Chapter 18 : To each their own

“Young Master? Are you there?”
Celia gently knocked on the door. After confirming no one replied from within, she gently pushed the door open.

As she had expected, bright lights and open books created the illusion that the master was still present.

“Young Master… you really are a naughty boy.”

She opened the wardrobe, confirming that the black robe covering his face had disappeared.

Then, she leisurely walked to the bookshelf, pulled out a certain book, and the bookshelf then parted to the sides, revealing a secret room behind it.

The book’s title was “One Hundred Ways to Nurture Yuri.” Celia frowned slightly.

“His past preferences… weren’t like this.”

She recalled previous books, remembering titles like “One Hundred s*x Techniques.”

Schiller’s secret storage room was thus laid bare before her.

In reality, most of the items in the storage room belonged to the original owner. Schiller had arrived in this world too recently to have time to organize it.

Celia, as if in her own home, walked purposefully to a certain spot.

After retrieving what she sought, she glanced around the room.

“Young Master’s taste hasn’t changed… or is that just my imagination?” She tilted her head in confusion, then quickly walked out, restoring everything to its original state.

In Schiller’s room, she scrutinized “that,” which was indeed the item Schiller had acquired from Ophelia a few days ago.

To ensure the plan’s smooth progression, Celia decided to test the medicine first.

She pulled out the stopper and tasted a shallow sip.

“…”

Nothing happened.

“Did I open it incorrectly?” She tilted her head, a hint of thought flashing in her blue eyes.

“No, it’s probably lacking some kind of medium…” she muttered to herself, yet it sounded as if she were talking to someone.

“The most effective magical medium is blood, followed by bodily fluids.”

She pulled out a small bottle of bright red liquid from somewhere within her clothes.

A hint of regret flashed in her eyes, but it was immediately replaced by a deeper obsession.

She gritted her teeth and poured the liquid into the medicine.

Sizzle.

The transparent liquid instantly turned a virulent black, shimmering with an impure glow.

“I guessed correctly.”

Then, she picked up the bottle of medicine and fell into thought.

Adding this pitch-black substance to water would be far too conspicuous.

Red tea? Red wine? White spirits?

This eerie color would be tantamount to self-sabotage.

Coffee.

No, rather, nothing but coffee. The only thing she had to do was lock the cellar door and hide the key.

The plan should have been perfect, the only variable being Aileen.

Young Master had recently assigned Aileen tasks like making tea.

“…”

That’s right, she’d just tell Aileen that the Young Master wanted coffee tonight.

She carefully tucked the medicine into her bosom, then exited the room.

And before her, stood Sheryl Hohenzollern, her face completely serious as she looked at Celia.

Celia adopted a respectful demeanor and spoke to Sheryl.

…

…

A short while ago,

Sheryl Hohenzollern was sprawled listlessly on the soft bed.

She was like a lazy cat, repeatedly raising and lowering her slender legs.

Then, as if bored, she rolled around on the bed.

“Ouch!” A soft cry escaped her lips.

She had rolled too many times and accidentally tumbled onto the floor.

Sheryl covered her head, groaning softly.

Lingering in her mind was Schiller’s image from the afternoon etiquette lesson.

His slightly helpless yet focused gaze… kept replaying in her mind, so clear that her cheeks flushed hot.

‘It must be because I haven’t fully memorized it yet…’

Sheryl felt that it must be because she hadn’t truly learned it, which was why her brain was reminding her to review.

“Right, I should go talk to Schiller.”

She got up, straightened her slightly disheveled clothes, pushed open the door, and then, following her memory, walked to Schiller’s room.

Though the Viscount’s mansion was huge, it was far smaller than the Duke’s mansion. However, it was much cozier here.

The Duke’s mansion that had confined her for over a decade.

Sheryl hesitated, uncharacteristically stopping in front of the door.

‘Has he already fallen asleep?’ ‘Will he pretend not to hear?’ The girl’s heart was filled with trepidation.

“Ah.”

The blue-haired maid happened to step out of the door.

Sheryl recognized this maid; she was often closely accompanying Schiller.

Just like family.

“Family…” Sheryl’s red lips parted slightly, letting out these two words.

‘How envious,’ she thought.

Celia bowed to Sheryl, “Lady Sheryl, are you here to see Young Master?”

Sheryl nodded slightly, then blushed:

“No, I just happened to be passing by! I wasn’t looking for him… don’t misunderstand!”

Her words and actions were full of contradictions, and she was actually self-aware of it.

However, in the ducal mansion, she couldn’t survive without acting this way.

“One must wear a mask to survive.”

This was what the Duke often said.

“Is that so? Young Master requests to meet you in his room in an hour.”

“Then, I won’t disturb you.” Without waiting for Sheryl to react, Celia bowed again, then, as if merging into the shadows, swiftly disappeared into the depths of the corridor.

Sheryl, disoriented by the sudden turn of events, completely failed to notice when Celia had disappeared.

Sheryl didn’t even see how she left. She stood alone at the doorway, her fingertips unconsciously twisting the hem of her nightgown.

“An hour… Is that enough time to take a bath?” She sniffed herself, seemingly still catching a faint whiff of sweat from the afternoon training.

In truth, in some part of her heart, she had already come to regard Schiller—who had desperately saved her, even sacrificing himself for her escape—as family.

However, she wasn’t sure how Schiller saw her.

Years of confined living made her particularly crave the presence of family.

In that hell called the ducal mansion, she was only allowed to see her biological parents twice a year.

And after becoming the legitimate heir, even that opportunity was taken away.

She had almost forgotten what her parents looked like.

But Schiller had given her a new gentleness.

‘No, there must be absolutely no impropriety!’ A smile of pure anticipation bloomed on her face, and she turned to walk quickly towards her room, preparing to meticulously get ready for the upcoming “meeting.”

Meanwhile, where Schiller was located.

“Miss Ophelia, I have a question.” Schiller decided to ask the question he had pondered for a long time.

“Yes, what is it?” Ophelia smiled at him.

“Why are you following me?”

From the beginning, Ophelia had walked by Schiller’s side as if guarding him, and whenever Schiller looked at her, she would overtly turn her head away.

“…It must be your imagination.”

‘I hope so!’

They had already left the red-light district. This place was only one block away from the Viscount’s manor.

Although his movement was hindered by dragging the large sack, it did not affect Schiller’s speed in the slightest.

Ophelia stopped not far from the viscount’s manor.

“Viscount Schiller, fate is decided by you,” she suddenly said, her words of unclear meaning.

In the original work, Ophelia would occasionally say enigmatic things to the protagonist, earning her the title of “Riddler Saintess” among players.

“Your destiny will not be smooth sailing,” her golden eyes shimmered with a mysterious luster under the cool moonlight, as if peering into the future. “I see… a crimson shadow is approaching.” Her tone carried a prophetic gravity.

‘Is that so? Do Saintesses possess some ability for divine foresight? Or has she already seen her own demise?’ But there was only one answer.

“Then,” Schiller met her gaze and winked at her, “resist, or… perish. There is no third option.”

Ophelia paused slightly, then a smile, mixed with surprise and a certain understanding, blossomed on her lips, like a golden rose blooming under the moonlight.

This answer seemed to exceed her expectations.

“Heh…” She chuckled softly, saying nothing more, and retreated, silently merging into the shadows of the building, as if she had never been there.

‘What on earth does that mean?’

Schiller had no time to ponder; the immediate priority was to quickly return to his room.

Seeing Schiller’s figure disappear into the mansion, Ophelia emerged from the shadows.

“Heh heh, in that case, I shall lend you a hand as well.”