The Night of the Monsters - Chapter 10

“Master.”

Giselle, still drowsy from sleep, clung to the faint threads of consciousness as the voice whispered close to her ear. Slowly opening her eyes, her blurry vision filled with a familiar shade—golden eyes, reminiscent of a beast she had once seen in the darkness.

“Hugo,” she murmured reflexively, calling his name.

Hugo, wearing a faint smile as if pleased by something, brushed his lips against her pale forehead.

“Time to get up,” he said, his voice calm but insistent.

“Get up, Master. It’s time to see the house.”

“The house…?”

Her half-lidded eyes reflected her lingering sleepiness, her gaze dazed. Hugo found her puzzled expression utterly endearing and couldn’t resist the urge to scoop her up effortlessly.

As he lifted her off the bed, Giselle blinked, taking in her surroundings. Not recognizing the unfamiliar scenery, she instinctively tugged at Hugo’s collar.

“Don’t you remember? You said we should leave the forest,” he reminded her.

“Oh… I remember now.”

Her foggy mind began to clear, the pieces slowly falling into place. But as memories of the conversation with the brothers and everything that had happened afterward resurfaced, her face flushed deeply, turning as red as ripened fruit. The trembling of her hands, clutching his clothes, betrayed her flustered state.

Hugo glanced down at her bowed head as he walked, his steps steady. He had planned to show her something in the room, but he doubted she’d notice anything in her current state. Instead, he opened the door and carried her out, and Giselle gasped unconsciously at the sight before her.

The corridor they entered was bright and expansive, a far cry from the small, humble hut where she had lived for so long. Decorated with ornate wallpaper, elegant ceilings, and luxurious furnishings, it was overwhelming in its grandeur, leaving her unsure of where to rest her gaze.

Momentarily forgetting her embarrassment, Giselle looked up at Hugo. “Hugo, what is this…?”

“This is our house now,” he said casually. “Yours, mine, and, much as I dislike it, Ian’s too.”

“…Our house?”

“Don’t you like it?”

“N-no, I like it. But… are we really allowed to be here?”

“Of course,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. “The owner gave us permission.”

At the mention of permission, the unease on Giselle’s face dissipated.

Though she had always longed to live among people, Giselle knew next to nothing about how they lived. She was aware of concepts like currency from her long-forgotten memories and knowledge, but she didn’t fully understand how it worked or what it could achieve.

Hugo, on the other hand, despised foolishness. Those who persistently sought them out despite his warnings were dealt with mercilessly as examples. He found the notion of “permission” laughably simplistic, yet he was willing to accommodate Giselle’s naivety in such matters.

The sight of her flushed cheeks, now tinged with a different kind of warmth, was a rare treat for him. With a rare, bright smile, he resumed walking, carrying her firmly in his arms. Giselle, nestled against his broad chest, let out a quiet sigh of relief. She had expected Hugo to bring up the events of the previous night without hesitation, but he said nothing.

Though she couldn’t recall everything, Giselle vividly remembered the shameful dream she’d had while drifting off to sleep. The lingering heat in her body and the ache in her abdomen were unmistakable reminders of her desires. Fearing she might give in to her impulses and seek her disciples in weakness, she had rushed to the lake.

But after that, her memories became muddled. The cold water of the lake had failed to cool her feverish body. She vaguely remembered Hugo and Ian coming to find her… and then…

“I’ll fill your womb until it overflows, so that every step you take, every breath you draw, carries my scent. From your head to your toes, you’ll be drenched in me, and everyone will know who you belong to.”

Giselle’s brow furrowed slightly as she searched her memory, then she caught her breath. When she raised her head, Hugo, who had been descending the stairs in front of her, turned his gaze toward her.

“What is it?”

“H-Hugo, um, about last night…”

“Last night, yes,” he replied evenly.

“I mean, last night… uh…”

Her eyes, cheeks, and neck flushed in sequence. Hugo, fully aware of what his bashful master was trying to say, chose not to help her. Instead, he feigned ignorance, blinking innocently as if he hadn’t the slightest idea.

If Ian had been present, he would have openly expressed his disgust at Hugo’s blatantly insincere behavior. But Ian was currently in the kitchen, preparing a late breakfast for Giselle, who had barely eaten since the previous day.

Hesitant and glancing nervously at Hugo, Giselle ultimately said nothing until they reached the bottom of the stairs. She shook her head weakly.

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“…Maybe. I think so.”

