Night had settled over the vast Salvatore mansion like a heavy, unspoken secret.
The endless corridors, which only hours ago had echoed with quiet footsteps and hushed voices, now lay still beneath the dim glow of golden lamps. Shadows stretched along the marble floors, curling around the ornate pillars and disappearing into the corners of the grand estate. Silence reigned—deep, suffocating, almost alive.
Inside one of the largest bedrooms on the upper floor, that silence lingered.
Upon the massive bed, surrounded by silk sheets and embroidered cushions, Elva lay unmoving.
For a long moment, nothing changed.
Then—
A faint stir.
Her eyelashes fluttered, trembling slightly as if resisting the weight pressing upon them. A soft breath escaped her parted lips, uneven and fragile. Slowly, reluctantly, consciousness began to return.
Her head felt unbearably heavy.
Her body weak, as though every ounce of strength had been drained from her.
For a few seconds, her mind remained blank—lost in a haze between reality and memory.
Then, like a sudden storm breaking through still waters—
Everything came rushing back.
The grand hall.
The piercing gazes of the Salvatore family.
The questions—sharp, probing, suffocating.
And then—
Darkness.
Her eyes snapped open.
Above her stretched a tall, unfamiliar ceiling adorned with intricate carvings. A grand chandelier hung at its center, its crystals glinting faintly in the dim light. Heavy velvet curtains concealed the towering windows, sealing the room away from the outside world.
A chill ran through her.
This room—
It was beautiful beyond imagination.
Luxurious.
Elegant.
Perfect.
And yet…
It felt suffocating.
Like a cage.
A golden cage.
Her breathing grew slightly uneven as the realization settled over her once more. No matter how exquisite the surroundings were, they did not change the truth.
She was trapped.
Slowly, she pushed herself upright, her movements careful, unsteady. A faint dizziness lingered, forcing her to pause as she steadied herself against the soft mattress.
As her vision cleared, her gaze drifted across the room—
And then stopped.
Near the door stood a figure.
A maid.
The moment the maid noticed Elva's movement, she stepped forward swiftly yet gracefully, her expression composed but attentive.
"Young madam," she said softly, her tone laced with respect. "You are awake."
Elva blinked, her throat dry as though she had not spoken in days.
"How… are you feeling now?"
"I…" Elva's voice emerged barely above a whisper, fragile and hoarse. "I'm okay…"
The maid's brows softened with concern. Without delay, she moved to the nearby table, poured a glass of warm water, and brought it to her.
"Please, drink this."
Elva accepted the glass with trembling fingers. The warmth seeped into her palms, grounding her slightly. She lifted it to her lips and took a few slow sips.
The water soothed her throat, easing the dryness, though it did little to calm the storm within her mind.
"The doctor examined you," the maid continued gently. "He said you fainted due to exhaustion."
Her gaze lingered on Elva with quiet sincerity.
"You must take better care of your health, young madam."
Elva lowered her eyes.
If only it were that simple.
If only exhaustion were the true cause.
Not the suffocating weight of fear.
Not the constant tension of deception.
Not the unbearable pressure of pretending to be someone she was not.
She placed the glass back onto the table, her fingers lingering on its surface for a brief moment.
"…How long was I asleep?" she asked quietly.
"Several hours," the maid replied.
Elva's heart skipped.
Several hours…
So much time lost.
"Did… anyone come here?" she asked hesitantly, her voice almost cautious.
The maid shook her head.
"No, young madam."
A pause.
Then she added, in a calm, matter-of-fact tone—
"Master Matthew has already left the mansion for his military duty."
Elva stilled.
"He will return after one month."
She already knew.
He had said it earlier.
And yet—
Hearing it again sent a strange ripple through her chest.
Relief.
And something else.
Uncertainty.
A whole month.
The maid continued, unaware of the storm brewing within Elva's thoughts.
"Young master Louis Salvatore and young lady Luna Salvatore will be staying here for a few days."
Elva's fingers tightened slightly against the bedsheet.
More people.
More eyes.
More danger.
More chances for her carefully constructed lie to crumble.
"Madam Elizabeth asked to be informed once you wake up," the maid added with a polite smile. "She was quite worried."
Elva nodded faintly.
