And Now, You Kneel

"..."

The red-haired boy lowered his head, trembling with barely contained rage as his fist clenched violently by his side.

It appeared my simple question had somehow offended him.

— But seriously, who even is this guy?

"It seems I went too hard on you," he sneered. "So hard that you have forgotten your own memories. Hah, how amusing."

With a pesky smirk, he brushed off his fringe with a dramatic sweep of his fingers. Rather than offering empathy, he was rather, genuinely delighted by my woeful state.

"!"

But then... it clicked.

I suddenly remembered the faint whispers from before, the ones exchanged by the two maids, Clara and Tessa.

Was this the so-called... Second Master?

The same individual who had left this body of Elias Vandrelis, bedridden, wracked with unbearable pain?

"..."

"Uhm… brother, what brings you here…?" I asked, forcing a nervous smile.

"Disgusting!" he spat, his face tightening with anger. "How dare a peasant like you call me brother? You impure-blooded filth, take that back right now!"

The red-haired boy, Second Master, my supposed elder brother, flared up with hostility, clearly unable to stomach the idea that we were related by blood.

Without warning, he grabbed a vase from a nearby table, pulling it back to strike.

"Guess you haven't had enough, eh?"

I instinctively recoiled, clutching the duvet and raising my trembling arm to shield myself away. My body felt small, helpless. My heart raced with fear, not my fear, but his.

Elias Vandrelis’.

Somehow, I could feel it, the panic, the trauma that was etched within the depths of this body, suddenly rising, blooming like a dark flower.

But then...

Why was I even afraid of this scrawny little brat?

I had lived nearly a century. I had seen war, betrayal, and death. 

I had seen it all.

And this? 

This was just... child’s play.

— Wake up! You senile old fool!

My eyes narrowed. I met his gaze and glared.

This wasn’t just any glare. It was a death stare, sharp enough to slice through pride, cold enough to stop a heart.

Like a beast eyeing its next kill.

And just like that, the brat's bravado crumbled in an instant.

He stumbled backwards, dropping the vase with a loud clatter, splashing water all over himself, including his trousers.

— Hah. It now looks like he wet himself.

I slowly shifted forward, looming over him from the edge of the bed, claiming dominance over the very ground he was cowering on.

Despite the searing pain that still wracked my body, I let it twist my expression into something even more unhinged, wild, and menacing.

— Oh, how the tables have turned.

My brother backed away on all fours like a kicked dog.

I rose, slow and unsteady. Then, crouching low, I plucked a jagged shard of porcelain from the shattered vase, still wet from the spill.

Tilting my head to the side with a grin that probably looked sinister, I pointed the shard towards him.

"What were you planning to do to me again, you little shit?"

"St-stay away from me! You peasant!" he stammered, crawling backwards. "I-I-I’ll tell my mother if you lay your hands on me!"

"Huh!? Didn’t you say you were planning to do something to me?"

"Get away! I said get away!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. Faint tears welled up in his eyes as he trembled in fear.

"..."

Was I... going too far?

But then again, no one showed him, Elias Vandrelis, mercy either.

They left him broken. Forgotten. In pain.

And now? 

It was only natural.

The hunter had now become the hunted.

The taste of vengeance poured through me, replenishing something concave that I did not know I had. It dulled the aches in my body. Mended the cracks I had not noticed until now. 

Like a shattered pot glued together by fury.

"..."

But then a question came, mute and unsettling.

Was this really me?

Or was this the ghost of Elias Vandrelis, still living in the bones I now wore?

"!"

A soft click of heels echoed down the hall.

Eventually, two figures stepped into my view. The late afternoon light caught the shimmers of their ornate dresses.

Their shoes were a deep, wine-red, polished to a mirror sheen, paired with pristine white stockings that ended just below the knee. Each wore a regal gown of layered crimson, embroidered with floral motifs that spiralled across their bodices in gold thread, catching the light with each poised step. While netted lace sleeves clung delicately to their arms, ending just past the elbows.

One held a closed ivory fan, gripped like a sceptre. The other let her arms rest gently at her sides, composed, graceful, and unreadably calm.

As my eyes moved upward, I caught their faces.

—Twins. No doubt about it.

They shared the same bright crimson hair, though styled just enough to distinguish one from the other. The girl on the left wore hers with a thin braid circling the crown, the rest cascading freely down her back. The other had hers parted cleanly down the middle, with two front strands curled inward like soft parentheses framing her cheeks. Both wore golden hoop earrings that shimmered in the light, adding a bold touch to their noble look.

— Could they be my.... sisters? Or rather… my brother’s very own sisters?

"..."

I was in trouble. There was no getting away from this one now.

“Uh... I can explain!” I stammered, heart pounding.

My brother, sensing his chance, dropped his wounded act and stepped forward with a sly smile, like a fox seizing prey. “My dear sisters, you see how this peasant was trying to kill me. Quick, inform mother. This one needs to be punished, ha!”

“!”

Before I could say another word, I was swept off the floor gently but firmly, into the embrace of the two women. My face pressed softly against their warm gowns, their perfume light and floral.

"Are you alright, my dear brother? Did he hurt you again?" one of them asked, brushing my hair with careful fingers.

"Timothy, what do you think you’re doing?" the other snapped, eyes narrowing.

“But-but sister! Why are you defending that peasant?! I was the one who almost got killed!”

“Kill you? Surely you jest,” said the braided sister, her voice sharp as cut crystal. “You really think I would believe an innocent boy like Elias would be capable of doing such harm? You disgust me, Timothy. Leave. Now.”

“Yeah,” the other added, wrapping an arm protectively around me. “If anything, it was probably you. Don’t worry, Elias. You’re safe with your sisters now.”

Their glares could have split stone. Crimson eyes filled with disdain bored into my brother, Timothy, who, despite being their blood brother, was clearly on the losing side.

He faltered. Then, with a sneer and clenched teeth, he turned and stormed out of the room in humiliated silence.

“Karen, Elias must still be injured,” said the braided sister, “Let’s take him back to bed.”

“You’re right, Alice,” the other sister, Karen, replied gently. She leaned closer. “Are you alright, Elias? Did that idiot hurt you anywhere?”

They led me back to my bed, guiding me as though I were a delicate sculpture.

Alice, with the braid. Karen, with the flowing hair. Twin sisters, who often spoke in perfect synchrony, no matter what the topic was.