"He is still not found?" asked the man who was sitting behind his table inside the study room.

His already old and wrinkly countenance seemed even more tired than the usual. The man leaned back and let out a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes.

He frowned when he did not hear the butler's answer, "It's already been a month, why isn't he tracked down yet?"

"It's because of my incompetence," the younger person responded with his head slightly bowing in his direction.

The former let out another sigh, "Nevermind it. Just send another batch of men and make sure that he would be found within a week,"

"Yes, master," the brown-haired man answered. There was a glint in his eyes for a moment as he bowed for the second time and left the room.

As he was walking through the hallway of the dimly lit mansion, he saw one maid approaching. She was carrying a tray containing tea.. Both of their eyes met, and the man nodded at her. The maid acknowledged his gesture and returned it.

The man, Farren Bexley, went back to his quarters. He then removed his eyeglasses and pulled back his hair as soon as he got inside. The once prim and proper-looking right-hand man of Duke Agera changed greatly after a few adjustments.

His piercing dark eyes held coldness in them which was in contrast to the smile he was sporting. While humming, he started to strip off of his butler uniform and put on another set, way too different than the first. After that, he opened the window. Cold air greeted him but it was as if he didn't feel it.

A shadow darted forward to get closer to him and saluted.

"It's time," he declared.

The shadow understood it in an instant and disappeared again. Soon, a group of dark clothed men appeared out of the different corners of the estate, closing in. Farren closed the window again and with a purpose in his strides, went out of his room to go back to the study.

Not a moment later, a scuffle happened, and a great massacre would occur.

The dark clothed men killed everyone in sight, silent and deadly. The guards who were patrolling around the mansion could not even fight back. They were all soundlessly slaughtered. Those who had immediately taken action could not defeat their enemies and died fighting.

Guards, knights, maids, servants, men, and women, young and old, not one of them are spared. Everywhere you look, blood would spill. It was the unexpected nightmare of the clueless estate.

Amidst the chaos, the calm and collected butler knocked on the study where the duke was in. When he didn't hear anything, his smile widened, and opened the door unceremoniously without the duke's permission.

"Master?" he called out.

His eyes drifted to the old man who had fallen to the ground after drinking the tea that the maid had sent.

The duke was feeling weak and couldn't move his body at all. He was also trying his very best to lift himself off the ground, but his arms lay wasted and useless. He heard someone knock and tried to call out. He was sure that he opened his mouth but found himself that he could not speak.

Just then, the door finally opened, revealing his butler much to his relief. His fingers twitched, wanting to ask for his help. He had expected Farren to immediately go to him and aid him, but he never did.

"F-farr..." he croaked.

The butler came closer until the fallen duke could see his polished shoes.

"Master, why are you on the floor?" Farren asked in a worried tone. It sounded so genuine that even the duke was fooled.

He tried to move again and failed. This made Farren chuckle in amusement as he watched the duke pathetically wriggling on the ground. The sound sent warning bells on the duke's mind.

"This is so unlikely of you, master. Do you want me to help you?" he continued to blabber on. This time, there was an obvious mocking in his voice.

The duke could only let out a gibberish talk.

"I will take that as a yes," Farren uttered in delight then began to bend down to reach him.

His hand then grasped the collar on the back of his neck and tugged him upward. Farren started walking again, out of the room, with the duke in tow. He dragged the duke who can't even struggle against him, towards the main hall of the mansion.

He then saw what was happening around the house. They had passed by several bodies of dead people and the duke noticed that it was his own. Fear gripped his mind. He wanted to lash out but he couldn't, due to the effect of the drugs which were put in his drink.

He looked on pitifully from the blood that pooled around the corpses and began to feel the dread settling in. His mind whirled, thinking about his family that was already sleeping peacefully inside their bedrooms.

Farren was still humming as he sauntered towards their destination, not minding all the chaos around him. The men in black who had plundered inside the mansion had all ignored them as well, confirming the duke's suspicions.

The two of them reached the main hall and entered. Farren then dumped the duke in the middle of it, in front of the man in a dark cloak sitting on a chair. It covered his face so the duke couldn't know who it was.

"My Lord!" Farren greeted and dropped to his knees, "I have brought you the duke as you ordered," he said in a voice that was laced with adoration.

The cloaked figure did not speak and only sat there, watching the duke on the ground with an unreadable expression. Farren did not find it unusual so he stood up proudly as if he was still waiting for something.

The door opened again and a couple of men in dark clothes came in, hauling another set of people who were all struggling against their captors.

"Who are you?! Let go of me!" one young lady screamed and attempted to pull her arms away which was inside the men's tight grasp.

She was woken up by someone dragging her off the bed. They did not even bother to clamp her mouth shut and let her scream as she wanted, not minding if she would gain the attention of the whole mansion. She realized that sooner which made her heart race. It just means that her captors aren't alone and there is a possibility that they are all held captive.

"What are you doing to my daughter? No!! Let go!" another woman screamed.

The young lady's head turned towards the speaker. It was her mother who was also getting dragged inside the main hall.

"Mother!" she yelled out.

Both of them were thrown beside the old man, lying on the floor. Her mother immediately hugged her to her side. They huddled closer together and glared at the people around them. But before that, the young woman's eyes drifted to her grandfather and cried out.

"Father!"

"Grandfather!" The young lady then turned her attention to the sitting man then towards Farren who was standing beside him, "You bastard! You acted like a loyal dog when you were a jackal all along! Do you want money? Riches?!" she spat out angrily.

Farren's smile did not even wane, much to the lady's irk. He only looked at her like he was looking at some lowly trash.

"Who are you people? What do you all want?!" the young woman's mother inquired as she began to cry.

Before they could even add more, another man entered and hurled another figure with them. The man fell to the floor and started groaning in pain. He had tried to defend himself but the enemy was more skilled than him and had given him several blows all over his body, making him weak.

"Father!" The young lady called out and clutched her dad.

"Darling, are you okay?! Darling..." the woman cried out again, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

Her hands then went down to her belly and moaned. Her daughter looked at her with wide eyes and worriedly grasped her shoulders. Her mother is in her early stage of pregnancy. Not only that, but she is also sensitive. Slight stress can bring danger to her and the baby so she was troubled

"Are you okay?" she asked in a worried tone. She then turned to the men, gnashing her teeth. "You bastards! If something happens to my mother, I will--"

"They sure are lively," the cloaked figure uttered, cutting off her words.

Farren's head snapped up, "Does my Lord want me to silence them?"

"Leave it," the man answered and cocked his head to the side-- "Where is that child?"

Farren's smile disappeared and fell to his knees again.

"My Lord, I deserve to be punished! I had done my best to locate him but I couldn't! Please punish me," he waited for his response but it never came. This only made Farren more anxious.

It was a cold night, and the room got even colder.

"Hmm..." the man hummed, "Then what am I doing here?" he added.

A shiver ran down Farren's spine. He began to sweat. He did not dare to move an inch for fear that he would invoke the man's anger.

He drummed his fingers on the armrest. After a few tense moments, he stood up from his chair.

"I will leave everything to you, then," he uttered. A chilling aura emitted around him as purple smoke slowly billowed, starting from his feet-- "No survivors-- Ah!" his eyes then strayed to the glowering lady on the floor-- "Except her."

The man chuckled before completely disappearing out of sight, vanishing from the smoke.

"Yes, my Lord," Farren replied and got back to his feet. A sword then manifested on his right hand as he came closer to the group while wearing that wide smile.