Alternative titles:

The Countess, Maze Runner: Get Ready to Run,

A Long Conversation,

Everyone Has Elephant-Mouse-Syndrome, and, of course,

Red Queen Sucks.

THE EVIL DEED IS DONE. This goddamn chapter is done and up. Just like me because I have some very shitty weeks after me - and who am I kidding, the shit's not over yet...

But the writing of this chapter is over! :D

(There's one line a character says which I wrote and realised only afterwards how morbidly hilarious it is. Can you find it? There are also MAAAANY references in this chapter. Like, perhaps, far too many.)

To maya . oingoing: Thanks a lot for your review^^ (I've wanted to write this earlier but it slipped my mind.) Let's hope Cloudia really appears someday in the manga! (She better should as she's so important.) And don't worry - your English is fine :)

I hope you'll enjoy this rather long chapter! (It's more than twice as long as the last!)

Chapter Seventeen:

The Countess, Unamused

"What we believe is not necessarily what is real."

London, England, United Kingdom – April 1834

~Penelope~

Cloudia climbed out of the carriage as soon as it had stopped without waiting for Clifford or anyone else to open the door for her.

Ever since she had woken up this morning, she had been overly excited. She had run around the manor and told everyone that they would go to the townhouse today – just like her father had promised her. As long as she was not among strangers, Cloudia was always full of energy – running around and talking and asking without pause.

She had been so sad when Si couldn't be there for her birthday as he had received a task he couldn't delay only a couple of days earlier. It made me smile and warmed my heart to see Cloudia happy again.

"Can I greet Daddy first?" Cloudia asked, clutching the skirt of her dress and looking at Penelope who was still sitting inside the carriage.

She laughed. "How can I say 'no,' sweetie? Go and find him – but don't run too fast or you will trip. And, please, don't sneak up on your father and scare him."

Cloudia nodded, beaming. "Yes, Mummy!" she exclaimed before turning around and hurrying inside the townhouse.

Penelope gazed after her with a smile on her lips.

"She has your spirit, Mistress," Clifford said when he offered her his arm to help her out of the carriage.

"She can hardly have it from Simon," Penelope replied, taking his arm and climbing out. "But I was never as energetic as her; I was never a whirlwind. I've always preferred staying inside over running around outside." Her smile widened. "Clou is so fond of her father – I have to admit that I am a little bit jealous."

"Cloudia would have done the same if your roles had been exchanged, Penelope," Clifford meant. "If you had been gone for ten days and not Simon."

"You are right. Of course, you are, Theodore," she replied, chuckling softly. "I said it as a joke – or half a joke if you want."

I hoped that Cloudia would stay as lively and would smile as brightly as now for a while longer. Her future might or might not be filled with darkness, and I hoped, no matter how things would turn out, that she would keep her childish liveliness for as long as possible and that, even afterwards, part of it would never leave her body – and would warm her for all the cold days which might await her.

Countryside, England, United Kingdom – April 1848

~Cedric~

Grim Reapers didn't have a unitary opinion on the Phantomhives.

Some thought that they were nothing but a nuisance – increasing their workload because of their pitiful duty to the Crown –, others were fascinated by them and the ways they handled their work, but nearly everyone thought of them as only murderers. I had been the same until a few years ago when I had seen Cloudia breaking down on Halloween and realised that Watchdogs were, despite everything, first and most importantly humans.

And no matter what a Grim Reaper might think of the Phantomhive family – they always found their way into their conversations.

Because of the Reapers' chatter and the little Cloudia had told me about him, I knew some things about Simon Phantomhive.

I knew that he had never been a person who was fond of socialising. He had had only two Aristocrats of Evil – Barrington and a woman called Theresa Dale. Barrington had been Simon's best friend. He had been an excellent Watchdog who was always focused on his work, but never as much as his father, Percival Phantomhive, who had been known to neglect his family because of it.

I knew about the rumours, about the Reapers' excited and curious whispers that he could be…

I knew that Simon's final case had been the infamous Delaney Case – and this case just like the case of Simon's death, of Simon's murder, had never been solved. His death which had caused his wife to lock herself up and his daughter to grow up alone.

I hadn't known that he had died so shortly after Cloudia's birthday – I couldn't believe that I had missed that date.

I hadn't known that Cloudia had seen him die.

Grim Reapers weren't allowed to talk about what they saw in the Cinematic Records of people with others. But I wished that I had asked the one who had collected the soul of Cloudia's father.

I wished I had known all this beforehand.

All I could have done; all I could have said… If only I had known – and I wondered if I could have helped at all, had I known about this all along. And no matter how small the chance might have been that I would have been helpful if I had known, I would have tried.

But now, I knew – and I knew what I had to do when Cloudia came back.

Barrington ran a hand through his hair. "Please sit back down, Kristopher. I think you have a lot of questions now, and the answers to these questions will take a while to tell. We can only hope Dia doesn't return until we are done. I don't want her to hear what we are talking about."

Cedric closed his eyes and took a deep breath before returning to his seat opposite from Barrington who seemed to have aged in the last few seconds.

Barrington leaned back. "Am I right to assume that you have three questions? 'Who died two weeks ago?', 'What happened on April 10?', and 'What was the mistake Dia has made?'"

Cedric slowly nodded.

"Let's start with the question whose answer will be the shortest."

"'What was the mistake the Countess has made?'"

"Exactly," Barrington said. "Do you remember the man whom you and Dia met on April 4?"

"Yes, Maven von Brandt, Meradinus Shallow. The Countess poisoned him with strychnine, and he died in the parlour."

"I would have paid to see that," Cecelia interjected from the bar, and this time, it was Barrington's turn to ignore her.

"Exactly – and do you know von Brandt's wife?"

Somewhere, England, United Kingdom – April 1848

~Cloudia~

Cloudia slightly shook her head not to make her headache any worse. "There's always a way out," she told Evander.

Cedric. I could call Cedric. I had the necklace he had given me a year ago – and with that, I could tell him to come and locate the pendant.

I would call him, and with the help of the skull necklace, he would be able to find and get us out of here. It would be just as easy as that.

Evander laughed. "A 'opeful girl, aren't you? I tell you, just like us, yew'll soon lose all 'ope yew 'ad."

Cloudia ignored him and raised her hand to her throat to pull on the chain of the skull necklace and retrieve it from beneath her dress – but where the chain was supposed to be was nothing but skin.

I couldn't have forgotten to put on the necklace – I remembered wearing it earlier. Or…

Or was I really losing my mind?

With her heart racing in her chest, Cloudia focused her gaze on the others in the dungeon again before looking down at herself: Just like them, she wore brown, light clothes and simple shoes.

All along, I hadn't realised that I wasn't in my riding gear anymore. My heart beat a bit faster, and I slowly began to panic at that thought.

I searched for the dagger, I examined my hand – not only the skull necklace had been taken away from me, but also, the Phantomhive ring and my father's dagger was gone too.

I put a hand on my chest. I could not inform Cedric what had happened and tell him to rescue me and the others. I didn't have a weapon I could fight with.

I didn't even possess anything to prove my identity anymore.

My headache worsened, and I could barely breathe.

There was truly no way to escape. I was a prisoner. A prisoner, a prisoner…

"Cloudia? Are you all right?" Ainslie said and touched her arm, snapping Cloudia out of her own toxic thoughts.

"I… I…" A blurry image appeared in front of her eyes, and Cloudia blinked and pinched the bridge of her nose to make it go away. She took a deep breath through her stomach to calm herself.

Even without dagger and ring, I was still Countess Cloudia Phantomhive, the Watchdog of the Queen, and in a situation like this, I couldn't lose control.

After all, no one could take off the heavy crown on my head.

"Yes. I am sorry that I spaced out so suddenly," Cloudia replied, smiling. Ainslie nodded, returning the smile.

Cloudia looked at the others. Most of them were so lively that you almost missed the weariness in their eyes.

"If it doesn't bother you too much, could anybody tell me more about where we are and what we are doing here?" Cloudia wanted to know, trying to be the Watchdog now, needing to be the Watchdog now.

"As I've said before – we are in the Witch's Castle," Prunella told her, running a hand through her dark hair. "We don't know much about it. All we know is that this door" – she nodded towards it – "leads to a corridor which in turn leads to a stone labyrinth. The door is always open, but, every two days, it closes, and a man comes and brings us food and water which he places in the corridor. As soon as he is gone, the door opens again."

"How long are you here?"

"We were abducted months ago; I cannot tell you how many. After a while, you lose count of these things. Evander was the first of us to come here."

Evander tipped the brim of an imaginary hat and bowed his head in Cloudia's direction. It was meant to be a playful gesture, but the fact that he looked like he had gone to hell and back obscured it.

"Every week, it used to come someone new," Robena continued. "You are the first one in weeks. What was your name again?"

"Cloudia."

"We used to have someone called 'Claude' among us. Levi ate him." Robena pointed at a man with long white hair who was sitting in a corner and smiling at no one in particular. "That's Levi. You should avoid him as good as you can."

"Thanks for the warning."

"You're welcome."

Cloudia turned her gaze back to Prunella. "Did a lot of you die in the time you were here?"

