Viscount Mol flung open the doors of his manor, stepping inside. He shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall right onto the floor, and headed straight for the staircase leading to the second floor. At that moment, a maid rushed past him, bowing almost on the move and muttering some greeting which the man ignored. He began to climb the stairs wearily, tuning out all the mundane bustle. His liege lord's conspiracy was exhausting, both morally and physically. True, they had managed to secure the support of some influential nobles, but all their accusations were threadbare, and Vasily understood that any misstep would see their own heads rolling—something he desperately wanted to avoid. Sometimes the Viscount thought about how terribly unlucky he was with his Count, and that it had fallen to him as an "honor" to serve Lord Pyotr. Yet they said his father, Lord Evgeny, had been a worthy husband and remained loyal to Duke Gregory even in his worst decisions. Perhaps Vasily had inherited the same loyalty typical of all vassals of the Wood family, after they had been subjugated by the Blood kingdom for a long time before Arthur Crow came to power and united the four kingdoms into one. Perhaps the discord within the Duchy of Wood began then. And even now, the two most loyal county families were thinking of overthrowing the current Duke. And what was he, a viscount, supposed to do in this situation? Be loyal to his Count or be loyal to his Duke? If the late Lord Gregory were still Duke, Vasily would know the answer for sure. But with Lord Nikolai, it was more complicated. So far, the current Duke had shown himself to be neither a capable ruler nor a wise man. But Vasily had seen the brilliant mind the lad possessed. His idea about land leasing was excellent—even the Viscount himself didn't understand why he hadn't thought of it together with Baron Branch and Count Crown. But his dismissive behavior... The Viscount truly didn't know what to do, but decided to stay for now on the side of the long-familiar Lord Pyotr, even though he wasn't sure if this decision was right or wrong.

  With these gloomy thoughts, the man reached his study, took out the key, and opened it. The dark, somewhat somber study welcomed Vasily into its embrace. Filled with books, even stacked in piles on the floor in places, the study resembled a library more than a nobleman's workplace. On the desk itself, numerous letters lay open, half-finished answers were scattered here and there, and the wastebasket was full of crumpled paper balls. The Viscount lit a candle on his desk and began re-examining the documents related to the railway and the train. Vasily felt that this huge, mechanical contraption was corrupting their kingdom. Many had pounced on this unusual piece of technology, ready to tear out others' throats for a share in it, and Count Crown was no exception. The man still felt sorry for his youngest daughter and the role she would play in the cunning Count's terrible plan.

  Vasily sighed and tossed aside the message he had been holding. Countess Root had not given them full support for their conspiracy, but she hadn't taken the Duke of Wood's side either. However, if Vasily found something that could interest her, she wouldn't mind siding with them. What a headache. Was it because the former kingdom of Wood had been occupied by the kingdom of Blood for several generations that almost all the nobles of the current Duchy had lost their honor and loyalty? Honestly, Vasily had secretly hoped that Lady Elizabeth would bring Lord Pyotr to his senses, but that hadn't happened. And Viscount Mol increasingly felt they were heading into an abyss, even though they did have a strong card up their sleeve—one they were reluctant to use.

  A knock on his study door interrupted Vasily's heavy thoughts. Answering with a routine "enter," he saw a maid who bowed slightly to him. It was the same servant who had been saying something while the Viscount was heading to his study, but he had ignored all her words. The girl was about to say something again, but behind her appeared a woman whose beauty outshone even the sun—Victoria Mol, the Viscount's wife. She was not of noble blood, but noticing her beauty and her slightly innocent demeanor, the future Viscount had begun courting his future wife, and everything had gone smoothly between them. As far as Vasily remembered their marriage, he and his wife had never even quarreled. He had even managed to ensure that their children could inherit the title of Viscount, provided, of course, that the county family didn't decide to change their assistants. But Victoria herself had not been granted a title, although people sometimes addressed her as Lady Victoria.

  "Hello, dear," the woman smiled slightly, walking towards her husband. Even dressed in a long, silk robe that concealed all her curves from male gazes, she looked simply magnificent in Vasily's eyes.

