Citadel of Desire - Chapter 2

The rain hadn’t stopped in a long while. It had been a week since their arrival, and with each sunless day, the siblings seemed to blend further with the dreary weather outside. Their conversations, sparse to begin with, had all but evaporated; even Haysh, usually more spirited, rarely smiled anymore.

“No matter how out in the sticks we are, the lack of courtesy is absurd!” Haysh complained. The meals weren’t tailored to the guests’ tastes at all. The cook simply worked with whatever ingredients were brought in daily, ignoring Haysh’s picky requests completely. He’d made it clear that he couldn’t stand carrots, yet they appeared as garnishes, and the broccoli he specifically forbade was doused in pepper and served right to him. Haysh was not one to let this slide quietly.

“Can’t you just leave it if you don’t like it?” came the tepid response. Though Haysh let it go, not being in a position to raise a fuss as he once might have, his complaints only intensified each day. First, he criticized the number of servants. Aside from Jack, who managed the stables, Mrs. Mary in the kitchen, Phillip, who had invited the siblings to the manor, and a gardener staying in the annex, there were hardly any other staff.

To make matters worse, those who were there were as curt as could be, treating the noble Haysh as if he were nothing more than a pebble in their path. There was no way proud Haysh would take that lying down.

Next, he grumbled about Lord Claudan. Claudan, the more they observed, was a difficult character. He showed a certain consideration but wasn’t kind, and although he seemed laid-back, he kept his walls firmly up. There had been an incident recently that captured this perfectly. By then, the siblings had been staying for over three days, enough time to sense which areas were off-limits without being told explicitly.

“Don’t go up to the third floor.”

It was the first morning they’d shared a table with him. Claudan, rarely seen around due to his duties as lord, opened with that statement as soon as he sat down. Haysh’s lips pursed in discontent, but Claudan showed about as much concern as dust on his shoes.

“Because I’m there.”

Claudan never really spoke to Haysh—at least that’s how Ray perceived it. Claudan’s eyes always seemed to avoid Haysh, instead tracing the end of Ray’s loose hair, then drifting slowly up to his mouth. His words were peculiar too, forbidding access upstairs yet subtly hinting at his own presence there.

“I have a proposal to make,” Haysh said suddenly.

“A proposal?”

Claudan looked Haysh straight in the eye—probably for the first time.

“I have a business plan in mind… It’s hard to explain in words. Would you take a look?” Haysh slid a set of documents across the table. Ray could see it coming from a mile away and felt his appetite plummet, pressing his knife against his fish steak until it crumbled.

“As you can see, my supplier has valuable connections that speak for themselves. Thanks to that, we’re generating quite a profit even in the midst of this war. I can assure you, if you invest generously, you won’t regret it. I guarantee it.”

Unlike Haysh, who sat there confidently, chest puffed out, Claudan simply flipped through the pages without expression. Ray already knew what Claudan’s answer would be. The business plan was so sloppy that even their cousin, who had known them since childhood, would have laughed at its audacity. Anyone who looked closely would see it was all bluster, lacking substance to back up his claims for funds.

Ray wanted to bury his face in his plate.

“Sounds good.”

For a moment, Ray doubted his hearing and looked at Claudan in disbelief.

“Why?” Ray started to ask, but Claudan simply smiled and looked at him. Just as Ray was about to speak, Haysh jumped in.

“I knew you’d agree! It’s truly a wise decision. Let me know when you have some time, and you can visit directly…”

“Before that,” Claudan interrupted, handing back the barely-read documents.

“There’s a condition.”

Haysh’s face turned dark, as though he were imagining an outrageous demand.

“If the investment doesn’t return as promised, you’ll have to repay the full amount.”

Haysh’s expression quickly softened, clearly having anticipated this line.

“Ha! Is that all? Of course! Naturally, that goes without saying.”

Haysh and Claudan exchanged smiles, locking eyes in mutual understanding. The only one left out of the laughter was Ray.

* * *

Haysh became busier. Once the rain finally stopped, he began going out of the mansion frequently, leaving Ray, who had no friends to visit, abandoned like a forgotten portrait. At times like these, Ray envied him. Haysh had graduated from one of the nation’s top schools, boasting a wide social circle. Though arrogant, his forthright personality had won him many friends.

In contrast, Ray was like an isolated island. Her parents had insisted on hiring a live-in tutor for her instead of sending her to a fashionable girls’ school, paying no heed to the judgmental looks from others who thought them outdated. Ray was the only one who suffered from this decision. Any tutor they managed to hire was often driven away by Haysh’s interference, and her strict parents always sided with him over the tutor they deemed unreliable. Eventually, word spread, and no tutor would take the job, even with double the pay.

Ray turned to watch the rain pouring down again. Watching the rain was preferable to dwelling on her unimpressive past. Days slipped by as she leaned against the mansion’s window, listening to the faint steps of the staff echoing in the vast, empty halls. A solitary sofa in the lobby, connected to the drawing room, seemed to await her, so she naturally took to sitting there, killing time in its silent embrace.

