the culprit

The boy in the carriage looked up from the window.The sunset is cold and the garden is dead.Brown-yellow creepers wormed their way into the mahogany window lattice, and a layer of milky white ice was condensed on the gray wall tiles.

The rut left two long muddy trails in the snow. He bent his knees and jumped out of the carriage. The wind swept up the flying snow particles, and the long cloak was dragged into the snow. He carefully hugged the hem of his cloak.The tall brown-red horse spouted a long white mist, and he shrugged his shoulders in fear and walked around the tall animal towards the gray mansion.

Leave two strings of small footprints in the snow.

The maid standing at the door was very old, her face was like crumpled wax paper with wrinkles and ravines, her eyes were a little dull and sluggish, she was wearing an old long skirt with patches on the hem.She looked at him who was struggling to walk with a small luggage bag, her expression was indifferent, and she had no intention of stepping forward to help.

"You, hello, I'm Cyril Muller." The boy walked up the steps, slanted his shoulders and carried the heavy luggage, and handed the little hat on his head to the maid.The old maid took the hat and put it on her other hand that was wrinkled like an orange peel. She didn't speak, she pouted like an evil witch in a picture book, turned around and walked into the house.

Cyril took two steps behind the maid, and heard the neighing of a horse behind her.Turning his head in the wind, he saw the fat coachman pulling the reins and turning the horse around. The brown horse lowered its head silently, pulling the carriage to press two new ruts in the snow.

He gave a soft "ah", turned his head to look at the old maid whose figure was gradually disappearing into the shadows, and then at the carriage gradually going away. With an anxious expression on his face, he subconsciously chased down the steps.The leather shoes kicked up snow particles, and the luggage in his hand was as heavy as a rock. He dragged it with both hands and ran a few steps. The white mist he exhaled was blown on his face by the wind, but his feet were caught by the long cloak.

He fell into the snow.

The cold pain came from his palms and knees, he choked up a few times, endured the pain and raised his head from the snow, the carriage was already far away where he could no longer catch up.

"Father……"

The eye sockets are getting hotter and hotter, the tip of the nose is getting more and more sour, and tears fall into the snow.He sobbed and got up, grabbed his hood and wiped his wet eyes vigorously, rubbed his sore knee, bent down to pick up the duffel bag dropped beside him, turned around and walked towards the gray mansion resignedly.

The old maid did not know where to go, and Cyril walked into the dim front hall uneasily, quietly looking at the decoration of the mansion.Compared with his home in the Earl's Mansion in the city, this place was neither rich nor elegant, and the walls lacked the decoration of portraits, so it was empty.Although there were candles on the candlesticks, two or three candles could not illuminate the huge front hall at all, and instead revealed a bit of eerie gloom.There was wood in the dark closet, but no fire, and the wind was blowing in through the front porch, and it was as cold as an ice cellar.

Before coming here, they only knew that they were going to a manor in a remote country, where Uncle Heken and...his "servants" lived, and they didn't know anything about the rest.I also imagined the kind of house surrounded by fruit trees and flower gardens, and the fragrance of fruits and flowers wafted in every room; maybe my uncle would raise a few lambs and a few sheepdogs, if the servants there would not pay attention to him , at least he can stay with the animals.But this gloomy mansion was far from the boy's imagination. He stood in the center of the front hall as if lost, letting his feet get colder and colder in the water-soaked leather shoes.

The sound of unhurried footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. The boy turned his head and saw a tall silhouette leaning against the door frame. With the faint light, he could only see the red headband that the man used to tie up his long hair. .Dragging the small luggage bag to the man, he politely bowed to him with his right arm across his chest.

"Uncle Hickey, my name is Cyril, and I'm the youngest son of Earl Muller. It's a pleasure to meet you." After he finished speaking, he raised his head and stared at the man with a pair of ocean-like blue eyes.

The hair is blonde and looks soft.

The eyes were green, like the cat's-eye jewels in his father's ring, set in shadows and unfathomable.

The skin is morbidly fair, the eyelashes are long, the eye sockets are deep, the ears are slightly pointed, the neck is slender, and the hand on the waist has long nails.

