Part 1
Philip inhaled sharply, heart racing as the tension in the cramped hospital room spiraled toward chaos. The sterile scent of antiseptics clashed awkwardly with the overpowering fragrance of fresh lilies on the windowsill, heightening his desire to escape this increasingly uncomfortable situation. He forced himself upright, attempting—and miserably failing—to maintain a façade of composure amid the unfolding disaster.
Lydia hovered anxiously near the foot of the bed, her knuckles turning ghostly white as she coughed desperately, each cough intended as an urgent plea for Natalia to immediately cease her provocative behavior. Yet, to Lydia's mounting horror, Natalia interpreted each cough as encouragement, her radiant smile growing even bolder.
Elora stood stiffly at Philip's side, arms tightly folded beneath her chest, emerald eyes blazing with thinly veiled jealousy. Her carefully maintained composure fractured subtly each time Natalia moved, betraying flickers of genuine distress beneath her poised façade.
Meanwhile, Natalia, breathtakingly glamorous and utterly oblivious to decorum, had confidently positioned herself beside Philip's bed, one flawlessly sculpted leg elegantly bent with her foot resting boldly on the bed's edge. Her silky gown parted alluringly, showcasing the mesmerizing curves and toned contours of her thigh and calf, while the gown's daring slit simultaneously revealed glimpses of her other equally captivating leg. Philip's mouth went dry, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest as a furious blush spread rapidly across his cheeks; his eyes darted away only to helplessly return, his pulse racing at the provocative display.
Seeing Philip's reaction, Elora's stomach knotted tightly with anxiety and insecurity, her composure straining further as she realized just how deeply Natalia's seductive pose had affected him. Elora's breath quickened imperceptibly, her eyes narrowing as Natalia's provocative stance openly challenged her claim. Lydia felt her heart nearly stop, recognizing the exact pose from the scandalous mistress handbook she'd discreetly provided Natalia; she inwardly screamed, realizing Natalia believed she was merely playing her role convincingly, utterly oblivious to the true emotional havoc she was causing.
Alarm bells blared frantically in Philip's head. This was entirely unprecedented. She'd never been this… brazen. But, of course, he knew exactly why she thought she needed to be.
"Poor Master," Natalia thought earnestly, glancing between Philip's flushed cheeks and Elora's forced calm. "Last time I almost inadvertently divulged our secret to Elora. I must make it up to him by thoroughly convincing Lady Elora that my identity is Master's mistress." Feeling her heart pound with determined resolve, Natalia shifted even closer, elegantly extending her toned leg further across Philip's lap. After all, she'd carefully studied a scandalous romance manual which explicitly instructed: The mistress must boldly mark her territory. Surely this was precisely what humans expected?
Clearing her throat delicately, Natalia gently rested her palm against Philip's chest, eyes glittering theatrically. "My dear love," she purred sweetly, voice dripping with seductive innocence, "please assure me you're truly all right now? I simply cannot endure another lonely night!"
The statement hung in the room, thick with innuendo. Lydia emitted a strangled squeak, her eyes bulging in panic, while Elora's elegantly arched eyebrow twitched dangerously. Philip felt faint, torn between the urge to flee through the nearest window and the desire to indulge in the moment.
"What is going on with Natalia?" Philip thought desperately. "Why is she going this far? Elora's about to snap, and Lydia looks ready to collapse. Somebody—anybody—help!"
Elora forced herself to breathe steadily, suppressing her rising frustration. "This Familiar… Isn't this all an act? But the confidence and provocativeness in her eyes… could it really be fake?" Her stomach twisted uneasily as she reluctantly admitted Natalia looked far more like a genuine rival—an irresistible seductress rather than a clueless decoy.
"Miss Natalia," Elora spoke coolly, though her voice trembled slightly, "surely even a mistress must observe some decorum?"
Natalia blinked innocently, smiling brightly in genuine confusion. "Oh, Lady Elora," she sang sweetly, utterly guileless, "I meant no disrespect! This is… just how I normally act around my love. I just can't control my urge to cuddle him when he is around. I am his mistress, after all."
