her throat, she said, “Battler will be an older brother.”

She glowed, imaging the joy Battler would feel upon holding his new sibling for the first time. Considering Asumu didn't appear visibly pregnant, Shannon assumed she didn't know the baby's gender. Questions popped up in her mind, but she settled on one which made Asumu's reaction more than strange.

“Does Battler know?”

Asumu flinched, her eyes widening. Her lips parted, and no sound emerged. She stared at Shannon, seeming to take in her features. Asumu withdrew her hand from the sand, the grains falling between her fingers on to her dress.

“Battler, well, he isn't aware yet. I'm sure Rudolf wants to surprise him.” She coughed into her palm, a deep, phlegmy sound contrasting with her pristine appearance. She wiped her palm on her thigh, and Shannon didn't think twice about it.

She felt like she could bounce to the moon and back. Excitement boiled in her belly, and her heart filled with even more love for Battler. How delighted he would be learning he would be an older brother, and she couldn't wait to meet the little angel who would became her future relative.

“Asumu-sama, when the baby arrives, may I meet the child?” Shannon asked, her hands clenching into tiny fists. “I-I really want to support Battler-san, um, I mean, Battler-sama.”

Asumu uttered a quiet hum. A grin pressed into her cheeks as Shannon blushed a deep shade of scarlet. Asumu rubbed her back, stroking small, comforting circles along her knobby spine.

“I'll see what I can do. I'm sure Battler would love having someone his age with him when Ky-” Color drained from her face, and she shook her head. “-when the baby is born.”

She brushed off Asumu's remark as a slip of the tongue. She must have been tired, considering she came without Rudolf. He was probably taking care of Battler, so she made the journey by herself, and the heat beating down on them clearly made her tired when she scrubbed the sweat off her brow with the inside of her dress.

Shannon believed this was another one of God's miracles. He blessed them with that moment, which she hoped would become one of many. With this time to bond with her future mother-in-law, she thought she made a perfect impression as Asumu beamed at her, no traces of irritation to be found.

Stretching, Asumu pushed off on her knees and stood up. Shannon quickly followed, keeping her book pressed to her chest. Asumu pointed at the towel and helped her roll it up, Shannon tucking it underneath her arm.

“Do you mind escorting me to the mansion? I'm a little weary,” she said, and Shannon nodded, quickly rounding to her side. They marched in the sand towards the cobblestone path, and Shannon gazed up at her, finding her expression perfectly neutral, possibly to calm herself before her audience with Krauss and Natsuhi.

“Is Battler doing well?” Shannon asked as they arrived to the front doors, Genji meeting them.

Asumu smiled and said, “Yes. He told me you two had quite the conversation during the conference.”

She giggled and clasped her fingers by her waist. “Can you-can you tell him I'm looking forward to next year's conference?”

She nodded, saying, “Of course I will. He can't get you off his mind.”

As she waved and vanished into the mansion when Genji opened the door, Shannon felt like jumping up and down without a care in the world. She didn't even care if another servant spotted her and talked about her behind her back or Natsuhi roared at her to brew the afternoon tea. He was thinking about her, and it made her heart soar. She closed her eyes and hugged the book tighter, spinning on her heels and facing the rose garden.

Asumu was like a messenger angel sent by God. Her kindness and sincerity, they were traits Shannon hoped to adopt. She could see exactly how Battler inherited her goodness, and although she never had a mother, she believed Asumu would be the perfect mother-in-law.

But the news of her passing months later shattered the future Sayo pretended would be real.

Chapter Text

As Kyrie inspected the portrait, Beatrice observed her every move. From the bottom of the staircase she stood with her fists balled by her hips. She narrowed her eyes at Kyrie’s silvery mop or hair barely visible over the top step. She had every temptation to march up behind her and force her to acknowledge her existence, but that would be too easy.

Beatrice knew this woman was the most odious vixen to have ever stepped foot on to her island. This woman’s presence caused Battler to abandon the Ushiromiya family. That was sinful in itself, but how he refused to come back for her, it was like a stake digging deeper and deeper through her heart, making her feel like a true witch of the olden days.

But she wouldn’t have had to endure the pain if it weren’t for Kyrie. She wedged herself between Rudolf and Battler, her pregnancy more than apparent during the wedding ceremony or so she heard from Asune. She could only imagine his pain of watching that devil take the place of his mother, her sinless baby growing within her as Asumu rotted to white bones and scraps of gray skin in her oak coffin.

If it hadn’t been for Kyrie, she wouldn’t have felt the thorns scraping through her heart. Vines twisted and snaked through the holes, tearing them further and further until a hollow ache was all that was left beating in her chest. She wished she could simply pierce through her chest and rip out all her pain, but the knowledge of truth was cemented well in her soul, forcing her fingernails to draw blood out from her palms instead.