"Levi ate two more," Prunella answered, suspiciousness shining in her eyes when she gazed at Cloudia.

We were all prisoners, but that didn't mean we were in the same boat. They would do everything to get out of here – I was sure of it.

They didn't seem to have already lost the desire to live which meant that they would walk through seas of blood to breathe the air of freedom again.

Prunella had all kinds of reasons not to trust me – just like she definitely didn't trust anyone else, no matter how close she seemed to act with them.

"Ernest and Vanessa," continued Prunella, never taking her wary dark eyes off Cloudia. "Some of us died when they went into the labyrinth – like Isaac or Franklin. Franklin went crazy and even attacked us before he ran into the maze."

"He didn't run into the labyrinth," Adair interjected, and Robena silenced him with a glare. Cloudia raised an eyebrow on this but didn't press it any further.

"Isaac died when he followed Stephen into the labyrinth," Prunella said. "Stephen went after a girl, Agnes, who recklessly headed into the maze, wanting to explore it and find a way to get out of here, and Isaac followed Stephen. Agnes and Isaac died outside."

"What happened to Stephen?"

Prunella looked down. "He committed suicide. He saw the corpses of his two friends – Isaac and Agnes – and wasn't able to think straight anymore. Stephen killed himself by banging his head on the labyrinth's stone walls."

"How," Cloudia slowly started to ask, "do you know all this if all who went into the labyrinth have died?"

"There was one person who came out of the labyrinth alive," a girl with red hair answered her question. While Ceara's hair was bright and sometimes looked in light almost orange, this girl's hair was significantly darker. "I am Kelia, by the way. Our 'Almost Labyrinth Conquering Queen's' name was Ava, and she was one of the first to come here. She had been taken when Isaac, Agnes, and Stephen went into the labyrinth, but as soon as she came back, Ava hurried after them. She couldn't do anything else but tell us that they all had died."

"Did Ava ever tell what exactly is inside the maze?" Cloudia asked, but Kelia only shook her head. "She was never comfortable talking about it."

"Where is Ava now?"

"She blamed 'erself because ov da dearf ov those free," Evander said from his place on the other side of the dungeon. Because of his thick accent and the distance, it was always hard to make out his words. This time, however, he wasn't speaking as loud as usual which made it even harder to understand him. "Ava became mawer introverted an' reclusive – an' eventually murdered 'erself when she was abaaaht ter be taken again."

"What do you mean with 'taken'?" Cloudia wanted to know.

Kelia avoided her gaze, and even Prunella didn't seem to want to say anything.

"On an irregular basis," Robena ultimately broke the silence, "the man who brings us the food and the water comes to collect one of us. Sometimes, he even wants two or three. He brings them to the Witch, and after a few hours or days, he brings them back again. At least, as long as they haven't died up there in the Witch's Chamber."

"What does the Witch want from you?"

"From us, Cloudia. You are one of us now – and I don't want to tell you anything until it's your turn. I assure you, it's better like that." Prunella, Kelia, Adair, and some other prisoner she didn't know the name of nodded in agreement.

"Did someone already die in the Witch's chamber?" Cloudia asked.

"Only Pascal," Ainslie answered her in a miserable whisper.

Cloudia messaged her temples. "The Witch – do you know her name?"

Robena nodded. "We do."

"What is it?"

When Robena spoke the name of the Witch, she spoke it with as much disgust as you could say something and with incredible coldness in her eyes.

"Manon. Manon von Brandt."

~Cedric~

"I don't know a lot about her," Cedric told Barrington. "I know her name, that she was her husband's accomplice, and that the Countess planned to murder her as well. That's all."

Barrington nodded at his words. "That's right – Dia 'planned to murder her as well.' But she didn't succeed. That is the mistake she has made.

"You see, while Maven von Brandt was with you, those who had been sent out to murder his wife Manon arrived at their house. However, when they entered Meinkot Manor, Manon von Brandt, as well as some servants, were already long gone. Furthermore, when those who were forced to work in the von Brandts' brothels were counted and compared to the registers Manon didn't manage to take with her when she escaped, it turned out that twenty-three persons were still missing.

"In fact, we found out about the von Brandts quite a while ago, but the sudden case of death threw Dia off the ground. Unlike usual, she overlooked certain things and wasn't careful enough. That led to Manon being able to escape."

"So the Countess brought us all together to form a plan to find out the whereabouts of Manon von Brandt and the remaining twenty-three missing persons?" said Cedric.

"Correct or, well..." Barrington looked contrite. "Our priority is to find Manon von Brandt. The search for her is all this mission is about. Watchdog work is not about helping people; it is about helping important people to the Crown. The von Brandts have kidnapped people for quite a long time now, but only when they started abducting nobles too, the Queen gave Dia the task to intervene. The nobles were all saved as long as they were still alive – all that is left now is to find and punish Manon von Brandt."

"I cannot believe this kind of justice," Cedric said, visibly disgusted. "The Queen should protect all her subjects – no matter the class they belong to. It is just sick. Scotland Yard is not the best force for tasks like this. At least, not now. That's why the Countess has to undertake so many of their missions. If Scotland Yard is there for everyone, why not the Watchdog?"

"Kristopher – the work of a Watchdog is never about justice. It is only ever about duty." Barrington looked up, staring at the ceiling but at nothing in particular. "And while Scotland Yard is for everyone, the Watchdog is only there for the Crown."

This reminded me of times better left unspoken.

"Safety for those who can pay; the others are there to slay."

"But that is not everything, right?" Cedric said, directing his thoughts and the conversation back. "The Countess didn't just assemble us for the mission; she also did it because she believes that she cannot do it on her own."

Barrington nodded sadly. "Yes. Dia may say otherwise, but because she's already made a mistake in this case, she wants to be as cautious as possible not to make another. She could handle this very well on her own – she is simply jazzed because of what happened two weeks ago."

"This leads to the second of the three questions," Cedric said.

"Yes."

"'Who died two weeks ago?'"

~Cloudia~

Manon von Brandt.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, pain running through my temples. Pain was running from my temples through my body.

We were here because of my mistake.

These people had suffered and died because of my mistake.

Because of my mistake.

Because of me all of this had happened.

Because of… because of…

And inside my head, all began to spin – to spin and spin with no anchor to make it come to a halt. I lost grip on my thoughts; I lost grip on the world around me.

I heard voices I could not make out. I saw shapes I could not classify.

I tried to reach out to hold myself in the outside world, in the world of reality, but all strength had left my body, and everything moved away from me while I was pulled away.

Pulled away into a world of darkness – into a world of past days long forgotten. Into a world with a tint of green.

Pulled away into a world I wasn't familiar with anymore.

And the pulling and the dragging, the lack of response of my body – as if I was buried under ice, as if I had died with no knowledge how – felt so familiar to me. So, so familiar…

And I heard nothing in this world in which I was a prisoner, had left all voices, all sounds, all cries behind me in the world outside.

Until, faintly, gently, I heard a voice; I heard a sound so familiar and so strange at once – and I wanted to reach out and make out the words but my ears were deaf, and I was drowning. I was drowning; I was fading into darkness with a tint of green…

"Cloudia? Cloudia?"

A high, hysteric voice fought its way through the darkness surrounding me.

"She isn't responding! Why isn't she responding? Cloudia!"

The same, the exact voice.

"Let me help."

Another much deeper, much mature voice.

"Nobody can help me," I wanted to scream, but no words left my mouth.

I barely felt the hands on my body which shook me.

"Pull yourself together, Cloudia."

I was drifting away, but I wasn't entirely gone now.

Not now. Not…

Holding her cheek, Cloudia gasped for air like a fish on land. It took a while for her senses to come back to her – for her to be able to see and process, for her to think and feel –, and when they had she saw that various pairs of eyes stared at her.

That… That worked?!

"Cloudia, are you fine? You suddenly became very pale and your eyes glassy before stopping to respond to our words," Kelia said, her green eyes widened.

"She is rather pale in general," Prunella pointed out, frowning. "As if she isn't a commoner."

"Those from higher classes aren't the only pale people," Robena remarked and turned away from Cloudia to glare at Prunella. "Some people can spend days outside while the sun shines brightly while staying as white as flour. Also, you have to learn some tact – the poor girl wasn't feeling well just now." She looked back at Cloudia and gave her a surprisingly warm smile. "Cloudia, how are you? Are you feeling better now? It was as if your consciousness has drifted away just now – is everything all right now?"

"I am fine," Cloudia told her, her voice sounding weaker than she wished it did. "I think when I was brought here, I hit my head somewhere – the pain irritated me a bit, I guess. That's all."

Ainslie wrapped her skinny arms around Cloudia. "I was so afraid! I was so worried!" she sobbed, her blue eyes big and teary. "It was so odd – you seemed to have slept with your eyes wide open! I didn't know what to do – if Robena hadn't hit you, Jessalyn would have surely eaten you alive."

"I am hungry but not deaf, Ainslie," a girl with dirty blonde hair grumbled.

"Sorry about the slap," said Robena. "Didn't know what else to do. Does it hurt?"

