After I woke up, I was told that Uncle Rowan was dead. His body had been burnt beyond recognition; they had only found his foot, and even that was charred badly. A wave of relief washed over me—no evidence left.
Soon Morwenna, Father, and Mother arrived. They heard the news and it was utterly shocking.
Morwenna was crashing out, consumed by rage. The servants had to endure her wrath, but deep down they were actually happy about his death. He had been such a pain in the ass. Father looked genuinely sad, and Mother was doing her best to comfort both him and me.
It was already midnight, yet we were still gathered in the garden. No one could sleep, and I couldn't either—after all, I had fainted and essentially taken a nap. A few hours later I began to calm down and felt fine. Until Morwenna mentioned the royal police.
Every murderer leaves some traces behind, no matter how perfect they think they are. And I wasn't an everyday killer, so I might have left something. My overthinking spiraled out of control.
Morwenna had discovered that the servants hadn't heard him screaming. Obviously, if a person was trapped in a fire, they would scream like hell, but in this case no one had heard a thing. In fact, they hadn't even known he was in the storeroom. Plus, if the fire had started at one point, it should have given him the opportunity to escape. On top of that, the room looked as if it had caught fire in multiple places at the same time.
I was stressing out like never before. Everything I had done suddenly felt glaringly obvious. I was the only family member present during the incident, so I would naturally fall into the suspicion zone. I overheard the conversation between Morwenna and the servants, and it made it even harder for my brain to settle.
If Morwenna decided to call the royal police, I was done for. I obviously wouldn't be able to hold onto my confidence. What if I played the victim? Yes, that could work. If I told them Uncle Rowan had tried to sexually assault me, they would probably let me go. Right? Right?
I couldn't even explain what I was going through. I wasn't paying proper attention to anything people were saying. Planning the murder and executing it had already strained my mind, and now this royal police drama was pushing me to the edge.
Just when I was about to crash out completely, Morwenna suddenly fell quiet and said, "I don't think I should call the royal police. There is nothing they can do about it. So let's prepare for his funeral."
Everyone agreed in a quiet, subdued way. Those words brought me so much relief that I almost thought I was dreaming. I steadied my breathing and held myself together. But why had she decided not to call the royal police at the last second? Why should I care? Maybe she had some sense after all and realized that dirtbag didn't deserve to be worked up over.
There were several reasons to hate Uncle Rowan, but two stood out above all others — the ones that made me want to kill him in the first place.
First, he had an eye for both of us: me and Tamsin.
Second, in my previous life, he had manipulated me into taking Tamsin's virginity.
As you already know, my sexual confusion had begun the night I watched Uncle Rowan in bed with a servant. After that incident, I grew more and more lustful with each passing day. One afternoon, he caught me masturbating in my room. Thank the gods I hadn't been playing dress-up that day.
I was stroking my cock, lost in pleasure, when Uncle Rowan's sharp voice suddenly cut through the silence.
"Lucian!"
I jumped, yanking my pants up in a frantic rush. My eyes darted everywhere except toward him.
"You have to man up," he said, his tone heavy with judgment. "What is all this? If your grandmother found out, what would she think of you?"
I had no answer back then. I was simply relieved that he hadn't discovered my secret indulgence in dressing up, or my growing interest in both men and women.
"You think I'm only finding out about your masturbating habits now?" he asked.
My gaze snapped up to meet his.
He grinned, eyes sharp and knowing, crossing his arms as he added, "You've watched me multiple times, haven't you? Whenever I'm in bed with a servant girl."
My mouth fell open in horror. He had caught me. I stood frozen in disbelief as he stepped forward and began circling me slowly. I could do nothing but stare down at the floor, heart hammering in my chest.
"You sometimes hid behind the big flower pots and masturbated to your heart's content."
Uncle Rowan said, his footsteps echoing through the corridor as he stopped behind me. For some reason, I felt a flicker of relief, but it lasted only a few seconds.
"If you drool over sex that much, why don't you get yourself a woman?"
Uncle Rowan spoke in a strangely calming voice. I wasn't thinking about sex at that moment. All I wished was that he wouldn't tell Morwenna.
"Tamsin," he began, and my eyes widened at her name. I turned around to face him. He was leaning casually against the wall.
"Do you even realise how madly she is in love with you?"
He wore that same look on his face again. Madly in love? Really? I thought. Yet it was true. She was.
"You can always ask her. She will give you whatever you want with a single thought."
Uncle Rowan maintained his even tone. Will she? No, that can't be. We were only friends, and I… I didn't love her.
"In fact," he continued, "she probably wishes you would do all kinds of nasty things to her body. Trust me, she wants it badly. Very badly."
His words weighed heavily on me. Back then I was nothing but a puppet, and it was nearly impossible to make any decision in that state.
"Come on, man up. Do it or..." Uncle Rowan tapped my shoulder and moved toward the door.
"If you don't acknowledge her, I will." He let out a low giggle and left the room.
That bastard! Who does he think he is, huh? I will not let Tamsin be treated this way. That's what I wished I was thinking back then. But no — my mind was still stuck on kinks.
If what he said was true, was Tamsin also perverted? Would she be happy if I touched her and dominated her the way I secretly wanted someone to do with me? Those kinds of sick thoughts were devouring me. And I blamed myself for it. I hated myself for what I did to Tamsin. Even if she wanted me and loved me, it was still wrong. Or… I don't know.
On that same day, I called Tamsin to my room. She came, clearly wondering what the reason could be. Even if she knew, I didn't think she would back down. I was sitting casually on the bed.
"Why did you call me, Lucian… Young Master?"
She called me by my name when we were alone. She only made sure not to use it in case someone else was around. But no one was around. Perfect, I thought.
"Tamsin," I said, staring at her. "Are you in love with me by any chance?"
I asked while looking down. Tamsin's eyes widened, the corners of her lips trembled, and her cheeks turned red.
"W-What… I mean, you are a royal and I'm just a servant, so that shouldn't be allowed."
Tamsin said, her eyes drifting everywhere. Her tone grew sad and low at the end. I suddenly rose from the bed, and she gasped as I grabbed her shoulders.
"I didn't ask that. I asked if you are in love with me or not."
Tamsin looked me in the eyes as I spoke. She paused, then looked away and replied, "What has gotten into you? Why are you asking me this?"
So far, it looked like she had feelings for me. I pushed her further. "Tamsin, please. Tell me."
"I do."
She said it in a very low voice. The corners of her eyes filled with tears. She would cry if I didn't say yes.
"I'm sorry, Lucian. Against all odds and rules, I couldn't stop myself. I love you. Even if I can't be with you, I do."
Tamsin was crying as she confessed her feelings, yet she was smiling too — happy because she finally got to tell me how she felt.