"This is your room," the maid said, pointing to the room that had been prepared for Rein.
Entering, Rein was amazed by its design. Everything matched her taste.
The walls were painted in a deep royal blue—her favorite color. Cool and calming, yet rich enough to make the space feel important. The bed was massive, draped in dark silks, with a sturdy wooden frame carved with simple but elegant designs. There were no flashy golds or overwhelming frills—just soft fabrics, warm lighting, and a quiet kind of luxury. A low-burning candle filled the room with the faint scent of lavender.
Seeing the amazement in her eyes, the maid spoke. "It was the Fourth and Fifth Masters that designed the room. According to them, 'The mother of their child must get the best,'" she continued, her voice filled with pride.
Though she tried to hide it, Rein could still sense the jealousy radiating from her.
"Where are they?" she asked, curious. She had not yet laid her eyes on the remaining brothers and was eager to know who they were.
"They were sent out to do something for First Master. They will be back tomorrow," the maid replied. "It is time to have your bath. Let me prepare the water," she continued before stepping into the bathroom, followed by Rein.
"Where is the other maid?" Rein asked, finally noticing the absence and wondering where she was.
"Oh, Vessa? She was called by the master," the maid answered while preparing the water. She opened the tap on the bathtub and added essential oils—lavender and rose—for scent. "I am done."
"Thank you," Rein said, her voice nonchalant but sincere. She had always appreciated little gestures. She was about to strip off her clothes when she noticed the maid still standing there. "You can leave. I want to pull off my clothes," she said bluntly, noting the maid's reluctance to leave.
"I am sorry, Ma'am, but it is my job as the maid to take care of your needs," the maid said.
"But I do not need any help bathing," Rein replied.
"I am not a child."
As the maid was about to argue, a soft knock echoed through the room, followed by a click of the door.
"Ahh, I wonder who that is!?" Rein asked, rolling her eyes.
The door creaked open, revealing Fred standing tall, arms folded, with his usual cold expression.
Seeing him, the maid bowed respectfully.
"What happened this time around?" Rein muttered, surprised to see the one person she never expected in her room.
"I heard some argument outside," he said coldly, stepping into the room as though it belonged to him. His gaze settled on Rein. "Why do you not want the maid to give you a bath?"
Rein crossed her arms, glaring at him.
"I am capable of washing myself—shocking as that may be to you."
Fred's lips twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. "You are a guest in this house. It is customary for the staff to attend to your needs."
"Guest?" Rein scoffed. "More like a baby maker."
Fred walked further in, his boots silent on the polished floor. "Rein, let us not test my patience. If you want to live comfortably in this place, try cooperating."
Rein sat back on the edge of the bed, defiant. "You can take your cooperation and shove it—" she sneered afterwards.
Fred held up a hand, silencing her. "Enough. You will be bathed—whether by your own hands or the maid's. But if you insist on arguing, I will stay and supervise myself." Saying that, he walked to the bed, planning to sit down.
Rein's eyes widened in shock. "You would not dare."
A ghost of a smirk flickered across his face. "Try me." He said, folding his arms like he was ready to watch a show.
Having no choice, she sighed. "Fine, you can leave," she said, pointing to the door.
Tsk.
"It is such a pity," Fred said with a disappointed face before striding to the door. He was about to pull the handle when he paused.
"Before I forget—do not get involved in things you are not supposed to be involved in," he said before walking out and shutting the door behind him with a click.
"Did he know? But how did he know?" Rein asked herself, a little anxious and curious if he had discovered she had tried to escape and gotten lost in that eerie hallway.
The maids will show you the rooms you are not allowed to enter.
The voice echoed in Rein's head.
"Oh, that is the room he was talking about," the warning clicked in Rein's head.
I wonder what is hidden in that room.
"Miss, are you ready?" the maid asked, seeing Rein lost in thought. She was a little jealous that Rein had the opportunity to be bathed by someone yet rejected it.
"Oh." Rein was so engrossed in thinking that she had forgotten the real issue—how was she going to cope with being bathed by someone? She might have been used to dressing a little revealing on Earth, but being completely naked was another matter. Still, she had no choice.
"Okay, but please step outside. Let me strip off my clothes first," she ordered.
"Okay," the maid said, leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind her.