She didn’t feel lonely or sad. In fact, she had always dreamed of this kind of quiet. Gone were the debt collectors who used to barge in at the slightest spark of light in their home, her mother whining to relatives on the maternal side with ailing voices, and the bitter scorn of family members who offered only the coldest of kindnesses. Now, things were peaceful, with no troubles. Feeling sad would be like a self-indulgent complaint.

“Miss.”

An unfamiliar voice suddenly shattered the stillness. Ray jumped and turned around to find an old woman with knitting needles in hand, smiling at her. She was a complete stranger.

“Aren’t you cold? Should I bring you a blanket?”

“No, I’m fine,” Ray replied, thinking she might be a staff member she hadn’t yet met. But the old woman didn’t leave; instead, she stayed there, exuding an unmistakable sense that she had more to say.

“Do you have something to tell me?” Ray asked.

“Miss,” the woman said again.

“Yes?”

“Why did you come to a place like this?”

“A place like this?”

“You’re still pure… You haven’t been tainted.”

“Are you… feeling alright?”

“You must be careful. Everyone in this mansion has their eyes on you.”

Before Ray could respond, the old woman stepped forward with surprising speed, closing the distance between them like a wolf. Ray felt dazed and was caught off guard when the old woman grasped her wrist.

“Your face says you’ll lose your parents early. Your brother’s future doesn’t look bright either.”

The woman, now seeming half-mad, reached up to touch Ray’s cheek. Her hand was ice-cold.

“This place is cursed. You mustn’t even accept a glass of water from here.”

“Um… could you please let go of my hand?”

“Don’t meet anyone’s gaze. Guard your body and, more importantly, your heart. Never let it be taken.”

Finally, Ray struggled to pull free, but the old woman’s grip was unusually strong. Though she looked at least eighty, her hands clung like tough tree roots, unyielding and firm.

The woman’s cautious demeanor was growing wilder by the second. Ray looked around, hoping for help, but the lobby was as deserted as ever.

“Child, do you want to end up like me?”

“Let go of me! I’ll call for help!”

The kindly appearance of the old woman began to frighten Ray. Sweat broke out on her wrist where the woman held her.

“You have a face that the beast will desire. Don’t trust him, ever. He’s grinding his teeth even now, waiting to drain your spirit. Can’t you hear it? That filthy grinding noise… It’s echoing even here. Can’t you hear it? Hmm?”

Ray was growing increasingly irritated. She was beginning to resent the old woman, who was ruining the rare peace she had finally found.

“Let go of me! That hurts!” she snapped.

“Della.”

At that moment, the old woman suddenly froze, her body stiffening like a puppet as a creaking sound echoed from her neck as she turned her head. Her eyes slowly trailed up to the upper floor, and she finally released Ray’s cheek without a hint of hesitation.

“Sir…”

Claudan stood nearby, a black cigar between his lips. The smoke swirling around him obscured his expression, blending well with his jet-black hair.

“You’ve frightened the guest,” he said.

“Sir, I was just…”

Claudan exhaled a stream of smoke in place of a sigh, and no one could mistake the hint of irritation in it. The situation was clearly serious, and the old woman seemed to sense it too. She simply smoothed her disheveled hair and walked briskly toward the door.

“Take care of yourself,” she muttered as she left, casting Ray one last sideways glance. Her stubborn resolve was as tough as iron; even as she walked away, her gaze lingered on Ray.

“And you as well, sir,” she added.

Claudan, half-leaning against the railing, let out a chuckle, a laugh thick with exasperation. Once the door closed behind the woman, leaving a sticky sense of her presence in the air, a heavy silence settled in the room, thick enough to choke. Claudan was no longer smiling.

“My lord…” Ray was at a loss, feeling both confused and embarrassed. She was, after all, nothing more than a guest here who couldn’t even afford an inn. Though the old woman’s strange behavior was the cause, Claudan’s gaze felt like it was boring into her, piercing right to her bones.

“I won’t come out here like this again,” Ray said, lowering herself slightly with one hand placed over the other, her voice brimming with an apology that she couldn’t fully express.

Claudan took the cigar from his mouth, clearing away the smoke, and his face became clearly visible.

“Ray,” he said with a bright smile.

“So why were you sitting out here?”

“What?” Ray responded, caught off guard.

“I’m up on the third floor,” Claudan replied.

“What are you…”

“It’s charming, seeing you moping around like that, but wouldn’t you come up and join me instead?”

Unconsciously, Ray gripped the curtain tightly. Again—that feeling that he was drawing her in, binding her somehow.

“Come on up. There’s plenty of fun to be had here.”

“But you told me not to come up,” Ray murmured, hiding behind the curtain as if it might shield her. Claudan’s smile only deepened.

“Are you tempting me?”

“Why do you keep saying strange things?”

Claudan tilted his head back and forth with amusement, tapping the ash from his cigar against the railing a few times before gesturing smoothly for her to follow.

“You don’t have anything better to do anyway.”

“…”

Ray thought to herself, It’s you who’s doing the tempting.

And yet her feet moved of their own accord. She let go of the curtain, her fingers fidgeting, her cheeks tinged pink. With a slow, tentative step, she placed her foot on the stairs. He was right, after all—she didn’t have much else to do.

It was an invitation on a rainy afternoon, soaked in anticipation.