Another guard approached, noticing the sudden tension.

  "What happened?" the senior guard asked.

  The first guard stepped aside slightly, gesturing toward the car window.

  The senior guard leaned down to look inside—

  And froze.

  The world seemed to go silent around him.

  Inside the car, illuminated softly by the dashboard lights, sat Yuna.

  Calm. Unbothered. Timeless.

  A faint smile touched her lips.

  "It's been a long time… Morrison."

  The senior guard's breath hitched.

  "Gr– Great M—" He immediately lowered his head. "I apologize, Lady Yuna. Welcome back."

  The authority in his earlier tone vanished completely.

  He stepped back quickly and turned to the others.

  "Open the gates!" Morrison barked. "Now!"

  The massive iron gates began to move with a heavy metallic groan.

  "And inform the staff inside," he added urgently, "Lady Yuna has returned."

  The guards straightened instantly, some visibly shaken.

  As the gates opened fully, the car rolled forward slowly.

  Morrison kept his head lowered until the vehicle passed.

  Only when it disappeared toward the mansion did he finally exhale.

  "…She has truly returned."

  Inside the mansion, the atmosphere had shifted.

  Footsteps echoed rapidly across polished marble floors. Chandeliers shimmered under the glow of hurried movement. Servants moved with unusual urgency.

  At the center of it all stood a woman who commanded the chaos without raising her voice.

  Yumi.

  The head maid of the Minamoto estate.

  An Asian beauty whose age was impossible to determine. Though her hair carried hints of silver, her posture was straight, her skin flawless, her presence dignified. Time seemed to have treated her differently.

  Or perhaps… it had not touched her at all.

  "Adjust the east wing lighting," she instructed calmly. "Fresh flowers in the upper hall. Remove the winter arrangements — she will not like them."

  The maids and butlers responded instantly.

  "Yes, Lady Yumi."

  Her eyes were sharp, observant — missing nothing.

  "No dust on the stair railings. And prepare the main hall. Morrison has confirmed."

  A younger maid hesitated. "Lady Yumi… is it true?"

  Yumi paused for a fraction of a second.

  Then she spoke quietly.

  "…She has returned."

  A subtle tremor passed through the room.

  Even the air felt heavier.

  Yumi turned toward the grand entrance doors, her expression composed — but something deep in her eyes flickered.

  Anticipation.

  Respect.

  And something dangerously close to reverence.

  "Stand properly," she said softly. "Do not embarrass this house."

  Outside, the sound of a car approaching echoed through the estate grounds.

  Yumi lowered her gaze slightly.

  "Welcome home… Lady Yuna."

  The grand doors opened.

  The sound of heels against marble echoed softly through the entrance hall.

  All the staff stood in perfect formation.

  Yuna stepped inside.

  Her gaze swept across the hall — calm, unreadable — until it landed on one person.

  Yumi.

  For the first time that night, something changed in Yuna's expression.

  A gentle, genuine smile broke across her face.

  "Oh, Yumi…" she said softly. "I'm glad to see you again."

  The composure Yumi had maintained so perfectly wavered for a split second.

  Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears — but she lowered her head quickly, controlling her emotions in front of the staff.

  "Lady Yuna," she said steadily, "would you like your favorite tea prepared? Or shall we serve dinner?"

  Yuna walked a few steps forward, her presence commanding yet effortless.

  "No, Yumi. Prepare my bath first."

  She paused slightly, glancing up toward the upper floors of the mansion.

  "Until then… I'll take a short walk through the house."

  Yumi bowed gracefully. "Understood."

  She turned sharply to two nearby maids.

  "You two. Come with me."

  The staff moved immediately.

  Yuna walked slowly through the long hallway.

  Paintings lined both sides of the walls — portraits of ancestors, war councils, ceremonial gatherings, landscapes from centuries past.

  Some were old oil paintings.

  Some were black-and-white photographs.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Some were modern.

  She looked at each one with a calm, knowing smile.

  Her footsteps were soft. Almost reverent.

  Meanwhile…

  Steam began to rise inside the grand bathing chamber.

  Maids moved carefully around a massive marble tub.

  "Fill it with milk," Yumi instructed calmly. "And bring the white roses."

  "Yes, Lady Yumi."

  One of the younger maids hesitated before speaking.

  "Grandma Yumi… is that really Lady Yuna?"

  Yumi glanced at her.

  "Yes. Absolutely. Is something troubling you?"

  The maid swallowed nervously.

  "Our family has served the Minamoto Dynasty for generations. To see Lady Yuna in reality… it feels unreal. Even though you told us stories about your childhood — about how you always looked up to her… I still had my doubts."

  Yumi's expression softened — but her posture remained dignified.

  "There is one thing I must correct."

  The room grew quiet.

  "I still look up to her."