  "Victoria," the Viscount addressed his wife. "You should be resting; our child will be born soon, so..."

  "Vasya," the Viscount's wife continued smiling. "I named her Nadezhda."

  The man quickly rose from his chair and embraced his wife, feeling for the first time in months that her pregnant belly no longer pressed against him.

  "Such good news, Vika! My God, our Lesha has a little sister, I'm so happy about this! Nadezhda, you say? What a beautiful name!" the Viscount couldn't contain his joy. "Why didn't anyone tell me this sooner?"

  "I tried, my Lord," the maid, still standing in the doorway, said nervously. "But you weren't listening... I'm not making excuses, but..."

  "It's alright," the Viscount replied to the servant. "Better take me to my daughter, I want so much to see her!"

  "Darling, better do it tomorrow. She's already resting today; it was so hard for me to get that fidget to sleep," Victoria smiled, ceasing to hug her husband and taking him by the hand. "Let's go, you need to rest after your long journey, and I think Nadezhda wouldn't mind having a little brother or sister either."

  Vasily left his study, led by his wife to their private chambers, and there he enjoyed the love of the woman who had conquered his heart.

  In the morning, the Viscount rose early as usual. He stroked his wife's hair and, with a slightly foolish smile, headed for the nursery. But there he was already met by the head maid, a no longer young woman named Natalya, who said that Lady Victoria had not asked for Lord Vasily to be let in without her, and that the recently returned lord should also see his son. Somewhat saddened by these words, Vasily nevertheless left the nursery where Nadezhda lay, not daring to go against his wife's wishes. If she herself wanted to show him their daughter, then so be it; he would have time to see her. Alexei's room was next to the Viscount's own quarters, so he returned and knocked on his son's door. After several minutes of persistent knocking, the door opened, and Vasily was met by Alexei's sleepy face. The boy was still in his pajamas and rubbing his eyes slightly, but when he saw who had come to visit him, he immediately rushed to hug his father.

  "How I missed you, Father!" the son exclaimed, continuing to hug the Viscount.

  "Me too, Lyosha, me too," the Viscount smiled, hugging him back and stroking the boy's hair. "Have you been behaving yourself worthily and nobly, as befits a future nobleman?"

  "Yes, Father!" Alexei exclaimed joyfully, lifting his head to look at his father's face. "I've even started learning military science! Mom says I'll be able to go to the Royal Academy of Crow soon, and I won't disgrace your name there!"

  "Of course, son, of course. Now go get yourself ready, and we'll have breakfast together," the Viscount said. Alexei cheerfully replied "Yes!" and ran back into his room to change.

  Vasily, in high spirits, headed towards his study. But when he reached it, he saw the door slightly ajar. Slapping his forehead, he remembered that yesterday he had been so engrossed with Victoria that he had forgotten to lock it. The Viscount entered and found the same mess that had greeted him the day before. The man carefully examined everything and, finding nothing missing, breathed a sigh of relief and sat down at the desk to do some work before breakfast. But immediately, something caught his attention—a small piece of paper, crumpled into a ball, lying in the middle of the table. From the color of the paper, the Viscount could tell it was a cheap material, and he certainly hadn't written this. Still, driven by curiosity, Vasily opened the note and read it.

  "WE KNOW EVERYTHING."

  That was all that was written on it. A cold sweat ran down the Viscount's spine, and he even swallowed nervously as he reread the note. The handwriting was uneven and messy, so it was unlikely to be from anyone of nobility—unless someone had deliberately made it that way. So what could this mean? Who is "we"? Lord Nikolai? Lady Katerina? Lord Zakery? Lord Ryo? Or perhaps someone from the royal family? Could it be one of the counts or barons? What the hell could this mean? Who is he supposed to negotiate with? Or maybe it was someone's bad joke?