Father never mentioned Uncle Heken. He learned from the servants that the uncle he was about to meet was a weird person, but he asked him what was wrong with him, but no one could answer. If he continued to ask, The servants could only falter and say that they, too, rarely saw the gentleman.

Now it seems that this uncle who has never met is indeed a bit strange.

Cyril couldn't help feeling nervous, shrugging her shoulders habitually.He lowered his head like he was facing his father, staring at the toe of his shoe uneasily, unable to say another word.

Then he heard a chuckle.

"Don't you even know your own uncle?"

The chin was pinched by the hand, and the long nails pressed against the throat.The fingers and voice were equally astonishingly cold, and Cyril couldn't help shaking, and was forced to look up at the long-haired man.

"Nice to meet you, Cyril, my name is Felix, and I am Heken——your future servant."

The word "servant" made the boy's body tense up suddenly, causing his eyes to involuntarily focus on the man's lips.The man smiled and spoke, his lips opened and closed, and a pair of sharp canine teeth loomed.He gasped in horror, shaking his body, only feeling a tingling pain on his neck, sobbing and hiding away with the luggage in his hand.

But he soon regretted it.

Are men irritated?Will you be angry?Will he hit him with a cane like his father did?Or just tear him apart?

"What are you doing here, Felix?"

Another voice sounded, lazy and indifferent, indifferent, as if just asking casually, not really out of concern.

Cyril raised his eyes secretly, and another man came over.He is a little shorter than the man named Felix, and his hair is also tied up with a red headband. He is also pale, his eyes are a little puffy, and his appearance is ordinary. He is not as dignified and majestic as his father, and he is not as handsome and charming as Felix next to him. .

"Your nephew," Felix said, letting go of Cyril.

"My nephew? Oh... oh." Heken paused, then nodded listlessly, and finally turned his head to look at the boy standing in the darkness.

That look made Cyril feel uncomfortable, as if someone had put dozens of geckos on his back, the slight sting of coldness made him swallow involuntarily, bowed stiffly to his uncle, and introduced himself again.

"Sure enough, it looks like Lilian." Heken also stretched out his hand to pinch the boy's chin as he said, and turned his face from side to side like looking at an animal, his expressionless eyes finally lit up, and his lips twisted involuntarily. With a weird smile, "The facial features are exactly the same. Hey, little thing, you killed Lilian, right?"

The boy twitched violently at the mother's name, and his face instantly turned pale.With trembling lips, he whispered thousands of words of apology in front of his father, brothers and sisters, and tears welled up from his eyes without warning.

"Poor little thing," Heken bent over to wipe away the boy's tears, pouted slightly and said in a coaxing tone, "Your original sin is more than ours—a natural born killer. No wonder the elder brother is in a hurry Send you here patiently." The action of wiping away the boy's tears was very gentle, but the words and the smile on his lips were unscrupulous and vicious.Hucken pulled the boy over and said that he would take him to the room. Leaving Felix behind, he walked through the corridor and stepped up the steps step by step. The topic of how the earl hated this young son was directed at the boy. Said all the way.

That night, Cyril didn't go downstairs to have dinner with his uncle, and no one called him upstairs, as if he was superfluous, and no one here remembered him.

The boy was hungry and huddled in the cold room and fell asleep unconsciously. When he woke up in the middle of the night, he found that a fire had been lit in the fireplace.The flame dispelled the chill, and the room was bright and warm.He sat up from the bed, his drowsiness dissipated in astonishment, and he rubbed his hungry belly in a daze. He climbed out of bed and wanted to find a book from his luggage bag, but was surprised to find that someone helped him take it out.He opened the closet, the clothes were neatly folded, and the top hat was on top of the pile of clothes.The books were also placed on the table, but two of them were put upside down. It seemed that the person who organized things for him could not read at all.

The boy put the two books on the right side with reverent gratitude, and went to the fireplace to warm up for a while.Although he was hungry, he was still full of gratitude. He turned his head and looked at the closet again, and obediently crawled back into the quilt.