  The maids fell silent.

  Outside the bathing chamber, the hallway lights reflected gently across Yuna's silhouette as she paused before a very old painting.

  In it—

  She stood beside warriors who had long turned to dust.

  But she had not changed.

  Not even a little.

  The soft echo of footsteps followed Yuna as she approached the bathhouse corridor.

  Warm light spilled from behind the carved wooden doors.

  Yumi stood waiting at the entrance, hands folded respectfully.

  "Please come in, Lady Yuna."

  Yuna stepped forward… then paused.

  She turned her head slightly.

  "You come inside, Yumi."

  Yumi lowered her gaze gently. "Understood, Lady Yuna."

  The doors opened.

  Inside, the grand marble chamber glowed beneath golden lantern light. Steam rose delicately from the vast tub prepared with milk and white roses floating across the surface like drifting clouds.

  The other maids stood in perfect formation, but their expressions carried a faint trace of longing.

  They had waited their entire lives for this moment.

  Yumi noticed.

  She turned to them, her voice calm but firm.

  "There is no need to look disappointed."

  The maids straightened immediately.

  "You will all have your chances to serve our Lady. This is only the beginning."

  A spark returned to their eyes.

  Yumi's tone softened slightly.

  "Now lift your heads. We will serve our Lady with pride."

  "Yes, Lady Yumi!"

  Their voices carried renewed excitement, reverence replacing hesitation.

  Yuna observed silently, her expression unreadable — yet faintly pleased.

  This loyalty…

  This devotion…

  It had endured generations.

  And tonight—

  It was awake again.

  The bath chamber was silent except for the soft ripple of milk against marble.

  White roses floated gently across the surface.

  Yuna rested in the warm bath, eyes closed, her expression serene — almost untouchable.

  Behind her, Yumi carefully tended to her hair, movements precise and practiced.

  But her hands trembled.

  Just slightly.

  Yuna spoke without opening her eyes.

  "You are doing a very poor job hiding your emotions."

  The words were calm.

  Not accusing.

  Simply observant.

  Yumi froze.

  The comb slipped from her fingers and fell softly onto the marble edge.

  And just like that—

  Forty years of restraint shattered.

  Tears streamed down her face as she lowered herself to her knees beside the bath.

  "Forty years…" her voice trembled. "I have waited over forty years, Great Mother."

  Her shoulders shook despite her attempt to stay composed.

  "I feared… I truly feared I would not see you again in this lifetime."

  The title lingered in the air.

  Great Mother.

  Yuna slowly opened her eyes.

  Not surprised.

  Not offended.

  Just… aware.

  "You have grown older, Yumi," she said softly.

  A faint smile touched her lips.

  "But your heart has not changed."

  Yumi pressed her forehead to the marble floor.

  "I am still your servant. In this life and the next."

  For the first time that night—

  Yuna reached out.

  Her fingers gently touched Yumi's head.

  "You were never merely a servant."

  A pause.

  "You were family."

  Yumi's sobs grew quieter.

  Reverent.

  Outside the chamber, the mansion stood still.

  As if even the walls understood—

  Their goddess had returned.

  The bath had ended.

  Yuna now sat by the tall window of her private chamber, wrapped in a flowing silk robe. Her damp hair fell loosely over her shoulders.

  Moonlight filtered through sheer curtains.

  A porcelain cup of tea rested on the small table beside her, steam rising gently into the quiet night air.

  The mansion was calm again.

  At her side, on the floor near her chair, sat Yumi.

  Not kneeling in rigid formality now.

  Just sitting quietly.

  Close.

  Yuna's hand rested gently atop Yumi's head, her fingers moving slowly through her silver-streaked hair — smoothing, patting, reassuring.

  The gesture was simple.

  But it carried decades of absence within it.

  Yumi closed her eyes.

  Like a child who had finally stopped waiting.

  "Forty years…" she murmured softly, calmer now. "The house felt empty without you."

  Yuna lifted her teacup, taking a slow sip before speaking.

  "I was never truly gone."

  Her voice was distant — not cold, but layered.

  "I was watching."

  Yumi did not question it.

  She never did.

  Flashback — Decades Ago

  The sound of porcelain shattering still echoed in the grand hall.

  A small girl knelt among the broken pieces of an expensive tea set, her tiny hands shaking as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  The Head Maid stood over her sternly.

  "Do you understand what you've done?"

  The room fell silent as soft footsteps approached.

  Yuna entered.

  "What happened?" she asked calmly.

  The Head Maid bowed deeply.

  "I sincerely apologize, Great Mother. This child broke Prince Tristan's treasured tea set. I will ensure she is disciplined accordingly."

  Little Yumi sobbed harder, pressing her forehead to the floor.

  "I'm shorry… I'm so swaary… Gweat Mother… pwease don't kick me out…"

  Yuna's gaze shifted to the trembling child on the floor.

