“Sigh, it’s still so delicious.”
Mu’en sat alone at the dining table, elegantly maneuvering his knife and fork as he enjoyed his dinner.
The Duke’s Mansion chef still maintained his high standards, delivering a feast for Mu’en’s taste buds.
“If it’s so delicious, Young Master, you shouldn’t forget to eat.”
An stood behind Mu’en, unable to resist complaining.
“If the Lord or Madam found out, I’d definitely be punished.”
“Sorry, An.”
Mu’en smiled apologetically. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“Promises aren’t enough.”
An leaned down to place a crystal-clear wine glass in front of Mu’en.
“Would you like a drink, Young Master? This is a rare red wine sent by Count Locke. It’s said his winery produces only a hundred bottles of this per year, so precious that even he hesitates to drink it. It’s been hyped up to 200,000 Emils per bottle in the market.”
“I…”
Mu’en was tempted. After all, it was a wine he could never afford in his past life, so naturally, he wanted a taste.
But considering the tasks he had to finish after dinner, drinking wouldn’t help his memory. So, suppressing his desires, he declined.
“Never mind, I won’t drink.”
An’s hand holding the wine bottle stiffened.
“…Then what would you like to drink, Young Master?”
“Coffee.”
Coffee was energizing.
Although it wasn’t the best pairing with dinner, Mu’en didn’t want to bring drinks into the library, where every book was precious.
“…Coffee.”
“Is something wrong?”
Mu’en noticed An was acting differently. She wasn’t as quick and efficient as usual in fulfilling his requests.
“Apologies, Young Master Mu’en. Due to certain circumstances, your only drink options tonight are red wine or black tea.”
“Huh?”
Mu’en felt like he’d heard this somewhere before.
But he didn’t dwell on it and instinctively asked:
“Why?”
“Because of a maid’s negligence, the bag of coffee beans was gnawed through by mice, and a lot of the coffee was eaten by them.”
An explained, “I assume Young Master wouldn’t want to drink coffee that’s been nibbled by mice.”
“…Absolutely not.”
Mu’en nodded:
“Then black tea it is.”
Tea was just as good for staying alert.
“Very well.”
An gave a slight bow and turned to leave to brew the tea.
“Wait.”
Mu’en suddenly called out to her, puzzled:
“Are you personally brewing it, An?”
“Huh? Young Master, am I not a maid?”
“But you’re the head maid now. Brewing tea is such a small task…”
“Even as the head maid, I’m still Young Master’s personal maid. Brewing tea for you is naturally my duty.”
“I see…”
Mu’en frowned slightly.
“Then go ahead.”
“Alright, Young Master.” An nodded. “Excuse me for now.”
“…”
Watching An leave, Mu’en couldn’t help but pinch his chin, muttering in confusion:
“This feels oddly familiar. Like I’ve experienced this before.”
But he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was off.
“Must be fatigue.”
Mu’en chuckled self-deprecatingly. “An would never do anything to harm me, right?”
…
Soon after, An returned with the black tea.
Perfect timing—Mu’en had just finished his meal and was wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“Thank you.”
Mu’en took the tea, ready to take a small sip.
But as he lifted the cup, he froze.
He looked down at the tea, then up at An’s expressionless face, and couldn’t help but ask:
“An.”
“Yes, Young Master? Do you need something else?”
“This tea is… very red.”
“Isn’t black tea supposed to be red?”
“But the tea I’ve had before was always light red. This is a vivid red.”
“It might be due to the type of tea.”
An explained:
“Just like how oranges from the Northern region are smaller but sweeter compared to those from the Southern region, teas from different areas might have subtle differences in color.”
“…Then.”
Mu’en handed the cup back to her, his eyes locked on hers.
“You drink it first.”
“…”
An looked at the cup, saying nothing.
Her face remained emotionless. If not for the faint floral scent Mu’en could detect from her, he might have thought she was a statue rather than a living person.
After a moment of silence, An finally took the cup.
“Does Young Master distrust me?”
“No, I just thought you’ve been busy all day. You should have some tea and rest.”
“Young Master is so kind.”
An slowly brought the cup to her lips.
Mu’en kept his eyes locked on her, watching for any suspicious movements.
Until she completely drank the tea.
“Sigh.”
But in the end, An didn’t drink it.
Instead, she let out a soft sigh and whispered:
“When did you become so cautious, Young Master?”
“So there IS something wrong!”
Mu’en jumped up from his chair, hands on his hips, and sneered:
“You drugged the tea, didn’t you? Hmph, using such an old trick to fool me? Too naive!”
“An old trick?”
An tilted her head.
“Does that mean Young Master has used the same trick on someone else?”
“Ahem, ahem, that’s not important.”
Mu’en coughed awkwardly, then his expression turned serious as he stared at An.
“What’s important is—why did you drug me, An? Why betray me?”
An was Mu’en’s personal maid.
She had been with him since he was eight years old.
Whether in the original story or now, An should have been the most loyal person to Mu’en.
So Mu’en couldn’t understand why she would betray him.
“I’ve never betrayed you, Young Master.”
An lowered her gaze to the cup, staring at her reflection in the tea, her eyes calm despite the exposed truth.
But only she knew that beneath that calmness lay a darkness and desire she could no longer suppress, churning wildly.
Churning, churning, until it overflowed.
“I’m just… putting everything back on track.”
“On track?”
Mu’en frowned, unable to comprehend her words.
“I don’t care what your intentions are, but since you’ve failed—”
“Failed?”
An suddenly looked up, smiling.
“Why would you think that, Young Master?”
“Huh?”
Mu’en was stunned.
Not just from her words, but from the expression on An’s usually composed face—a slightly menacing look he had never seen before.
She was smiling, but behind her deep black eyes, it was as if a monster was breaking free, casting a greedy gaze at Mu’en, like a dragon spotting a gemstone.
“Crunch.”
A crisp sound snapped Mu’en back to reality.
He stared in shock as An—with her slender, delicate hands that had always tidied his room, folded his clothes, and served his tea—suddenly clenched the teacup, shattering it into pieces.
No, not pieces—powder.
Mu’en watched as crystalline shards mixed with the tea, spilling from between An’s fingers.
“You forced me to do this, Young Master~”
An stepped closer, one step at a time.
“This is bad.”
A chill ran up Mu’en’s spine to the top of his head.
Since when did a maid have such grip strength?!
But before he could even finish his internal rant, he heard the sound of something cutting through the air.
From behind him.
Then everything went black as Mu’en lost consciousness.