She decided to convince herself it had been nothing more than a dream. After all, no matter how blunt Hugo could be, she didn’t believe he was shameless enough to say such things to his own master.

As Giselle tried to calm her uneasy heart, she failed to notice the way Hugo was watching her.

Their new home, a sprawling mansion, had a dining area separated by walls. Although Giselle had been reluctant to leave the forest initially, she found herself quickly adjusting, taking comfort in small pleasures like the sturdy, creak-free floors and the bright, sunlit spaces.

Her occasional bouts of unease were short-lived, quickly replaced by a sense of calm. This was, of course, due to the medicine she unknowingly ingested daily, but Giselle remained oblivious.

Carried in Hugo’s arms past the wall, they found Ian already waiting for them, having finished preparing breakfast.

“Did you sleep well, Giselle?” Ian greeted warmly, though his voice carried a teasing undertone.

“Giselle can’t do anything without us, isn’t that right?”

For a moment, Ian’s cheerful voice overlapped with itself, making her blink in confusion. She was so dazed that she couldn’t even manage a reply. Ian leaned closer, peering into her unfocused eyes.

“Giselle?”

“…Ah. Sorry, Ian. I guess I’m still half-asleep.”

“You didn’t look well yesterday either. You must be really tired. You may not feel like eating, but try to have a little,” Ian encouraged gently.

“Mm, I will. Hugo, you can put me down now.”

Hugo, pulling out a neatly arranged chair with his foot, set her down on it. Ian brought over a bowl of thin soup and a sandwich made with freshly baked bread, setting them before Giselle with a small smile.

“I kept it simple today, but starting tomorrow, just tell me what you’d like, and I’ll make anything for you.”

“Anything I want to eat?”

“Yes. Back in the forest, ingredients were limited, but not anymore.”

The moment Ian finished speaking, Giselle’s eyes widened, and she pressed her lips tightly together. She had almost forgotten what leaving the forest truly meant.

Hugo, taking a piece of bread from a basket, leaned casually against the table and spoke.

“You want to go outside, don’t you?”

“Am I… allowed to?”

“Of course.”

“But what if people see me?”

Giselle nervously fingered her pearl-white hair, her expression a mix of apprehension and excitement. Mumbling softly, she avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. Ian, smiling silently, answered her gently.

“Don’t worry, Giselle. This area is private property, so no one can just come in.”

“Private property?”

“Yes. It’s like a territory, if you think of it in terms of the forest. Whatever happens out here, no one outside will know, so you can relax.”

“Exactly. If you want to explore outside, eat what’s in front of you properly, Master,” Hugo added, nudging a plate toward her.

Whatever happens out here…?

The phrase stuck in Giselle’s mind momentarily, but her curiosity was soon drowned out by Hugo’s casual gesture.

The idea of stepping outside lingered in her thoughts. Though sunlight filtered into the forest, the air there was always damp and shadowed. Memories of a time long past—when she had dreamed of living an ordinary life—surfaced, quietly erasing her unease.

Nodding, Giselle picked up the sandwich. The anticipation of settling into her new home left her heart fluttering, and the hazy memories of the previous night began to fade, like fragments of a dream.

After their light meal, Ian, ever attentive, brought out a pot of lightly brewed tea as he always did.

Though the surroundings were new and unfamiliar, Giselle took comfort in the familiarity of small routines. Sipping her tea, she suddenly noticed a familiar yet subtle aroma mingled with the fresh fragrance of the brew. When she raised her head, her eyes met Ian’s, and he offered her a faint, apologetic smile.

“I added a sedative. I thought you might still be shaken after last night.”

“Oh.”

A soft sound escaped her lips, and a faint blush spread across her cheeks. She couldn’t remember everything that had happened, but she knew she’d been overwhelmed by an embarrassing dream and had run off in distress. Lowering her gaze, she silently took another sip of tea.

Hugo, watching her intently, made a casual remark, his tone as nonchalant as ever.

“I was surprised too when you disappeared so suddenly, Master. I thought maybe you left because you were embarrassed about wetting the chair.”

Cough!

Giselle choked on her tea, her face turning scarlet as she spluttered. The spilled tea dripped down her chest and thighs, staining her clothes. As the liquid soaked through, a peculiar scent tickled her nose. It wasn’t just the sedative Ian had mentioned—there was something else, faintly familiar but impossible to place.

“Brother.”

