From the maids’ hushed whispers, Sophie Sullivan pieced together the full story.
At noon, while brushing the crocodile’s back, a maid had lost her footing and fallen into the water, only to be brutally devoured by the crocodile.
It is said that now only gruesome remnants of her body remain.
Sophie Sullivan approached the maids, her expression strained. "Is what you’re all saying true?"
A maid glanced at her and finally nodded. "It’s absolutely true."
Sophie Sullivan’s mind was in turmoil. She numbly sat on the sofa, her thoughts a tangled mess.
Vaguely, deep down, she suspected Minimus Hart was connected to this.
She already knew Minimus Hart was the culprit who had driven her mad; the evidence was the maid who had injected her with medicine in the dark cell.
Unexpectedly, before Thomas Shannon had even returned, before she could confront Minimus Hart, the maid was dead...
A life had just vanished from this world.
Minimus Hart could sleep soundly again, with no evidence left to hold against her.
Ever since waking up on her first day in the asylum, Sophie Sullivan had profoundly understood that this world was a dark place.
She just hadn’t expected Minimus Hart to hold human life in such little regard.
Amelia Shaw, dressed in a maidservant’s uniform, entered from outside, her face pale.
Her lips trembled slightly.
She looked at Sophie Sullivan. Sophie met her gaze, her own expressionless. Amelia Shaw stood before her. "Did you hear?"
"What are you referring to?"
"A slave died... a terrible death."
Sophie Sullivan’s gaze was flat, her tone unfazed. "I know."
Amelia Shaw’s youthful face turned paler with fright, her voice trembling. "Aren’t you scared?"
Sophie Sullivan said, her gaze sweeping past Amelia Shaw to a point behind her, the corners of her lips curling into a cold smile, "Every wrong has its perpetrator. Since I didn’t kill her, what do I have to fear?"
Amelia Shaw stared at Sophie Sullivan as if she were looking at a demon, staggering backward.
Someone died, and she’s not scared at all?
Minimus Hart cleared her throat softly and surveyed the room. The maids, who had been gathered and murmuring, immediately dispersed and stood silently in a neat line.
"It seems you all know," Minimus Hart began. "I came to remind you that from now on, you must be exceptionally careful when performing dangerous tasks. Remember this: today’s mistake must never be repeated. Otherwise, it will be your own lives you forfeit. Do you all understand?"
The maids all echoed in unison, "Yes, we understand."
Minimus Hart nodded in satisfaction and averted her gaze.
Her gaze swept almost imperceptibly over Sophie Sullivan. Sophie remained expressionless, only hoping that Emily Hart wouldn’t be too depraved.
Perhaps, once Thomas Shannon returned, her situation would improve somewhat.
She finally understood. In Thomas Shannon’s absence, Minimus Hart’s power as the leader of the slaves had grown to surpass even the butler’s.
If Minimus Hart decided to make a move against her, she would be fighting a losing battle alone, utterly powerless to resist.
Sophie Sullivan didn’t know if she was truly lucky, or if heaven had actually heard her silent pleas.
Around midnight, Thomas Shannon appeared in the bedroom.
After the maid’s death, she hadn’t been able to fully relax or sleep soundly.
She remained constantly, slightly vigilant.
When the bedroom door creaked open, her hand beneath the silk quilt tightened instinctively.
Fortunately, upon hearing the familiar footsteps and confirming it was Thomas Shannon, she opened her eyes.
Young Master Shannon, looking travel-worn, hadn’t expected the little maniac to still be awake.
He paused, taken aback for a moment, then a smirk played on his lips as he began to unbutton his shirt with one hand. "Little maniac, come serve me."