"It stings a bit, but it's all right," Cloudia replied. "And you don't have to be sorry – it worked after all." She turned her gaze at Ainslie. "I am sorry for scaring you. But I am better now, so you don't have to worry about me anymore."

Ainslie nodded before letting go of Cloudia again, but the young girl still pressed herself against her.

I had to pull myself together until we had escaped or until I had found my necklace and contacted Cedric. If I fully drifted away before I had accomplished one of those things, I would surely die here, and none of the other prisoners would be saved.

The Watchdog duty was about obeying the orders of Her Majesty and protecting those of importance to the Crown.

Ainslie, Adair, Prunella, Kelia, Robena, Evander, and the others – all of them belonged to either the lower or middle class. None of them was of importance to the Crown.

Therefore, I didn't have to save them.

But I would.

Manon von Brandt ridiculed me – she escaped from my claws, she threw me into a cell, and took away my possessions. Maven and Manon von Brandt invaded my time of grief.

I didn't go easy on Maven – I wouldn't go easy on Manon.

I would throw her from the top of her beloved castle; I would steal from her just like she had stolen from me.

My headache didn't matter – my mental state didn't matter. I would take her down; I would bring the others back to where they belonged.

After all, I was Countess Cloudia Phantomhive – and there wasn't a game I couldn't conquer.

I was Countess Cloudia Phantomhive – and I would fight until the very end.

Cloudia took a deep breath before she started to speak again.

"Let's not talk about my headache anymore. Do you know any details about the Witch's Castle and the labyrinth? Did you notice something interesting while being taken away? Do you have a clue what the purpose of the labyrinth is?"

"Oh, how curious!" Adair's eyes started to shine. "Curiosity, I like to say, is…"

"The Witch was certainly not the one who came up with the idea to build a labyrinth," Prunella interrupted him, her eyes dark.

Adair scowled at her before he slowly nodded. "I have met both Maven and Manon von Brandt – and none of them displayed a level of intelligence so outstanding even to consider building a maze, less designing it. They think highly of themselves, but they aren't the geniuses behind this facility."

Kelia rolled her eyes. "The Witch and the Warlock are nothing but morons. They are crazy – crazy in behaviour, confidence, and arrogance. Without her butler, the Witch wouldn't even be able to stand."

"How many servants do they have?" Cloudia asked.

"Only three," Robena said. "A butler, a gardener, and a footman."

"That sounds like the beginning of a joke," remarked Jessalyn.

"Those above us are jokes – but our situation isn't."

"The next time, I am taken – I will bite the Witch to death," Jessalyn proclaimed. "And when she is dead, I will eat her and chew on her bones."

Prunella snapped her fingers against Jessalyn's head. "If she's dead, you don't have to eat her – if she is dead, you are free to eat anything."

"Then, I am free to eat her."

Another snap against her head. "Jessalyn – girls weren't taken in a while now. You know that. Ever since the Warlock's disappearance, only males were taken."

Jessalyn rubbed her head. "I wish the Witch would take both girls and boys too. If she did, she would be long dead and digested."

"Back to the servants," Cloudia said. "What do you know about them?"

"The footman is the one who brings us food and who takes us away and brings us back," Ainslie answered, happy to provide information. "The butler is always with the Witch – he was never with the Warlock. I think the Witch always preferred him over her husband – that's why the Warlock doesn't like the butler. And Ava told us that she saw the gardener from time to time in the labyrinth. That's all she'd ever told us about what can be found inside it."

"Could the gardener be the one who constructed the labyrinth?"

"What are yew 'ryin' ter do, girl?" Evander wanted to know, narrowing his eyes.

"I am trying to gather information to find a way to get us out of here," Cloudia answered him, glaring. He laughed.

"Thee sound like Stephen! That idiot wan'ed ter get us aaaht 'ere an' all – an' yew know 'ow 'e ended up." Evander smirked. "Thee are only a little girl."

She scowled at him. "Who cares if I am a girl or not?"

"Thee aren't a 'ero, girl. Stephen wan'ed ter be a 'ero an' all – but 'e wasn't. And yew aren't one an' all. OK?"

Cloudia glanced at Ainslie who blinked at her for a moment before she understood, nodded, and stopped to lean against her so that she could stand up. "I know that I am not a hero," Cloudia started. "I will never say that I am one. But, at least, I am trying to help, I am trying to get us out of here."

"Awright geeezzaa! It's futile, girl. Know what I mean?"

"No, I don't. Because if I try and am victorious, nothing was futile."

Evander chuckled. "A dreamer, aren't you? Thee'll never win. If yew are 'ere as long as I, yew'll see. Thee'll see, girl, what we'll all die 'ere sooner awer later – either at da Brass Bands ov da Witch awer da 'unger ov Levi."

"Don't make me laugh – I am not a dreamer; I am an achiever. And if I die, I will die in a fight, and I will die in honour." A bitter smile crept on Cloudia's lips. "Because, while Manon von Brandt is definitely not equal to me, who am I to refuse a challenge? Who am I not to defend, not to respect a woman's honour – my honour, Ainslie's, Kelia's, Prunella's, Robena's, and Jessalyn's honour?"

~Cedric~

Barrington took a deep breath before he spoke. "Has Dia ever told you about the Phantomhive System?"

Cedric shook his head. "She has never mentioned it."

"Queen Victoria grew up in the Kensington System – a system which should make her weak and dependent on Sir John Conroy, the comptroller of the Queen's mother, the Duchess of Kent. Similarly, Dia grew up in the Phantomhive System. It was created to prepare her to become the next Watchdog. No other Phantomhive before her had to go through such a system, but she had because she was a girl and King William's Royal advisers believed that without it, Dia would never be capable of doing a man's job. Even now, they believe that she isn't."

"But the Countess is the youngest Watchdog the United Kingdom ever had," Cedric replied. "And, arguably, one of the best."

"They do not care about results," Cecelia interfered, and Cedric turned his head to see the hard expression on her lovely face. "They see Cloudia, and they see a girl. A little girl living in a world of flower arrangements and afternoon tea conversations. They cannot see beyond. Cloudia is a girl born into a special position of society because she is a Phantomhive – but the life of every other girl in the kingdom isn't easy and flowery either. We all fight our own battles in our own ways and manners."

"The Royal advisers are idiots."

Cecelia smiled. "Exactly, Not-Kristopher. They are indeed idiots. We can only hope that our Cloudia finds a man who is willing to marry her for who she is and doesn't want her to change. Someone should never force another to change for love because when you do, the love you experience for this person, apparently, has no value as you cannot love them for what they are. And this is one of the most important things when it comes to love."

She looked at Barrington. "And now, it would be the best for Barrington to continue."

He cleared his throat before he continued. "I would have never imagined to ever hear these words out of your mouth, Cecelia. But well… Where was I? Right, the Royal advisers. You see, Kristopher, Dia's childhood ended with Si's death. She was such a little child when she was forcibly isolated from everything and everyone – kept as a prisoner in her own home only to learn and study. Only when I was allowed to see her when she turned six, and her sword and fencing training had to start…"

Cedric frowned. "The Countess can fence? I have never seen her even touch a rapier or a sword. She only ever uses guns or raw violence."

A little smile appeared on Barrington's lips. "I met her father at a fencing tournament when we were children – and Dia is just as talented as Si. And, for your information, Kristopher, I was the former Leader of the British Knights; I was trained to be it since my childhood – and I have never once won against Simon Phantomhive. Give this girl a sword, and you will be able to see the prettiest humanly possible smile before she chops your head off."

"I guess that's why our Barrington is only the 'former Leader,'" Cecelia playfully remarked, and she even managed to make Oscar smile for a second.

It was rather disturbing.

"I have never lost against Dia though," Barrington cleared up.

Cecelia rolled her eyes. "Barrington, the last time, she touched a sword, she was twelve years old."

"Simon was twelve when he first beat me too."

"But when he was twelve, you were the same age. When Cloudia was twelve, you were already thirty-eight. You cannot compare it."

"But why does the Countess never use a sword instead of a gun if she is so talented?" Cedric asked before the conversation could fully drift away or evolve into a scowling contest between Barrington and Cecelia.

Which Cecelia would have won anyway so that it would have been rather boring.

Barrington sighed. "I was a knight, and I taught her in a knight's manner – but as a Phantomhive, but in the Underworld, chivalry has no meaning. There is no such thing as a fair match. That's why she stopped her training after she became the Watchdog and focused on guns and hand-to-hand combat instead."

"But just because of that, she didn't have to give up on it entirely," Cedric pointed out, and Barrington nodded, sighing again.

"I think Dia did that because, then, it would be easier for her. After all, if she practised every day with the sword, she would be sadder that she couldn't use it in actual fights. Also, she doesn't have time to attend fencing tournaments anymore – she did that when she was younger but in the disguise of a boy. They wouldn't have let her do it, or, at least, they wouldn't have taken her seriously."

This made me wonder what Cloudia and the Watchdogs before her had to sacrifice for their duty to the Crown.

"But let us get back to the actual topic," Barrington said. "I was only able to see Dia again after Simon's funeral two years later. In these two years, she was all alone in the manor – Penelope withdrew herself from society after her husband's death, even from her own daughter; Dia's other family members managed to get the permission to see her exactly twice, and all old servants were replaced."

