IPWDP 11

“Reflect on your behavior here.”

Denold gently pushed Ephelia into the attic and spoke in a soft voice.

“What… what am I supposed to reflect on?”

Ephelia couldn’t understand what she had done wrong.

“My goodness, you don’t even know that?”

Denold clicked his tongue in disbelief. The attic was dark, while the hallway behind him was bright. The light cast his face in shadow, making her uncle look like a stranger.

“I—I don’t want to be here. I don’t like it.”

“You think saying you don’t like it will solve everything? I’ve thought this before, but you really are spoiled.”

“I want to go out, Uncle.”

Ephelia reached out her hand toward Denold. In the past, whenever she did that, he would sigh and say, ‘Oh well, I can’t resist you,’ before smiling fondly and taking her hand. But this time, he didn’t.

“You’re still calling me Uncle. You’d best not think of coming out until you understand what you’ve done wrong. I won’t spoil you like your father did.”

Denold shoved Ephelia back inside as she tried to escape. She stumbled and fell hard on her backside, unable to resist an adult’s strength. Denold showed no hint of remorse for pushing down a small child.

Before Ephelia could get up, the door slammed shut with a thud. The light from the hallway vanished, and darkness swallowed the attic.

I’m scared.

She was so terrified that she couldn’t even feel the pain from her fall. Panicking, she ran to the door and pounded on it. The sound echoed hollowly through the empty attic, making her feel even lonelier and more afraid.

“Uncle! Please open the door! I don’t want to be here! Let me out!”

“You’re still calling me Uncle? Seems you haven’t learned yet.”

His footsteps receded down the hallway, and soon even that sound was gone. Silence fell.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Her uncle was her uncle. Her father was her father. Why did she have to call her uncle father? She didn’t understand what she had done wrong, yet she had to beg for forgiveness. But no one opened the door.

The attic wasn’t infested with bugs or rats, but it was cold and lifeless without warmth or light. White sheets covered unused furniture, making it look as though ghosts were standing around her.

Trembling in fear, Ephelia eventually cried herself to sleep. Some time later, a knock, knock woke her.

“Uncle!”

But it wasn’t him. A servant she didn’t recognize opened the door.

“Where’s my uncle?”

Ephelia knew every servant and maid in the ducal household—most had been there even before she was born. But in her confusion and fear, she didn’t realize that this man was a stranger.

“The Duke is busy.”

“Father came back?”

Ephelia’s eyes brightened. To her, the Duke was Father. She wanted to run into his arms and tell him everything—that her uncle had locked her up, that she was scared, that Hexie had told a terrible lie that made her cry. But the servant only looked at her with pity.

“My lady, the current Duke is Lord Denold.”

Ephelia was speechless.

“Then… where’s my father?”

“Haven’t you been told? From now on, Lord Denold is your father.”

No…

She wanted to protest, but no words came out. Slowly, Ephelia began to realize the truth—if her real father, mother, and brothers were still alive, they would have come back for her long ago. Her uncle really had become the new Duke, and Hexie, the heir.

“The Duke ordered me to bring your meal.”

At those words, Ephelia suddenly realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten in a long time.

“What’s this?”

The food on the tray was just coarse bread and thin soup—something even the servants of the ducal house would never be given.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it away.”

“N-no… I’ll eat.”

The servant set the tray down and left without another word. Ephelia forced herself to eat the tasteless food, though there wasn’t nearly enough. The little girl remained trapped in that attic, tormented by hunger for days.

“I’m hungry.”

“The Duke said this is all you’re to have.”

The servant said it coldly, even proudly, before shutting the door again.

Days later, Ephelia was finally brought out of the attic. The servant took her to her father’s office—or rather, to what used to be her father’s office. Denold sat there now, as if he had always belonged in that chair.

“Do you understand your mistake now?”

His voice was gentle. Ephelia, timid and frail after her confinement, nodded faintly.

“Yes.”

“And what was your mistake?”

“For not… calling you Father.”

She had gone over it again and again while locked away, and though she didn’t understand, it was the only thing that made sense.

“Good. Remember— I’m your father now. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Then you may go back to your room.”

Relief flooded her. She bowed her head and turned to leave.

“Wait. Don’t you have something to say?”

“What?”

“When someone forgives you, you thank them. Haven’t you been taught that? Or do I need to teach you again?”

“Thank you.”

The threat was clear—disobedience meant the attic again. Ephelia trembled as she whispered her thanks.

“Good. You may go.”

She turned to leave once more, but then hesitated.

“Fath—… Father.”

She almost said Uncle, but caught herself. Denold frowned, then gave a curt nod.

“What is it?”

“Where’s my nanny?”

Ephelia had realized what was missing. Her nanny—the daughter of her late mother’s nurse—had cared for her since birth, loved her like family. Normally, she would have come to fetch her. But she hadn’t appeared at all.

“She quit.”

Ephelia didn’t believe it. Her nanny would never abandon her. Even as a child, she sensed her uncle was lying.

“Where is she? Where’s my nanny?”

“I told you, she quit because she didn’t want to care for you anymore.”

“That’s not true! Bring her back! I want my nanny!”

Ephelia’s cry was desperate.

“You’re being spoiled again.”

“I hate you, Uncle! Where’s my nanny?!”

She tried to run, but the servants caught her at Denold’s command. Her sobs were so pitiful that any kind person would have looked away. But her punishment was the same—another stretch in the dark attic, with only scraps of food.

Days later, after admitting her “fault” and thanking Denold again, she was allowed to return to her room.

Ephelia finally understood—her nanny would never come back. Everything had changed. She was truly alone now.

The mansion, her room, and the halls were the same, but the people were all different. Her family was gone, and even the familiar servants had been dismissed and replaced. The butler had been demoted, and new servants from the viscount’s estate filled the house.

Though she was still the duke’s daughter, she was treated as less than her cousin, Seluna. Little by little, Ephelia realized she was no longer part of this household—just an unwanted burden.

“Father… I miss you.”

She tried to remember her family’s faces, but even the portraits that once lined the halls were gone, replaced by her uncle’s family. There wasn’t a single trace of her real family left in the mansion.

They said the old portraits were stored in the warehouse, but Ephelia wasn’t allowed to go there. When she asked to see them, she only received one cruel reply:

“Forget them, Ephelia. We’re your family now.”

She had been too young, too small, to understand or to protect anything—not her parents’ keepsakes, not their memory, not even herself.