“Miss!”
“Lady is back!”
As soon as the gates of the manor opened, the guards and household staff rushed out in panic.
They looked pale and exhausted, as if they had not slept all night, their eyes hollow with worry.
Aileen, knowing well how much they must have feared for her, offered an awkward, apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry for making everyone worry.”
“Oh my… we really thought you wouldn’t make it back, Miss…”
The usually stern captain of the guards had tears welling in his fierce eyes, his shoulders trembling as if he might burst into sobs any moment.
Pushing past his broad frame, the head maid of the manor, Lady Rose, rushed forward next.
“Oh, Miss! I’ve been absolutely beside myself all night… Are you hurt anywhere?”
She pulled Aileen into a tight embrace, patting her all over as if to confirm she was truly unharmed.
Then she noticed Mary, standing nearby with her head lowered, clinging to Aileen’s hand, and her expression hardened.
“Mary, this is all because of you—”
Aileen quickly intervened, frowning slightly as she held Mary’s hand tighter, stopping the head maid.
“Please leave it. Mary won’t do anything like that again. She’s seen clearly what happens when one acts recklessly.”
At Aileen’s words, Lady Rose’s sharp gaze softened immediately.
Though she looked displeased, she understood why Mary had disobeyed Aileen and left the manor grounds.
It was obvious what had happened to the father who had not returned with them.
Her expression, once stern and disapproving, quickly shifted into sympathy and pity as she gently took Mary by the hand.
“Come now, don’t do that again. You must be hungry—let’s get you something to eat.”
“Waaah… I’m sorry… I’m really sorry…”
As Mary sobbed and was led away, Lady Rose turned back toward Aileen—and her expression stiffened instantly.
Behind Aileen, standing with the guards, was Tristan’s group.
The manor guards, who had gone out to meet them, were equally tense and wary.
It was the first time since the outbreak that living outsiders had been brought into the estate.
After Aileen herself had beheaded her own brother—who had returned as a zombie—in front of all the estate’s residents, anyone coming from outside had only ever been monsters.
Either zombies, with rotting bodies craving the flesh of the living, or newly emerging magical beasts.
At first, there had been whispers accusing her of killing her own blood for inheritance and power, but those voices had gradually disappeared.
After witnessing several people who left the estate without permission return as zombies, everyone began to trust her as if she were a savior.
She had always warned them:
Never leave the estate.
Do not bring anyone in carelessly.
Beyond the walls lay death.
But outsiders… living humans?
This was different.
And Aileen herself felt even more unsettled than anyone else.
She had assumed that as long as she stayed inside the estate, she could avoid meeting Tristan—and thus avoid her death.
She had never imagined he would come here himself.
Her earlier “prophecies,” spoken to justify her actions, now resurfaced in her mind one after another.
“They are… His Highness Prince Tristan and his party,” Aileen said.
The moment her words fell, the surroundings erupted into commotion.
“What?! That’s Prince Tristan?”
“Already? Wasn’t he supposed to arrive later?”
“He’s finally here!”
“Then what about the Saintess?”
This was bad. Far too bad.
They were saying all of this right in front of him.
At first, she had only been trying to give legitimacy to her actions—preparing for the death of her brother.
“I received a divine revelation in a dream. My brother will return infected by monsters. Soon the world will be filled with zombies and beasts. We must prepare.”
She had spoken of the original story’s events as if they were prophecy, to make survival preparations easier and to be believed.
Now, it was becoming a problem.
Aileen turned slowly, only to meet Tristan’s narrowed gaze fixed directly on her.
How am I supposed to fix this?
Amid the noise of people excitedly repeating her so-called “prophecies,” Aileen forced herself to speak loudly.
“Everyone quiet down! His Highness will be staying at the estate for the time being. Prepare accommodations without delay.”
At her command, the commotion immediately subsided, and the servants moved quickly.
“Prepare the largest guest room for His Highness and his party. Also arrange meals.”
After instructing Lady Rose, Aileen quickly headed toward her own room.
There was no time to think.
In this estate—without a count or heir in place—she was the only one who could receive them properly.
She needed to clean herself up and go meet them formally.
But what excuse could she possibly give to make them leave peacefully?
Her clothes were soaked in sweat from the night’s escape. She quickly washed in cold water, having no time to ask for heated water.
Only after changing did she feel the chill settle into her bones, but even then, she had no time to rest.
Just as she considered drinking something warm, there was a knock.
Knock knock.
“Miss… His Highness requests an audience. What should I do?”
Aileen let out a quiet sigh.
Of course. He was not a man who waited.
“Guide him to the reception room. Tell him I will be down shortly after changing.”
Her hand trembled slightly as she held her teacup. Even after drinking, the dryness in her throat did not ease.
***
“I appreciate your willingness to let us stay here during such times.”
The man seated in the reception room greeted her calmly.
Tristan had changed into clean clothes.
Earlier, he had carried a raw, dangerous sharpness like a blade still dripping blood. Now, he carried refined nobility befitting royalty.
“I should be the one expressing gratitude,” Aileen replied.
She already knew better than to let herself be distracted by him—but that resolve was already long gone.
Those cold blue eyes fixed on her made her mind go blank.
Tristan leaned slightly forward.
“I heard that Lord Whitewood passed away last year.”
“My father passed away three months before my brother returned,” Aileen replied.
“I see. And after that, you managed the estate?”
“Yes. After both my father and brother passed, I requested confirmation of succession from the Imperial Court, but due to the outbreak, we lost contact. I am currently acting as the estate’s head.”
As the questioning continued, Aileen’s expression gradually stiffened.
Tristan’s polite smile faded slightly as well.
“This place feels less like an estate and more like a fortress. Do the citizens not live within the outer walls?”
“They were relocated inside the manor due to increasing monster activity.”
“And the bells strung across the streets?”
“They were installed to distract the zombies, as an emergency measure.”
“…I see.”
His fingers tapped the table slowly.
The sound made her spine tighten.
Then he finally spoke again.
“I’ve heard something interesting.”
Aileen’s heart tightened.
“They say you personally beheaded your brother after he returned as a zombie.”
“That… is—”
“And that you claimed to have foreseen his return as a zombie. That you predicted the world would end like this.”
“That’s not—!”
“And even more strangely,” Tristan continued, his tone flat, “they say you claimed that if we simply waited, I would meet a Saintess and save this world together.”
Aileen froze.
Her worst fears had finally caught up to her.