"Except one," Cecelia interjected.

"Except one." Barrington looked at Cedric. "It was a hard time for Dia, and all she had until her sword training started was the former Head Butler Theodore Clifford."

~Cloudia~

"Thee sound like a bloody knight. Nuff said, yeah?" Evander said, grinning and showing his yellow teeth.

Cloudia chuckled. "For your information, I was raised by a man who raised two children who weren't his all on his own, by a man who is a veteran, a world traveller, a monster fighter – by a man who put up with me for eighteen years and who will have to endure me for eighteen more."

I was certainly not a knight. I didn't live for the same kind of honour and glory they did. I was a liar. And when I fought, there were no other rules than the ones I had picked.

I was mean and achieved my goals through mean ways. I was walking on a tainted path – walking the same path was my predecessors.

But that didn't mean that Barrington's countless lessons didn't influence me, that they had vanished from my mind and soul on the day I had put down my sword.

"Thee are a fun girl."

"This girl has a name – and it is Cloudia. And just like a cloud in the sky, I will move about freely again." Cloudia scowled at Evander. "I fought numerous battles to prove my worth, and I will fight numerous more – because the reason I even get up every day is to prove everyone that a 'mere girl' is just as worthy, just as capable as everyone else."

He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"A shadow who can be either your greatest enemy or your greatest ally – you choose, Evander Hamill."

He stared at her. "How…?" Evander began but was interrupted by the closing of a door. He and Cloudia turned their heads at around the same time as the others except for Levi, a silent boy, and a boy rocking back and forth in a corner. They saw a little window in the door opening. A pair of honey-coloured eyes appeared behind it.

"Cloudia? Good to see that you are already awake. The Viscountess demands to see you."

Again, everyone stared at Cloudia.

"But the Witch only takes men," Prunella said, eyes wide and fixed on Cloudia.

"And what are you even doing here? Who are you even?" Adair raised his voice and made Cloudia frown. "Where's the footman?"

"What about Ari? And Bell?" Kelia asked, standing up and walking towards the door. "If you take her, at least, bring them back."

"Stay where you are," the man behind the door said. "I cannot bring them back as they aren't in any condition which allows me to lead them to the cells. And why I am here doesn't have to concern you."

Kelia stepped back, a horrified expression on her face. Robena, who had also stood up, held her and squeezed her shoulders. Adair who had also been standing by the door stepped away, knowing this procedure very well.

The man's bright eyes were cold when his gaze wandered to Cloudia. "And now, Cloudia, come to the door. The Viscountess cannot await to meet you."

~Cedric~

"Old Ted was employed by Percival Phantomhive, Dia's grandfather, to succeed the Head Butler Waylon Poole and to serve his only son," Barrington told Cedric. "Theodore Clifford was twenty years old when Simon was born and, at that time, he was already a Phantomhive servant for a few years – I've once asked him what he did before joining the Phantomhive household, but he wouldn't tell me. Si didn't know it either, but he's actually never asked him because he didn't need to know it. You see, Si was the kind of person who wouldn't dig further if he absolutely didn't have to – unlike his daughter. You have no idea how tiring the fencing lessons with Dia were… She practically wanted to turn over every line in every textbook. Thrice. In that regard, I am rather happy that she gave it up. And you have no idea how tiring it was after we found Kamden – suddenly, I had two of them. Of course, Kamden's shyer and more silent, but…"

"Nobody's interested in your parenting problems, Barrington," Cecelia cut him off. "Oscar doesn't have any children – thank Heavens –, I don't have any children. I am not exactly sure if Not-Kristopher doesn't have any children – we know so little about him, he could have a battalion of secret grey-haired, oddly green-eyed children running around."

"I don't have any children," Cedric stated, and she nodded at his words.

"See, Barrington? We couldn't be a worse group to which you could talk about this subject. None of us can relate. Also, you aren't even in the position to give us advice for the future if any of us would become a parent one day. Everyone knows what a terrible father you are."

"I am actually rather happy that you and Michael never had any children," Barrington said, scowling. "Nobody needs small versions of Cecelia Williams."

"Can we please continue talking about Theodore Clifford?" said Cedric.

Who would have guessed that in a room with four people, I would be the only focused one? Even if I could tell my fellow Reapers about it, nobody would believe me.

I wanted Barrington to rapid up. After all, I had planned to go and find Cloudia so that she wouldn't have to be alone any longer. If they kept on like that, Cloudia would eventually return, enter the bureau without anyone noticing because Cecelia and Barrington were still arguing, and we wouldn't know that she was there until she loudly cleared her throat or anything like that, having watched us all the time.

Preventively, I briefly looked around the room.

"Our time is running away," he added.

Barrington and Cecelia stopped their argument, turned their heads to him, and blinked before he cleared his throat. "Oh, yes, right. Let us continue later, Cecelia."

"If you expect me to forget that, you don't know me at all, Barrington," she replied, sitting down next to Oscar with a newly filled wine glass.

"I would never expect anything like that from you," Barrington started. "Old Ted was already part of the Phantomhive household before Si was even born, so, of course, he was also there throughout Si's entire childhood. When Percival died, Simon was nineteen years old; and right after Percival's death, Poole retired, and Si and Old Ted became Family Head and Head Butler respectively. They had known each other for almost two decades and were, therefore, rather close. And when Si was murdered, Penelope locked herself away, and Dia was bound to the Phantomhive System, Old Ted was the only one who had never left her side in those dark years. He had an incredibly loyal and kind soul. I don't want to imagine what would have happened if Dia truly didn't have anyone by her side.

"For Dia, Old Ted was part of her weird little family because she had grown up very distanced from her biological one – after all, even after I had started teaching Dia, she wasn't allowed to see her family more often than prior. Old Ted, Kamden, and I – we were her oddly brought together family.

"Old Ted knew Dia better than anyone else – and Dia who seldom looks up to someone looked up to him. He was 'only' a butler, but she adored him with all her heart. When she found Newman so that Old Ted could finally retire, Dia made sure that he could spend the rest of his life in a nice place and live calmly and peacefully as he didn't have to associate with anything Watchdog anymore. They often wrote each other letters, and, at least, once a month, she visited him for tea to chat and to check how he was doing." Barrington smiled at the memory of it before sadness laid itself over his face again like a cloud over a grey sky.

"In Dia's life of changes and loss, of restriction and death, Old Ted was the only variable which had always been steady – he was there when she had woken up after that one month. He was there when the other servants of her childhood were sent away, was there on her birthday and Christmas, helped her in the days before the decoration to Countess and Watchdog. A lot had come and gone in Dia's life even though she's still so young – but Old Ted had always remained. Until now.

"And until now, Dia didn't have to cope with another death in her family."

~Cloudia~

The door closed behind Cloudia, and the man led her through the corridor. Right now, the others must be wondering why she was chosen and not Adair or Evander. After all, all they knew was that the Viscountess of Meinkot-Velpke took only males.

This either meant that she was crazier than Kelia had told me she was or that she knew who I was. That I was so purposefully attacked in the forest and that the man knew my name indicated that the latter applied, but I concluded that both options did.

I had never despised it more for being a guest of honour than now.

Cloudia followed the man through a door which was hidden in a wall. If you didn't know where it was, it was nearly impossible to find, and even if you found it, you needed either a key or knowledge in lock-picking to open it. Cloudia waited for the door to close behind them before she raised her voice.

"It is 'Lady Cloudia,'" she said, but the man didn't respond to her. "You called me only 'Cloudia' when you came to collect me, but my family didn't go through nothing to obtain a place among the British nobles. That's why you should address me properly – or do you want to stain my family's hard work?"

The man kept on looking ahead, not saying anything, not even indicating that he acknowledged her presence.

"Not that my family's work wasn't stained enough," Cloudia continued nonchalantly. They passed by a few windows, and she wished that it wasn't so cloudy today.

"I hope you are aware of my position? Aware of who I am? If you don't, here's a brief summary: I am Lady Cloudia Phantomhive, the daughter of Earl Simon and Countess Penelope Phantomhive, and fiancée to the enigmatic current Earl who succeeded my father as the Royal Family's Watchdog. That's the short introduction of my persona. Care to hear the long one?"

She counted his silence as a silent "Yes."

"I am not only a noblewoman and engaged since I took my first breath on Mother Earth – I am also a lover of all things beautiful. I am a flower enthusiast with lilies being my favourites. I love white lilies the most – rather ironic considering my family's duty, don't you think? But, well, I cannot do anything against what my heart says. And it says to love not only flowers but also books. I read Emma by Jane Austen more than seventy times, and Oliver Twist by the brilliant Charles Dickens over fifty times. I want to reread every work of Dickens' up to date one after the other without an evident pause, but I don't have any time for it. Tragic, right? I should revive some old Greek writers to write a tragedy about it. No time for reading should be the topic of dramas – not love problems."

Cloudia saw the man contorting his face for a second, and she smiled.

If I was held captive against my will, at least, I wanted to get a little bit of fun out of it.

