The vast room lay stretched in hollow silence, an emptiness so complete that every sound seemed sharpened—the winter wind whispering beyond the window, the slow collapse of burning logs within the hearth, the deliberate ticking of the clock as it carved time into fragments.
It was, in a way, a gentle peace.
To curl beside the fire in winter, with another soul nearby… even time itself appeared to slow, as though unwilling to disturb the quiet.
And in the end, the stillness deepened—like a sea too silent to be touched.
Lloyd sank into the sofa, his gaze resting on the girl by the window.
Dusk had already begun to gather, yet no lamps were lit. The dim light spilling in from outside blurred her outline, leaving her half-swallowed by shadow.
"It's been a long time since we had this,"
Selu murmured, a faint smile brushing her lips.
"Ever since I became the heir… we haven't really been like this, have we?"
Lloyd paused, thinking.
"You mean that time we were holed up in the cargo hold, vomiting our souls out?"
The journey back to Inlveg had been anything but kind. Lloyd had struggled just to secure two tickets, and though they had shared a similar quiet then, it was born not of peace—but of relentless seasickness.
Selu couldn't help but laugh softly at that.
To her, it was a rare, warm memory.
To Lloyd… it was not something he wished to relive.
"What kind of guest is it?"
Lloyd asked, breaking the fragile stillness.
"A guest who will… surprise you greatly."
There was a trace of mischief in her tone. She seemed to enjoy watching him stumble.
"Aren't you a detective?" she teased. "Use that miraculous reasoning of yours."
Lloyd glanced at her, sprawled lazily across the sofa like a half-asleep hound.
This man was like fog—you never quite knew from which angle he would reveal something unexpected.
"That's not reasoning, Selu," he said with a faint shake of his head.
"Just deception. Refined deception."
In truth, he was no great detective.
Only a man whose tricks were convincing enough to make others believe he was.
"Then why not keep using those tricks?"
Selu turned to look at him.
There was no extra light in the room, yet her azure eyes seemed to glow faintly—like the eyes of a beast, catching and reflecting the dark.
"You always find a way to deceive people into giving you what you want."
She held his gaze.
"Just like when you deceived me… told me you were my cousin, that you'd come to take me home."
Years ago, on a winter's day, Lloyd had spoken those very words.
And the girl had lowered her guard… and followed him.
It had been a meeting shaped by fate.
When you believe yourself alone, lost in endless gray—
and suddenly, someone reaches out a hand.
"Deception," Lloyd replied calmly,
"is about timing… and perspective."
"I taught you that."
During that not-so-long journey, whether to pass the time, to make things easier for himself, or to give her a means of survival—he had taught her many strange and questionable things.
"Yes," Selu said softly.
"Deception that convinces."
She was good at it.
Perhaps even better than him—especially with that uncanny ability of hers to see through the human heart.
"So back then…"
Her voice rippled through the silence like a stone cast upon still water.
"You were deceiving me too… weren't you?"
"Deception," Lloyd began slowly,
"is not just the craft of the deceiver. It also requires the cooperation of the one being deceived. And making someone play along… is never easy."
"Unless," Selu continued,
"you know exactly what they want."
Lloyd picked up her thought seamlessly.
Like a grieving woman whose husband had gone to war, his fate unknown—
the most effective lie is one that hides the answer within its words.
Because that is what she longs to hear.
The human mind protects itself.
Sometimes, even when one knows something is a lie… they will still choose to believe it—
if only to ease the weight within.
Selu, and Madam Vanrud, were perfect examples.
An elderly woman living alone… surely she longed for the warmth of younger company.
Selu found that longing precisely—like a cunning fox.
Perhaps Madam Vanrud understood it all.
But like a silent, shared performance—
a fleeting dream—
she chose to indulge in it, unwilling to wake.
"Yes," Selu said.
"To make a wary person trust you enough to leave with you… that is the finest deception."
For a helpless beggar child,
care that never existed… becomes the most perfect lie.
Her tone was calm, her expression frozen in that same distant cold.
You could never tell what passed behind her eyes.
Like a traveler freezing to death in the wilderness—
even if you deceive him, he will not care, so long as it keeps the cold at bay.
"…Are you angry?"
Lloyd asked cautiously.
The moment he had first seen her, he knew she would be trouble.
He had only wanted to quiet her down.
To him, it had been an insignificant lie.
"Lloyd… you really are an unexpected man."
Selu did not answer directly.
She turned her gaze to the world beyond the window.
