The sun filtered gently through the tall, arched windows of the bathing chamber, weaving golden threads across the polished marble floor. Steam rose in slow, curling ribbons from the oversized tub, fogging the edges of the mirrors and making the light shimmer like silk across the tiled walls. The scent of lavender oil hung faintly in the air, calming and warm.
Mia sat on the edge of the tub, her small frame draped in a thick, white towel. Water clung to her skin in droplets that slid slowly down her arms and legs, catching and refracting the light like scattered crystal beads. Her damp hair clung to her face and shoulders, framing her pale expression with strands that stuck like black ink against parchment. She sat still, unmoving, her eyes unfocused and distant—not looking at the room, or the floor, or even Selene beside her. She looked through it all, as though she were staring into a space.
Selene, kneeling on a soft bath mat beside her, gently gathered Mia's hair in her hands. The maid's touch was deliberate but tender, practiced in the art of patience. With the soft cloth, she began to dry the girl's hair, the towel brushing through the strands with a rhythm as quiet as breath.
The silence was intimate, almost reverent, filled only with the soft swish of fabric against skin and the distant sound of birds chirping beyond the villa walls. Then, in that silence, Selene's voice came—low and gentle, like rain falling on a quiet pond.
"If we want to move forward… if we wish to shape a future with purpose," she said, her hands never pausing, "we must sometimes return to the roots of our pain. The family believes it is time. We've hired a psychiatrist."
The words lingered in the air like incense smoke, curling into the stillness. Mia didn't speak. She didn't blink. But a subtle shift in her fingers, a slight tightening where her small hands gripped the towel, betrayed the spark of emotion beneath her otherwise unreadable mask.
"She will be arriving today," Selene continued softly, drying the final strands. "Just for a brief introduction. To observe. To understand."
Still, no reply.
Later that morning, Selene dressed her with the care of someone preparing royalty. She chose a flowing purple dress—elegant, modest, stitched with fine detail at the collar. The shade perfectly matched the stormy hue of Mia's eyes, pulling out the unspoken defiance and mystery within them. Selene tied her hair back with a ribbon of lilac silk and gave her a quiet nod of approval.
Downstairs, the air was tense with a kind of restrained anticipation. The grand villa's entrance, lined with black marble columns and polished floors that gleamed like oil, stood open to the warm breeze. Citrus trees swayed gently in the courtyard, their fragrant blossoms sending whispers of scent drifting through the air.
Mia stood between Selene and Sebastian, with Ken slightly ahead of them. Her small hands were folded in front of her, her posture impossibly still. She was a statue carved of cold will.
A sleek black car pulled up silently, engine humming like a predator at rest. The door opened.
Out stepped a woman who did not belong to this world. Silver hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, catching sunlight like polished mercury. Her eyes—crimson, calm, intelligent—met theirs with neither hesitation nor pride. She wore a simple but tasteful white blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, her heels clicking faintly against the stone. Despite her breathtaking beauty, she exuded humility, bowing her head slightly as she approached.
"I am Samantha," she said, her voice low and warm, like velvet over steel. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
But Mia did not step forward.
But Mia took a subtle step back, retreating behind Sebastian's coat like a ghost fading into shadows—not from fear, but in calculated declaration. She did not trust this woman. Sebastian stood like a wall between them, unmoved.
Ken offered a light chuckle, trying to smooth the moment. "She's just shy."
As they walked through the hallway, Samantha spoke lightly about the weather, the villa's elegance, the journey here. Mia, however, studied her in silence.
Every movement, every gesture, every word—too smooth. Almost felt rehearsed. Her walk was balanced, her tone precise, her smile delicate. Not a crack, not a flaw. As if she had studied human behavior, not lived it.
There was no signature rhythm to her presence. No gravity. No true essence. Everything was neutral. Artificial. Unsettling.
Later, as Samantha and Ken disappeared into his office to talk, Sebastian leaned over slightly and whispered, "Well? What do you think of her?"
Mia didn't answer. Her eyes remained fixed on the office door.
Sebastian nodded grimly. "Yeah… I guess you noticed too. She's too ordinary. Even her presence—it's like she's forcing one."
He was right. Samantha had walked too loudly, spoken too brightly, laughed a little too cleanly. It was all intentional, like watching a performer who had mastered every line but forgotten the soul of the character.
What neither of them knew was that Samantha had heard every word. She was seated opposite Ken, yet could still hear them. Her senses were keen, to be accurate, enhanced. She listened with unblinking calm, her back straight, her crimson eyes gleamed like rubies in low light.
The butler already suspected her. she knew he was strong and skilled but was he talking to the maid. she didn't know since there was not a response.
Inside the office, Ken was still speaking, but her mind lingered on the child. The stillness, the eyes like ink, the silence that pressed back harder than most voices.
"Are you listening?" Ken asked.
"Oh, yes," she replied with a gentle smile. "I'll do the job. You have nothing to worry about."
Lunch was served on the open-air terrace, the breeze fluttering the linen curtains like sighs. The food was warm and inviting—grilled meats, soft bread, fruits cut with artistic flair—but Mia didn't touch hers. She sat beside Ken, back straight, eyes sharp.
Samantha sat across from her, every movement again calculated to perfection. Her smile was soft. Her conversation light.
Mia said nothing.
"Mia," Ken said gently, turning slightly toward her, "Are you okay with seeing a psychiatrist?"
He had prepared for resistance. He even had a full speech ready in his head.
But she nodded without looking up. "Yes."
No emotion. No glance. No pause.
She placed her fork down, stood with grace, and bowed slightly. "May I be excused?"
Ken blinked, startled, then nodded. "Of course."
Mia bowed slightly and walked away, her bare feet silent on the marble floor, her long hair swinging behind her like a curtain of ink. Samantha watched her go, her gaze lingering on the child's back. There had been no blink. No hesitation. The girl had masked her thoughts completely.
And yet she had used a technique—The Silent Ghoul. An assassin's tactic. Vanishing in plain sight while still being present.
Lilith, Samantha thought. Could she be her?
Ken exchanged a glance with Sebastian, who wordlessly followed after Mia.
That night, long after Samantha had left, Selene and Sebastian stood in Ken's office.
"She was tense all day," Sebastian reported, standing near the window. "Never let her guard down. She patrolled the villa twice. She hasn't let anyone enter her room."
"She claimed her true name is Lilith in the garden," Selene added quietly. "She says she'll be shedding her old name soon."
Ken's brow furrowed in silence.
" I think She's planning something," Selene said softly. "I believe she's readying herself for a confrontation."
After Sebastian and Selene left the office, the office doors creaked open.
Barefoot and ghostlike in her nightgown, Mia stood at the threshold. Her long hair spilled across her shoulders in loose waves, her face pale in the candlelight.
Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet. Unshaken.
"I have a request, f..father."
Ken stepped closer. "ohh? What is it?"
She looked up, her gaze cutting through the room like a blade.
"…could you Find the name… Ari Dusk."