"Did you know that I have a magnificent memory? I can recite entire books and various poems. How about I recite The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe to prove it to you? The Raven has eighteen stanzas, each consisting of six lines. I wonder how far I will come until we get to Manon." She took a deep breath. "'Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore – While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. ''Tis some visiter,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door – Only this and nothing more.' Ah, distinctly, I remember, it was in the bleak December; and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow. From my books surcease sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore – for the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore – Nameless here for…'"

The man turned towards her, and Cloudia had to stop just as abruptly not to collide with him. To her surprise, he laughed. "I believe you that you can do it – you don't have to recite the entire poem. And how can a poem be so long? Eighteen stanzas are far too long."

"That's not very long," Cloudia replied. "In the tenth or eleventh century after Christi, a poet called Abu 'l-Qasim Ferdowsi Tusi or just Ferdowsi from Persia wrote an epic poem consisting of 50,000 couplets – couplets are verses with only two lines. It's the longest poem which was ever written by a single person. The poem's name is Shahnameh which translates to 'The Book of Kings.' It took Ferdowsi thirty-three years to put this wonderful piece of literature together."

The man shook his head, chuckling. "You really talk and talk and never stop, right, Cloudia?"

"I would certainly never stop talking if I could recite Ferdowsi's legendary poem," Cloudia replied.

"Yes, yes, certainly."

"And again, it's 'Lady Cloudia.'"

"We don't have to be so formal, right? Also, you called the Viscountess by her first name rather than by her title too," the man pointed out.

"But I am the daughter of an Earl, and she is a mere Viscountess – I am above her on the social ladder in many different ways. I am free to call her by her first name. You, however, are nothing but a servant."

"That's terribly impolite for a lady."

"It's even more impolite to try scolding a lady without properly referring to her."

He grinned at her before he continued to walk. However, the man didn't get too far as he realised after a few metres that she wasn't following him. He turned around and blinked at her. "Why aren't you coming?"

"I have various reasons for that," Cloudia said.

"What are your reasons?"

"First of all, I am not following anyone whose name I don't know."

"But… but you followed me just fine a minute ago!" The man shook his head. "You are really a funny girl."

"That was a minute ago," replied Cloudia. "I am a girl of principles, and my head is hurting a bit right now which is the reason why I only remembered my principles a minute ago."

"I have a lot of patience – after all, you need a good portion of it if you want to grow plants."

"Oh, so you are the gardener? What made you come and get me if taking people is the footman's job?"

The gardener grinned. He had a charming grin, and she was sure that with it and his handsome face, he could fool any girl he wanted as long as she didn't look through him – or knew that he served a criminal. And, well, was definitely one too. "Times have changed, my dear, but the hunt has stayed the same. Also, I am the gardener; I always take care of the weed."

"I am not your dear."

"Very well – then, the times have changed, Cloudia."

"'Lady Cloudia,' you nameless Zounderkite."

He smiled at her. "I like you; I really do – you are fun. Most of the prisoners are fun, but you are the funniest of them all until now. You are like a funnier, exaggerated version of Adair if you ask me. Still, I think we should go now."

Cloudia raised an eyebrow. "You really are a Zounderkite, aren't you? I've already told you that I won't move a centimetre if you don't tell me your name first. Isn't it unfair for you to know my name but me not knowing yours?"

"Of course, I almost forgot." The gardener theatrically bowed in front of her. "Axel Thadeus Evelyn Shade – son of John and Anne, talented gardener of Manon von Brandt, not a lover of poems – at your service. Or, well, not exactly at your service as you aren't the one I'm loyal to."

"Ah, I see. You mean 'at your service to bring you to a madwoman with a smile on my face'?"

Axel showed her his charming grin once again before he started to walk but stopped when he noticed that Cloudia was still not following him. He turned around to face her, the previous softness of smiles and chuckles gone from his face.

"Cloudia –"

"Lady Cloudia Phantomhive."

"– no matter how much I like you, I am afraid that I will have to shoot you if you keep this up."

Cloudia glared at him. "It is not my fault when you think that the words 'various' and 'first' mean that there's only one reason."

"Then, tell me," Axel said, the shadow not leaving his face. "Tell me your other reasons, my dear."

Oh, what a two-faced pathetic fellow.

"Second," Cloudia started as if there had never been an interference, "why should I follow someone I don't know to a clearly wicked person? Last but not least, you are not intimidating at all, Axel. Not even the soft, delicate kitten of my cousin Cathleen would shudder at your presence."

He narrowed his eyes. "You are overstraining my patience."

"Her name is Millie."

Axel slightly frowned. "Whose name is 'Millie'?"

"The kitten's, of course," Cloudia answered, rolling her eyes. "Don't you ever listen, Thadeus Evelyn?"

With a swift movement, Axel took out a gun and aimed at Cloudia's forehead. "Cloudia, I have to tell you to move – and don't ever make fun of my middle names again."

She raised her hands and smirked while catching up to him.

So he was in possession of a weapon after all – I wondered how easy it would be to take it away from him and make him whimper?

~Cedric~

"Old Ted became sixty-four years old – nobody was truly surprised when he died peacefully in his sleep one day. But that doesn't mean that it's easier to cope with his loss," Barrington said. "There's no death more painful than the death of those you have loved."

Barrington's words made me recall all the times I had seen Cloudia in the last few weeks – paler than usual, thinner, weaker, with sad eyes, full of forced words and actions – but they made me recall something else too: The day I stared into the icy water and found me looking the same as Cloudia did now.

No, I was wrong; back then, the fire in me had burned out, but right now, Cloudia's was only weakened.

And I doubted that this girl would ever allow for her fire to burn out.

"Why are you smiling like an idiot, Not-Kristopher?" Cecelia wanted to know, grinning like a Cheshire Cat herself.

"Oh, was I? I didn't realise it," Cedric said and stopped smiling.

"Oh, you surely did, dear. Could it be that you find joy in the death of love?" She slightly raised one of her golden eyebrows. "I am asking because you started to smile after Barrington said 'There's no death more painful than the death of those you have loved.' I didn't know that you like such morbid things."

"For a split second, his face turned as grey as his hair," Oscar pointed out when Cedric was about to say something. He had nearly forgotten that he was still there – which was ridiculous considering the eerie aura Oscar emitted. "Only afterwards did he start to smile – to use your words, Williams – 'like an idiot.' Underwood turned grey because of Weaselton's words, but then, he thought of something else which brought said smile to his lips. As both reactions happened so quickly in a row, his second one has to be directly connected to the first – one thought led to the next.

"Considering that our conversation's topic isn't a happy one, a not entirely light thought he had associated with said topic must have made Underwood smile. Furthermore, not only his lips smiled but his eyes too – they sparkled in the same way the eyes of people shine when they are thinking of something they are particularly fond of. Or, well, if they are thinking of someone they love.

"As we have already established, Underwood is harbouring feelings for Mylady and refusing to admit them." Oscar's eyes met Cedric's, and a shiver ran over Cedric's spine.

"My conclusion is that Underwood must have thought of Mylady right before smiling. But what dark thought made him think of her and smile?"

"That's not relevant, Oscar," said Barrington surprisingly sternly. "We can discuss the matter of Kristopher's chain of thought later."

Oscar blinked at him before leaning back in his seat. Cedric was beyond relieved that his unsettling gaze wasn't lying on him anymore – and that the topic had been dropped. At least, for now.

"The death of a family member," Cedric said, clenching his hands together. "Theodore Clifford, Kamden, and you, Barrington: As you've said, you were the family she chose. And, of course, even the Countess would be terribly saddened by the death of family – but I would have never expected her to be so… For her to be so thrown out of balance because of it. Nevertheless, I am certain that she will find back her balance in no time."

Barrington smiled. "Dia's an unbelievably strong girl. She will find her way back to a balance which suits her best in her new situation."

"You said that even if Theodore Clifford hadn't died recently, the Countess would still be like right now because of her father's death anniversary." Cedric looked at him. "I don't know a lot about Simon Phantomhive. Most of my knowledge comes from what the Countess told me: that he had been murdered when she was nothing but a little child, that he was an admired member of high society despite his oddities and a brilliant Watchdog who only wasn't able to solve the case he had investigated right until his death. She has never told me that he died only a few days after her birthday and that she witnessed her father's murder.

"Before meeting the Countess, I've already heard some things regarding Simon Phantomhive's death – but every piece of information was nothing but vague. Just like the Countess' memory of it, as it seems. But what did happen on April 10?"

A shadow ran over Barrington's face. "Kristopher, my boy, I am afraid that almost all you know about Simon is false.

"Because, you see, there's something terribly wrong with Dia's memory."

~Cloudia~

"Lady Cloudia Phantomhive! I welcome you!"

The corridors of the Witch's Castle were held in rosé and gold and brilliant rubies – and with every step, you could see more exhibitions of wasteful financial expenditure. But the hall to which Axel ultimately led me was even worse: a gigantic chandelier of blood red rubies hanging from the ceiling's centre, a long rectangular table which seemed to have solely been made of gold, a glittering ground, fine crystal tableware.

The bright gold-red light burnt in my eyes which had become more sensitive due to my headache, and the smell of the many, many dishes on the table made me nauseous.

