In the Loran household, the family was still gathered around the dinner table in the evening.
Mr. and Mrs. Loran were engaged in a calm conversation, while their grandchildren listened attentively, exchanging occasional glances but not daring to interrupt.
Upstairs, in her room, Stella sat in front of her untouched dinner plate. She had not eaten a single bite. Her gaze was unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular, as her mind drifted far away from the present moment.
She looked as though she had entered a deep, silent state of contemplation, almost detached from her surroundings.
"How did they find out? I must have left something behind without realizing it…"
The thought repeated itself in her mind, each time heavier than before. Anxiety slowly tightened its grip, mixing with frustration that she could not openly express.
"Good thing I controlled my reaction in front of him earlier… otherwise he might have become suspicious. And Mrs. Howard's timing… it was perfect."
Mrs. Howard, the new housekeeper who had arrived two weeks after Hannah's escape, was a woman in her forties from the Eastern region and an old acquaintance of Mrs. Loran.
Her presence had initially felt neutral, even slightly reassuring. She was polite, organized, and had a calm, almost cheerful manner that made daily life in the mansion feel a bit easier.
Stella had even found herself appreciating small changes since her arrival, occasional permission to go out, reduced scrutiny on certain tasks, and a generally smoother routine.
But trust was never something Stella gave easily.
"Should I take this chance and run away now?"
She raised a hand and tapped her temple lightly, as scolding herself.
"Of course you'd be the biggest fool on earth if you did that, Stella…"
Running away now would be like stepping straight into a trap filled with thorns.
In a place like this, disappearing suddenly would make her the first suspect without question.
Even worse, she might not even be labeled as a simple runaway. They could easily assume she was a spy from a rival family. That alone would be enough to end her quietly.
"Should I invent another story about my family?"
Her thoughts raced through different possibilities, but every path collapsed under its own weight. None of them were stable, or safe.
"I shouldn't have stayed here this long…"
Five months had already passed inside the mansion. By now, her presence had become familiar to everyone, though a faint sense of strangeness still lingered in how some people looked at her.
Still, familiarity was not safety.
"I need to find a way out… as soon as possible."
Morning came with a soft breeze that slightly eased the summer heat, but it did nothing to calm her mind.
As usual, Stella woke at five.
She had breakfast, then went to Annie's room to teach her lessons, followed by a short walk in the garden. Despite all precautions, the summer sun remained unpleasant, pressing down with an uncomfortable weight.
After lunch, she went into the city with a few maids, granted permission by the head housekeeper.
These small outings were her only real moments of external exposure to the world beyond the mansion walls.
When she returned, she headed straight to the library.
She organized the books, cleaned the shelves, and then immersed herself in reading again, searching for anything that could expand her understanding of the continent. The library had gradually become the only place where she felt mentally steady.
But that calm did not last long.
Just as she was absorbed in a book, the door opened abruptly without warning.
Carla entered.
"Carla… why do you never knock? Do you enjoy doing that?" Stella asked flatly, without looking up.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Alina! I didn't mean to scare you."
"What is it?"
Carla leaned closer, lowering her voice as if sharing something important.
"I overheard Mrs. Howard speaking with the cook. Important guests are arriving at the mansion in three days."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Apparently, they're from an allied noble family."
Carla's information had become unexpectedly valuable to Stella over time. It was no longer just casual gossip, sometimes it contained pieces of information that mattered far more than they should.
Stella closed the book slowly, her expression unchanged, but her attention had already shifted.