Chapter 1: Whispers of a Fractured Night

Chapter 1: The Essence of the Prologue

Hot, hot.

Unable to let the words lingering at the corner of her mouth escape, she struggled to lift her head. Beyond the searing light, a wavering heat haze shimmered, and beyond that, the gazes of hundreds converged on her.

A disorienting voice drummed in her ears, gradually fading away. Trapped in ropes that dug into her very flesh, every desperate struggle only brought further pain.

Flames erupted around her toes with savage intensity. In the midst of numbing agony, when not even a scream could escape and only salty tears fell from eyes already dark from death like the sea, the terror was complete.

Through the murky ash-gray smoke, a chilling eye emerged. Though it vanished within seconds along with the smoke, its gaze had long been etched into her heart. “Why are you trying to kill me? Why—why…” She longed to cry out until her throat burst, but the toxic fumes clamped down on her breath.

Tears streaked across the floor in glistening, golden rivulets, pooling around a wooden pillar meant to serve as the scaffold. Beyond the dimming edge of consciousness, she thought she caught a final glimpse of light.

“Gasp… gasp…”

Lara opened her eyes. They were long since drenched. The sound of a ticking clock filled the silence. Barely a moment after she had stared blankly at the dark ceiling and panted for breath, the door burst open.

“Lara! What’s wrong?”

Her older brother, Lawrence, who had been sleeping in the next room, appeared in a flurry at the sound of her cry. Lara sat up and fell into his comforting embrace.

“I… had a nightmare. That nightmare…”

Seeing his little sister silently weep, Lawrence’s expression turned somber. He bit his lip briefly before a soft smile broke through. Gently, he eased her from his arms and reached out to dab away her tears.

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. A nightmare isn’t real.”

“Mm…”

“Shall we sleep together tonight?”

“I’m only twelve.”

“You’ll always be my little one. So precious.”

As Lawrence softly tousled her hair, Lara mumbled almost inaudibly, “I’m fifteen…” Yet his warmth quieted her racing heart.

After returning beneath the covers, Lawrence lay beside his little sister, gently patting her stomach until she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Lara Schmord.

The youngest daughter of the Schmord Viscount’s family, she had grown up amid modest yet genuine happiness. With a clumsy older brother, a quietly attentive father, and an elegant mother, her life was simple and cherished.

“Monica, braid my hair beautifully.”

“Leave it to me.”

Today was Lara’s twelfth birthday. She sat before the mirror with a face lit by anticipation—her pert little nose and soft, rounded features lending her an endearing charm.

Adorned with her coral hair and a matching moss-green ribbon, Lara left her room. With graceful steps down the corridor as she recently mastered, she entered the family’s modest banquet hall. Thus began a birthday celebration that made her heart flutter.

“Miss Lara, happy birthday.”

“This is your birthday present.”

The young aristocrats, maintaining just the right formality, offered their blessings.

“Oh my, you truly embody noble grace.”

“Hoho, you look like you’ll excel in your studies, just as we’ve heard.”

The kind noblewomen contributed their gentle compliments.

“Miss, would you do me the honor of being my first partner…”

“Sorry, but your brother already made a promise. Right, Lara?”

Even her overly protective clumsy older brother was present.

It was a day of bliss, as if she held the world in her hands. Hand in hand with Lawrence, Lara danced, savored cake, and received affectionate kisses on her cheeks from their parents, ending her birthday amid pure joy.

‘I wonder what gift is in store for me?’

And what birthday is complete without unwrapping presents? Dressed in airy pink pajamas, Lara sat on her bed as she began to open the neatly stacked gift boxes.

The first gift was from her parents—a beautifully wrapped dress she had long desired. Next came her brother’s present: a necklace and ring from a renowned girl’s brand he had promised. Satisfied, Lara smiled as she moved on to the next gift.

‘…What is this?’

The packaging was so meticulous that she had expected something grand, yet all it held was a single book. Disappointment creased her face as she inspected the top and back of the box; no name was inscribed.

‘A book? How dull!’

Hoping it might be an interesting romance novel, Lara lifted the cover slightly. The plain exterior concealed yet another cover inside.

[Lord Robes X Lilica]

What in the world did that mean? What did the ‘X’ stand for? Puzzled, Lara flipped to the first page—a page adorned with neatly lined illustrations.