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  The Viscount didn't know how to react, but the first thing to do was gather all the servants in his house to try and find who had planted this. He stood up and left the study, this time carefully locking it behind him, and headed towards the nursery, where he had last seen the head maid. Luckily for him, the woman was still there, and he didn't have to search the entire manor for her. So Vasily said to her as soon as he approached:

  "Gather all the servants who are in the manor today in the main hall," the Viscount gave the order quickly and headed towards the manor entrance himself.

  About twenty minutes later, the servants stood in the main hall, exchanging glances and whispering softly among themselves about the situation. Among them were four maids, a couple of male servants for heavy work like chopping wood, four guards, a cook and his apprentice, a butler, and two of Alexei's tutors—one teaching military discipline, the other general academic knowledge—and finally the head maid herself, who managed almost all these people. Vasily surveyed them all, realizing he knew each of these people, despite often being away. Many of them he had hired himself; some had come through Natalya, and the Viscount trusted her judgment. He didn't see anyone new, then asked the head maid:

  "Natalya, were any new employees hired while I was away?"

  The woman thought for a moment, not answering immediately, then after about half a minute replied:

  "Yes, Master. We hired a new maid when Maria disappeared and we became short-handed. It was right around the time Lady Nadezhda was born, and we urgently needed a replacement for the missing girl. We also searched for her, but unfortunately, we never found her, nor any trace of where she might have gone."

  "Where is this maid?" the Viscount asked, scanning his servants again, confirming that there were no new faces.

  "She should be here. I saw her in the manor today and also passed on your command," Natalya said with surprise, and she herself began to scan the faces of the assembled servants. "Indeed, I don't see her..."

  "Then she must be found," Vasily said sternly, already suspecting who might have planted the note. Now he just needed to find out who this new maid was working for and why she had given herself away so foolishly. "What does she look like, and what is her name?"

  "Yes, Master, we'll search for her right away. Her name is Alena. She has slightly greenish skin, but you know—that's not a common occurrence, but such women are sometimes encountered..."

  Natalya was saying something, but one phrase echoed in the Viscount's mind from when he had been at the audience with the Duke of Wood. "Alena, for crying out loud, bring a couple of cushions for this chair!" Lord Nikolai had said then, trying to get more comfortable on the wooden throne of the Wood family—the symbol of their power in the former kingdom, now duchy.

  From the depths of the manor came a piercing female scream, filled with horror. The Viscount's heart lurched in his chest, and he rushed to run towards the direction from which the sound came. The woman, apparently his wife, continued screaming. When the man reached the necessary corridor, he saw the open door to the nursery, opposite which Victoria sat on her knees. Her eyes held primal terror and fear, filled with tears, and her whole body trembled slightly, her arms simply hanging limp.

  The man gestured for his guards to follow him, then approached the open door, peering inside to understand what had so shaken his wife. But when he looked inside, Vasily was dumbfounded and simply froze in place, unable to move at the sight before him.

  Near the cradle stood a girl with slightly greenish skin, dressed in a maid's uniform, with red hair tied in a neat ponytail. On her bloody hands, she gently rocked a bloodied infant, from whom blood continued to drip onto the floor and her clothes, as if she were lulling an already dead body to sleep. With her bloody mouth, she hummed some children's lullaby. When the man appeared in the doorway, the girl merely raised her head, showing fresh blood on her chin, which was messily dripping down it, and her grass-green eyes pierced the man through.

  "We were waiting for you, human," said the one who was apparently Alena, continuing to rock the Viscount's dead daughter.

  "No, no, no," Vasily began muttering to himself, taking a couple of uncertain steps forward towards his little girl. His daughter, whom he had so longed to see, was now dead. He took step after step until he was right next to the murderer—a young girl who had decided to commit such a terrible act. And for what? Wouldn't he have agreed to be loyal to Lord Nikolai if his family had been threatened? Or was this the price of betrayal?

