Late at night, the soft light of the moon trickled past the draped curtains, diving through the dark only to illuminate the drunk figure curled beside the bed.
The night was a full moon, the time when the sky was the brightest and most beautiful. Julien's drunk eyes reflected the vast sea of stars, the light held within a mixture of pain and sadness.
It had been 15 years and yet, even till this day, he could still hear her voice; ever so soft, warm, and assuring.
"Little Brother, don't be afraid. Stand behind me, Sister will protect you."
Her warm breath brushed past his ears, her presence lingering, weak but sure, as if determined to haunt him for eternity.
"Close your eyes and don't move."
Julien hummed slowly. Like an obedient kid, he did as what he's told to. Closing his eyes, he recalled the tiny back that had stubbornly stood before him no matter what.
He remembered every tremble of her silhouette as she took each strike in his stead, every word she whispered in return to comfort his tears. She was so fragile and yet so strong.
She was just like a boulder, a boulder he thought would never break.
Julien shuddered, chills crawling down his spine like maggots as the entirety of his blood turned ice and pricking.
He curled himself into a ball, hissing at the pain of each prick against his skin until finally, a tear fell down his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of heat that only further fanned the burning hatred in his heart.
Julien could never wipe off the memory of her blood seeping through his fingers like sand. He could never forget the broken smile that had painted her bloodied face. But then,
"Don't cry."
He could feel her fingers brushing past his cheeks, as if intending to catch every drop of his pain and dissolve them into mist, as if they had never existed.
"I will be back so live on. Take care of yourself well… and wait for me."
Julien choked, opening his eyes once more to a world of endless darkness. It was only then did he realize. Her touch was forever devoid of any warmth.
She was never there. It's all but a part of his delusional mind. She would never be back.
His lips quivered, gaping and closing as if he was desperate for air and without any thought, his hand moved into the darkness to grab another drink, chugging it down his throat.
Julien could never forget. What more to forgive.
He would bring those monsters down, he would destroy them for sure. For even if it's not for himself, he should at least bring justice to the girl who had once held his hand and never let go, even at the cost of her life.
***
Sunday morning. The Sterling's House of Thorns.
Julien Sterling woke up to the flurried sound of knocks against his door. He raised a hand to support his throbbing head, groaning at the aftermath of his little sob party when the door was suddenly swung apart.
"Master, I've got bad news! Please pardon me–"
Julien frowned, both at the sudden intrusion of light and the shrill noise. He didn't remember voicing his permission yet. But then, he recognized the voice—it belonged to his most trusted attendant and right-hand man, Mario.
As light breached into the dark room, bringing what little hope and dreams into the whole space of depression, Mario strode in with a platter in his hand.
Despite the plain white rigid mask against his skin, Mario's figure was tall and lean. At times, he might even pass as one of those mysterious knights in shining armour from the movies, so full of charm and charisma. If only he wasn't born with a bitchy mouth.
"Sir, I've brought over your hangover cure. And also, I think you'll be adding another dead wife to the collection."
Julien Sterling had just climbed up the bedpost and received his bowl of hangover cure with one hand, downing them in big gulps, when he nearly choked at the attendant's careless words.
"What did you just say, Mario?"
Julien coughed, thinking that he might have heard him wrong, but Mario didn't hesitate to repeat himself with an even more impassive expression.
"Sir, the Madam has been attacked. It had been 4 hours since the incident happened and not one body, neither the assailants nor the victims, were found in the location—the team concluded that the madam was most probably dead by now, her corpse taken care of somewhere along the road." Mario ended his report.
A slight pause ensued, as if Julien had a hard time processing what he had just heard. But obviously, that wasn't true as Mario heard him sigh and mumble in a low voice.
"Again. Is it… the 15th?" Julien mouthed with uncertainty. Mario shook his head as if he had expected his master's confusion.
"It's the 17th Madam," Mario corrected. "Sir, should I inform the bride's family and arrange for the 17th Madam's funeral?"
Mario was still as impassive as ever. However, inwardly, he thought. They should be able to save quite a sum since they'll be holding the 15th, 16th, and 17th Madam's funeral together.
"Not yet." Julien voiced out his disagreement, his eyebrows frowning as he gave his orders, "First, we should at least retrieve the corpse to give the family a proper explanation. Although the Montclairs were a mere family of merchants, we can't afford to be careless and risk complicating the matter."
"Yes." Mario nodded. He was so trained in this that he almost knew what he should do next. Investigate, make a report, arrange amendments, and bear the blame for being a part of the cursed fourth household.
Another black pot to carry. When will this all end? Mario sighed, deprived in and out. Perhaps, only after his master gave up on the idea of getting a wife will his evil brothers finally relent and cut them some slack.
"Also, send more of our men to investigate the incident. I want the important details in one hour."
"Yes, yes…" Mario repeatedly nodded, as agreeable as a pecking chicken.
"Hand me a shirt."
"Yes—" Mario suddenly paused. That's not part of the routine. "May I ask if you're going out today, Sir?"
"I just need a breath of fresh air. Mario, the shirt." Julien reminded, his impatience deafening.
"Y-Yes! I'll clear the area for you, Sir!"
Mario scurried through the wardrobe. Behind him, he heard Julien spoke again, his voice low as a hum.
"No need, just make sure their masks are on. I don't wish to see any blood spilled."
Somehow, Mario felt the chills. The master seemed to be in an extremely bad mood today, the kind that would mercilessly strike once crossed. He should remind the others to pay extra attention.
Mario left with the important notice in mind.
Meanwhile, at this moment, a wild girl emerged from the shrubs near the gates of the Sterling's mansion.
Despite the sorry state of her appearance—the hems of her rag-like dress torn, hair a mess of bird nest, and face powdered with dust and mud—the girl stood confident before the castle-like huge estate, a bold thought crossing her mind as her grape-like eyes gleamed with unbound greed.
'If I successfully marry into the family, will this castle be mine?'