The truth The maids summoned by the butler were softly sweeping the basement, and being here at this time, they were all trusted servants with great courage.
“Lunch is pan-fried steak and mashed potatoes, what would you like to drink?”
The Head Maid, crouching beside Lu Li, received the answer and then asked Petra, “Wine, and bring another bottle of rum.”
The Head Maid left the basement, and Lu Li looked toward Petra.
“For Vinson, he loves this type of drink,” Petra, with arms that had no hands, gestured toward the assembled black long table.
Sara had not returned to the basement yet.
As expected, she wouldn’t appear here until evening.
The rare moments of rest and reflection, and the relatively clean and sanitary environment, as well as the abundant food—these didn’t seem too bad.
If not for the three people chained to the wall, missing their legs, with severe blood loss and abdominal injuries.
“Will someone come to rescue us?” Baron gazed blankly at where his lower legs used to be, his previously prideful and slender legs now absurdly short and laughable.
Petra sighed deeply, “We are not the protagonists, so no one will.”
And they could not save themselves.
Lola came back, biting people like crazy as if she couldn’t feel any pain, and a group of guards in armor couldn’t stop her; in the end, they had to decapitate her to finally kill her…” “Uh…
who’s Lola?” “A servant, who served Miss Sara.” “The Miss’s servant?
Oh my… Is Miss alright?” “A servant who was attacked by Lola managed to run back and report, Miss is unharmed.”]
[In the bright garden, Sara sat on a bench, not far away two maids whispered together.
Sara listened quietly, her inner restlessness surging like a tide.]
[Sara had just come back from the dungeon where Lola’s body was kept, she used the excuse that Lola was her servant to successfully see Lola’s body—ghastly wounds, bloodless, lifeless cyan skin.
The captain of the guard was puzzled, having been a soldier in the kingdom and seen countless bodies on the battlefield, yet this body had clearly been dead for a while.]
[Why did it turn out … where did the problem lie!
Sara was certain of the materials listed in the Book of Death, she remembered them completely and did as instructed.
But she only succeeded in animating the dead body, there was no resurrection, and most importantly, no soul.]
[The voices of the two maids discussing nearby came through again]
Didn’t the Family Head go?” “Viscount’s brother has returned; they are in the study room and haven’t attended to this yet.”]
[Sara remembered Uncle Andrew who brought the Book of Death; he might know what to do!]
[Lifting her skirts, Sara sprinted towards the mansion.
Attracted by the commotion, the maids gazed in astonishment, Sara didn’t mind their looks as she ran up the steps.
A etiquette teacher was approaching, the stern woman stopped, expecting Sara to greet her politely as usual—but Sara simply passed her by.]
[“Uncle Andrew!” Sara burst through the door of the Viscount’s study, gasping as she called out.
“Sara, didn’t your etiquette teacher teach you to knock before entering?” Viscount, visibly irritated, frowned and said, “You actually came out , go back—”]
“Alright, she came to see me,” Uncle Andrew soothed the Viscount’s anger, with a meaningful smile towards Sara.
“May I have a word alone with Sara?”
“This is my manor, and Sara is my daughter,” the Viscount said with a stern, low voice, facing his own younger brother.
“I am also a member of the family, and Sara is my niece,” Andrew said, looking at his brother.
“…Don’t take too long.
I have other matters with Sara.” After a moment of silence, the Viscount nodded, withdrawing his gaze from Sara.
Click— the door shut as the Viscount left the study.
Andrew looked at Sara, hinting at something in his words, “It’s been several days, my niece, you’ve changed a lot.”
Unconcerned about what Andrew had noticed, Sara stepped forward, asking urgently, “Why didn’t it work?
There’s something wrong with the Resurrection Ritual in the Book of Death!”
“There’s something wrong?” Andrew tilted his head as Sara watched him walk to the balcony and stretch out his arm.
As if summoned, a beautiful butterfly landed on his fingertip.
Andrew smiled gently, but his fingertip tightened, and the butterfly, unable to escape in time, fluttered its wings in vain, its beauty withering.
Next, Sara watched as Andrew wiped the pollen off his fingertip, took out those familiar materials from the small bag in his embrace, set them up, and murmured a spell.
The light around them twisted momentarily then returned to normal.
The butterfly on Andrew’s palm came back to life.
The butterfly, held in the moment of death’s disrepair, fluttered its tattered wings and flew into the distance.
“Where is the problem?” Andrew, still smiling, turned back to look at her.
Sara had seen Andrew’s smiles many times, but for some reason, she suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
His smile seemed to hide numerous chaotic, insane, and cold emotions.
“It can’t revive Adam,” Sara said.
“That servant who attacked recklessly a few hours ago was your doing, wasn’t it?” Andrew suddenly asked.
“Yes.” After a pause, Sara admitted her actions.
Andrew asked Sara for the Book of Death, which she brought to him.
Andrew took the ancient book, turned to the last page, and pointed out a sentence for Sara to see: “Do not use human corpses for experimentation.” “Because this Book of Death cannot resurrect humans,” Andrew said.
Sara looked incredulously at the line marked by his finger.
She had flipped through the Book of Death over a dozen times but had never noticed this text…
“But you clearly told me…”
“You broke the rules, I will take back the Book of Death.
Don’t worry, I will keep your secret,” Andrew’s smile seemed mocking as he continued, “I heard you are getting married in a few days?
I will come to the ceremony.”
Andrew turned to leave the study, but Sara blocked him, pleading, “Uncle Andrew, can you help me?
I just want to revive Adam…”
Andrew smiled and said, “No one can bring back the dead, not even I, you—ch…ch…”
His words cut off abruptly as his throat emitted a hissing sound.
Sara’s dagger was fully plunged into Andrew’s throat.
Without removing the dagger, Sara, with her other hand clutching a handkerchief, firmly covered Andrew’s throat to prevent blood from staining the carpet.
With cold eyes, she pushed Andrew to the balustrade and then gave a hard shove—
The bloodstained dagger was pulled out as Andrew tumbled over the balustrade.