“‘Gouge and kill,’” Kyrie mused aloud, her back so straight that Beatrice would have liked to snap it herself to see how far a human could bend. “What an odd phrase. Father really is so cryptic.” She seemed to adjust the lapel of her snow white blazer. “What do you think it means?”

Beatrice swallowed a lump in her throat. Her eyes widened, Kyrie’s question hanging between them. She fiddled with the lace frills of her choker.

Kyrie sighed. “That man, did he really leave without me realizing it?”

She wasn’t making sense. When Beatrice stalked the hallways, she couldn’t find Rudolf. He wasn’t harassing any of the other maids nor was he up for a late night snack. Only Kyrie was present before her portrait, and unless Rudolf learned teleportation magic, they were the only ones present in the foyer.

“Oh, well, I’ll deal with him later,” she said, and Beatrice grimaced when she snapped her fingers. “Turning the chessboard around, it’s logical to believe this epitaph is a test from Father.”

A chuckle rolled past Beatrice’s lips before she could stop herself. Of course it was a test. She had solved it two months ago, and in return, she was granted everything and nothing.

Kyrie snapped her head around and surveyed the foyer. Shadows crawled across the carpet. Moonlight slipped in through folds in the curtains. The wind rustled and beat against the windows, but other than that, she only heard her own quickened breathing.

Beatrice had ducked underneath the staircase, her body cloaked in familiar darkness. She gripped her chest, her deep blue eyes piercing up at Kyrie, wishing they could turn into daggers to jab through her skull. She listened to the steps groan and creak as Kyrie ambled downstairs, her fingers gliding on the banister, her ring sending off a starry glint under the pale lights.

As she crossed her arms and glanced around, Beatrice broke into a sneer. She had her right where she wanted her. She swallowed a deep gulp of air, held it, and as Kyrie began crossing to the adjacent hallway, she began.

“Ushiromiya Kyrie, you dare criticize my epitaph?” she bellowed, her voice booming in the empty foyer.

She peered out and grinned as she flinched, her shoulders hitching to her earlobes. Her smirk pressed into her cheek as Kyrie jerked around, her fists raising to her chest to strike what she couldn’t see.

“Oh, fool who does not believe in the Golden Witch, do you know what will happen? Can you not comprehend the meaning behind ‘gouge and kill?’” She cackled, tossing her head back, her victim’s expression turning to neutrality. “Look, look, can’t you make sense of it? If it’s-”

“You’re behind the stairwell, aren’t you?”

Beatrice nearly bit her tongue. She drew in a sharp breath as Kyrie’s footsteps turned towards her.

“That’s right. That makes sense when I turn the chessboard around.” She snapped her fingers again. “When I heard you cackle, I couldn’t see you. When you spoke, I couldn’t see you. Since you aren’t in plain sight, you must be in my blind spot.”

A mere human gazing upon her would inflict a level of unimaginable toxicity. She would burn and boil like a frog in a witch’s bubbling cauldron. It would be a million times worse than grazing a spiderweb. Being engulfed in that level of denial would probably cause her to wait another five hundred years until she could even dream of reforming, and with the thousand years she waited for her promise to be fulfilled, she wasn’t sure if she could endure that agony.

“Well, are you Beatrice or are you a surly, bored maid hiding in the corner?” Kyrie snickered, her shadow overlapping with the darkness coating Beatrice. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “Do you know what I do to women like you? You can’t even imagine what I would do to you.”

Sayo swallowed. Backing down here would ruin everything. She couldn’t allow this devil to take away her disguise. She felt like lunging out and wrapping her fingers around her neck, strangling the life from her, seeing the despair swirling in her eyes and reflecting Sayo’s own hopelessness.

Beatrice ruled the island. Sayo made sure Beatrice was established as the island’s ruler. Everything was supposed to be in her control. As Kyrie’s fingers gripped the banister and her body came into view, Sayo felt her wretched blood boiling beneath her thin, pale skin.

“Oh, my! Kyrie-sama, what are you doing over there?”

She pulled away faster than a lightning bolt, and relief flooded through Beatrice’s body. She straightened and pulled her hands away from her ears. Realizing she had been holding them, she cursed herself and pulled at her cumbersome dress. She peered out, wispy locks brushing against her cheeks and nose as she took in Kumasawa chuckling to herself.

“Rudolf-sama asked me to find you. He said there was something important he wanted to discuss.” She hummed and tapped her chin. “Hm, hm, what was it again? I believe he mentioned something about Ange-sama.”

“Ange?” Kyrie spoke her name as if hearing it for the first time only to shake her head. “Why? Is she okay?”

“Oh, do forgive me. I forgot what he said specifically.” Kumasawa gave a careless shrug of her shoulders.

