Chapter 7
The dissolute young master had been hiding in his room for two days. The restless servants in the mansion thought to themselves that Selly, who had sided with him, must have told him everything about the festival. Thus, unless Hersel had gone mad, he would not come out. For those who had been preparing for the festival, this was truly a troublesome matter. However, just when the talk of changing their plans to a locked-room murder was circulating, something unexpected happened.
He walked out of his fortress on his own two feet.
“Is everyone ready?”
In the three-story high main hall, mainly used for entertaining guests, a maid asked. The butlers mopping the floor and the maids sweeping it nodded simultaneously.
“He’ll be here soon.”
By now, the bait must have been thrown to Hersel, and he would have taken it in no time. The bait, of course, was the rare liquor brought into the main hall. Hersel was infamous throughout the territory, known even to three-year-olds, for being a drunkard.
“But will he really come? If he’s been holed up in his room all this time, he might have figured something out…”
“A sparrow can’t pass by a mill without stopping.”
No more dissenting voices were heard. They shook their heads, recalling the madness the alcoholic often showed when it came to liquor, but the servants had smiles blooming on their lips. They all looked up at the ceiling as if on cue. The chandelier sparkled with crystals.