At the top of the table sat a woman in a pompous red dress, to her right a man with black hair and bronze-coloured eyes. The woman was terribly ugly with her brown hair fading to uncanniness at the tips, and a dumb expression on her face which seemed to have got stuck between child- and adulthood.

With her head upright, Cloudia walked to the table's end and sat down. Axel tied her up to her chair before walking to the top and positioning himself to his mistress' left side.

At the far end of the hall stood an enormous grandfather clock whose hands showed that it was almost three o'clock. Cloudia wondered if Cedric and the others were already searching for her.

"Manon von Brandt, if you wanted to invite me to lunch, you could have sent me a letter or a card like everyone else does," Cloudia said.

Manon von Brandt, the Viscountess of Meinkot-Velpke, giggled. "My dear Lady Cloudia, we both know that neither you nor I am like 'everyone else.'"

Cecelia liked to refer to me, Oscar, and, sometimes, Barrington as "dear." And now, to Cedric too. We were colleagues; we knew one another. Manon and her annoying gardener, however, had the weird habit of calling people they didn't know "their dears." It was rather disturbing, even more so considering the fact that both of them were crazy psychos and mostly only talked to those they wanted to kill.

"I do," Cloudia agreed, smiling. "I am more a person of bad than good while everyone else is rather balanced – and you are by far more worthless than most."

"What a fine sense of humour, Lady Cloudia."

"What an outstandingly low intelligence, Manon. Mistaking serious facts for jokes."

Cloudia didn't break eye contact when she took a grape from a bowl and put it into her mouth. Even from here, she could see how Manon had paled.

"Not poisoned?" Cloudia pointed out when she had swallowed the grape and had done her best to hide her sudden urge to gag. "You could have got rid of me in mere minutes or even seconds if you had poisoned the food. I would be surprised and disappointed at once if I didn't know that you are the pitiful kind of villain."

Manon shook her head. "I am afraid that, dear, you are mistaking pitifulness for classiness."

Cloudia propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands, presenting Manon her most beautiful grin. "I am not your 'dear,'" she said before casually continuing to eat some grapes.

"So, tell me, Manon – why exactly are you acting like a fool, not killing me in the forest, not killing me right now? As you are already that much of a foolish fool doing foolish things only a foolish fool would do, you can continue wasting time and oxygen and tell me what your little evil plan is."

Manon scowled at her.

Composure was everything. Presenting yourself in a way appropriate to the situation was everything.

If you weren't usually very confident, you could fake confidence by boosting as well as you could.

If you weren't usually intimidating, you could think of the scariest things you could imagine.

In situations like this one, it was important to make the other person, at least, believe what you wanted them to believe.

In my case, I needed Manon to believe that I wasn't on the verge of a catastrophic breakdown.

In her case, she needed me to believe that she was just as evil and magnificent as she wanted everyone to think she was.

And just now, she broke out of her role.

"Just like you've said, I could have killed you countless of times," Manon said, trying to get her composure back. "But I didn't. And you want to know why? Because just killing you would be too easy."

"You mean that you are too much of a coward to kill me right now," Cloudia replied. "Kill me here, kill me now – colour your hall of gold with my blood. Colour the dawn of your wicked reign and use my blood as paint. Use my body, use my name – kill me here, kill me now with your own little hands and rise from my bones. Show all, prove all that you deserve a crown of darkness and write your name all over the Underworld with my blood and soul."

"A poet," Manon said, amused. "I do like poets."

"I am not a poet. I only read a lot and have a rather morbid imagination."

"And, apparently, a great desire to die."

Cloudia grinned. "Nobody deserves to die as much as I."

"Then, why don't you just kill yourself?"

"Because," Cloudia said, looking right into Manon's eyes, "I will die when my time to die will come – and before it does, I will take as many of the likes of you with me as I can. Before that, my soul won't find rest. And when the time of times finally comes, I will not be afraid. I've looked into Death's eyes so often now that I am not scared anymore. When I die, I want to die at ease – I will die at ease."

"What an interesting girl you are – by chance, is the Earl everyone keeps wondering about like you? A seemingly sweet person but, in fact, rotten to the core?"

Cloudia smiled. "Who could ask for more than being rotten to the core? We are of the same cursed blood, share the same name and inheritance – we are as alike as two peas in a pot and nothing like those people next door."

Manon laughed and clapped her hands together. "Marvellous! I cannot await to meet him."

"Oh, so you really only abducted me to get your hands on the Earl? How predictable. What a predictable girl you are, Manon von Brandt." Cloudia shook her head. "Don't you have any surprises in you, girl?"

"I don't need to surprise anyone, Lady Cloudia – your very life is in my hands. All that you are is dependent on nobody else but me." Manon narrowed her eyes. "I am in a higher position than you."

"But he won't come."

"Why shouldn't he come? You are his fiancée, his cousin," Manon replied, visibly thrown off.

Her performance of the role she was playing was so shaky; it was quite hilarious.

"Manon von Brandt," Cloudia started, bored and looking around the room, not finding anything interesting to focus on, "daughter of Niall and Rue von Brandt, sister to Giselle. I've heard that you were the black sheep of your family, the ignored, the untalented, the fatal slip of hand in a perfect embroidery. Your younger sister Giselle was wonderful in all regards and constantly surrounded by suitors – until the day you forced her to do something which scarred her and robbed her of her happiness. She killed herself – but you were the one to take away her life. I think that is a wonderful example of 'Whom interests blood relations?' But the Earl doesn't come because he despises me, because he doesn't care of those of the same blood and family – he doesn't come because he trusts me. He trusts his 'mere little Countess' to get out of here all on her own. He trusts me – just like you should have trusted your sister that, despite everything, she loved and respected you like no other person on Earth did."

Cloudia smiled. "Do you want to kill me now?"

Manon laughed. "You wish!"

"Well, today, someone already told me that I was a dreamer."

"What a strange dreamer you are – so many dream of glory and power, of happiness and love. And you, Cloudia Phantomhive, you dream of gods and monsters – you dream of death."

"Everyone has their idiosyncrasies."

She burst into laughter again. "Entertainment, Lady Cloudia! You should be an entertainer like your mother."

Cloudia sighed. "Why don't you stop beating around and start doing to me what you did to every other of your prisoners? This conversation is getting more and ridiculous with every word which leaves your mouth."

Manon chuckled. "I think it would be better if we wait until our second guest of honour arrives – your beloved Earl of Phantomhive. I am certain that he would love to watch."

"You rehearsed that very well, Manon," Cloudia replied.

"What do you mean with 'rehearsed'? I didn't rehearse anything at all."

"I am just remarking that you look like someone who stands before a mirror and practices appearing fierce and intimidating. Whoever wrote the script of this little play deserves an award – and you too as its worst actress."

Just after I had spoken those words, the pain in my temples suddenly doubled, and Manon's reply sounded too loud and too sharp that I had to do my best not to try covering my ears. My vision blurred and I blinked.

"Oh, you don't look very well, my dear," Manon said, grinning smugly. "Are you all right?"

Manon's voice mixed with the one whose source and words I couldn't classify, and I had to strain myself to catch Manon's words somehow.

Why now?

Why did things like these always had to happen in the worst possible moments?

"Never felt any better," Cloudia managed to press through her teeth.

"Are you sure? You look so pale."

"People keep telling me that – but I am a noblewoman with a love for books and staying inside. Of course, I –"

A sudden explosion of pain interrupted her, and all blurred into one another – colours, smells, sounds –, and, faintly, there was green light dancing in front of her eyes and an odd voice ringing in her ears, and she fell into unconsciousness.

~Cedric~

"With the 'I-am-a-walking-library' Countess' memory?" Cedric replied. To him, that something was wrong with Cloudia Phantomhive's powers of recollection sounded as believable as the existence of pink-coloured elephants.

Or as believable as even the Grim Reapers' knowledge of Simon Phantomhive being faulty.

But if the general knowledge people had about him was wrong – could that mean that the little rumours I'd heard about him in the Dispatch were true?

Barrington sighed. "Yes. She has a remarkable memory. At least, her memory is remarkable most of the time, but ever since she witnessed Si's death, it is as if her memory is… malfunctioning.

"I wasn't there for the immediate aftermath of Simon's murder as I wasn't allowed to be there. That's why I only know what Old Ted told me about it right after Dia had her first attack while I visited – prior to that, it has somehow never happened while I was at the manor. You have no idea how scared I was when Old Ted came to me one morning to inform me about it.

"Seven days before Simon's death, he was given what would be his last case. To investigate it, he had to go to London. It was an odd case, the infamous Delaney Case, and he knew that he would never be able to solve it before Dia's fourth birthday. He didn't want to miss it, but even more, he didn't want to take his family with him to London. This is something he never did when he was working on a case because Penelope and Dia would be safer at the manor as Simon had tightened the security at the manor after Genevieve's death two years prior."

"Why did you do that?" Oscar demanded to know.

Cedric frowned. "Why did I do what?"

"Flinch," Oscar said, and Cecelia nodded in agreement. "Flinch at Genevieve Phantomhive's name and death."

Involuntarily, all colour left Cedric's face.

I didn't even realise that I'd flinched.

"Uh... It's because that the Countess and I were in Edinburgh on Christmas..."

