The townhouse was enormous, with countless rooms and corridors stretching throughout its expansive structure. Since I was only staying temporarily, I decided to keep things simple by remaining on the first floor, where the servants’ quarters were located, rather than venturing into the grander areas of the mansion. Fortunately, Sir Dion, one of Baron Elfon’s trusted attendants, had generously introduced me to the household staff upon my arrival. This kindness made my interactions with the other servants far less awkward as I went about my daily routines and explored the nearby areas. I also offered my assistance to Madam Emma, the head maidservant of the mansion, helping her with various household chores.

Three days after my arrival at the townhouse, exciting news reached us: the Grand Duke had finally arrived in the capital. According to the reports, he had gone directly to the imperial palace upon his arrival to pay his respects to the imperial family. While I wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about the noble families of the capital, the surname Estonia struck me as strangely familiar.

‘Yeah, I seem to have heard it before…’

As I was helping Emily with the laundry—carrying large baskets filled with sheets to hang and dry under the warm sun outside—curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “How would you describe His Grace, the Grand Duke Estonia?”

“What do you mean? The late Grand Duke?” Emily replied, pausing in her work.

“No, I mean the new master.”

“I don’t… well, the truth is I’ve only been working here for a few months, and I haven’t actually seen His Grace in person. But I’ve heard stories.” Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. “They say he went to the battlefields when he was only seventeen years old. After the Jade Bleu Villa burned down—with the late Grand Duke and Duchess trapped inside—His Grace went completely mad. People said he would bite anyone who came near him, that he looked like a rabid dog.”

Emily shivered visibly, as if witnessing the scene herself.

“Afterwards, it took His Majesty’s personal intervention to bring him somewhat back to his senses. His aunt, Countess Milan, stepped forward and volunteered to raise him until he came of age. Even some of the close vassal lords of the Estonia family offered their support. However, the Emperor opposed these arrangements, saying that His Grace had endured such devastating grief that he feared the young grand duke might go berserk again. Instead, His Majesty advised that the grand duke should remain at the palace under the care of the royal physician.”

Emily paused, shaking her head in bewilderment. “But here’s what’s truly puzzling—after just three days of treatment, His Grace emerged appearing completely well. It was as if he hadn’t suffered any devastating loss at all. He arranged and presided over his parents’ funeral with perfect composure, conducting all the ceremonies and rituals as if nothing traumatic had happened. Yet those who observed him closely said that although he appeared fine on the surface, he looked like a walking corpse—his eyes were deep and vacant when you really looked at him. Shortly after the funeral, he petitioned to be sent to the battlefield to protect the border.”

After we finished hanging all the sheets to dry, I returned to my room. I slumped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling above, my mind wandering through fragments of memory.

‘It’s really his family…’

I was thirteen years old when I overheard my mother talking with other villagers. We had been heading to Aunt Teri’s house to deliver herbs that mother had collected from the back mountain. Aunt Teri was the village apothecary, renowned for her skill in crafting medicines and remedies. When we arrived at her cottage, I particularly noticed the worried expression etched across Aunt Teri’s face. However, little Annie—Teri’s only daughter—quickly diverted my attention by asking me to play with her dolls, while Teri pulled my mother outside for what appeared to be a serious conversation, leaving us children inside.

“Sister Ave, play with me!” Annie had chirped.

“Okay,” I had agreed, though my eyes remained fixed on the closed door.

As the adults spoke in hushed tones outside, I couldn’t help but strain my ears, catching fragments of their conversation despite trying to focus on Annie’s games.

“…burned down…”

“…green fire…”

“Estonia… burned alive…”

“Witch… village…”

The words drifted through the walls—mere tidbits that weren’t entirely audible. I could also make out the voices of Uncle Theo and Big Sister Pomier joining the discussion while Annie and I continued our game of house.

At the time, I hadn’t thought much of what I’d overheard. But I remembered that after we returned home that evening, my mother would often fall into long periods of silence, sitting for hours as if lost in deep, troubled thoughts.

‘Green fire…’

They said such flames could only be conjured by a witch—a fire that no amount of water could ever extinguish.