But her mind was already elsewhere.
Matthew was gone.
For an entire month.
Despite the guards, despite the servants—
This might be her only chance.
Her best chance.
To escape.
The next morning arrived with deceptive serenity.
Golden sunlight streamed through the towering glass windows, spilling across the marble floors like liquid gold. The entire mansion seemed to glow beneath its warmth, radiating opulence and calm.
But inside the bedroom—
There was no peace.
Elva sat at the edge of the bed, her posture still, her gaze distant.
Her mind was consumed by a single thought.
Escape.
If she did not leave now…
She might never leave at all.
She rose slowly, her eyes sweeping across the vast room once more. The luxurious furniture, the heavy curtains, the elegant décor—everything stood as a reminder of her confinement.
A prison disguised as paradise.
Soon, the maids arrived.
They dressed her in another elaborate gown, the fabric rich and heavy against her skin. Her long hair was brushed with care, arranged perfectly as though she were nothing more than a decorative figure meant to adorn the mansion.
Elva remained silent throughout.
But inside—
Her thoughts moved rapidly.
Calculating.
Observing.
Guards at the exits.
Servants in every corridor.
High walls surrounding the estate.
No obvious way out.
After breakfast, she finally spoke.
"I would like to walk around the mansion."
Her tone was calm, composed—carefully neutral.
The maid bowed slightly.
"Of course, young madam."
Just as Elva had expected—
The maid followed.
Always two or three steps behind.
Like a shadow.
Unwavering.
Unavoidable.
Elva walked through the long, echoing hallways. Past grand paintings that seemed to watch her every move. Through corridors adorned with sculptures and antique furnishings.
The mansion was vast.
Endless.
Almost labyrinthine.
She moved steadily, her eyes scanning everything with quiet precision.
Gardens.
Back corridors.
Servant quarters.
Storage rooms.
Every corner was a possibility.
Every detail, a potential opportunity.
If she could find something—
A rope.
A sheet.
Anything she could use to climb down from a window or balcony.
But there was a problem.
The maid.
Every time Elva slowed her pace or allowed her gaze to linger too long on something, the maid's gentle voice would follow—
"Is everything alright, young madam?"
A simple question.
Yet it forced Elva to retreat, to mask her intentions beneath a facade of casual curiosity.
Time passed.
One hour.
Then two.
Then nearly three.
Her feet began to ache, a dull soreness creeping through her steps.
Still, she continued.
The gardens stretched endlessly, filled with tall trees casting long shadows, vibrant flowerbeds swaying gently in the breeze, and elegant stone pathways winding through the estate.
Fountains trickled softly in the distance.
And everywhere—
Guards.
Stationed at key points.
Alert.
Watching.
Her heart sank slightly.
Too many.
Far too many.
Even if she managed to escape her room, slipping past them would be another challenge entirely.
She slowed her pace, her mind racing, searching for a solution—
When suddenly—
A voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Well…"
It was male.
Smooth.
Lightly amused.
"Cousin-in-law seems rather energetic today."
Elva turned.
A few steps away, leaning casually against a stone pillar, stood Louis Salvatore.
His arms were crossed loosely over his chest. His posture relaxed, almost lazy—but his presence was anything but careless.
A faint smile curved his lips.
But his eyes—
They were sharp.
Observant.
Studying her.
"Madam Victoria fainted yesterday," he continued, tilting his head slightly.
His gaze swept over her, taking in every detail.
"And yet today, you've been walking around the mansion for nearly three hours."
His smile deepened just a fraction.
"That's quite impressive."
The maid immediately lowered her head.
"Young master Louis."
He acknowledged her with a slight nod.
But his attention never wavered from Elva.
Not even for a second.
There was curiosity in his gaze.
And something far more unsettling.
Interest.
He pushed himself away from the pillar and took a few slow steps toward her.
Each step measured.
Deliberate.
As though closing the distance was part of a silent strategy.
He stopped just a few feet away.
Close enough to observe her expression clearly.
Close enough to make escape feel… impossible.
"So…" he said softly.
"What exactly are you searching for?"
His tone remained gentle.
Almost casual.
But his eyes—
They were probing.
Piercing.
As though he could see straight through her carefully constructed calm.