The dusk of Old Dunling was always breathtaking—
dark clouds dyed a burning orange-red by the setting sun, stretching endlessly toward the horizon,
countless plumes of smoke rising from chimneys like pillars holding up the sky itself.
"How so?"
Lloyd replied lightly, already searching for a way to change the subject.
He had never been good at these… adolescent, complicated conversations.
He reached for a dessert nearby, trying to relax.
At least here, food and drink were plentiful.
"You still haven't realized it?"
Selu said, her eyes locking onto him once more.
"What are you talking about?"
He lowered the dessert he had been about to eat, confusion flickering alongside curiosity.
She did not continue the previous thread.
Instead, she shifted.
"Human emotion," she said, almost casually, as if commenting on an exhibit.
"You're smiling now… but it's just a mask."
"Underneath it—there's nothing but a cold machine."
"You know that girl, Eve… don't you?"
The one who had saved him.
During the confrontation with Archbishop Lawrence, it had been clear—they knew each other.
"…Yes."
Lloyd nodded.
"And you still don't see it?"
There was genuine surprise in her voice now—whether at his dullness, or his indifference.
"You were ready to abandon her back then," Selu continued.
"Such a good girl… and you cast her aside without hesitation."
She studied him.
People like him were… peculiar.
They could show you kindness—
and yet, the moment it conflicted with their goal,
they would discard you without a second thought.
As if everything you had shared… meant nothing at all.
"Lloyd," she said quietly,
"You must have shattered her heart."
It had been a moment of utter despair.
The blade of death pressed against her throat—
like a drowning woman cast into an icy river.
She had been about to die.
The only thing left to grasp… was Lloyd.
And in that moment—
he chose to let go.
His gray-blue eyes seemed to freeze.
He looked toward the figure by the window, not expecting her to bring this up.
Of course he knew what he had done.
And ever since, he had avoided thinking about it.
"At the time… it was the optimal choice."
"Only because it was the 'optimal choice'?"
Selu's voice carried a faint trace of mockery.
"In truth," she said, her gaze unwavering,
"you're colder than I am, Lloyd."
As though he were something not entirely human—
a creature straining to imitate the shape of an ordinary man.
Yet the moment his true quarry revealed itself,
the disguise would fall away,
and what remained would be a beast—feral, dreadful, unmasked.
"You've seen it yourself. When facing demons,
anything as unnecessary as emotion is nothing but a hindrance."
His reply was almost devoid of warmth.
Between two evils, one chooses the lesser.
If the sacrifice of a single Eve could buy the death of Bishop Lawrence,
then the bargain was more than fair.
A transaction soaked in blood—
one in which no one afforded the luxury of feeling.
"So this… is why you've become like this?"
Celiu stepped forward without warning.
She looked down at Lloyd, proud as a statue carved in solemn authority.
Dim light fell across her face, cutting it cleanly into shadow and glow.
This time, Lloyd did not avert his gaze.
He met her eyes—and nodded.
"So, you finally dare to look at me."
Celiu smiled faintly.
At times, Lloyd was like a shy child—
unable to meet another's eyes, least of all his own.
"It's not that," Lloyd said quietly.
"I just don't know what expression I'm supposed to wear around people.
A smile? Indifference?
Sometimes, dealing with people feels heavier than anything else, Celiu."
"That's why I prefer dealing with demons.
All you need to do is swing your blade—and end them."
He spoke with a feigned weariness,
like a man long weathered by the years.
"So you keep your distance from everyone… because of demons?"
A precise strike—
one that slipped cleanly through the seams of his armor.
"Because of the disasters you bring…
you don't want to be tied to anyone, do you?"
Celiu had always been like this.
She could see what others buried deepest—
and drag it out into the light, mercilessly.
"You've seen what happens," Lloyd said, turning his eyes away.
"Eve barely knew me, and she nearly died because of it."
"We call it 'connection.'
The closer you are to demons… the greater the danger."
For a fleeting moment, Arthur came to mind—
his desperate attempts to send Eve away.
A wall of iron,
meant to sever the world of demons from his daughter's life.
"You're suppressing your emotions, Lloyd.
You're human—yet you're trying to turn yourself into a weapon."
And because of that,
he had grown distant, withdrawn—
desperately pretending to be something normal.
"That's your conclusion," she said.
"Are you trying to counsel me?" Lloyd asked,
feeling, for a moment, like he was being lectured by a child.
"Perhaps."
"Then what should I call you? Doctor Celiu?"
He let out a careless remark.
"This is quite the luxurious clinic you've got."
He tried to lighten the tension,
but Celiu only continued to stare at him, unyielding.
