"Miss Judge... I know I shouldn't ask this, but... Are you on the young mistress's side or Cécile's side?"
The blonde maid, Vera, asked her question with a trembling voice, her body quaking with fear. How could she not? The source of her dread might very well be lurking just beneath the surface, unnoticed yet all-encompassing.
Noah's gaze shifted to the veiled girl standing motionless in the center of the room. To him, Vera's question seemed utterly pointless. Yet, given the chaos of the past few months—or was it merely days?—he could understand her paranoia.
Probably days. Only three, to be exact. But those three days in that dungeon felt like an eternity, stretching and twisting time itself.
