She put her hand on her chest, she lowered her head to the pillow,

Sing willow, willow, willow.

Clear water spat out her moans,

Sing willow, willow, willow.

Her tears melted the heart of the stone. ”

Soft voices came from behind the curtains, and the surging aroma swirled around the crimson gold tufts. The same crimson inflorescences hung from the edge of the ceiling, piled with fine, fluffy flowers that blocked the walls.

There were no signs of doors or windows in the room, and all five sides were hidden under heavy flower walls. People can't help but give birth to what kind of natural cell palace it is. In fact, if a mortal were lucky enough to reach the mansion of the supreme ruler of Casas, he would have been shocked by the strangeness of the abode before he could feel the rumored thrilling charm of the lady.

She, anyone, would involuntarily call this place by this pronoun, perhaps because of the owner of the place, or perhaps because of the feminine and delicate charm of the decoration everywhere, even too trivial. The dome is tower-like, sharp and unrounded, matching the striking spire of the Lady Nevrita's mansion, covered with a dull shade of old oak.

Inside the vault, it's packed with intricately carved hellish monsters. Crab claws and sheep's hooves, maidens with beautiful faces, hideous monsters wielding swords, and two-headed birds that occupy the center of the scene with their wings spread. The brushstrokes are delicate and the demeanor is flexible, as if the demons are just frozen in dead things by forbidden spells, and they may break through the wall at any time.

And in the middle of the gloomy dome, in the center of the depth, almost invisible, hung an interlocking chain of gold, at the end of which hung a huge openwork gold incense burner, filled with white-hot charcoal fires, and flowed the smoke that filled the room.

Following the demon's gloomy gaze to the ground, there were delicate soft couches and cold sarcophagi everywhere. Each coffin is engraved with the names of members of the Trivani family. If someone with a semblance of knowledge of the family history of Casas high society was here, he would immediately recognize it as the names of the Dukes of Casas.

In the empty space on the plush carpet, there are almost all the lit golden candlesticks, and many more broken and fallen. Although you can't see the fireplace that the Casas nobles loved, this luxurious room is full of warmth. Several maids were dressed in light veils, and their bare feet walked lightly through the multitude of miscellaneous objects. They held combs in their hands, and the wine and silver plates covered them were as delicate as they were.

Despite the brilliant lights, the flickering candlelight shone against the heavy curtains, casting crimson gold tufts deep and shallow, and many strange patterns were drawn out of thin air on it. From one angle, it seemed to be a reflection of the image of hell in the dome, and the demons grinned from behind the curtain. A few steps later, it becomes a ghostly ghost, reminiscent of the stories of desert spirits whispered by nomads, or apparitions described by priests who have smoked too much.

In addition to the simple changes of light and shadow, behind the layers of tents, a gushing wind circulates and undulates, which further enhances the magical effect of the change. The evil wind shook the huge incense burner, causing it to squeak and sway slightly on its head, but it did not spill a single spill of incense. The milky aroma flows from the holes, and is blown to the ground, adding a sense of freshness to the whole room's furnishings.

A faint sigh came from behind the curtain, with infinite grief. It was the whimper of the night wind blowing through the Grave Ridge, mixed with the grins of ravens coveting carrion. It makes people fall from absurd intoxication to instinctive fear, as if all good things have revealed their emptiness, and only unspeakable threats hover overhead like eagles.

Immediately afterward, a strong gust of wind passed through the walls, blowing the chill throughout the room. The curtains were messy, the candles were crumbling, and the delicate maids were all colorless, shivering like branches under the frost. On the south-facing side of the five walls, the originally dense clusters of flowers suddenly withered, as if they had experienced a whole condensed cold autumn, and in half a second, they were scattered into patches of reddish ashes, revealing something that was hidden.

Originally, the entire wall was replaced by a window, and a whole piece of undivided glass was inlaid. The glass was stained lead, and even the moonlight shining through the windows on the objects in the room had a gray, eerie hue. The cold rain slapped outside the window, meandering an irregular stream of water. From here, you can see the chaotic lights of the whole city, looming behind the rain curtain.

A maid holding a golden cup shook her head and spilled the red liquid out of the cup. A wet crimson appeared on the plush carpet. Under the gaze of several people, the wet marks slowly expanded and twisted, and a woman with high cheekbones and a pale face rose like bubbles. She was dressed in a black robe, and water was dripping from the corners of her clothes and hair.

The comer fell silently to the curtain.

"Anna is dead, Baroness." The woman's voice could not hear the emotion. "Blair tried to bring her body back, and she failed."

The maids pulled up the cascading curtains, revealing a large soft bed behind it, covered in crimson velvet. A woman draped in tulle reclined on three or four soft pillows, her hyacinth-like black hair spread out like water. She lifted her inky dark eyes and swept lazily ahead.

Faced with this countenance, any inhabitant of Casas would have no objection to say that this is the mistress who rules over them, the Lady Trivani, who shines brighter than the sun. When they closed the door and looked around, they trembled and mentioned the name of the Scarlet Ladyess.

As she usually shows, Nevrita is holding a black cat in her arms. Its fur is shiny, its blue eyes are piercing, and its furry tail wags in circles.

The hostess on the bed did not speak, she raised her ivory arms, and the maid beside her handed a wine glass with understanding. She pressed her lips lightly on the rim of the glass and took a sip of the unmischievably rich liquor before turning her face to look at her kneeling subordinates.

"And where are they now?" A nobleman once complimented Nefritta as if she were blowing an angel's horn, but in the ears of a kneeling woman it became a command.

A drop of sweat ran down her pale forehead, but she didn't have the courage not to answer the lady's question. "In ...... On Central Street. ”

"Huh?" The dames's tail note raised. "And you, Mona, are you just going back to the lair, leaving your sisters' bodies on the road, and leaving them to be trampled on?"

Mona's body finally trembled, but she could only bow her head deeper, praying that it would not become an outlet for the moody ladyess.

"Or do you wait for the sun to rise and let all of Casas witness my humiliation?"