Lady Miriam, with the little savings she had left, opened a humble apothecary to raise her daughter.
The official positions held by the second branch were absorbed by the Great House.
Lady Miriam's days grew harder.
Gerard became more arrogant, abusing his position, sending thugs to harass her apothecary.
His wife, Lady Wilhelmina, was no friend either, constantly mocking, fanning strife among sisters-in-law, and cutting wages whenever possible.
The Great House prospered.
They had seized the Ravenswood legacy.
And three years ago, Lady Miriam succumbed to illness, worn out by hardship.
"Hmph."
Lady Wilhelmina let out a cold laugh, her crimson lips curling into a thin, mocking smile. "I hear you've been spreading rumors behind my back, claiming I withhold your wages? You've got some nerve."
Mock her for extravagance?
She wouldn't take the bait.
Changing the subject, she fired back.
"The Ravenswood family's allowances are divided into three ranks , high, middle, and low. Those born of the Great House's main line earn the top tier: fifty silver crowns. Cadet branches, if their talents in the martial arts are exceptional, get a middle allowance of ten silver. The lowest, five silver crowns, go to those who contribute nothing. Young Lady Zyra, you're neither of the main line nor skilled in cultivation , who else should receive the lowest?"
Her voice dripped with scorn.
A thin-skinned person might have sunk into the floor in shame.
But who was Zyra?
A four-thousand-year-old demon lord, Bai Ze, living in seclusion, did not care for the petty human intrigues. She knew only this woman twisted facts with practiced skill.
"The Great House is the main line?"
Zyra struck back bluntly, "Legitimate heir?"
Wilhelmina's smile froze, her haughty mask cracking in an instant.
She had been struck at her most vulnerable point.
No matter how hard she tried, the Great House was born from a stable maid's line. The cadet branches , the second and third , were the true bloodline of the Ravenswoods, born of the chancellor's lawful wife.
Bloodline was innate, no amount of scheming could change it.
"How is the Great House not legitimate? The future of the Ravenswoods rests with them! Surely not with you , a 'waste' without an energy core , or that blind, sickly uncle of yours!" Wilhelmina's voice sharpened, her control slipping.
"Our heirs deserve the highest allowances! My husband will soon be promoted , Minister of Treasury, the most powerful office in the four ministries!"
Zyra didn't even bother to raise an eyelid.
There's an old saying: those who feel inferior always shout the loudest.
That described Wilhelmina perfectly.
The Minister of Treasury, who controlled the entire kingdom's wealth, was a prize many factions eyed. It wasn't something to flaunt before it was certain.
Wilhelmina was dragging Gerard down with her foolish boasting.
\[Master, shall I teach her a lesson?]
The rabbit demon beside Zyra twitched its whiskers, its red eyes gleaming as it asked silently.
\[No need.]
Zyra declined.
Time was nearly ripe.
The moment Wilhelmina stepped into the manor, ready to cause trouble, Zyra's counterattack was already set in motion.
As the foremost demon healer of the realm, Bai Ze's poison techniques were unparalleled.
No contact needed.
No medium required.
Poison could be administered remotely, silently, without detection , until its effects deepened.
"What... is this itching?"
Wilhelmina suddenly scratched at the left side of her cheek.
Her skin no longer felt smooth and soft, but prickly , as if a coarse fur had sprouted.
Lady Wilhelmina was startled.
Though she was well into her thirties, she took great care of her appearance, and looked no older than twenty-seven or twenty-eight. She was meticulous about her skin, no blemishes, no freckles tolerated, let alone a sudden growth of thick "fur" on her cheek.
Yet the more she scratched, the worse the itching became.
Then came a horrifying sight,
With each scratch, several fine, white, translucent hairs fell from her cheek.
"What is this?" she gasped, eyes wide with terror, her voice rising into a sharp shriek, "What in God's name is this?"
The steward, Oswin, standing nearby, dared to take a closer look.
His face drained of color as he muttered in disbelief, "This can't be… my lady, you're growing rabbit fur all over your face!"
A dense layer, like the first tender shoots of spring, sprouted with vibrant life.
At first, only a few hairs appeared, but soon they grew as long as a fingernail, with no sign of stopping.
"Milady!"
Wilhelmina clutched her face in horror, frantically shouting at Oswin, "Fool! Run! Summon the physician at once!"
Without another thought for Lady Zyra or her mission, she dashed out of the manor, covering her face with her wide sleeves as she fled toward the Great House.
Her panicked flight, trying to hide her face, was bound to cause an accident.
No more than a hundred yards from the manor, she collided headlong into a tall, strikingly handsome young man nearly six feet two inches tall.
He was dressed all in black, his aura cold and forbidding, his chiseled features carved as if from ice.
It was none other than Morven , Zyra's loyal and icy attendant , just returning from a small gathering with friends.
"Pardon… pardon me," Wilhelmina stammered hurriedly, not even recognizing who he was.
She merely sensed his noble bearing and assumed he was some distinguished guest visiting the household.
With her husband's prospects rising, many such noble visitors came by, and she wasn't well acquainted enough to call them by name, so she chose humility and apologized profusely, better safe than sorry.
Morven's dark eyes held a deep, inscrutable calm as he spoke with measured doubt:
"Lady Wilhelmina?"
Wilhelmina's body stiffened.
His voice was unmistakable, the deep, refined, cold timbre that struck the heart like a flute in the moonlight, once heard, never forgotten.
She realized with a jolt that this tall man was no visiting noble, but the famed cold attendant of Lady Zyra.
"No! You've mistaken me! I'm not her!" she blurted, desperate to deny.
Could she have been more humiliated?