“The more corrupt the state, the more numerous the laws.”

  — Tacitus

  As I sank into my chair, thoughts churned like a storm. I needed a next move—fast.

  The servants… they’d be the most likely suspects. In any scandal tied to money, they always are. A sudden windfall changes everything. Greed makes people reckless.

  I stood and made my way to the window, peering into the dusky silhouette of Father’s study. Empty. Good.

  Slipping through the window silently, I landed without a sound. I knew what I was looking for—servant records. The shelves smelled of old ink and musty vellum. After a moment of scanning, I found them. Stacked meticulously. Each file documented a servant’s background, motives, weaknesses.

  One file caught my eye:

  “Family is impoverished and starving in the capital. Desperate for financial assistance. A wage increase must be considered soon.”

  A red flag if I’d ever seen one.

  I reached for it, but as my fingers closed around the paper, something felt… wrong. The texture was off. Rough. Too thick. I rubbed the corner between my thumb and forefinger.

  Parchment. Not paper. And not just any parchment—this kind hadn’t been used in over fifty years. Why would a five-year-old file be written on something this archaic?

  I rifled through more folders. All others were standard paper, flimsy and recent. Only his stood out.

  A trap? A forgery?

  No time to think too long. I conjured a duplicate using minor magic and returned the original to its place. Wouldn’t do to make Father suspicious. Then I slipped back out the window, storing the files in my system’s inventory as I moved.

  Back in my room, I worked quickly. From the storage closet, I’d snagged a vial of ethanol and a few reagents. I dissolved the glass vial’s contents into the ethanol and poured the concoction into a spray bottle. A modified, alchemical version of ninhydrin. Not just for fingerprints—this one revealed soul traces.

  I sprayed the mixture across the suspicious parchment. The reaction was immediate.

  The page hissed, the markings flaring a bright crimson before letting off wisps of black smoke. The shapes weren’t fingerprints.

  “These… these aren’t human.”

  Not prints, but claw-like etchings. Slashes that shimmered with arcane residue.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  My gut turned cold.

  This was demonic.

  I sealed the evidence and tucked it back into my inventory. No time to hesitate.

  I went straight to my sister’s room.

  She was lounging by the window, reading.

  “This isn’t your room,” she said flatly, not even looking up. “Stop breaking in. Try knocking next time.”

  “Have you noticed anyone acting strange lately?” I asked quickly. “Fidgety, nervous, paranoid?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You mean Fidgety Fin? He’s always twitching like he’s got a worm in his brain.”

  That was all I needed. I dashed out before she could say more.

  Down the corridor, past the kitchen, into the servant’s quarters.

  “Where’s Fin?” I asked one of the maids.

  “He said he went for a walk,” she replied. “Forest trail behind the orchard.”

  Of course he did.

  I sprinted into the woods, the trees clawing at my cloak as twilight fell. I moved fast, careful to stay low.

  Then I saw it.

  In a clearing, Fin stood, trembling violently, his hands cupped before him. In them—a gleaming red jewel, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Across from him, a towering creature cloaked in sinewy shadows and bone-white flesh leaned forward.

  Its face was a nightmare: a mass of tendrils and hollow eyes that never blinked.

  The air turned metallic. Wrong. Heavy with ancient malice.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I bellowed, concealed behind the underbrush.

  Both figures froze, their heads snapping toward the sound.

  Then the creature hissed, guttural and low.

  “You broke the contract,” it snarled, its voice like glass dragged across stone.

  Fin’s eyes bulged. He dropped the jewel.

  “No! No, please—!”

  The monster raised one clawed finger and pointed.

  Fin began to scream. Not out of fear—out of agony. His body convulsed violently.

  Blood erupted from his eyes like geysers, followed by streams pouring from his nostrils and ears. His mouth stretched wide, too wide, the jaw unhinging with an audible pop as his tongue boiled and sloughed off in strips. Crimson tore through his skin as jagged spikes forced themselves from within, piercing muscle and bursting flesh like ruptured sacks.

  His body began to collapse inward. Bones shattered audibly. Veins crawled across his skin, turning black before rupturing. His organs… I could see them—pulsing, melting, evaporating from within his ribcage.

  Then silence. Only twitching. A puddle of gore and skin that used to be a man.

  The creature turned.

  Its tendrils curled around my chest like invisible hands and yanked me from hiding, slamming me to the ground before it.

  I hit the earth hard, my breath knocked from me.

  It stared.

  “So… the rat comes forward,” it whispered.

  Fin’s remains still twitched behind it. One lifeless eye popped beneath the creature’s hoof.

  I swallowed hard, heart hammering. This thing… it didn’t just kill. It unmade.

  And now I was next.