Lydia nearly fainted, her mouth opening and shutting rapidly as horror surged through her veins. She hadn't intended Natalia's performance to reach such provocative extremes. But correcting her now, especially in front of Elora, might unleash a catastrophic revelation. Trapped, Lydia could only dart her eyes frantically between Philip and Elora, silently pleading for someone to put a controlled end to this nightmare.
Philip coughed weakly, face aflame.
Natalia laughed musically, utterly unbothered, turning to Lydia cheerfully. "You can ask Miss Lydia here. I always act like this around Philip. He is just irresistible."
Lydia's horror intensified. Elora merely pressed her lips into a brittle smile, refusing to publicly question Lydia despite her spiraling jealousy. Stepping closer, Elora brushed her skirts dramatically against the bedside, firmly placing both gloved hands on Philip's arm, her sweet perfume clashing fiercely with Natalia's exotic scent.
"Philip is my future husband, Miss Natalia," Elora declared firmly, voice edged with icy frustration. "Do what you want, but please… know your place."
Natalia blinked, momentarily confused, before brightly exclaiming, "Right, of course. My place is only to keep Philip calm, safe, and… physically satisfied."
Lydia gasped softly, Philip choked in mortification, and Elora's carefully constructed façade nearly cracked entirely. She doubled down desperately, openly pressing herself closer against Philip, unwilling to be overshadowed by a mere Familiar.
"This is utterly humiliating," Elora thought furiously. "But if I don't look properly jealous, Lydia will certainly suspect that I know their secret. And Natalia… why does she look so genuinely enamored? Could this Familiar actually be falling for my dear sweet Philip?"
Natalia smiled dazzlingly, now moving to sit by Philip's bedside. Leaning closer to Philip and Elora, Natalia whispered sweetly, her hair brushing Philip's flushed cheek, "I have no interest in being Philip's wife. I am and will always be just his mistress. I will always stay in his life, but you are more than welcome to be his wife." With a playful wink, Natalia unintentionally plunged Lydia into fresh depths of panic.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, abruptly silencing Lydia's frantic attempt at intervention. Elizabeth, the employee from Philip's media company, stood hesitantly at the threshold, holding a lavish bouquet of lilies and peonies that seemed glaringly out of place amidst the intense scene. Her eyes widening at the scandalous tableau before her.
Philip's heart sank sharply. "No, Elizabeth… why now of all times?" he thought desperately, groaning inwardly as he watched color drain rapidly from Elizabeth's face, accentuating the freckles scattered across her pale cheeks. Her voice trembled heartbreakingly as she finally managed to whisper, "Sir… I… I see you're otherwise engaged." Her words pierced Philip deeply, guilt twisting painfully inside him.
Elizabeth's mind spun chaotically, her thoughts bitterly reflecting, "I came here on behalf of the company to show solidarity. What am I going to say to them now? He is no different from those other rich people, shamelessly surrounded by his fiancée and his mistress. How foolish I've been… to think that he would have been different."
Philip lurched forward instinctively, panic-stricken. "Elizabeth, wait—it isn't what it looks like!" But Elizabeth, visibly trembling, placed the bouquet down beside the door with deliberate care, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I saw nothing," she murmured softly, voice breaking with restrained emotion. "Please forgive me." Before anyone could speak further, she swiftly turned and closed the door firmly, her retreating footsteps quickly vanishing down the corridor.
A heavy silence enveloped the room in her wake. Natalia got off the bed with practiced agility, confusion clouding her delicate features. "Lydia… did I do something wrong?" she asked softly, genuine guilt coloring her voice.
Elora slowly released Philip's arm, a brief flicker of regret passing across her usually composed face as she gazed at the now-empty doorway. "Perhaps we've gone too far," she whispered uneasily, smoothing her skirts. Despite her irritation with Natalia, she couldn't help feeling sympathy toward Elizabeth's evident distress.
Lydia finally found her voice, stepping forward shakily. "We need to leave now," she urged anxiously, mindful of the potential scandal if the rumor spreads and more people start visiting the room. "Master Philip, the doctor already discharged you. Let's handle this privately at home."
Philip nodded weakly, heart heavy with shame. Natalia gently offered her arm for support, whispering into Philip's ear with sincerity, "I—I only wanted to protect you…"
"It's all right," Philip murmured quietly, still overwhelmed.
