The Duke’s Manor and the Misunderstanding

“No! No! No! It can’t be!”

Erella shot up from her sleep, her heart pounding violently. Her body trembled as beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. The nightmare still clung to her — an old pervert chasing her through dark woods. She could still feel his foul breath, his twisted smile, his hand almost catching her.

When she gasped for air, pain rippled through every inch of her body. Her limbs ached as though she had fought a war in her sleep. She looked around, panic instantly setting in.

The room was unfamiliar — elegant yet cold. Golden curtains fluttered lightly by the window. A chandelier hung above her, sparkling faintly under the sunlight that seeped through. The scent of polished wood and rosewater filled the air.

“Where… where am I?” she murmured weakly.

Her mind spun with dreadful possibilities.

‘Don’t tell me… someone sold me to that old pervert?!’

Horror struck her face. Terrible thoughts flashed through her mind — images far too humiliating to describe.

“NO! IT CAN’T BE!” she screamed.

At that moment, the very air trembled.

A sudden surge of mana burst from her body like a raging storm. The ground quaked beneath her. The windows shattered, and gusts of fierce wind spiraled through the manor like a hurricane.

KABOOOOOOM!

An explosion thundered across the estate. Dust, light, and debris flew everywhere. Half of the manor collapsed in an instant.

When the world finally stopped spinning, Erella slumped to the floor, chest heaving, hands trembling.

“Oh no… I did it again,” she groaned. “I seriously need to control this magic thing.”

Before she could even move, heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. A tall young man burst into the ruined room, his crimson eyes blazing with alarm.

“What happened? Are you hurt?!” he asked urgently, kneeling beside her. His hands gently brushed away the debris from her shoulders, inspecting her as if she were porcelain. When he confirmed she wasn’t injured, his shoulders relaxed.

Then his gaze hardened, scanning the destruction around them. “Who did this?” he demanded. “Where’s the enemy?”

Erella, however, didn’t hear a word. Her mind went blank the moment she saw his face.

The morning sun hit him perfectly — as if the heavens themselves had decided to show off their masterpiece. His short, raven hair shimmered like polished obsidian. His deep red eyes looked fierce enough to slice through steel. His lips were shaped like sin and poetry combined.

Her mouth fell slightly open. “He’s… handsome,” she whispered without thinking.

The young man froze, blinking. His stern, cold aura immediately melted into something pink and awkward. He quickly turned his face away, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

Erella’s thoughts turned into chaos.

‘KYAAAAA! He’s sooo cute when he blushes!’ she squealed internally.

‘Oh my gosh, is this what my friends meant when they said it’s fine to be kidnapped if the guy looks like a Greek god?!’

She grinned dreamily — then slapped her forehead.

‘Get a grip, Sandy! You’re twenty-six inside! Stop acting like a lovestruck teenager!’

She took a deep breath, then suddenly grabbed his hand and stood up confidently. “You need to take responsibility!” she declared dramatically.

The man’s eyes widened. “...What?”

Inside his head, panic brewed.

‘Responsibility? For what? Is she asking for compensation? Does she think I hurt her?’

Before he could say anything, Erella sighed exaggeratedly. “Tsk, I made a mistake.”

He blinked in relief — until she added, “I should be the one to take responsibility!”

Now it was his turn to malfunction. His brows furrowed, his mouth half-open. “W-what are you even talking about?”

Before the confusion could escalate further, a burst of laughter filled the room.

“Oh my heavens, I haven’t laughed this hard in years!”

Both of them turned to see an elegant woman in her forties standing at the doorway. Her curls were pinned neatly, and her eyes gleamed with mischief. Behind her stood a line of servants trying (and failing) to hide their amusement.

“Aunt Camille!” the young man exclaimed, clearly embarrassed.

“Oh, Maxwell, you should see your face!” the Marchioness chuckled, clutching her stomach. Then she turned to Erella and smiled warmly. “And you, little dove, don’t go poisoning my nephew’s innocent mind.”

Erella blinked. “But my body feels sore—”

“Oh hush,” Marchioness Camille cut her off with a teasing grin. “My dear nephew is far too pure. He hasn’t even had his first kiss yet.”

Erella’s eyes widened. “W-what?!”

The servants snickered quietly while Maxwell’s face turned beet red.

“Aunt! Please!” he groaned. “Nothing happened between us! I found her unconscious in the forest, that’s all! I brought her here so she could recover.”

Erella’s jaw dropped. “Wait… what?!”

The truth hit her like a bucket of ice water. She wanted to crawl under the floor and die from embarrassment.

‘Oh my gosh, I accused him, then yelled about responsibility… I’m such an idiot!’ she screamed inwardly.

She bowed her head deeply, her cheeks burning. “I—I’m sorry! I misunderstood!”

Marchioness Camille patted her head gently, still smiling. “It’s fine, dear. Happens to the best of us. Though…” She looked around at the ruined manor. “I must admit, your entrance was rather explosive.”

Erella froze. Her smile twitched.

‘Crap. She knows.’

Maxwell turned serious again. “Aunt Camille, do you know who destroyed the manor?”

“Of course, darling,” Camille said sweetly, her eyes glinting with amusement. “The culprit is standing right in front of us.”

The servants exchanged nervous looks.

“What?” Maxwell frowned. “That’s impossible. No one in the Heinlein manor would dare betray me.”

The old butler stepped forward stiffly. “Indeed, Milord. Every person here is loyal. There must be some mistake.”

Camille chuckled softly, pointing toward Erella. “Oh, I assure you, there’s no mistake. She’s the one who did it.”

“WHAT?!” The room erupted.

Erella paled. “U-uh… I can explain?”

Maxwell’s jaw dropped. “You’re telling me… you destroyed half my manor?!”

Erella bit her lip, sweat dripping down her temple. “It wasn’t on purpose! I—I just woke up from a nightmare and… accidentally exploded.”

The servants nearly fell to their knees.

Camille burst into laughter again. “Oh, Maxwell, you’ve truly found yourself an interesting little guest!”

Maxwell rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of everything. “Unbelievable…”

Erella looked up at him apologetically. “I-I can clean! I can cook! I’ll work to repay the damage!”

The Marchioness grinned, whispering to her nephew, “She’s adorable. Keep her.”

“Aunt,” Maxwell sighed, cheeks still faintly pink. “You can’t just—”

“Oh hush, dear,” Camille interrupted, patting his arm. “Fate has quite the sense of humor, don’t you think?”

Erella, realizing she wasn’t being kicked out immediately, smiled nervously. “Um… so… about your walls… and ceiling… and half the garden—”

Maxwell groaned. “Please stop talking before I faint.”

Camille laughed again, clearly delighted by the chaos. “Well, my dear Erella, welcome to the Von Heinlein Manor — or what’s left of it.”