  She said nothing.

  She walked forward.

  And then—

  She knelt.

  The entire hall stiffened.

  From within her sleeve, Yuna took out a delicate handkerchief embroidered with the Minamoto crest.

  Instead of looking at the broken porcelain—

  She gently lifted Yumi's chin.

  And wiped her tears.

  "You know, child," Yuna said softly, her voice warm and steady,

  "your tears are far more precious than any tea set."

  Yumi hiccupped, confused.

  "If you waste them like this…" Yuna continued with the faintest smile,

  "…how will I be able to bear such a tremendous loss?"

  The hall went completely still.

  The broken porcelain no longer mattered.

  Yumi slowly stopped crying.

  For the first time—

  She looked up.

  Truly looked.

  And what she saw was not a ruler.

  Not a goddess or figure of fear.

  She saw a mother.

  In that moment, without words, without ceremony—

  A silent vow was made in the heart of a child.

  A loyalty that would last lifetimes.

  The night settled quietly over the Minamoto estate.

  Inside her private chamber, Yuna lay upon the grand canopy bed, her dark hair flowing smoothly across the silk pillows.

  Yumi stood beside the bed one final time.

  With careful hands, she pulled the silk cord hanging near the pillar.

  From above, translucent curtains descended gracefully, enclosing the bed from all four sides — creating a sacred, private sanctuary.

  "Good night, Great Mother," Yumi said softly.

  Yuna's expression was calm, composed.

  "Good night, Yumi."

  The lantern lights dimmed.

  The mansion fell into stillness.

  Scene Shift

  Diluc was running.

  Cold air burned his lungs.

  He stood in the middle of an empty village.

  A shadow passed behind him.

  He turned quickly.

  There was Nothing.

  His heartbeat grew louder.

  Then Movement ahead.

  It was Bella.

  She was walking slowly, Toward the mountain path.

  "Bella!" he shouted.

  No response.

  She kept walking.

  Her steps steady. Mechanical. Almost lifeless.

  He ran after her.

  "Bella! Stop!"

  She didn't even turn her head.

  Ahead of them—

  The mansion.

  Massive.

  Dark.

  Its iron gates towering over her small figure.

  Bella walked straight toward it.

  "Don't go there!" Diluc yelled.

  But she had already reached the gate.

  And somehow—

  She was now on the other side.

  Still walking.

  Toward the mansion.

  Diluc reached the gate and grabbed the iron bars.

  Locked.

  He shook it violently.

  "BELLA!"

  No answer.

  Desperate, he climbed the cold iron, scraping his hands as he pulled himself over and dropped onto the other side.

  He looked up immediately.

  Bella was gone.

  The courtyard was empty.

  The mansion stood silent.

  Watching.

  "Bella…?" His voice was smaller now.

  A blur passed behind him.

  He spun around.

  Nothing.

  His breathing became uneven.

  He turned back toward the mansion—

  And froze.

  Something was standing directly in front of him.

  Too close.

  A girl.

  Her face pale.

  Eyes hollow.

  Her neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

  Her mouth stretched too wide.

  Before he could react—

  She lunged.

  Her hands wrapped around his throat.

  Ice-cold fingers digging into his skin.

  Diluc clawed at her wrists, choking.

  Her face inches from his—

  Smiling.

  "Y?o?u? ?c?a?n?n?o?t? ?s?t?o?p? ?i?t?…"

  The pressure tightened.

  His vision darkened.

  He gasped—

  And jolted awake.

  Diluc sat upright in his bed, drenched in sweat, gripping his neck.

  The room was normal.

  Silent.

  But his heart was still racing.

  He slowly touched his throat.

  For a moment—

  It felt like the imprint of fingers was still there.

  Diluc sat at the edge of his bed, breathing slowly, forcing his heartbeat to steady.

  This wasn't just a nightmare.

  It was deliberate.

  A message.

  A warning to stay away.

  To stop digging.

  To turn back.

  A faint smirk touched his lips.

  "So that's how you play…"

  He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes dark and focused.

  "Whoever you are… I know what you're trying to do."

  His fingers tightened slightly.

  "You want to get into my head. You want fear to do your work for you."

  He exhaled slowly.

  "But you chose the wrong person."

  His voice lowered — steady, unshaken.

  "Even as a child… I survived something far more evil. Far more powerful than you."

  The memory flickered in his mind — twisted metal, shattered glass, a presence in the darkness.

  "And I'm still here."

  He stood up.

  "This village… this mansion… whatever you are…"

  His gaze hardened.

  "I will stop you."

  "I will end this."

  "And I will rid that place of your terror."

  Silence filled the room.

  But this time—

  It didn't feel empty.

  It felt challenged.

  END OF THE CHAPTER