Chapter 8: The Paupers And The Black Princess

Shooting a look, he shifted gears and drove in. The trees were thick yet well-trimmed, and the floral scent of various flowers filled the air. In the distance, a guard waved his hand as a signal to stop. From here, they would be led through a different road.

“Did you just see the map of the estate at the security checkpoint?!? Damn! It's huge, like an airport… She’s literally a princess!” Dorothy, not the least bit hesitant or wary, excitedly shook Azel’s arm, nearly wrecking his new jacket in the process. Her grabby claws dug into the fabric, but Azel barely noticed. He was too dazed, staring out the car window at the life-sized sculptures of silk-gowned women.

“What the…?”

“Aren’t those the sculptures you sold a couple of months ago?” Dorothy echoed his thoughts.

Azel’s brows furrowed. Those were his sculptures—the art pieces he had created for his thesis in his third year. After being selected as a rising artist, the dean had given him the opportunity to present his work in a gallery for emerging talents. Though they weren’t as expensive as works from well-known masters, the entire seven-piece collection, along with commissions for two or three more, had made him quite a sum. When his mother heard about his recognition, she had squealed as if he’d just signed a contract with a Hollywood agency. “You could be the next Michelangelo!”

The driver blinked but, without the slightest reaction, simply continued driving in silence.

Reaching their destination, he dropped them off and drove away—quickly.

Dorothy frowned. “Wasn’t he in a hurry?” She shrugged, dismissing the odd behavior. Azel, on the other hand, felt a twinge of unease but didn’t dwell on it. Neither of them knew they were being watched.

A few spaces away, one of the mansion’s windows flickered with movement. A shadow loomed against the glass.

Downstairs, the butler also observed the new arrivals, his sharp eyes tracking their every step. Were they the youngest Miss’s friends? This was news worth reporting to the master.

Not that it mattered.

He had already seen them.

The dark silhouette of a man stood, swirling red liquid inside a champagne glass. The pomegranate juice had a slight tint of spice from a light sprinkle of pepper. The sweetness mellowed it down, creating a perfect balance.

His long brown coffee-colored hair reached his waist, tied in a ponytail. His eyes, light steel-colored yet emotionless, reflected his fine physique—built like a sea sailor. “So, my youngest grandchild has arrived, and no one informed me, Frederick?” His deep, husky voice emitted from thin, light pink lips.For a man supposedly in his eighties, Winford Gear Blackheart looked no older than his early thirties.

Butler Frederick wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, his panic barely concealed. “Master, I am ashamed to say this has happened again. This is the third time news of her arrival did not reach you. I was waiting for your command to summon your granddaughter, but… the servants I sent to fetch her have no recollection of the interaction.”

Frederick was old now—seventy-nine—as old as his master should have been.

But only he had aged.

He had served the Blackheart patriarch since he was a lad, and if there was one rule his father had drilled into him, it was: No questions. Just follow orders.

Over the decades, his curiosity had been carefully extinguished, buried beneath a survival instinct that warned him not to pry too deeply.

He only relayed what he saw happening.

How could he have known that his every message was being intercepted? And by none other than the little Miss herself?

This estate held dark secrets. All the servants were bound by the estate’s rules. It was mysterious that if one tried to leave, they would return disoriented, never recalling if they even wanted to leave. Some even disappeared. Where did they go? No one was speculative enough to dig.

Contracts had already been signed, and rules needed to be followed.

But he would be foolish to ask now, wouldn’t he?

Living and serving twenty-one misses and masters was not for the faint-hearted.

The legacy of these people was so high that no ordinary person, not even the government, could reach it.

Winford Gear Blackheart, the root of the Blackheart family’s foundation, mused. His own granddaughter had escaped his clutches. She had become bolder and more cunning.

He whispered silently, voicelessly—a command to the unknown. A black mist swirled and disappeared through the doors.

Setting his glass down, his eyes followed the two kids making their way out of view. “Oleander has really gotten outright bold, don’t you think, Frederick?”

Poor old butler thought: Master, why are you pulling me into this invisible, tense fight between you and your favorite granddaughter? His back sweated, but he sighed in relief as Winford dismissed him. The servant, waiting for instructions, perked up when he exited the room. He shook his head, and all the servants dispersed in ease.

No orders meant there would be peace for a while.

A heavy mist curled through the garden, slithering toward the unsuspecting pair.

Azel shivered, a strange sensation creeping down his spine.

“What?” Dorothy paused, following his gaze.

The eerie feeling of something watching him lingered, but Azel shook it off. Maybe it was just the unfamiliar environment.

They continued walking, oblivious to the mist drawing closer.

Just as it reached them, another, lighter mist shot out from the estate’s grounds—this one in the shape of a human figure. The two mists collided, dissipating in an instant.

Azel blinked rapidly.

Had he just… seen a gray cloud?

Before he could question the bizarre phenomenon, they had reached the compound.

Isla, Oleander’s personal maid, approached them with a welcoming smile.

“Welcome! Miss has been expecting you two.”

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Their voices blended into the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. They followed Isla through the breathtaking garden, taking in their surroundings. However, they followed the maid without questions, observing the breathtaking surroundings. Dorothy discreetly tapped her bag. She was itching to sketch the landscape. She really wanted to give Oleander a thumbs-up for her choice of place for the assignment. Who needed to sit on the grass in the park, where people would be hindering their view? The chatter of people would also be distracting.

They came into a clearing. The compound could be seen ahead.

“So, she really is a princess! Butlers and maids. It’s like I’ve been transported into a manhwa world.”

“Agree.” Azel combed his bangs to the side.Like a pauper invited into a palace. Mom, what Michelangelo? If the great sculptor were alive today, even he would have to bow to the king and queen of this estate.

Life… really wasn’t fair.

A heavy sigh left him as Dorothy gushed over the elaborate fountain.

“How much do you think the fountain costs? It’s not even a simple one. It has beautifully sculpted yin and yang fish spouting water from both sides, and the designs of sea life on the well wall tell a story.”

Just shut up. Azel’s lifeless eyes fixed on her.

Here I am, questioning my existence, and she’s enjoying the scenery.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Dorothy continued, then paused. “Ooh! I really want to throw in a coin and make a wish.”

Ignoring her antics, Azel followed Isla inside.

“Wait for me!” Dorothy called after them, running to catch up.

Just as they stepped into the grand hallway, Oleander descended the staircase, greeting them with a small smile.