"Ah, the Parks Kidnapping Case," Cecelia interjected.

Cedric slowly nodded. "Yes. Well, during our stay in Edinburgh, the Countess had nightmares, and I stayed by her side because of that. When I asked her about them, she told me that she saw her grandmother in her dreams. However, she doesn't know why."

Cecelia raised one of her eyebrows. "Wait a minute, just to be certain ‒ you were in Cloudia's bedroom at night?"

"Yes," Cedric answered her question without thinking, and as soon as the word had left his mouth, Barrington yelled: "What the hell were you doing in the bedroom of my best friend's precious jewel?!"

"Barrington," Cecelia said after a while of awkward silence, shaking her head, "how can you want to be respected like the adult you claim you are when you say such things?"

Then, she turned to Cedric. "You shouldn't say such things in company, Not-Kristopher. Especially not in front of Mr Parent-Dog Sitter-Slept on the Ground for Months-Old Man Aristocrat. He may look like a useless weakling, but he didn't become an Aristocrat of Evil just because Genevieve Phantomhive forced him and her son to a playdate years before. After all, he was the Head Knight of Great Britain for eleven years – it was rather fortunate for us that the Kingdom didn't fall in this period." Barrington scowled at her, but Cecelia's face brightened up. "On a side note, I am rather excited to hear that Cloudia is not the prudish wallflower I've always thought she was! Now, I can finally have more fleshed out ladies' talks with her!" She giggled. "But giving something so precious to someone whose true intentions she doesn't know? I would have expected more of our Cloudia."

"What?" said Cedric and Barrington in unison before the latter jumped up from his seat. The next moment, Barrington held a letter opener in his hand Cedric had no recollection he had taken out.

"I challenge you to a duel, Duke Underwood," Barrington said. "As a knight, I allow you to choose a weapon. As an enraged substitute parent, I only allow you to choose between Cecelia's wine glass and Oscar's cufflinks."

Oscar turned his gaze at Barrington.

"Special edition: The plan has changed, Underwood – I allow you to choose between Cecelia's wine glass and Cecelia's wine glass."

"With or without the wine inside?" asked Cecelia.

"Without, of course. I've only said 'wine glass.' Not 'filled with wine glass.'"

"Then, I will have to drain it, I guess."

"No hurries, Cecelia. Drop by drop."

"I've only comforted her!" Cedric defended himself.

Cecelia grinned from behind her raised glass. "We are all adults here, Not-Kristopher. We all know what 'comforting in a bedroom' means. I 'comfort' people for information all the time."

"I will defeat you, and I will burn you alive," Barrington declared, fidgeting with the letter opener.

Now, I knew why Cloudia rarely assembled all of her Evil Noblemen. They were highly distractible and ridiculous.

"I assure you all that I've never slept with the Countess nor that I've even thought about sleeping with her. Furthermore, I'm rather sure that this is a situation in which I will never find myself – and the Countess wouldn't think differently. Actually, I am certain that she will either threaten your life or vomit if you asked her about it," Cedric clarified.

"Hm. You are indeed right about that," Barrington replied, only slightly lowering his letter opener. "Dia doesn't have such low standards."

Cecelia and Oscar nodded at his words.

Of course, the only thing they agreed with had to be something like that.

"As the duel's cancelled and everything's clarified now, we should continue with Barrington's story about what happened on April 10, 1834," Cedric said sourly.

"Who said that the duel's cancelled?" Barrington replied, bewildered. "Even if you've reminded us of Dia's standards, a duel would be phenomenal exercise. Or are you scared?"

"You are so full of yourself, Mr Parent-Dog Sitter-Slept on the Ground for Months-Old Man Aristocrat," Cecelia said, rolling her eyes.

"First of all, Oscar's older than me," Barrington said. "Second: I didn't sleep on the ground for months! I slept on futons. Futons! They comprise of a mattress and a duvet! And, last of all – did you just make a Watchdog joke?"

"But you do lay those futons on the ground, Barrington."

"But I don't sleep on the ground! I sleep on a mattress! The mattress sleeps on the ground! I am not a mattress!"

Cedric cleared his throat. "As we've now established that Barrington's not a mattress…"

"We haven't established whether or not he's a doormat," Cecelia cut him off.

"As we have now established that Barrington is not a mattress," Cedric repeated, this time, a bit louder, "can we please continue? We haven't got all time in the world. The Countess could return at any minute.

"Or, if you don't want to continue, I will now go and search for her." He was about to stand up when Cecelia reached over the side table between their seats and took hold of his arm.

"No, no, Not-Kristopher! Please stay. We will miss you if you go, and don't worry – Barrington will continue his story." She smiled.

"How can a moron say so many true things on a day?" Barrington said, putting away his letter opener and sitting back down.

"That's what I am asking myself on one of your nearly intellectual days, Barrington," Cecelia meant, letting go of Cedric and leaning against the backrest again.

He glared at her before continuing. "Si left Penelope and Dia at the manor and went to the townhouse on his own. However, Simon promised that he would solve the case until April 10, and arranged for Penelope and Dia to join him at the townhouse for a little belated birthday party on the same day.

"Old Ted told me that when they arrived on April 10, Dia went to find and greet her father first. Later, Dia's nursery maid Mabel found her traumatised and unresponsive in the winter garden. Simon was nowhere to be seen, and Old Ted went to search for him. Eventually, he found his corpse somewhere in the townhouse's garden – Dia must have found him, seen the murder, and somehow managed to escape to the winter garden.

"Poor Penelope had stayed by her daughter's side and tried to calm her while Ted searched for her husband – only for him to return with the worst kind of news. But that wasn't the last blow, Penelope had to take: Shortly afterwards, Dia lost consciousness – and didn't wake up until a month later. And when she had finally woken up again, she had lost all of her memories. She couldn't remember her own name, couldn't recognise her own mother. Penelope and the rest of her family helped her to re-learn their names, to get to know everything again. They brought her from doctor to doctor, but nobody could help her. At some point in May, Penelope locked herself up in her chambers and refused to go out again. In June, the King implemented the Phantomhive System, and Dia was isolated from her family she had barely got to know again. All old servants except Old Ted were fired and replaced, leaving only him to be there for Dia during one of her 'attacks.'

"You see, Kristopher, every time Dia overworks herself, is too stressed out, or anything even slightly reminds her of that moment when she found Simon, she gets a headache. And if it gets worse and worse because she cannot rest and calm herself, will lead to her having an 'attack': She loses consciousness, and you can never know when she will wake up again. But she doesn't just lie in silence until waking up – it's more like she has a really bad dream, always rolling around, shouting, screaming. And, well, she kind of has: In the period of her attack, Dia's usually trapped in the time between her arrival at the townhouse and her discovery in the winter garden. But Dia once told me that she cannot grab it – her memory is blurry and vague, even if she's trapped in it. She has to relive it over and over again – without ever finding out what exactly she's reliving."

I recalled all the instances when Cloudia had had a headache.

After the resolution of the Inner London Murders and Salisbury Villa Bombing Case.

During our stay in Wales when she got a sunstroke.

In Edinburgh, the night before we met Ladarius Parks.

And, last year, when I had come to visit her on her birthday, Cloudia had mentioned a headache, albeit she had blamed her relatives. This year, she had looked especially ashen, and I wondered if she had had a headache then too, was still suffering from one, but I hadn't noticed.

Every time, Cloudia had turned so fragile; every time, she had looked like a young girl again.

And now, I knew why.

Cedric paled. "I… I cannot believe that the Countess has to live with something like that. Other people would have gone crazy after witnessing something so terrible as the Countess did as a child – and reliving it every now and then. It's remarkable that she still hasn't completely broken down."

Barrington smiled briefly, but he dropped it as quickly as it came as if it had never been there in the first place. "Kristopher, Dia may not have exactly fallen into insanity, may not have been caught by it, but obsession – obsession didn't spare her as insanity did."

~Cloudia~

When she woke up, she looked into grey, and when her vision became more refined, she saw that it was more of a greyish blue and that there were white specks here and there.

The sky. I was looking at the sky.

Had I died?

I felt so empty.

Pain ran through her body when she raised her hand and held her palm up against the sky.

Something was missing. I knew that something was missing but wasn't sure what.

She focused her eyes on the white specks on the sky.

My head felt so light; I couldn't grasp a clear thought. And so I did what I had done ever since I was a child and needed an anchor for my memory, needed something to make me remember – to defog my thoughts again.

I looked at the sky and listed the names of my family, my servants, and those closest to me in the same exact order as always. As always ever since the list had grown and changed.

Simon and Penelope. Genevieve and Percival, Hortense and Edward. Eleanor and Isidore, Felicity and Aiden, Joanna and Jonathan. Cathleen and August, Keegan, Constantia, Clarissa, Celeste, Ceara.

Newman, Lisa, Armstrong, Thomas, … and Teddy.

Wilbur and Antonia.

Barrington, Cecelia, Oscar. Cedric.

Kamden, Blodwen, Dr Alan.

Allie. Gigi and Ethel.

Milton.

And, in the end, my own name – Cloudia.

She kept staring up, stared at the clouds floating silently over a greyish blue canvas – and her hand, and her hand reaching out to it.

