Mystery in the Stormbound Manor
"Now then, please have a seat."
The one who said that in a cheerful, welcoming voice was the master of the manor and the man who had guided us here, Count Moriarty Noirden. Tall in stature, with blond hair streaked with white and a neatly groomed beard, he radiated dignity, yet his eyes held an approachable warmth.
When Ale and Salvia took their seats, the count straightened his posture, spread his arms slightly, and began to speak.
"First, allow me to introduce my family. This is my wife, Ratchet."
The lady gave a soft smile, her bright blonde hair elegantly arranged, her form wrapped in a vivid crimson dress.
"Welcome. You must be tired from your travels. Please, take your time and relax tonight."
We exchanged polite bows.
"And this is my son, Jack."
The blond boy seated at the end of the table looked to be sixteen or seventeen. Though he held his back straight, he tilted his chin upward and shot us a sullen, disrespectful gaze.
"……"
He remained silent, offering only a glare.
"And my daughter, Bartley."
In contrast to her brother, the young blond girl, about Salvia’s age, looked tense as she stiffly bowed. Her voice trembled faintly as she greeted us.
"Nice to… meet you…"
Though small and still childlike, the well-tailored dress she wore hinted at the beauty she would grow into someday.
Moriarty then shifted his gaze behind us.
"And the one who keeps this manor running—the head butler, Hanneen."
A white-haired elderly butler stepped forward and offered a deep, courteous bow.
"It is an honor to make your acquaintance. I am Hanneen, head butler of House Noirden. I humbly ask for your favor henceforth."
His calm, dignified voice seemed to tighten the air of the entire hall.
"Now then, everyone, let us begin our meal."
At Moriarty’s cue, the silver lids were lifted all at once. The aroma of roasted meat, steaming soup, and freshly baked bread filled the room.
Ale picked up his fork and glanced sideways at Salvia. She smiled politely, her usual sleepy air subdued, replaced by the composed grace of a Saint befitting the occasion.
A peaceful family dinner. For now, there seemed to be no issues.
"Kyah!"
A sharp cry rang out as a water pitcher toppled at the edge of the table. Clear water spread across the tablecloth, splashing plates and forks.
"Jeanne!"
The reprimand came in a sharp tone from head butler Hanneen.
Standing there was a petite maid with white hair. She hurriedly took out a handkerchief, frantically trying to wipe the spill.
Her face was bright red as she bowed repeatedly, fumbling around with obvious inexperience.
"I—I am so terribly sorry! I’ll clean it up at once!"
A moment of silence fell over the table. But Lady Ratchet soon smiled gently.
"It’s quite alright. Don’t worry about it. Everyone makes mistakes when they’re new."
Hmm. Whether it was because we were present or simply the nature of this household, it was a good sign.
In this world, servants were generally of low status. In a stricter home, a blunder like that could result in beatings or worse. And such households would punish them even in front of us Saints without hesitation.
But here, no such cruelty.
Even so, while the atmosphere eased, the head butler’s eyes gleamed sharply as he stared at the maid, Jeanne, pinning her in place.
It felt as though a hidden thread of tension within this manor had briefly surfaced.
□
The plates emptied one by one as gentle conversation continued.
Count Moriarty asked about their travels. Lady Ratchet spoke about the local specialties. Bartley tried her best to join in with her tiny voice.
Salvia held back her usual sleepy tone, replying politely. Her usual carefree attitude was nowhere to be seen; instead, she showed her Saintly composure.
Given how she behaves in front of me, I was a bit worried, but it seems that was unnecessary.
As I brought bread to my mouth, I quietly observed the surroundings.
The manor was luxurious, yet something felt heavy in the air, as though the clumsy maid’s mishap had revealed the tension that never truly left this place.
Then—
“… Ah.”
A soft sound tapped against the windowpane.
Raindrops. First a light plip, plip, but soon they grew in number and merged into a louder chorus.
Rumble—…
In an instant, the outside world was swallowed by the sound of rain. The wind howled.
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, briefly illuminating the shadows of the garden beyond the glass.
"It may turn into a storm," Lady Ratchet murmured.
Bartley’s hand shook around her spoon. Jack clicked his tongue irritably.
"… A storm at this time of year is unusual, isn’t it?"
At Moriarty’s words, head butler Hanneen bowed slightly.
From that moment, the air grew noticeably heavier.
Was it the weather… or the unspoken anxiety that seemed to grip everyone except us?
But it was Jack who shattered the silence.
"… This isn’t really the place, but…"
His low, suppressed voice drew every gaze toward him.
Staring down at his plate, he continued with resentment dripping from his tone.
"I’m not okay with this whole ‘the family’s getting a new member’ nonsense."
The atmosphere froze.
Ale furrowed his brows. Salvia covered her mouth slightly, narrowing her eyes.
Lady Ratchet tried to scold him—"Jack!"—but he turned away, refusing to listen.
"I don’t care if it’s an adoption or whatever! Bringing in some random kid out of nowhere is insane! Curse this, Saint that—it’s all ridiculous!"
As if to affirm his words, thunder roared violently.
Count Moriarty’s expression remained unchanged, but his eyes pierced his son.
Bartley bowed her head, on the verge of tears. Lady Ratchet clutched her chest in silence.
Only head butler Hanneen spoke, maintaining his calm, composed voice.
"Master Jack. Please refrain from such words in the presence of Ale-sama and Salvia-sama."
But Jack ignored him, scraping his chair across the floor as he stood.
"I’m going back to my room."
Thunder cracked again, chasing him out.
A suffocating silence lingered over the table.
The storm outside grew fiercer, the rain and wind battering the windows as though trying to break through.
"—Hahaha!"
Moriarty’s sudden laughter cut through the heaviness without being drowned out by the storm.
Though filled with authority, it carried a hint of something forced.
"My apologies, Ale-dono, Salvia-dono. There have been a series of disturbances in the territory lately. Jack is anxious, it seems… Please, don’t let it trouble you. Now, let us continue our meal!"
At his urging, the atmosphere awkwardly lurched forward again.
Lady Ratchet smiled politely, though her eyes looked weary.
Bartley quietly sipped her soup, occasionally glancing at the door Jack had exited before falling silent again.
Servants brought in new dishes, and the heavy dinner resumed its course.
By the time the meal ended, head butler Hanneen stepped forward.
"Milord, the guest rooms are prepared. The storm is quite strong, I advise avoiding travel outside the manor."
"Hmm, indeed. Let our guests rest well. Ale-dono, Salvia-dono, may you recover from your long journey tonight."
The count smiled, though the true meaning behind his gaze was hard to read.
Ale nodded and stood. Salvia quietly followed.
□
The prepared guest room was furnished with heavy furniture and thick curtains.
The rain continued its relentless assault on the windows, echoing like a sinister heartbeat throughout the manor.
Salvia sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her skirt with delicate fingers.
"… That was awkward, wasn’t it?"
"It was."
Ale removed his cloak, draping it over a chair, and sighed.
"Especially the son… Jack, right? If they go through with adopting one of our kids, he’s definitely going to oppose it outright. With a brother like that, it’s a little worrisome…"
"That’s true~… And also, what curse was he talking about~?"
Ale touched his chin, deep in thought.
A curse… It likely had something to do with why they wanted to take in one of our kids.
Watching him think, Salvia smiled faintly.
"—Mansions like this almost always have a secret, you know~ It’s the standard of any good mystery~"
"… Well, it’s not like that’s impossible."
A strange mood drifted through the manor. Forced dinner conversation.
And the never-ending storm.
In the silence, they could only sense that something unseen was moving beneath the surface.
What do you think about this chapter?