Initially, she had sprawled on her stomach skimming the images, but soon she sat upright, reading every dialogue and stage direction in meticulous detail. This was an entirely new realm for her; her pace slowed, her breath caught, and her vision blurred.

Indeed, it was Lara’s first-ever doujinshi.

Chapter 2: The Quintessential Obsessive Lover

Eight years later, Lara had reached the age of twenty. Until then, her life had flowed smoothly without any major incidents—a simple, unassuming existence.

It all seemed normal until that night, just before her brother Lawrence burst into her room.

“Hey, wake up.”

Lara was roused by a gentle, indifferent tap on her back. Rubbing her eyes, she turned to see someone watching over her in the darkened bedroom.

“Hmm, brother?”

At first, she suspected an intruder, but there was no mistaking that it was Lawrence. Still, the sight of him leaning awkwardly against the bedpost felt strangely unfamiliar.

“Did you go out drinking?”

“Drinking?”

Suppressing a soft laugh, Lawrence’s normally gentle voice now carried an unexpected edge of irritation. He was the same kind brother who never once showed annoyance and always offered kindness.

Yet, this behavior was unmistakably odd.

“…Lawrence, stop messing around. Why are you doing this in the middle of the night…”

“Cut the small talk and come make some spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti…? At this hour?”

Lara threw him a bewildered glance.

“Not coming? I’m hungry. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Without offering her a chance to respond, Lawrence swiftly disappeared through the door.

That night, Lara felt that she should not have cooked spaghetti for him; since then, his demeanor toward her had completely shifted.

While leaving the other servants alone, he made her fetch things, turn off lights, cook spaghetti, and even do the dishes, as if she were nothing more than a hired hand.

The brother who once exuded impeccable manners, cherished his little sister above all, and seemed almost perfect had overnight transformed into a slothful slob, abandoning his duties as the heir to the Viscount’s estate to laze on the sofa the whole day.

“Hey, Lara, cook some spaghetti.”

‘Here we go again.’

Climbing the mansion’s stairs, Lara quietly retraced her steps upon hearing a voice from Lawrence’s room on the second floor. She had already endured three long days of his incessant commands.

“Hey, Lara.”

Just when she thought she’d escaped, a gentle voice from the opposite corridor halted her steps. It was her mother, the Viscountess Schmord.

“Does your brother seem any better? I’m worried. How can someone so healthy be holed up in his room for days…”

“Well, Mother, I think it’s not his body but his mind that’s in trouble.”

“It seems the pressure from the Knight Order’s promotion exam got to him. I never imagined he’d be so mentally strained.”

“No, I mean, he seems downright deranged!”

Exasperated, Lara’s voice rose before she quickly clamped her mouth shut. Her mother’s expression soured in surprise.

“Even if your brother’s behavior has changed recently, remember how well he treated you. You shouldn’t speak like that…”

His voice trailing off, her mother hurriedly took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. Lara felt a mix of guilt and frustration as she sensed her mother’s disbelief.

‘If anyone should be crying, it should be me.’

Lara longed for the brother she once knew, so desperately. Her sorrow was echoed upstairs by yet another shout: “Hey, cook some spaghetti!”

* * *

“You cook it and eat it yourself!”

While being chastised by her maid, Lara’s exasperation burst out as she shouted into the next room.

It had been a week since her brother had changed; Lara no longer even called him ‘brother’—that term felt like an insult now.

She believed that the slob masquerading as her brother was a disgrace to their family. She was determined that he would eventually return to his former self—and rid the mansion of this worthless freeloader. For now, she could only wait and hope.

After finishing her preparations for the ball, Lara left the mansion with measured steps. A youth with coral hair peered out from a second-floor window as if giving her a heartfelt farewell.

“Are you coming back without cooking any spaghetti? Hey! You wouldn’t want to see your cherished romance novels tossed in the trash, would you?”

“Monica, lock my door tightly, alright?”

“Yes, Miss. Safe travels.”

After bidding farewell to her personal maid, Monica, Lara boarded a carriage bound for the ballroom.

Unaware of the impending disaster that awaited her.

* * *

It had been about a year since the grand ball was last held by the Duke Liniet family. The occasion was none other than Lady Elina’s birthday.

Chandeliers cascaded like elegant peonies, their brilliant gold light bursting across the high ceiling, while elaborately dressed nobles gathered in clusters below.

Lara scanned the crowd among the young aristocrats for someone familiar, but every face was a stranger.