With a click, I realised what was missing: the blue ring on my finger. The blue Phantomhive family ring.

She sat up and saw the stone walls surrounding her – saw the paths opening behind and in front of her – and she stared down at her hand which she laid down flat on the ground and ran her thumb over where the ring was supposed to be.

I was Cloudia Phantomhive, the Queen's Watchdog, and right now, I was also Manon von Brandt's prisoner.

Right now, I was inside the Witch's Maze.

Cloudia stood up and examined herself, but except for a few light cuts and bruises, she was unharmed. But inside, inside she felt like she had died and come back.

Why was I here? Didn't Manon keep saying that she wouldn't do anything to me until the "Earl" came?

She wanted to examine the labyrinth's walls, but when she stepped forward, she heard the crumbling of paper, and she looked down. She had accidentally stepped on an envelope. Cloudia stepped back, knelt down, and picked up the envelope before breaking the von Brandt's seal and taking out a letter written on gold-coloured paper.

My dear Cloudia Phantomhive,

How shocking your sudden breakdown was! My heart! My poor, poor heart!

I hope you have slept well as the hunt wouldn't be very interesting if you were still asleep. I know what I have said earlier, but the main course is always preceded by an appetiser, right? The appetiser to your torture, held right in front of your beloved eyes, will be a little hunt!

I hope I won't have to clarify who is the hunter and who the prey?

Manon von Brandt.

Cloudia crumbled the ridiculous letter in her hands and threw it against a wall. She was always against littering – England was already dirty enough as it was – but she decided that littering in an idiot's maze was something else entirely.

This would be a nuisance, but, at least, Axel's words now made sense: "Times have changed, my dear, but the hunt has stayed the same." I'd wondered what he had meant with "hunt."

I ran my hand over the massive stone wall in front of me. Four things were clear: First, Manon knew my position as she and her servants brought me here; second, she wouldn't kill me during the hunt as this was "only the appetiser." Third, this didn't exclude the possibility of getting injured.

Fourth and last – I was at a disadvantage. I didn't know the labyrinth's structure; I didn't possess any weapons. I was alone while Manon had her servants.

For a knight, this situation was an unfair disaster. For the Underworld, this situation was as normal as the sky was usually blue.

I didn't participate in any hunts in quite a while – I hoped I didn't go rusty.

At least, I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of him.

With a little grin on her lips, Cloudia looked back and forth at the two ways she could take, calculating.

Oh, labyrinths. If Cedric – or anyone else – was here, I could have told them so much about labyrinths and mazes! The well-known Greek mythos about the Cretan labyrinth, the Minotaur, Theseus, and Ariadne, the different patterns and builds depending on age and culture, the differences between a "maze" and a "labyrinth," etc.!

Considering that I was part of a hunt of life and injury – I wouldn't be killed after all – with a few madmen and one madwoman, didn't make me less giddy with excitement when thinking of walking through a real stone maze with traps and beasts inside instead of the boring, little hedge version of one in the manor's garden.

That's certainly not what I had expected when I had walked out of my house today.

It wasn't very difficult to escape from a maze – in theory. There was the right-hand rule, but it only worked when you used it from beginning on. As I was in the middle of these tangled corridors, I couldn't use it. Also, I didn't have anything to mark paths. I could pick up the crumbled paper and shred it to pieces, using them, but they would be too light, and considering that I was outside and it was rather windy, they wouldn't be helpful at all.

But was there even an exit to this maze? Robena, Prunella, Adair, and all the others had spent a very long time in their prison cell, and many of them had gone and explored the labyrinth – and had ultimately died as they hadn't found a way out and had gone mad and desperate. But what if they hadn't found anything because there wasn't anything to be found? What if the maze had never been designed to have an exit? What if it was only designed to drive people crazy and lead them back to the dungeon?

Even if I somehow found my way back to the others – I would never be able to escape. I knew where the secret door was; I knew where the secret lock was – but without a key, this knowledge was useless.

I wanted to think further about it, but my headache returned, and I held my head. Damn. I wouldn't be able to focus like that.

But… but what if I didn't even have to focus? Manon would never allow me to be killed during this hunt as she wanted to torture me however she liked after all. Didn't that mean that all I had to do was escaping all dangers and staying low until Manon got bored and collected me to be brought back to the castle?

Another wave of pain ran through my temples, and I steadied myself against a wall. Whatever I had to do could be pondered over later. Now, all that counted was getting away from here.

After all, Manon and her servants knew where I was.

Cloudia wandered around, trying to find a way to distinguish between the paths – distinctive irregularities of the walls, vegetation on the walls and ground, feathers of birds which had flown over the labyrinth, splatters of blood –, but the corridors looked exactly the same. The walls were too perfect, too even to climb. They were as perfect and eerily beautiful as the Witch's Castle.

But there had to be a flaw in this construction. After all, there wasn't such a thing as "absolute perfection."

Until now, Cloudia had neither run into Manon, Axel, or the butler nor had she come across any traps or other obstacles.

Something told me that Manon didn't know the definition of a "hunt."

Cloudia kept walking and walking through those ways of pale grey stone.

I wondered if Cedric and the others were already searching for me.

She walked and walked.

If they were still sitting in the bureau and drinking tea and eating biscuits…

And walked.

… while I had to cope with this nonsense…

And walked and walked.

… I would…

Cloudia stopped after rounding a corner.

A man bound in ropes was sitting against a wall. Upon hearing her steps and the discontinuation of them, he lifted his head, and she could see the dried blood on his forehead. His brown eyes blinked at her.

"Hey, you – why are you staring at me like that?"

"Who are you?" Cloudia asked.

"Answer for answer, girl."

She fought the urge to scowl at him and said, "I am staring at you because I didn't expect to find you here."

The man sighed. "Of course, you didn't. You don't even know me. How can you expect something you don't know? That's so silly, girl."

Of course, of everything and everyone I could have encountered in a maze, it had to be another Zounderkite.

The Zounderkite List of Fopdoodles was certainly ever-growing.

Cloudia crossed her arms over her chest. "Answer for answer, boy."

He sighed again. "People usually call me by my second name – I don't know why though." The man looked up at her, his eyes bored. "Franklin's the name. Not exactly pleased to meet you."

Franklin?

My thoughts did somersaults in my mind.

Franklin should be dead. That's what Prunella had told me: that he had died after going crazy and running blindly into the labyrinth.

That's what Prunella had said – Prunella who had always eyed me with suspicion.

"He didn't run into the labyrinth," I remembered Adair's words.

Remembered his sentence which he had wanted to continue if it hadn't been for Robena.

Robena who had cut him off. Robena who had silenced him.

Who hadn't wanted me to know.

Coldness ran over my body – Adair's words echoing in my head.

"He didn't run into the labyrinth."

~Cedric~

Cloudia was obsessed with books and talking about things nobody else but her cared about – but this wasn't an unhealthy form of obsession.

It wasn't something which could easily turn into insanity.

And she wasn't obsessed with her father's death. She barely talked about it – it had never seemed to me that Cloudia could be so focused on it. That her wish to find out what had happened had fully consumed her – making her constantly think about it, making her repeat certain things over and over again.

I had seen her "little obsession" with books – her brief mentions of her father and his death couldn't be compared to it. It was, it was…

"The Countess is not on the verge of insanity," Cedric firmly said. "She isn't obsessed with finding her father's murderer – she barely talks about it. I know the Countess, have known her for over a year now – I know her endless love for books and small things. She keeps and keeps talking about things which greatly interest her."

"Obsession doesn't always have to be loud, Kristopher," Barrington replied. "It can be silent too. And it isn't something you can compare to her love for books."

Cedric shook his head. "This is so ridiculous – I almost want to laugh. The Countess… she is perhaps not all right, but she is not frantically focused on this thing."

"Kristopher. Don't you think that Dia would cover up her feelings? The Royal advisers know about her attacks, and they barely tolerate them if you can even call it that. What do you think would they say and do if they found out that she has an entire room covered in notes, documents, newspaper articles, etc.?"

What?

"I know every…" Cedric started but he was interrupted when the Aristocrats' Bureau's doors flew open and the stable boy, Thomas was his name, entered, heavily breathing and with wide eyes.

"Falada," he said, looking around the room. "Falada came back to the manor – but without Lady."

Instinctively, Cedric jumped out of his seat, and his eyes wandered to the nearest clock –

– which showed quarter past one.

His blood froze in his veins.

We had talked for what felt like hours – how could I not have noticed that the clock had stopped ticking?

How long had I been inside this room? How much time had passed?

For how long was Cloudia gone?

"Oh, oh," Oscar suddenly said into the tensed silence. "Finally, today's game time starts."

He smiled.

"Times have changed, but the hunt has stayed the same." is a translated quote from the German back cover of the first book of the Department 19 series by Will Hill. "I am not your dear" is from The Selection by Kiera Cass.

I have a snippet collection for later (or never) for WotQ - and I was rather happy to have found a warm, nice place for Snippet #41 (beginning from "Why did you do that?" to "precious jewel"). It waited almost two years to finally see the light of day XD

So, well, see you next time - whenever that will be ._.