When she bristled, Beatrice grinned. A small victory was better than nothing. She observed her retreating backside, how her hands clutched her elbows as she stomped towards the hall. Beatrice appeared from the shadows, folding her hands in front of her lap, knowing that if she had her pipe, she would have appeared far more threatening.

“And good evening, Beatrice-sama. I hope the mansion suits you well,” Kumasawa said as Kyrie stormed out of the room.

“I trust my bedroom is prepared?” she said, wishing her voice wouldn’t shake.

“Indeed. It is prepared to your liking.”

She grinned and quickly ascended the stairs, her footsteps matching the tone of Kyrie hurrying back into the foyer. She must have heard them, which was exactly what Beatrice hoped. Taking shelter in the corridor, she peered out as that devil missed her chance. As Kyrie glanced around, asking Kumasawa what was happening, she almost felt like she could kill her right then and there.

“Why, I was speaking with Beatrice-sama, of course. She was here, and I told her that her room was prepared.” Kumasawa stared at the spot where Beatrice once stood and let her gaze travel up the steps. “After all, she is always here.”

“That’s…” Kyrie pressed her middle finger and thumb together as if to turn the chessboard around, but she couldn’t. There wasn’t any logical answer she could think of to counter Kumasawa’s claim.

Her befuddled expression with her dinner plate eyes and slack-jawed mouth, it was too much humiliation for her to remain silent. Beatrice burst into laughter, her maniacal shrieks echoing throughout the mansion. Kyrie yelped, a squawking cry like a dying seagull, and it was the perfect note to end on with her cacophony of guffawing.

As Beatrice whisked herself away, Sayo slipped off her wig and dropped her head. Life really was too cruel to be kind. After all, even though she had a taste of vengeance, it wasn’t enough to quell the violent thoughts storming in her mind.

Chapter Text

Kanon pushed the trolley out to the rose garden. He stared ahead, his back as straight as a yardstick. He didn’t glance at the golden butterflies fluttering around him and focused on his task. The teapot, coaster, and lone teacup shook as he maneuvered the trolley down the cobblestone path to where she sat after a much needed break from arguing with her brother. As the witch sneered in his ear, daring him to douse her with the simmering tea, Kanon came to a stop in front of the arbor.

He bowed to the woman with her face resting in her gloved palm and said, “Eva-sama, I’ve brought your requested tea.”

Eva sighed and continued gazing at the rose garden. She waved her hand to dismiss him.

He pursed his lips. He knew what that gesture meant. Her tests were often cryptic and forced him to see beyond her looking glass. Unfortunately, Shannon fell victim to her wiles too often, but he learned from her errors and proceeded to pour Eva a cup of tea.

As he set the cup on the coaster, he noticed her raise an eyebrow at him. Deciding against asking if she needed anything else, Kanon rose up the steps and set the cup in front of her. He bowed once more and went back to his trolley, reminding himself of what else he needed to do.

“Kanon,” Eva interjected, her voice as sharp as a knife, and with his back to her, his lips twitched into a frown, “have you spoken with Shannon recently?”

He looked over his shoulder and set his hand over his heart. “I speak with Nee-san every day.”

She scoffed, a short puff of air slipping past her teeth. “Testy, are you?” She straightened and looped her fingers around the teacup. As the heat settled in her palm, she asked, “Have you spoken with Shannon about my George?”

Eva drummed her fingers on the table and waited for his reply. Her lips curled upwards in a sickeningly sweet smile. It was enough to make his skin crawl. Kanon tightened his grip on his uniform, sucked down a breath, and shook his head.

“I see. I guess siblings keep things from each other, too.” Eva chuckled and sipped her tea. Humming, she closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair. “What kind of tea is this?”

“Phoenix Oolong tea. There’s also a hint of honey in it.” He narrowed his eyes at the cup as Eva tilted her head back and swallowed the rest.

She sighed too loudly for his liking. Setting the cup on the coaster, she said, “Good, good. You’ve done your research compared to that furniture you have as a sister.”

“Nee-san is trying her best, and Gohda usually does not tell her what kind of tea he is making. Please excuse her,” he said, a bitter taste souring his tongue.

His excuse only made Eva’s brow furrow. She sat straighter in her seat and gestured for him to pour her a second cup. He tightened his grip around the teapot’s handle and evenly poured until the tea grazed the rim. Without a single drop splashed on the white tablecloth, he pulled away, bowed again, and hurried back to the trolley.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Eva called when he turned the trolley around. Like a snake clamping its jaw around a mouse, she snatched her fan and flipped it open. Holding it up to her mouth, Kanon saw her cheeks raise and eyes crinkle. “I haven’t finished speaking with you. It’s impolite for servants to leave without being dismissed. Haven’t you learned that from your sister?”

He refused to let his mask crack. Showing any sign of irritation or surprise would give Eva a clean victory. Unlike Shannon, who cowered and acknowledged her faults whenever Eva pointed them out, he would not back down. Giving in to someone like Eva made his blood boil and skin flush red hot, but his expression remained unchanged and his uniform shielded his weakness.

