Chapter 1
967words
She lowered her eyelashes, having played the role of a perfect ghost in this golden cage built in her "late" sister's name for exactly three years.
The noise and luxury of the Deville Family's banquet hall enveloped her like a tide, while simultaneously isolating her.
She held a barely touched glass of sparkling water, her fingertips cold against the crystal.
The velvet gown she wore, once Emily's favorite, now felt only constricting against her skin.
All her attention was focused on the man surrounded by people across the room—Sebastian Deville.
He wore a perfectly tailored dark suit and stood tall, his austere features carved from stone.
He was the center of this evening's gathering, yet his expression carried its usual detachment. Elsie looked at him, feeling a knot form in her stomach. This was the man who had hired her to impersonate a dead woman.
A waiter passed with a tray of drinks, and she instinctively retreated half a step into the shadowy corner.
She had to maintain the demeanor that "Emily" should have—that gentle and graceful poise with a hint of artistic whimsy she'd imitated for three years until it became almost instinctual.
Occasionally, though, while perfectly replicating this sunny persona, Elsie would feel an inexplicable sense of dissonance deep inside, as if behind Emily's cloudless smile lay something she had never truly understood. She usually chalked it up to her own heavy heart.
It was time. She needed a probe that seemed completely unintentional yet would strike at the core.
She picked up her wine glass, pretending to take a sip, the cold rim brushing against her lips.
Then, she tilted her head slightly, her gaze drifting to the pitch-black night sky outside the window, allowing a melody sealed away by time to emerge from the depths of her memory, transforming into a whispered hum as faint as gossamer.
It was a song her mother sang only to the two sisters, with lyrics about moonlight, gardens, and sleeping roses.
The melody was simple, even somewhat childish, but it was a code that belonged only to Elsie and Emily, encompassing their entire shared childhood.
After Emily's death, this code should have been buried forever with her.
Her humming was so soft it almost dissipated into the air—intermittent, carrying a seemingly unconscious nostalgia.
But every note was like a carefully calibrated bullet, aimed at her target.
At first, Sebastian was nodding slightly, listening to a silver-haired elder beside him speak, his expression unruffled.
A few seconds later, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, as if he thought he'd heard a ghost.
He raised his glass, unconsciously running his fingertips along the rim, trying to drag his attention back to the ongoing conversation.
But that haunting melody stubbornly pierced his eardrums. This time, he heard it clearly.
Elsie saw him freeze, his fingers suddenly tightening around the glass, knuckles instantly turning white from the pressure.
He abruptly turned his head, his gaze piercing through the swaying figures like a hawk, locking onto her in the corner.
The color drained from his face, his jawline hardening to granite.
The singing stopped.
Elsie quickly lowered her head, raising her hand to gently press her fingertips against her temple, adopting a slightly weary and melancholic posture, perfectly concealing her "unintentional" action from moments ago.
She could feel that sharp gaze still fixed on her, carrying the weight of scrutiny and disbelief, nearly penetrating her disguise.
A few seconds later, that gaze moved away.
Sebastian turned to the person beside him, quickly whispering something, his expression forcibly restored to its usual calmness, but that brief, almost uncontrolled reaction had branded itself like a red-hot iron deep into Elsie's mind.
Her heart hammered in her chest. It worked. Her probe had elicited a dramatic response far beyond her expectations.
Sebastian didn't just know this song.
In his reaction, shock far outweighed nostalgia, panic overwhelmed melancholy.
What did this mean? Did this song connect to some secret he didn't want touched? Could this secret be directly related to Emily's death?
A chill crawled up her spine.
She had originally only suspected that her sister's "accidental fall" concealed something more.
But now, Sebastian's reaction hinted at something deeper and darker.
He wasn't merely "possibly aware"—he was likely deeply involved, and even felt guilty about it.
These three years, she had not only been living in the shadow of a ghost but also walking on the edge of a mystery woven with spider webs, one that the man before her had helped create.
She forced herself to stand firm and drained the cold liquid in her glass in one gulp. The icy sensation helped clear her chaotic thoughts somewhat.
She needed to be more careful, but also more resolute. This golden cage was, as it turned out, far more perilous than she had imagined.
The banquet continued, music flowing and laughter echoing.
But Elsie knew that everything had changed from the moment she hummed that tune and panic flashed across Sebastian's face. Just now, she had transformed from a passive observer—a "prey" waiting for an opportunity—into a "hunter" actively setting traps and probing for weaknesses. And Sebastian Deville's undisguisable panic was the first trophy of her hunting expedition.
She gently stroked the thin silver chain on her wrist, the only keepsake Emily had left her. The cool touch helped her regain composure.
"Wait for me, Emily," she whispered to herself, her gaze sweeping once more over the man who had regained his poise but who appeared utterly different in her eyes now. "No matter how ugly the truth, no matter what I have to face, I will dig it out."
Outside the window, the night deepened.
In the ballroom, the "ghost" had silently sounded the call to attack.
