A Fairy Tales For The Villains Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Brothers in a Brawl (1)

Despite all that, this seemed to be the safest place in the manor. No one would come here, and most people wouldn't even conceive the idea of a hidden room existing at the top if the bell tower. In other words, it was the perfect hideout. I wondered at who made this spot, this secluded cl.u.s.ter of rooms where people could hide in absolute secrecy. Even though this was more similar of a place to imprison people, I had trouble thinking of it as such due to the library.

My thoughts strayed even further since I knew exactly where we were. The anxiety made the spit below my ears start itching, and gooseb.u.mps covered my arms. If someone wanted to confine us in here forever…

I am suddenly pulled from my thoughts by an inquisitive voice.

“What's with the long face?”

I slowly raised my face and stare at the mirror mounted on the wall across from me instead of staring at the two boys beside me. Reflected on the mirror was the image of three children in a bedroom bathed in candlelight. Our reflection looked like a scene straight out of a thriller film, and it have me the chills, even though I didn't know why.

“… I'm gonna check if Estelle is sleeping well.” I coughed up an excuse and got up, heading for the stairs. I felt their gazes on my back as I walked up the steps.

Thankfully, when I got to the bedroom, I found Estelle sleeping peacefully like a baby.

I wondered what time it was. I wanted a clock so I could prepare for when the bell rang. I made a mental note to ask Mr. Harris to bring me one next time I spoke to him.

Approaching the bed, I perched on it and stared up at the ceiling where sunlight was s.h.i.+ning through, letting my thoughts drift.

Suddenly, an idea struck me, and I got up, heading toward the huge marble closet. It looked big enough that I could probably use it as a bed if I laid some blankets on it as bedding.

Inside the closet there were a mult.i.tude of dresses for a small girl. Those were Estelle's clothes that were brought beforehand, according to the Viscount. The drawers of the closet were full of extra pairs of underwear, pajamas, silk socks, and some shawls.

I checked every closet and drawer, but I couldn't find any clothes for myself. Perhaps they forgot that Estelle and I couldn't wear the same clothes. I would have to make do with wearing her pajamas for now.

I would've never imagined myself wearing her clothes like this, but this was an emergency.

Unfortunately, I missed my chance to ask Mr. Harris for the necessary items. While I had been asleep, someone came and changed the tray cart, as a new one stood in silent vigil beside the mirror door when I woke up.

Our confinement continued, and I found myself thinking of fried dumplings quite often these days. While we weren't exactly locked in, we couldn't leave, so it was practically the same thing.

“Ugh, it's so musty and smelly in here. I hope it doesn't rub off on me.” Estelle complained, pouting.

“It's because we cannot circulate the air. You don't smell musty at all, don't worry.” I rea.s.sured her calmly, used to it by now. At first, Estelle had been stubborn, refusing to wash unless provided with warm water. That didn't last for more than a day, though; she seemed to prefer cold water over staying dirty now.

For some reason, I found it laughable that these days, Estelle and I smelled of the same soap and wash. The wash stored in the shelves inside the bathroom was the type used by servants, so it was unsuitable for Estelle. Under the current circ.u.mstances, however, she had no other choice but to use it.

And if that wasn't enough, we didn't have enough towels either, so each time we bathed, the towels were hung up to dry. We had to use the same towels all week, but of course I didn't point out that fact out loud. There was a chance that if Estelle learned that she was using the same towel every day, she might choose to dry herself naturally.

Speaking of drying naturally, we were lucky that our bedroom was in a good enough position that we could dry our hairs when the weather was good. We woke up everyday with strong sunlight streaming through the, and luckily enough, it hadn't rained once during the time we stayed here.

Estelle waited for me while sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, pouting in indignation while I searched for a comb in the drawers. I needed to brush her hair until it dried. Her curly pale blue hair looked straight, weighed down by water as it was.

We couldn't stay here for much longer. Was.h.i.+ng in cold water continuously was harmful to Estelle's body, who had been sickly since birth. I sincerely felt pity for her.

“Let me comb your hair. Are you feeling dizzy?” I asked her.

“No, but I feel stuffed. I wish we could open a window.” Estelle sighed softly. I wished we could get a breeze in the room too, but the only window we had was the one on the ceiling, and that was too high to open.

Once I finished combing her hair and helping her dress, it was my turn. The only clothes I had to wear were Estelle's, but since we were of similar size despite having a two-year gap in age, I managed to get by.

Wearing the dresses of a Cervantes was a dream I often had when I was younger, but I never imagined it would come true, much less like this.

Since I felt a bit anxious that Estelle would feel disturbed when seeing me wearing her clothes, I chose the simplest dress in the closet. Thankfully, she did not even blink at my attire. Apparently, neither her not her brother Letis cared that I wore her clothes, as they didn't show much of a response. Only Benya teased me about the clothes, but he quickly shut up when Letis admonished him.

With barely any reaction from the siblings to my clothes, I relaxed, and my mind focused on the questions that had been floating inside my head for a while.

Why was Mr. Harris changing the food on the tray cart when we were asleep? There was no way to contact him. What if we needed something or became sick? How would we ask for help, then? I knew they were trying to avoid contamination, but their no-contact stance seemed excessive.