Chapter 9: Before That, How About I Tell You a Story?

There’s another demon in this mansion.

Evelyn pinched her chin, leaning her lower back against the side table where the old rotary phone sat.

She frowned slightly. The mysterious Grian Manor still had a pile of unresolved questions.

If there really was a second demon lurking here, then without a doubt, it must be connected to all of those unanswered mysteries.

And besides… if Vivienne was supposedly the mastermind behind the recent spree of demonic possession cases Evelyn had been investigating, then, thinking back on it now, that woman was honestly way too incompetent.

A little probing, a little provocation, and she immediately exposed herself. Someone that impulsive definitely didn’t look like the kind of puppeteer capable of orchestrating multiple possession incidents across Grey City.

“So basically, even if I deliver her corpse to the Seventh Hall, it’s still not enough credit to get me promoted into the Choir?”

Evelyn rubbed her forehead irritably. The chance to finally enter the Choir had seemed right within reach, only for her to discover it was all just wishful thinking. No wonder she felt annoyed.

Fortunately, she had now confirmed the existence of that other demon hidden in this mansion, who was very likely the true culprit of the possession incidents.

As long as she found him, her promotion into the Choir would practically be guaranteed.

Unless, of course, someone else got the credit first.

But right now, the only person who might know the secrets of this mansion… was the head maid, Sera, still waiting outside that door.

Judging by her attitude, she probably wouldn’t say a single useful word.

That was where the trail ended—unless Evelyn stormed out right now, tied up that cold, elegant beauty of a maid, and tortured the truth out of her.

But Evelyn had a strong feeling that even under torture, that frosty beauty would die loyal to the Grian family before she ever gave up a secret.

“Well, that’s troublesome…”

Her hand moved instinctively, wanting to pull out a cigarette to let nicotine soothe her frustration.

Then, as she turned, her eyes fell on Pudge, the little creature perched on her shoulder.

“Wait.”

Evelyn’s brows suddenly smoothed. “What did you tell me earlier when you finished scouting?”

“The smell of demons here is super strong. I’m about to develop allergies… why?” Pudge tilted its little bird head, blinking those beady eyes.

“No, the sentence after that.”

“The strongest scent… seems to be underground, but also upstairs. It’s weird, like the whole house…”

“Yes! That one!” Evelyn snapped her fingers.

“So? Does it mean anything?” Pudge asked, head cocked.

“You really are a dumb bird,” Evelyn sighed. “At first, I thought it was because a demon had been moving around quickly, leaving its scent everywhere, so you couldn’t pinpoint a location. But now… that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

If she assumed there was a second demon, everything made sense.

Pudge sensed the scent both below and above. Below—because when he said that earlier, Vivienne was right downstairs in the utility room.

She was the first source of the scent.

Then the second demon must have been upstairs.

Upstairs…

A slow, confident smile curved at Evelyn’s lips.

The study where she had met Cyril earlier—wasn’t it upstairs?

That alone didn’t prove he was the second demon, but it did mean that the breakthrough was with him.

And if he truly was the demon… then the mysteries of this mansion would have all the answers she needed.

Evelyn chuckled softly. Her hand slid toward the thigh holster beneath her skirt, brushing the ivory handle of her gun.

And if he turned out to be a demon… wouldn’t that be perfect?

The interrogation room door creaked open. The head maid Sera still stood tall and elegant, hands folded at her abdomen like a proud swan.

“Miss Nun, is there anything else you require?”

Her words were humble, but her chin was lifted so high that her attitude said exactly the opposite.

“That will be all.”

Feigning the air of someone whose exorcism duties were finally complete, Evelyn nodded slightly. “The Church retrieval team for the demon corpse will arrive shortly.”

“Thank you for your hard work,” Sera replied, still proud as ever. “Young Master has prepared a resting room for you. Please allow me to escort you there.”

“No need for a rest. I must speak with your young master about the demon.”

Evelyn’s tone was gentle and graceful. “Before dying, that demon seemed to be performing some kind of ritual. The effects are still unknown. I need to discuss this with him.”

It was a lie—three parts true, seven parts fabricated. Vivienne had been preparing some sort of ritual—that much was obvious from the altar table and materials downstairs.

But she died before her ritual even started.

Which meant nothing had taken effect at all.

But the head maid had no way of knowing that.

“You may speak to me,” Sera insisted stubbornly.

“This matter involves internal Church operations. It must be discussed with your head of household.”

Evelyn’s voice was still polite, though her eyes narrowed slightly.

Sera clearly wanted to prevent any further contact between Evelyn and Cyril.

Which only confirmed Evelyn’s suspicions—there was something very wrong with Cyril.

As Evelyn’s words fell, the hallway dropped into an eerie silence.

“…I understand,” Sera finally said after a moment, lowering her head just a little. She yielded. “I will bring you to see Young Master.”

Exactly as Evelyn anticipated.

From the start, Evelyn had mentioned the arriving Church agents—that was pressure.

Sera could have refused to let Evelyn meet Cyril… but doing so would only increase suspicion. If the Church arrived while Evelyn remained unconvinced, they would have every reason to fully investigate the manor.

Then none of its secrets would remain hidden.

Better to let Evelyn speak with Cyril, and dispel any doubts before help arrived.

And beyond that—Sera couldn’t be sure Evelyn was lying. What if the ritual really did affect Cyril somehow?

Two tall figures moved down the hallway, up the wooden stairs, around the corner, until the familiar study door appeared—the one where Evelyn had met Cyril earlier.

“Young Master is inside. Please wait a moment.”

Sera stepped to the ornate, gold-inlaid door and gently pulled the cord of the old-fashioned bell.

A crisp chime rang out. Only when a faint voice inside called, “Come in,” did Sera open the door.

The room was just as before—only a single desk lamp lit.

Cyril had been brought back after being drawn away by the gunshot earlier.

“Is there something you need?” Cyril looked up from behind the green lampshade, exactly as he had looked during their first encounter.

“Miss Nun has something to discuss with you,” Sera replied, standing dutifully at the door, hands folded before her.

“What I’m about to say is confidential. I’d prefer no audience,” Evelyn said, glancing at the maid who was clearly intent on staying.

Sera didn’t answer. She looked at Cyril instead. She listened only to him.

“Sera,” Cyril said, carefully maneuvering his wheelchair from behind the desk, “make some tea for Miss Nun and me.”

“Yes.” Only then did Sera bow slightly and leave the room.

The door shut with a soft click. Now only Evelyn and Cyril remained.

“She’s watched me grow up,” Cyril explained gently. “She only follows my orders. I apologize. What did you wish to discuss?”

“The retrieval team is already on their way,” Evelyn said, suddenly dropping her usual refined facade. She flopped casually onto an ornate sofa. “They’ll arrive in about fifteen minutes.”

A silver lighter appeared in her hand. The lid flipped open with a sharp click, the wheel scraped—“chh”—sparks flared, and a small flame ignited the cigarette hanging from the corner of her lips.

“Before they get here… how about I tell you a story?”