Elora quickly masked her emotions once more, casting Natalia a cautious glance. "Is she truly just acting, or is something deeper happening here?" she wondered uncertainly. For now, safeguarding the secret was paramount, despite the turmoil in her heart. Resolutely, she grasped Philip's free arm again, forcing away conflicting emotions. If this fiasco convincingly established Natalia as a mistress of Philip in the eyes of the public, perhaps it was worth it.
Part 2
Evening settled over Redwood Estate, draping the corridors in a soft hush.
Philip, fresh from the day's hospital fiasco, slumped into a plush armchair near the grand parlor's unlit fireplace. He'd never actually bothered to sit there before—life on this estate had been an endless spin of tasks—but Lydia had insisted he rest after a headache flared when he tried to read in his study. So here he was, half-drowsy, the velvet upholstery unexpectedly comfortable as he leaned back and exhaled.
Opposite from him, Natalia curled up on a low stool in a fashion that somehow screamed both catlike grace and apologetic tension. She'd shed the dramatic outfit and makeup from earlier, returning to a more casual gown that draped her lean, athletic figure in gentle folds. Even without the showy attire, she radiated an understated sensuality: wide, luminous eyes and soft features, the sort of natural allure that made one's pulse skip. Still, something about her posture betrayed guilt—like a kitten that had just knocked over a milk saucer.
She sat with her legs tucked to one side, occasionally stealing anxious glances Philip's way. Each time their gazes met, she'd lower hers timidly, as if afraid he might be mad.
Finally, the tension got to him. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Philip asked gently, "Natalia… you sure you're comfortable like that? It's fine if you want to go rest. You don't have to wait on me."
She shook her head, blonde hair brushing her cheeks. "I'm fine, Master. I'd rather be close by, in case… you need me," she finished, voice small and earnest.
He let out a quiet sigh. "There's no need to tiptoe around me. What happened in the hospital is past. Just don't do it again, but no need to stress about it."
Her shoulders tightened. "I… I feel awful," she admitted, eyes dimming with regret. "I truly thought I was doing a good job. I only realized that I might have added complications to your intricate web of relationships when Lydia took an hour to explain the situation to me." Her cheeks flamed pink, recalling that mortifying conversation not long ago, where Lydia had painstakingly dissected everything from "how a real mistress behaves in public" to "why a woman would get furious when you act all seductive and make clear advances toward her man."
Philip managed a gentle half-smile. "It's okay. No real harm done. Just next time, maybe scale back the theatrics by… oh, a hundred notches," he joked, remembering her audacious stance in front of Elora.
She gave a tiny nod. "Understood. I just wanted to keep suspicion off our secret," she murmured, voice trembling with contrition. "But… I messed up, didn't I?"
"No, you achieved your goal," he said softly, leaning forward. "It's just that the way you did it comes with some side effects. Don't beat yourself up."
At that, Natalia's shoulders visibly relaxed, though she still wore the wounded expression of someone who'd knocked over Grandma's teacup. For a moment, an odd warmth flickered in Philip's chest. Despite the trouble, he was touched by her devotion—and, well, a little flustered by how easily she could shift from a sweetly clueless companion to a provocative presence. The memory of her bold leg-on-bed pose made his ears turn hot.
He was trying not to dwell on that mental image when, suddenly, the entire estate plunged into darkness.
A strangled gasp escaped Philip's lips as every mana-lamp flickered out in a single instant. Natalia bolted upright, catlike instincts on full alert. "Master?"
He groped for the arms of the chair. "What's going on?" he whispered.
Their question was answered several minutes later by the soft glow of candlelight drifting in from the hallway. Lydia and Albert materialized from the shadows, each gripping a wavering taper that cast dancing shadows on the walls.
"Master Philip," Albert said in a grave tone. "It's a full-blown mana-power outage due to the main lines freezing up from the earlier icy rain. And with them down, the orchard wards and all magical communications are out. There is no signal for even the mirror phones, much less the ability to reach the Vortex of Knowledge and the Collective Sphere on it."
Philip frowned, rising carefully. "Okay, but we have a backup power generator, right?"
Lydia's expression dimmed. "Well, we were kind of cash-strapped for a while… so no."