Ian sighed, scolding Hugo lightly. Though Hugo had already hugged Giselle to his heart’s content and resolved any misunderstandings, he still seemed intent on teasing her. Of course, Ian knew Hugo’s real motive—ensuring Giselle remembered his words and didn’t try to run away again.

Ian pulled out a handkerchief and approached her.

“Are you okay, Giselle? It wasn’t too hot, was it?”

“N-no, it had cooled down, so it’s fine. But, um… Ian, did you add something else to the tea?”

Ian paused in his careful dabbing of the spilled tea and met Giselle’s eyes. Beneath her curiosity, he detected a faint trace of unease she likely wasn’t even aware of herself.

He smiled sweetly, exuding an air of pure innocence.

“Yes. There were raspberries in the garden, so I added them while brewing. The garden is a bit of a mess since it hasn’t been maintained, but I thought it might be nice to use them.”

“Oh, I see. Raspberries…”

“You should change into dry clothes before going outside. It’s not cold, but you might catch a chill if you wander around while damp,” Ian said kindly, concern etched across his face.

“This much is fine,” Giselle replied with a soft smile.

“It’s not fine. You haven’t been in the best condition lately…”

Though it was just a small damp patch on her clothes, Ian’s worry was evident. Despite knowing Giselle didn’t age, fall ill, or get injured, he had always been an overly considerate and caring child. Giselle chuckled lightly, brushing away her earlier embarrassment, and stood up.

“Alright. I’ll go change quickly, then.”

“I’ve already arranged your clothes in the wardrobe, so—hey! Why are you standing up too, Hugo?”

Ian’s sharp voice immediately cut through the air as Hugo stood up as if it were the most natural thing to do. The idea of Hugo accompanying Giselle while she changed was far too obvious, and Ian was already exasperated at his brother’s brazenness. They couldn’t push Giselle too much, not when the plan was to slowly get her accustomed to everything over time.

Hugo ignored Ian’s cold tone, glancing at him briefly before stepping beside Giselle. Without a word, he took her hand and, with a slight pout, lowered his eyebrows and mouth in a show of mock dejection.

“Hugo.”

Giselle couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Despite his larger-than-life presence now, there was something about Hugo’s expression that reminded her of when he was younger.

A long time ago, Hugo had suffered from extreme separation anxiety, not just with her but also with Ian. He couldn’t bear to be out of sight of either of them, which was why they had shared a bedroom and bathed together. Ian, too, had been a fragile child who would cry easily and tremble at the sound of rustling leaves.

Nothing has changed.

The thought crossed Giselle’s mind, and she smiled warmly. Then, she tilted her head, questioning why she felt so reassured by the idea that nothing had changed. But before she could dwell on it, Ian stepped forward and grabbed her other hand, breaking her train of thought.

“See? Giselle, this is why he hasn’t matured yet—because you keep indulging him.”

“Uh, m-mature? Wait, I don’t think I’ve indulged him that much…”

If anything, Giselle felt she was the one who leaned on them more. They had always been there to support her, and she thought of her care for them as a natural expression of her affection, not indulgence. But Ian shook his head, adamant in his stance.

“No, you always give in to him. Every time he demands or asks for something, you hesitate, but you still do it.”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

Giselle had never intentionally treated the brothers differently. Hugo’s impulsive and stubborn nature meant he required more attention, whereas Ian was more independent and persistent, often handling things on his own. If Ian thought her attentiveness to Hugo was indulgence, perhaps he wasn’t entirely wrong, but Giselle wouldn’t have minded if Ian acted the same way.

Giselle gave their joined hands a gentle shake and smiled warmly.

“I’d do the same for you, Ian. Whatever you ask, I’ll listen. You’re both precious to me.”

“Really?” Ian’s eyes narrowed slightly as he scrutinized her sincerity.

“Of course. For example, just now—I agreed to change because you were worried, even though my clothes aren’t that wet.”

She brought up the recent incident with a playful tone, causing Ian to glance at the damp fabric clinging to her chest and thighs. The memory of her trembling by the lake last night flashed in his mind, making him press his lips together briefly before letting out a soft sigh.

Sometimes, he wished he could act as recklessly as Hugo. But one impulsive brother was enough.

“…Alright. Go change, Giselle. But leave him behind,” Ian said, shooting a pointed look at Hugo.

“Uh… Hugo? I’ll just be a moment. Could you wait for me?”

“Last night, I left you alone, and you just disappeared again,” Hugo replied flatly, bringing up the events of the previous night once more.

Rather than feeling embarrassed or flustered, Giselle was immediately struck by guilt.