The following days passed in a fragile peace, as if a mere gentle breeze would be enough to shatter it. Maya began training herself in a strange composure. She was no longer overtly bewildered or frightened whenever facing Travis. She flashed a proper, gentle smile, walked submissively beside him during strolls on the grounds, and patiently taught lessons to Mark every afternoon.
However, behind that naive appearance of submission was a heart beating wildly with anxiety. She waited for every moment Travis left the castle to sneak her way out to the abandoned stone house at the end of the garden — the only place catching a bit of the unstable telecommunication signal from the suburban mountains.
Three days after the fateful call, Maya snuck out to the stone house again.
Dry, crisp autumn wind swept through the pine leaf gaps, creating rustling sounds like the whispering of thousands of ghosts. Maya's trembling hand pulled the phone from her cardigan coat pocket, her heart leaping a beat when she saw the fragile signal bar appear.
TING!
Before she could dial a number, the screen brightened with an incoming call from Chloe. Maya hurriedly pressed the answer button, pressing the phone tight against her ear, lowering her voice to the quietest level:
"Chloe! It's me..."
"Maya! Listen to me, I asked my cousin to check information about Travis's family and his wife!" Chloe's voice echoed over the phone speaker, rapid and tense: "Listen, his family matters are much more complicated than I thought!"
"What did you find?" Maya swallowed a dry mouthful of saliva, her whole body turning rigid.
"Little Mark's mother... she didn't die from illness at all, nor did she ever sign divorce papers!" Chloe took a deep breath, lowering her voice to a whisper: "She was originally the daughter of a power in mortal opposition to Travis's faction — two sides once had bloody feuds to compete for turf in San Francisco. That marriage was like a reconciliation agreement between the two families. But just two years after giving birth to Mark, she suddenly vanished without a trace right inside the very castle you are staying in!"
Maya froze, her chest constricting: "Vanished...?"
"That's right! The other side suspects Travis hid or acted against their daughter, while Travis's side claims she ran away on her own," Chloe worriedly snapped softly over the phone: "Maya, I am so worried! You are just an ordinary schoolteacher, having nothing to do with the underworld or their family affairs. Suddenly you are trapped right in the middle of that turbulent nest! If the two factions attack each other or if something happens, standing there you will only end up taking the fall! You have nothing to do with this, you must find a way to slip out of there right away!"
"I understand, Chloe..." Maya whispered, tears seeping out at the corners of her eyes. "I also feel things here aren't right at all. I will be careful..."
"Keep in touch! I am still asking someone about routes out of that area—"
Snap.
Maya hung up, hurriedly deleted the call history, and stuffed the phone into her pocket. She stood rooted to the spot in the middle of the dark stone house, the cold of the mountain fog seemingly soaking deep into her very bones. The man who every night reserved for her those infatuated gazes, those gentle touches, and those romantic "missed kisses"... what was he actually hiding behind that perfect smile?
That afternoon, the castle's atmosphere sank into its familiar quietude once again. Travis had to leave the villa early to handle business, leaving Mark for Maya to take care of.
In the reading room filled with pale, hazy autumn sunlight, Mark was sitting cross-legged on the rug, meticulously arranging each wooden toy block. The boy looked strangely obedient and peaceful.
Maya walked close, sitting down beside her little student. She admired Mark's naive face — clear ash-grey eyes alongside long, curled eyelashes. Maya's heart surged with an indescribable, aching sorrow. This child, amidst the doubts and secrets of adults, was the one suffering the most hurt.
"Mark..." Maya spoke in a gentle voice, her hand lightly stroking the boy's soft hair.
Mark raised his head, his round ash-grey eyes looking at her: "Yes, teacher? What do you need, Ms. Maya?"
Maya hesitated for a moment. She knew she shouldn't bring up sensitive memories, but curiosity and the longing to find out the truth to save herself urged her on. She lowered her voice, asking with the utmost sincerity and affection:
"Can... can I ask you something? Something about... your mother."
Mark's small hand holding the wooden block abruptly paused in its tracks.
The space in the reading room seemed to freeze for a beat. Maya's heart sank, fearing her question would frighten the child or make him burst into tears. But contrary to her expectation, Mark's face displayed no pain, but rather a bewildered, melancholic look.
The boy lowered his head, his small fingers rubbing against the surface of the red-painted wooden block, uttering a whisper in a tiny, crystal-clear sound:
"I... I know nothing about mother at all, Ms. Maya. Ever since I began remembering things, I didn't have mother by my side anymore. Dad said mother went to a very far place..."
Maya felt an aching in her heart. She wrapped her arms around the boy's shoulders, pulling the child into her embrace: "I am sorry, Mark... I shouldn't have asked..."
"But..." Mark looked up, a mysterious glint flashing in his ash-grey eyes, the boy leaning close right to Maya's ear, uttering a whisper as if sharing the greatest secret of his life. "...I know mother's room."
Maya froze: "Mother's room?"
"Yes," Mark nodded his head, his eyes panning around the reading room as if fearing a servant might accidentally hear. "There is a room always locked tight in the west wing basement. Dad never lets anyone near there; there are always two guard uncles standing watch. But there was one time... last year, when the guard uncle went to the restroom and dad forgot to pull out the key, I secretly walked past there..."
Maya's heart pounded violently inside her chest. She lightly squeezed the boy's hand: "What did you see there?"
"I couldn't go inside because the door was very heavy, but I pressed my face close to the door crack..." Mark whispered, his eyes dreamily remembering back. "Inside there... there was a very sweet fragrance, teacher. A lily flower fragrance just like the scent on your clothes. And I heard... heard the sound of a music box playing softly as well."
The room locked tight in the west wing basement... The place emanating a lily flower fragrance and the sound of a music box...
Mark's account matched completely with what Chloe had just investigated! That woman — Mark's mother — had not vanished in a far-off place at all. She might still be imprisoned, or the darkest secrets of this family were being buried right beneath the soil of this Gothic castle!
Mark raised his face to look at Maya, his tiny finger extending out lightly touching her lips, uttering an urgently pleading voice:
"Ms. Maya... please don't tell dad that I told you this, okay? Dad will be very angry. Dad once said if anyone mentions that room, dad will chase that person away forever..."
Looking into the five-year-old child's eyes brimming with fear and trust, Maya felt the back of her neck go ice-cold. She hugged Mark tightly into her arms, nodding repeatedly, tears choking in her throat:
"I promise... I promise I won't tell your dad. Don't be afraid, Mark..."
The evening sunlight flickered out completely behind the pine tree canopies, yielding its place to icy darkness swallowing the castle whole. Maya raised her head looking out the window, her heart overflowing with shock and exhaustion. The locked room beneath the west wing basement was the key to all secrets. But how could she approach it without stepping into a death sentence laid out by Travis himself?