Albert grimaced. "Which means we are in the dark, with no heating, and cut off from law enforcement. Experiences with blackouts from the recent past show thieves and troublemakers might try to loot remote estates. I sent the orchard staff out patrolling, but…"
The words sank in. Philip recalled the swirl of economic unrest, the protests he'd glimpsed downtown. The idea of nighttime looters in Yortinto's outskirts during a power outage suddenly didn't sound far-fetched.
Albert pressed a small pistol into Philip's hands—cold metal that made his stomach clench. "Just in case. We're arming the staff. I'm going out to organize them properly—cover orchard entrances and choke points. We've also sent riders toward Yortinto to recruit extra security personnel as well as get police help. Icy rains like this one usually won't down the urban lines."
"Wait," Philip blurted, "this is… it's serious enough for guns?"
"Serious," Albert confirmed, his tone grim. "Inflation, war taxes, anti-nobility sentiment—some resentful folks see blackouts as a golden chance to vent their anger. I can't guarantee we're safe tonight."
Philip's chest knotted with tension, but he forced a nod. "Got it. Do what you must."
Albert bowed swiftly. "Stay put, Master, Lydia, Ms. Natalia. The main foyer's your fallback. Keep that pistol near." With that, he disappeared into the corridor, candlelight bobbing away until only faint echoes of footfalls remained.
Philip exhaled shakily, head pounding again. It had been mere hours since his concussion fiasco, and now they might be fighting off bandits in the dark. "This day just keeps getting better…" he muttered under his breath.
Lydia gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "We'll be fine. The staff is armed, and we've handled smaller break-ins before." Even so, her eyes gleamed with worry. "I'll do a quick patrol of the house. Natalia—stay here with Master Philip."
Natalia nodded, gaze sharp. "Yes, Miss Lydia."
Then Lydia hurried off, presumably to check the manor wings. That left Philip and Natalia alone again, candles flickering, the outside wind rattling the windows. For the next half hour, not much changed—just the occasional distant sound of guards moving or a muffled horse whinny near the orchard. With his concussion, Philip drifted in and out of dozy half-sleep, slumped in the same armchair while Natalia perched near him, still as a statue, watchful as a guard dog.
Suddenly, a piercing crash echoed from the far end of the manor, the unmistakable tinkle of shattering glass. Philip's adrenaline spiked. Natalia was on her feet at once, muscles taut. Within seconds, four figures—silhouetted by faint starlight from a broken window—slipped into the parlor. Their hush vanished the moment they noticed Philip and Natalia.
"Damn," one of them hissed, raising a pistol. "Hands up!"
The intruders wore mismatched masks, but for one man, the mask dangled precariously around his face. Heart pounding, Philip scrambled upright, clutching the small pistol Albert had given him, though it felt unnervingly heavy.
"Drop it," barked another intruder, pointing a second pistol at Philip, his cohorts glancing around with edgy caution. "We just want your valuables, rich boy."
"Take whatever you want," Philip managed, voice tight, "but leave us—"
The unmasked intruder's eyes flared with alarm as his mask slipped off by accident. "Dammit, you saw me. You know my face." He clenched his jaw. "We've got to make sure you don't talk, rich boy."
Fear hammered through Philip's veins. Another bandit leveled a gun at him. "Sorry, man, but we can't risk it."
"Wait!" Natalia burst out, stepping in front of Philip with an instinct that nearly broke his heart. Arms spread, she pleaded, "Please don't hurt him. Take anything, but spare his life."
"Anything?" sneered the one with the half-fallen mask. "Fine. We'll take you as well, girl. He's dead, though."
Time slowed. He'd never faced four guns in his life—and never wanted to again. Philip clenched his teeth, pistol wavering between the four. The lead intruder scoffed. "Drop that gun, rich boy, unless you want her to catch the first bullet."
Blood roared in Philip's ears. The odds were awful—four guns trained on him, and he'd barely handled a pistol in a real fight. Heart pounding, he tried to steady his aim anyway, but a shaky voice in his mind said: If I shoot, they'll shoot back. Natalia will get hurt too.
Then three thunderous cracks split the air in quick succession. Before anyone could react, all four men collapsed nearly in unison, dropping with choked gasps.
Philip stood frozen, eyes wide. Natalia spun around, stunned. All four intruders lay dead on the ground. From the shadowy corner came the soft echo of footsteps. A candle flame wavered, lighting up half of a woman's face.