Chapter 30: Castle Stories 30 Fila

In the thick, pitch-black night, a rare blood moon hung in the sky, casting an ominous glow.

The deep gray castle loomed eerie in the cold night, surrounded by utter silence.

In the Young Lady’s private room, little Mortifera slept on a two-meter-wide bed, her soft golden hair splayed across the pillow. Dressed in an ornate princess gown, the diamonds on its hem refracted faint light. Her eyes were closed, small brows furrowed, trapped in an unsettling dream.

Restlessly, she shifted toward the bed’s center, seeking her mother’s warm embrace, but found emptiness.

Confused, she opened her eyes, seeing no trace of her mother.

Rubbing sleepy eyes, she called, “Mama?”

No answer.

The blood moon’s eerie red glow outside stirred unease.

Little Fila clutched her bear tighter, nearly deforming the plush toy.

She threw off the covers, leaving the warm bed, bare feet padding on the floor, her gown swaying as she tiptoed to the door, pressing the golden handle.

The door opened. Her feet met the soft rug, silent.

The castle was vast and dim, lit by a single lamp. The corridor’s depths were shrouded in darkness, hiding unknown terrors.

The faint light stretched Fila’s small, lonely shadow.

A chill crept into her heart. Her trembling child’s voice called again, “Mama?”

Nearby, the Duke’s room was ajar, moonlight spilling out.

Hoping her mother was there, she inched closer.

Unease grew, her small heart pounding, hands twisting the bear.

Under the blood moon’s glow, a curly-haired man held a bloodied knife, his gem-like red eyes terrifying in the faint light.

On the floor lay a woman in a white dress, a fresh, foot-long bloodstain across her back, her golden hair matted with blood.

The Duke’s eyes brimmed with disgust, no guilt for killing his wife, only a flicker of excitement.

He began staging the body, wiping the wound, posing her as if asleep.

Outside, a tiny golden figure bit her lip to stifle a scream, tears streaking her hands. Her eyes, so like the Duke’s, held half fear, half a towering hatred beyond her years.

Silent, she watched the murder disguised as an accident, searing every detail into memory.

“Mama!”

The golden-haired woman jolted awake, chest heaving, cold sweat soaking her hair.

She grabbed the tattered bear from the bedside, hugging it tightly, burying her face in it, seeking safety.

After a while, her heart calmed.

The Young Lady set the bear down, her eyes returning to their usual ice.

Since her mother’s murder, this nightmare replayed daily, her body forcing her to relive the pain, urging vengeance against that wretched man.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in.”

The headless maid entered, bowing. “Miss, coffee.”

“Leave it there.”

No appetite—her body needed no food or water, yet she kept the habit.

Now the castle’s sole master, controlling everything, she had nothing. Still alone.

Opening the wardrobe, a black-curly-haired, red-eyed man stood inside. She yanked him out, slamming him down.

Her foot crushed his head, grinding with a creak, but her rage found no release.

“Get out.”

She kicked him. The Duke crawled out like a dog.

The cruel Duke, who’d killed countless, deserved worse.

He’d dismembered a girl, cooked her into fine dishes with gravy, served on the castle’s long table.

He’d publicly executed dissenters with torture tools, breaking fingers, severing limbs, dissolving them in corrosive vats, watching their agony.

And he’d brutally killed his wife.

Disgusted, she tossed the shoe that touched him into the trash.

She’d turned him into a puppet, a despised butler. Killed the real butler for drugging her mother. Chopped the gardener’s hands for bullying her as a child. Yet her heart remained empty, hatred unquelled.

This wasn’t her life’s purpose. Her parents loved her; they were happy. And her…

Who else?

Her thoughts stalled, a name almost surfacing, then fading. She searched memories for a clue.

Nothing.

She stood by the window, waiting—for whom, she didn’t know. Just waiting, as she always had, through endless years.

Then, players arrived—curious, daring, selfish, or violent.

The castle buzzed, new faces weekly.

Some died breaking rules, others survived by luck.

Her only “fun” was watching through the Duke and maid’s eyes.

For some reason, she hoped for a unique player. Disappointment piled up, patience waned.

Until that night, like any other, new players arrived.

Bound to her room the first night, she watched through the maid’s eyes.

Boring faces, boring traits, boring…

Then, through the maid’s blurry gaze, she saw her—silky black hair framing a sweet face, calm expression quickening her pulse.

Her blood surged, heart blooming like fireworks.

She remembered.

Long time no see, my heart’s desire, my…

The beautiful girl handed the maid a handkerchief.

“Take it,” she ordered.