We arrived at the mansion by nightfall, where Miss Emily, the butler, and the other maids and servants awaited us outside. They welcomed us warmly, but I couldn't ignore the faint distance and sympathy in their expressions. Did they see the broadcast as well? It didn't matter either way.
Everyone quickly returned to their duties, and the butler escorted me to my father's study. Once there, I began rifling through documents, letters, and pictures—anything remotely connected to the Annual Vamp Festival that my father had left behind. I searched relentlessly, but nothing seemed to add up. Frustration bubbled within me, and the panic on my face must have been evident, prompting the butler to break the tense silence.
"Lord Kernes was a great man," he began softly. "You've probably heard the story of how he saved me back then. From that day forward, I swore to serve him with unwavering loyalty and to support his ambitions. His loss is immeasurable to us all. Forgive me for being so forward, my lord, but you're not the only one grieving. Every single person here feels the weight of his absence. Your parents treated all of us with love and respect, and their passing has left a void in our lives.
"But more than anything, I beg you to remember this: Lord Kernes would never want to see his son consumed by anger and despair. We all mourn alongside you, but now, as the new head of this family, you carry the responsibility of leading us forward. Please, do not make choices that would tarnish the legacy your father built."
His words hit me like a wave, and my mind began to clear. He was right. Revenge couldn't be my sole focus—it could harm our family's name. I had inherited not just the duty to avenge my parents but also the responsibility to guide this family toward a better future. I looked down at my hands and smiled faintly. "Now I see why Father trusted you so much."
The butler continued, his voice firm. "That said, the people who committed this atrocity don't deserve to live. And as the butler of this mansion—no, as your father's closest friend—I beg you to let me take care of the dirty work. I'll do whatever it takes to find those responsible, even if it means staining my own hands. You focus on leading this family while I help you get the justice you seek."
He raised his voice with conviction, and I placed a hand on his shoulder. He met my gaze with unwavering determination.
"Alright then," I said. "From this day forward, you are my right-hand man in avenging my parents, Adam."
A chuckle escaped him as he stood. "My lord, you've called me 'Butler' since you were a child. From now on, call me by my name."
"Alright then, Adam."
Adam's POV
I know he's still just a child, but why does it feel like I've made a pact with the devil? The way his white hair and crimson eyes glowed in the moonlight gave him an otherworldly presence—something straight out of an anime.
The next morning, I was jolted awake by an excruciating pain in my chest. My eyes shot open to find Iris sitting on top of me, her fist clenched.
"Did you just punch me?!" I yelled, clutching my chest. It felt like she'd broken a rib.
"And what if I did? Get over it—it's your fault anyway," she scoffed.
"My fault? How the hell is this my fault?"
"Sophia's been trying to wake you up for ten minutes. She started getting all…lovey-dovey, so I had to step in. And hey, it worked, didn't it?"
"Wait—you can take over whenever you want?"
"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly, "but there's a catch."
"And that is?"
"I can't hold this form for long. Your sister's a stubborn host, so I can only take over when she's unconscious." She gestured to her trembling hands. "Anyway, I did what I came to do, so I'm outta here… Wait, why is my hand moving?"
Before she could react, her hand slapped her own face. Iris's long white hair began to shorten and turn red, and within moments, Sophia returned, blushing furiously.
"I-I'm so sorry for everything Iris said!" she stammered, bowing her head. She tried to climb off my bed, but her hair lengthened and whitened again. Iris was back, fuming.
"A mortal like you dares to slap me?!" she bellowed. "I'll show you who's boss!"
To my disbelief, she punched herself in the face, fell off the bed, and began arguing with herself. For the next few minutes, red and white flashes alternated as insults flew back and forth until, finally, the figure before me settled.
She had long, curly hair that was a mix of light pink and faint streaks of red, Sophia's face with black markings running from her left shoulder to her wrist, resembling ancient script.
I blurted out the only question on my mind: "Who exactly are you right now—Sophia or Iris?"