Butler Adrian was trimming the hedges by the garden. Sunlight filtered through the leaves onto his graying hair. He still wore his impeccable black uniform, every movement precise and composed, as if the passing of time had no effect on him.
I watched him for a moment before approaching. Something about his composure always unsettled me—it was too measured, too still.
"Butler Adrian," I asked cautiously, "I haven't seen my father lately. Where is he?"
His smile faltered for a heartbeat. Not enough for most to notice, but I did.
He recovered quickly, the same gentle warmth returning to his face. "The master is often away," he said with practiced ease. "His affairs take him across many places. He rarely stays in the mansion for long."
"I see," I said, then added, "What about my mother? Where is she?"
This time, the pause was longer. Butler Adrian blinked once, then turned his gaze to me with a faint trace of confusion or maybe even disbelief. "Have you… forgotten?" he asked. "Madam has been resting upstairs all along. Surely you knew that."
"Of course I know," I replied at last. I held his gaze. "I just… want to see her."
His expression didn't shift, but the corners of his mouth dropped slightly. He bowed his head respectfully. "I'm sorry, young master. Madam needs her rest. Her condition doesn't allow for visitors."
"Not even for a moment?" I pressed. My voice was quiet, but firm.
Butler Adrian said nothing. He simply lowered his gaze again.
I felt Qin Yan's eyes on me, and I turned slightly to meet them. There was no need for words. We both understood.
That refusal—respectful as it was—wasn't meant to protect her. It was meant to keep us out.
There was something in that room they didn't want anyone to see. And now, I was certain it had nothing to do with rest.
We didn't argue further. I nodded politely, thanked Adrian in a near whisper, and turned to leave with Qin Yan beside me.
Our steps echoed against the stone pathway as we walked back toward the central hall. The air had shifted—cooler now, with a bite of wind that slipped through the ivy-covered walls of the old estate.
The sun had begun its descent behind the estate's silhouette, casting long shadows that reached for our heels like fingers from the earth.
"I don't believe him," I said finally, voice low.
"You think she's not sick?" Qin Yan asked.
"I don't even know if she's there," I muttered.
We reached the main steps. I hesitated, turning my head back once more toward the upper floor. From here, I could just make out the window Adrian must have meant. The curtains didn't move. No light leaked through. It was a void.
"We'll go tonight," I whispered. "We have to."
Qin Yan didn't argue. He rarely did. But his hand brushed against his pocket where he always kept a small folding knife. He understood.
"We'll wait until it's late enough. No eyes."
"Let's head back to the hall," I said. "We'll regroup with the others."
Night was closing in like a silent curtain, slowly swallowing the mansion. And now, we had one more door to open. One that was locked not with keys, but with secrets.