Dylan de Beaumon, the adopted daughter of a Duke, recalls the memories of her past-life after hitting her head. Upon realizing she was a villainess character in a novel, she decides to use her intellectual giftedness to get a good career and run awa...
"I can hardly stand being in this place," Dylan muttered, her words tinged with a mixture of frustration and despair. "I can't believe I'm back here."
She had hoped that the weeks she spent away would heal her wounds, but now that she was back at the Duke's manor, she realized that the wounds were still fresh and painful. All she wanted to do was turn around and walk out the door, but she knew that wasn't an option.
"Welcome home, Lady Dylan," a servant said, her head bowed low in respect. "We are overjoyed that you have returned. The manor has been rather bleak and lifeless without your presence."
Although her words were warm, Dylan couldn't help but notice the tiredness and exhaustion that crept into the servant's voice. Looking around, she saw that all the staff looked completely worn out, their faces etched with deep lines of fatigue. It was clear that the manor had fallen into disrepair, and that the people who had been charged with its upkeep had been struggling to keep up with the demands of maintaining such a large estate.
"You all seem rather exhausted," Dylan observed, her tone devoid of empathy. "My servants," she said, gesturing to them with a wave of her hand, "will assist you in any way they can."
After dismissing the staff, Dylan could see the relief on their faces as they eagerly put Jessie and Mina to work. It was evident to her that everyone was struggling, and she had a strong suspicion that Duke Beaumon was the root of the problem. As she watched the staff bustling about their work, Dylan couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settling in her stomach.
"Cadence," Dylan called out to her knight, who was standing a few feet away. "Do a discreet sweep of the manor. If you come across anything unusual or hear anything suspicious, report back to me immediately."
He looked at her with his heterochromatic eyes for a moment, as if reluctant to leave her side, but ultimately bowed and took his leave. Before Dylan could even blink, he had blended into the manor's surroundings like a shadow, disappearing from sight.
"Excuse me," Dylan called out to a young male servant who was cleaning the nearby floors. "Can you tell me why the staff seems so overworked?"
The male servant hesitated before responding, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "It's His Grace, the Duke," he finally said. "Lately, he's been making more and more demands of the staff, and we're working longer hours to keep up. It seems like he's never satisfied, and it's taking a toll on everyone."
"Is that all?"
The male servant appeared to cower under Dylan's gaze. "No, milady," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "His Grace has developed a fondness for alcohol as of late, and it's been taking a terrible toll on the staff. We are all struggling to keep up with his demands, and it's been a nightmare for everyone."
As the male servant spoke, Dylan's suspicion was confirmed, and she let out a heavy sigh. The Duke's recent silence had been too suspicious. She knew she had to address this issue immediately before it spiralled out of control beyond the manor walls. Dylan couldn't bear the thought of another major problem right now.
"Bring me to him."
~
As she approached his office, the pungent stench of alcohol wafted through the closed door and hit Dylan like a wave. The sickly-sweet odour made her eyes water, and she instinctively took a step back. The thought of confronting the Duke in his current state, with his recent mental instability and the dangerous combination of alcohol, filled her with a sense of dread. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out to push open the door.
Suddenly, a hand gently touched her shoulder, causing Dylan to jump slightly. She turned to see Cadence's concerned eyes looking back at her. She knew what he was trying to say without words: it wasn't safe for her to see the Duke in his current state.
"I understand," she whispered to him, her voice barely above a breath. "But I don't know if I can avoid this. What if this issue continues to affect me and the manor in the future?"
Cadence let out a heavy sigh, his eyes softening with concern for Dylan. He gave a nod, a silent reassurance that he would be there by her side to protect her. Dylan felt a sense of relief wash over her, grateful for his presence. With a determined nod, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, Cadence following closely behind.
As she surveyed the scene, she saw that the office was in complete disarray. Papers littered the floor, and the furniture was haphazardly toppled over. The ground was littered with broken glass from the countless bottles of alcohol that were scattered around the room. The office was shrouded in dim light, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
Dylan took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. She knew she couldn't afford to lose her composure, not now. She took another step forward, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of the Duke. And then she saw him, slumped over in his chair, an empty bottle of wine in his hand.
For a moment, she just stood there, unsure of what to do. She knew she had to talk to him, to confront him about his recent behaviour, but she wasn't sure how to approach him in his current state. She took another step forward, the broken glass crunching under her feet.
The Duke stirred, and Dylan froze, holding her breath. For a moment, she thought he might not have noticed her, but then he looked up, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "What do you want?" he slurred, his words slurring together.
Dylan took a deep breath and stepped closer. "Your Grace, I need to talk to you," she said, her voice firm but gentle.
The Duke sneered at her, his face contorting in anger. "I don't have time for this," he spat, waving his hand dismissively. "Leave me alone."
"We need to talk about your recent behaviour."
"My behaviour?" he spat out, his voice rising in anger. "And what do you know about my behaviour? You think you're so clever, don't you? But you're just a lowly servant. You know nothing."
He hurled the bottle towards her with a violent force, and Dylan reacted quickly, instinctively ducking just in time to avoid being struck. The bottle collided with the wall behind her, shattering into countless shards of glass that scattered across the floor. The room fell silent, save for the sound of the broken glass crunching underfoot as Dylan slowly straightened up, her heart racing in fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins.
As soon as Dylan noticed Cadence's hand reaching for his sword, she quickly intervened, grabbing his arm just in time to prevent him from making a fatal move. She knew the consequences of such an action would be dire, and they couldn't afford to add fuel to the fire. She shot Cadence a warning look, silently urging him to keep his composure.
Dylan took a deep breath to steady her voice before speaking. "Father," she said, her voice cracking with emotion, "it's me, Dylan. Your daughter. I'm home."
The Duke paused for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts before speaking. "Dylan," he said in a slurred voice, "welcome home. It's been too long." He paused again before continuing, "We should have a feast to celebrate your visit. Yes, a grand feast. Tell the servants to prepare the dining room, and we'll have a feast like no other."
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