Five minutes passed. Still not hearing any sounds from inside, she hesitantly pushed the door open slightly. Through the narrow gap, she looked inside—only to find no one there.
Then, her gaze dropped to the bed—the pink bed—where a boy now lay.
For two minutes, she did nothing, simply watching in silence.
A cold wind blew through the hallway, brushing against her bare skin, making her shiver.
She hesitated before stepping inside, deciding she would just grab her clothes and leave immediately.
Moving cautiously, she made her way to the wardrobe, ensuring each step was silent. As she reached for the door, she opened it slowly—
Creak~
No... she froze. Had he heard that?
Fearfully, she turned to look at the bed—only to see him still sleeping.
Letting out a quiet breath, she quickly dressed. Just as she was about to leave, something caught her attention—his hair.
White.
She stopped, staring in confusion. His hair was white—completely different from the black hair she remembered.
She didn't understand. Why?
Curiosity got the better of her. Even though girls knew that the unknown could be dangerous, they still pursued it—for curiosity, for thrill. It was in their nature to be drawn to the unknown, despite the risks.
Stepping closer to the bed, she observed him carefully.
The boy lay on his stomach, his right cheek visible. His white hair was in stark contrast to the black he had before. His skin, now healthy and fair, was unlike the pale complexion she remembered.
His eyes were closed, leaving her unable to see their color.
Doubt crept into her mind. Was he even the same man who had molested and humiliated her?
Thinking of that, her eyes turned cold.
Her hand rose, mana surging at her fingertips. A fiery red glow formed in her palm, intensifying into deep crimson flames. The air thickened with heat.
The fire was so strong that a nearby table, covered in books, began to smolder, the edges curling as they caught fire.
She was moments away from releasing the flames—to burn him, to reduce to ashes the man who had violated her body and mind.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
A knock at the door.
Her mind snapped back to reality.
Her eyes widened. Looking at the flames in her hand, she quickly extinguished them.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
She hurried to the window, opening it to let the scorching air escape, allowing the cool breeze to flow in.
Then she said, "Come in."
The door opened, and a maid entered the room.
She bowed slightly and asked, "Miss Cassandra, are you okay?"
"Yes," Cassandra replied.
"I was passing by and felt heat coming from here, so I came to check."
"Oh no, there's nothing."
The maid's eyes flickered to the slightly burned table but didn't comment on it.
Then her gaze landed on the boy sleeping on the bed.
"Young Master…"
Her eyes widened as she hurried toward the bed, staring at his sleeping face.
Beside her, Cassandra froze. Young Master?
"Young Master?" she repeated, stunned.
The maid nodded. "Ah, yes. This is our Young Master… but… why is he here?"
Young Master… Cassandra's mind reeled. Does this mean… he's Anne's brother? The same cute, innocent brother she's always talked about?
Impossible.
How… how could her baby brother be this rascal? That… that bloody demon…
"Are you sure he's your Young Master?" Cassandra asked, her voice uncertain.
The maid nodded again. "Yes, I'm sure. I saw him just a while ago in the hall, talking to Miss Anne."
She hesitated before adding, "He said he was going to his room to sleep since he was tired… Ahhh… I remember now! This room actually belongs to him whenever he visits the capital."
Cassandra's breath hitched.
"But before you arrived, Miss Anne told us to repaint it pink and had you move in here."
"Oh… I see."
So, this room was originally his. And he came here to sleep.
But… what happened before? He wasn't sleeping. And his hair…
Right now, it matched Anne's, but earlier… it was black.
Come to think of it… this was the first time she had ever seen someone with black hair. She had only heard of a special family with black hair—one that signified a rare genetic heritage.
What was the name again?
Ah… the Ashblake Family.
Could he be related to them?
But Anne never mentioned any connection to the Ashblake Family.
I need to ask her about this…
And another thing—why was I given this room? If this room was his, why did Anne move me here?
All of this… it all started because of that…
"Miss?"
Cassandra snapped out of her thoughts. "Ah, yes. I don't know… When I came back from my bath, he was already here, sleeping."
"Oh, I see…"
The maid glanced at the boy again. "I should wake Young Master up."
"No, no. Let him sleep. It's not a problem for me. And since he said he was tired, it wouldn't be right to wake him up."
The maid smiled. "Ah… Thank you for your understanding, Miss."
"You can use any other room for the time being if you'd like."
The maid bowed slightly and walked away.
Cassandra let out a deep breath, settling into a chair.
She took a refreshing inhale, then exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting toward his sleeping face.
Calm. Peaceful.
Yet, her mind was anything but.