  The girl smiled widely, revealing sharp fangs in every row, and the Viscount experienced the primal fear a victim feels when encountering a predator. Alena handed the little girl's body to the Viscount, and without any questions, he took it, looking at the tiny body of his daughter. He could still feel a slight warmth emanating from her, but he already understood that she would never breathe again. Tears flowed from his eyes, and he nearly vomited when he saw what this creature had done to his Nadezhda—it had torn open his little daughter's tiny belly with its teeth. The Viscount fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, pressing the remains of his daughter to his chest. Vasily imagined teaching her, sending her to the Academy, her bringing her first boyfriend home, her getting married, her giving him a grandson. And all of this was erased in an instant. He had never even seen her alive, never saw her reach out her little hands to him, and never would see or hear her call him "papa."

  "Stop!" a terrifying voice sounded from behind the Viscount. He realized it wasn't directed at him, but at the guards. It was that woman. "Otherwise, not only little Nadezhda's life will end today."

  A powerless rage enveloped the man, and he rose, looking with wet eyes at how his guards stood opposite the door with swords drawn, ready to defend their lord and avenge the death of the little lady. They seemed to be waiting only for their Lord's command, and the Viscount gave it:

  "Kill the wretch," ordered Lord Mol.

  "Wrong choice," came the terrible voice of the creature, whom one's tongue would not dare call human, especially after what she had done.

  After her words, the girl lunged forward, and long claws grew from her fingernails. Moving faster than any human the Viscount had ever seen, she reached the guards and tore open the throat of one with a single swipe of her claws. She grabbed the second by the head and, with inhuman strength, pulled it down, breaking his cervical vertebrae. He fell with his head unnaturally bent backward. The third guard's sword reached the girl's body, but she managed to shield herself with her other arm. The sword merely struck her arm, not severing it, but seeming to hit something solid and get stuck there.

  "Ow, that hurts, damn you!" the girl shouted, and with a sweep of her hand, she tore the weapon from the guard's grasp, then, approaching him, tore out his throat with her teeth.

  The Viscount watched this scene, unable to say anything. The murderer approached his wife and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her towards the Viscount through the puddles of blood from his guards. When they were near Vasily, he wanted to say something, but didn't have time.

  "This is for the wrong choice," Alena said and slit Victoria's throat with her claws. The Viscount's wife looked at him with an uncomprehending gaze, and Vasily could only watch as life slowly left his wife's body. He fell to his knees and pressed his dying wife to him, still holding his dead daughter in his arms.

  "Why?" asked Vasily, not knowing what else to ask his family's murderer.

  "For the wrong choice," the girl said, watching directly as the man embraced his lost family. "You still have one child left. If you make another wrong choice—he will die too."

  Vasily raised his eyes to the creature, but it continued to stand over him, motionless.

  "Kill me," he said, unable to say anything more. "Don't touch my son, please, just kill me."

  "No, the master forbade me to kill you," Alena said. "But he said nothing about your family."

  The master forbade her? What did that mean?

  "Master?" Vasily repeated, understanding who she was talking about, but still overwhelmed by the grief of loss. His wife and daughter were dead...

  "That's not important now," the girl said and turned to leave. "I can revive your daughter, but she will never be yours again, and she will not belong to the human race."

  "No..." Vasily replied, not wanting his daughter to be some kind of monster. He hadn't wished that for his little one, who rested in his arms.

  "You're a strange one, human," the girl said, stopping and turning back. "Then we'll tell the servants that your daughter and wife were killed by that fat man you serve. And you will obey me in everything. If I understand that you want to deceive, kill, or betray me or my master—that will be a wrong choice. And for every wrong choice, I will kill people dear to you, until you are left all alone. And don't even think about hiding your offspring—I will be teaching him."

  The wrong choice...

  Because the Viscount was loyal to Count Crown, his daughter died? Because he wanted revenge, his wife and his men died. Where would his loyalty to Lord Pyotr lead him next? To the death of his son? Then Vasily would surely take his own life and join his family. But Alexei was still alive, and he could be saved. And what would be the price for that? Loyalty to the Count? Then what good was loyalty if it meant the people dear to him perished? If he hadn't doubted the Duke from the very beginning, this wouldn't have happened. The price of his mistake was the death of his daughter and wife. He could not allow another death.

  "I will obey you, just let me have a little time with my family," Viscount Mol said, embracing the bodies of his wife and daughter with his last remaining strength.