[Ronald's POV]
Every day had become a quiet dream.
I woke in a grand bed beneath silk sheets, sunlight slipping through velvet curtains like liquid gold. Breakfasts were warm and decadent, shared with my beautiful family. The days drifted by in an elegant rhythm—routine paperwork, cherished hours spent with my daughter, calm evenings that always ended in peace.
I grew used to it.
Time moved like still water.
Undisturbed. Unquestioned.
Until the morning everything changed.
When I awoke, my body felt heavy—sluggish, like every bone inside me had grown older overnight. The ache settled in deep, an unwelcome weight.
'It didn't feel like this yesterday.'
A soft knock, then the butler entered with his usual crisp bow.
"Good morning, Master. How are you feeling today?"
It took effort just to sit up. My bones protested as I pushed myself upright, letting out a sigh that felt older than I was. "A bit lethargic, I suppose."
A faint line creased his otherwise expressionless face. "I shall inform the Madam and call for Doctor Stone. Please rest well in the meantime."
I nodded, and he turned to leave. But just as he reached the door, I caught it—a flicker at the edge of my vision. A smile. Not warm, not kind. A quiet, curling smirk that vanished when I blinked.
I lay back down, uneasy.
'That expression… Did I imagine it? Surely he wouldn't smile at something like this.'
Still, I forced myself to dismiss the thought.
Half an hour later, a soft knock at the door.
"Master, Doctor Stone has arrived."
"Come in."
The butler stepped aside, revealing Doctor Stone—familiar leather case in hand, professional smile right where I expected it.
His examination was swift. "Just a common cold," he said with that reassuring calm. "You'll recover with rest. I'll leave you some medication."
He handed the medicine to the butler, offered me a polite bow, and left.
After that, I took the medicine as instructed. Doctor Stone returned every week to check my progress. My body improved, or so it seemed. But each visit, the doctor left more supplements—"To strengthen your immune system," he'd say. At first, I refused—I know my own health. But the butler's persistence chipped away at me.
"Doctor Stone has looked after you since your youth," he said. "He knows your constitution better than anyone."
I relented.
The days slid back into that gentle routine—soft, quiet, gilded at the edges. But the unease clung to me like a shadow I couldn't shake. A distant storm on the horizon, always threatening to break.
Then, one day, the butler asked for leave—his family had summoned him, he said. His eyes were sincere, the urgency real. I granted it without question.
He left in haste.
Moments later, the stillness of the mansion shattered.
"Mr. Lerrington! Mr. Lerrington!"
A voice cracked through the halls like thunder. I rushed to the lobby, heart pounding, only to find Doctor Stone—coat askew, hair disheveled, eyes wide with panic. The guards surrounded him as if he were an intruder, but he clung to one desperately.
"Please," he begged, voice raw, "I must see the master!"
I waved the guards aside. "Doctor, what's wrong?"
"It's urgent. We must speak—alone."
I nodded, my pulse thundering in my ears. "Follow me."
As we walked to my office, I leaned toward one of the guards. "Inform me when the butler is back."
Inside the office, the moment the door shut behind us, Doctor Stone dropped to his knees like a man who'd seen death.
Alarm prickled my spine. I pulled him to a chair. "Doctor, what is it? What happened?"
He met my eyes—then looked away, shame carving deep lines into his face.
"I've wronged you, sir," he whispered, voice cracking. "You are a kind man. That's why I must tell you the truth."
I held my breath.
"That butler… No—that demon—he's after your life."
The words struck like ice down my spine. "My life? What are you saying?"
He clutched the chair so tightly his knuckles whitened. "A month before you fell ill, he came to me. He threatened me—forced me to create a catalyst. He's been poisoning you slowly—subtly—for years."
"Years?" The word left my mouth hollow. "But… why?"
"I don't know. He never said. But whatever he's planning—it's monstrous."
A knock at the door.
"Master, the butler has returned."
Doctor Stone froze. His eyes darted to mine, brimming with terror. "He mustn't know I'm here."
I moved quickly, leading him to the hidden panel behind the office pillar. "There's a passage here. It leads outside. He doesn't know it exists."
"Thank you," he rasped. "Be careful."
He vanished into the hidden path. I closed it softly, heart hammering like a drum in my ribs.
The knock came again.
"Come in."
The butler stepped inside—his composure untouched, that same calm mask in place. "Master, I've returned. Thank you for allowing me the leave."
I forced a tired smile. "As long as your family is well. Now, I must get back to work."
He bowed and left—silent, like a knife sliding back into its sheath.
Only when he was gone did I allow my shoulders to slump.
'If what Doctor Stone said is true… I'm already a dead man walking.'
That night, I woke up with my throat dry as sandpaper.
'Ugh… I'm parched.'
I reached for the water jug on my bedside table. Empty.
'Should I call a maid? No. Let them rest. It's only water.'
I pushed myself up—legs heavy, footsteps soft on the cold floor. Every creak of the wood, every whisper of wind beyond the windows made my heart drum harder.
'I wish Llyne were here…'
I passed the drawing room and froze. A sliver of light spilled from under the door.
Curiosity—or something darker—pulled me closer.
Inside, the butler stood alone. His voice—low, muttering—broke the stillness. The table before him was littered with parchment etched in symbols that pulsed with an eerie glow.
"With this," he murmured, "my plan will be complete. Once that foolish master dies, I shall use this inscription to take over his body… and become the new master of this mansion."
My mind reeled.
'My body? Possession?'
A cold dread crawled up my spine.
'He's not human. He's the spirit from the diary. He killed the real butler—he wants to take me next.'
A wave of dizziness hit me. My knees buckled—I collapsed with a soft thud.
The butler's head snapped around. "Who's there?"
Panic surged. I crawled, dragging myself behind a suit of armor by the wall.
Footsteps approached—soft, deliberate. I held my breath, hands over my mouth.
He stopped. I heard the faint scrape of metal as he reached for the helmet.
Then—a mouse darted across the floorboards.
The butler turned sharply, sneering. "Hmph. Just a mouse."
He drifted away, muttering to himself.
I stayed frozen, every heartbeat hammering behind my ribs.
When the hall fell silent, I slipped into the kitchen, hands shaking as I poured myself a glass of water. The cup rattled against the basin as I set it down.
Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed, breathing ragged.
"I'm going to be killed at this rate…"
I covered my face, the fear pressing heavy on my chest.
'If Llyne were here… she'd know what to do.'
But the rush of adrenaline faded, replaced by that familiar, suffocating exhaustion. My limbs sank into the mattress. My mind fogged.
It felt like a spell—old, binding, merciless.
Sleep dragged me under before I could resist.