Turning around, Kanon stood with his hands folded across his stomach and asked, “Was there anything else you wanted of me, Eva-sama?”

She frowned, but it lasted only a second. He took her briefly disgruntled expression as a warning sign and stood his ground. As Eva waved her fan, he waited and anticipated the worst.

And yet, Eva merely sighed. She snapped her fan shut and set it back on the table. He expected hateful words to spew out from her, but her expression sagged with melancholy. Her shoulders drooped, and her gaze shifted to the shadows crossing the arbor as if lost in a memory, leaving Kanon uncertain of how to accept this sudden change.

“Ah, well, I was hoping she would have spoken with you. You two seem a lot closer than Nii-san and I were at your age.” She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I hope you two aren’t fighting. Are you?”

Her question left him uneasy. She never inquired about his relationships before. He was always professional and cordial, out of her sight unless needed. Adding a personal layer to the distant relationship they shared, it almost caused him to bite his tongue.

“No. Nee-san and I are doing well.” He cleared his throat and shuffled in place.

Eva crossed her arms and legs, her posture reminding Kanon of a queen leering down at her subject. “And if you’re doing well, then do you know anything about the date my George had with her?”

Somewhere, something cried. Whether it was one of the animals loose in the witch’s forest or Sayo’s imagination, something had cried. Sayo stared through Eva as the question lingered between them. An answer needed to be given, but not a single response seemed reasonable as Eva leaned forward.

“That’s…” He closed his eyes. “I am not privy to what my sister does during her free time. I am furniture, and I know my place.” He tucked his chin to his chest. “If Nee-san has stepped beyond the boundaries of furniture, then I am sorry for any harm she has caused.”

Eva did not reply. Silence settled between them once again, but he felt like he was being strangled. It was as if the silence had become sentient and wrapped its massive hands around his neck. While he didn’t resist, it choked the life out of him, and all he could hear was the blood rushing between his ears until Eva sighed.

“Well, I didn’t expect such an overly dramatic excuse,” she said and clipped a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Taking her teacup, she gingerly sipped and appeared to savor the light taste.

“If I may be curt, I was not excusing her. I know what she should and shouldn’t be doing.”

She raised her gaze back to him and said, “You really are the more responsible sibling. Knowing your place, maintaining a life that suits your kind perfectly.” Her dry cackle hit him square between his eyes. “I’d even prefer you as my son’s friend over that pitiful girl. You’d at least make a good butler for him when he’s too lazy to roll out of bed.”

Kanon grinded down on his molars. His quick wit, often used against the other maids, was dying to be used. He could think of hundreds of retorts to combat her cruel remarks, but he was furniture and not permitted to speak up. It was his destiny to remain in the background as the dust covered him until the destined day arrived even when it wasn’t anything that he wanted.

“You know, and I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Eva drawled, closing her eyes, “but I want my son to be happy. He’s a hard worker and a scholar. Sure, he’s a little pudgy right now, but he’ll work it off.” She cast a languid glance at her tea and seemed to watch her reflection shift in the liquid. “Even if he doesn’t appreciate how much effort I put in to his upbringing, he works as hard as his father.”

Her comments came off as a stark contrast to the Eva he knew. She was bold and resolute, refusing to back down until she got what she wanted. Her words were venomous, infecting the poor fool who dared challenged her, and he recalled many family conferences when Natsuhi would flee with tears threatening to spill down her rosy red cheeks because of her terrible bite.

While she had a tender side for her husband and son, she had never shown any care towards others. She treated him and Shannon like specks of dirt under her heels. Not even her own sister was spared from her wrath. Kind remarks would be twisted with a crueller meaning, and he had seen Maria suffer too many times by her mother’s hand all because of Eva’s cynical comments.

So, Sayo wasn’t sure what to make of this moment. It felt like an eternity would pass, but Eva would not wait forever. Once again, thoughts crossed and words formed dying to be spoken, but Sayo couldn’t find the strength to let them out.

Eva stood up and finished her tea. She gripped her fan and ambled over to Kanon. She fixed a few loose strands into her bun and said, “You can clean the mess. I have to get back to my husband before Krauss-nii-san convinces him to join him for another joint venture.”

He didn’t reply and bowed. As her shadow left him, Kanon was left with a vice clamped around his heart. He heard Beatrice cackle and Shannon hum to herself, both of them so entrenched in what would come that only he was left to bitterly accept the scheme. He glared over his shoulder at Eva, hoping the rest of them would never come next month, praying that the family conference would be delayed because this year, 1986, was when Sayo would end it all.

“Eva-sama, you should’ve been nicer to Shannon. You should’ve been nicer to us all,” he whispered and cleaned up her miss, his reflection obscured in the tea droplets.