"Here goes nothing," Rein whispered before pulling off the men's shirt she wore. She had even forgotten she was dressed in Rohan's clothes.
"I wonder why Fred did not look at me weirdly," she mused, then shook her head, remembering his cold face.
Done with undressing, she stepped into the bathtub, the water enveloping her fully.
"You can come in now," Rein said, no longer apprehensive.
"Okay, Ma'am," the maid replied, opening the door and walking towards her.
"Mmm," she moaned, feeling the warm water ease her tense nerves. "I really went on an adventure," she mused, remembering everything that had happened. "And it all happened in one day."
The maid squeezed liquid soap onto the sponge, added water, and began bathing her—going a little too far and attempting to clean her intimate area.
"Where are you going?" Rein gasped. "I can clean that myself," she said, her face flushing red. Her mother had been the only person to ever bathe or touch her there.
Once done, the maid brought her a towel and dried her off before leading her to the closet to choose a nightwear.
Rein could not hide her amazement at the walk-in closet. Her eyes sparkled—it was filled with all kinds of clothes for the rich, though not all suited her taste. Captivated, she walked further in, touching the rich materials of the garments.
In her last life, one of the reasons Rein worked so hard was to afford expensive clothes—for herself, and for the money.
She loved herself some money.
Tired of exploring the closet, she picked the nightwear she felt was best. With the maid's help, she wore it, and after the maid was done, she walked out.
"Ahh, finally I can relax," Rein exhaled, exhausted, throwing herself onto the comfy bed.
She was about to sleep when her eyes landed on a familiar, worn-out bag sitting on the bedside table. Her brows furrowed.
"I forgot it in the carriage," she murmured, picking it up. The texture was rough, and the clasp slightly rusted. She remembered the old man who had handed it to Rohan, who had then thrown it to her, insisting it belonged to her.
She blinked drowsily, her fingers loosening on the strap. "I will check it tomorrow," she yawned, curling up as the room dimmed into silence.
....
The moon hung high, casting a pale glow through the tall windows of the estate. Inside one of the upper rooms, Fred stood by the tall glass pane, a glass of red wine in hand—untouched. His expression was unreadable—blank, save for the subtle tension in his jaw.
A knock.
He did not turn. "Enter."
The door opened with a slight creak as Jake stepped in. He did not bother with pleasantries.
Fred glanced sideways. "I did not summon you."
Jake closed the door behind him with a click. "You did not have to. We need to talk," he said nonchalantly.
Fred finally turned around, his gaze sharp. "About what?"
Not wasting any time, Jake said, "I saw the woman meant to bear an heir for us."
"Oh," Fred replied, though he already knew—he had heard from the maid.
Jake continued. "I saw her. Watched her. She was standing near the door. I think she was lost."
Fred's gaze darkened. "So you watched her open the door?"
"No. She only touched it," Jake replied calmly, crossing his arms. "I stopped her before she could open it fully. But that is not the point."
Fred's grip on his glass tightened. "Then what is?"
"She was wearing a male shirt. It had Rohan's scent on it," Jake said, watching Fred's face carefully.
But there was no reaction. No confusion. No surprise. No suspicion. As though Fred already knew.
"Oh," Fred said quietly.
"Rohan told me she had nothing to wear except lingerie," he explained calmly.
"Oh, no wonder," Jake replied, the confusion in his expression easing. He had been shocked to see her in Rohan's clothes. Remembering another detail, he added, "She almost pushed the door open and whispered, 'Why does this marking look familiar?' which was strange since it was her first time seeing it."
Fred looked up. "Did she say anything else?"
Jake shook his head. "Just that the symbol felt familiar. She brushed it off like it was nothing, but I saw the look in her eyes. She tried to hide it, but it was recognition—even if she could not name it."
Fred returned to the window, staring out into the darkness. "No one has been able to open that door in decades. Not even me."
"Maybe that is the point," Jake said in a low voice. "Maybe it was never meant for you."
That made Fred turn.
The two men stared at each other—one calm and observant, the other sharp and tightly wound.
Fred's voice was colder now. "Then we need to find out what is behind it. And what she has to do with it."
Jake smirked faintly. "Glad we agree on something."
Fred picked up his glass again. This time, he took a sip.