Such distractions meant nothing to her.
After a long silence, Lloyd spoke again.
"Emotion interferes with reason."
"And yet," Celiu replied,
"in life, lies and emotions can matter more than logic and reason."
Lloyd froze for a moment.
Whether he was surprised that a "child" could speak such truths,
or something else stirred within him—he couldn't tell.
He chuckled lightly.
"Celiu, there are things you won't understand.
Everyone carries their own burdens."
"Then burdens exist to be resolved."
"Some things have no answers."
He hesitated as he said it.
Even to himself, the words rang uncertain.
Could demons truly be eradicated?
The path stretched endlessly ahead—
and even Lloyd did not know how long he could endure it.
Suddenly, a slender hand seized his collar.
A faint, icy-blue glow shimmered—tinged with anger.
They remained locked like that for a long while.
Lloyd, stubborn as a corpse, refused to respond,
while Celiu, realizing the futility, released him at last.
She turned, switched on the light.
Outside, the sky had already fallen into darkness.
"You're like a patient who refuses treatment, Lloyd.
Hopelessly stubborn."
A doctor's verdict.
"You lack a goal—
something that gives you a reason to live."
"How could that be?" Lloyd replied.
"My goal has never wavered."
Demons.
To eradicate every last one of them.
That had never changed.
"Can that truly be called a goal?" Celiu murmured.
"For it, you'd abandon even your humanity, wouldn't you?"
"Between two evils, one chooses the lesser."
Compared to that grand objective,
the scraps of humanity he possessed were hardly worth mentioning.
Silence fell between them once more.
In the end, they parted on bitter terms.
The one who seemed closed off—Celiu—
had in truth laid her heart bare.
While Lloyd, easygoing and almost unhinged on the surface,
was the one truly sealed away within himself.
A man who cloaked himself in the language of fate,
as though it excused everything.
To eradicate demons—
nothing else mattered to him.
Then, suddenly—
the doorbell rang.
A sharp chime,
like the turning of a page to the next chapter.
"Prepare yourself, Lloyd. We have a guest."
Without even seeing who had arrived,
Celiu had already reached her conclusion.
She stepped out to greet them.
Lloyd straightened in his seat,
even taking a moment to adjust his clothes—
as if to appear less disheveled.
According to Celiu,
she had recommended him to this guest.
The reward would be generous.
Before long, she returned—
with Yawi behind her.
The old steward carried an armful of letters and books,
placing them carefully on the low table beside Lloyd.
Then he stepped aside,
standing guard in solemn silence.
"The guest?" Lloyd asked, puzzled.
But before he could press further,
Celiu sat across from him once more.
Looking at the familiar girl before him,
Lloyd realized who the "guest" truly was.
"I'll be representing them in this negotiation," she said,
opening the letters one by one.
"Representing who?"
"The Stuart Group."
Her voice was calm.
"Lloyd… this mission carries weight."
She handed him the opened letters.
They were reports—sent from members of the Stuart Group,
all describing the same phenomenon.
"Hounds?"
Lloyd scanned the pages.
In the dead of night,
every member connected to the Stuarts
had witnessed strange, spectral hounds—
their hoarse howls echoing
as they circled each person's residence.
"At first, we thought they were hallucinations," Celiu said.
"But it's impossible for everyone to share the exact same illusion… isn't it?"
"Especially when our members are scattered across all of Invervig."
"When did this begin?" Lloyd asked, frowning.
"We don't know."
She produced more letters—
all bearing similar accounts.
"We were at a loss,
until I noticed something… about demons."
"You think this is related to them?" Lloyd's tone sharpened.
Celiu nodded.
"You taught me this—
eliminate the impossible.
Whatever remains, no matter how strange,
must be the truth."
Words spoken long ago,
to pass the time on a dull journey—
yet she had never forgotten them.
"Then do you have any leads?"
A glint of interest surfaced in Lloyd's eyes—
like a beast catching the scent of blood.
Celiu did not answer.
Instead, she glanced toward Yawi.
The old steward hesitated briefly,
then handed Lloyd an ancient book.
"Are you aware," Yawi began slowly,
"of the curse that hangs over the House of Stuart?"
"A curse?"
Lloyd found it strange.
In a family of such stature,
even the slightest scandal would be magnified—
let alone something as ominous as a curse.
Yet in all his years in Old Dunling,
he had never heard of it.
"My family has served the Stuarts for generations," Yawi said.
"So long that we have become a living record of their history."
"There are secrets… the outside world does not know."
He paused.
"This… is the Curse of the Baskervilles."