Suddenly

——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

𝔖𝔲𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔩𝔶

"I have had it! I cannot take this anymore!" Deep shouts bounced off the walls. It was loud enough to burst every glass pane and window in the grandly decorated manor. Sir Reynolds had become an unstable, enraged man, his bare feet hammering against the floors with violent haste.

What was propelling the furious man forward was something Lady Sutherton was keenly aware of but hadn't expected such speed in the development. It had only been two days since her daughter's arrival. 

"Sir Reynolds! Please wait!" She was in eager pursuit of the boiling man. "Sir Reynolds!" Sweat pooled down her flustered face.

Despite her frantic protests, he made no attempt to slow down. Rather, he moved so fervently that his sloppily packed bags were spilling out personal effects; Out leaked a trail of socks, ties, and shirts from ajar bags. With every progressive stomp of his naked feet, he grew angrier, crashing and heaving as he tore past lavishly decorated halls and extravagant rooms.

"Sir Reynolds!" she shouted, nearly clawing at his hurrying figure. "Sir Reynolds!"

He was a tornado demanding its escape from the Sutherton manor, that had become akin to home for the mad.

Lady Sutherton knew what was to expect the moment her daughter returned. But even so, the outcome was far too unfavorable.

"Sir Reynolds!" she screeched at him. In a restless cry, she grabbed his shoulder, hoping to stall him.

The split second of pause allowed her to bounce in front of him, blocking his path. "As I've said before," she said, in a frenzied pant. "I am sure we can work something out. You know we're willing to pay whatever you'd like. How does double your current salary sound?"

"Lady Sutherton!" He shook her off, huffing in exasperation. "I am terribly sorry, but I can't stay here a second longer! There is nothing you can pay me to endure that treatment!" He pushed past her, nearly knocking the pleading woman over.

"Wait, hold on, Sir Reynolds!"

Her pleas only prompted his resolve even further. He picked up the pace and thrust onwards, leaving behind another wave of his belongings tumbling to the floor.

"Triple? Quadruple? Quintuple? Sir Reynolds!" Her eyes bulged as she hurried behind him with a wild quickening of her steps.

"Please do not try to stop me, Lady Sutherton!" he puffed, a tighter line denting an already constricted face.

"Sir Reynolds, please!" Her head was bobbing like a chicken. "Please slow down! Let's talk this out! You don't have to quit this way!" She sputtered out fragmented words, desperately trying to keep up.

"Lady Sutherton. Let me state this firmly and clearly. You know well that I come from a long line of prestigious domestic workers, and yet the treatment I experienced? For the highest among us, Magnificent One's sake, look at my feet!" He tossed his hands to his starkly bare feet. "She had all of my shoes discarded, and I only had two!"

"Well?" She gulped hard, brushing away nonexistent stray hairs. "How are you certain it was her?"

"She was looking at me dead in the eyes as she committed her atrocity!" he deadpanned.

"Oh." Her eyes fluttered. "W-well, that's only a few shoes. You know we can compensate you."

"Lady Sutherton, you know as well as I, that is not all." He pointed to the tar on his clothes and swatted at his head, bringing attention to bald and grey patches of hair. "Look at me! That wicked daughter of yours did this!"

She peered at his balding, patchy hair, the words coming out before she considered them. "W-Well, what do you want me to say about your balding? At your age, isn't that only a sign of it?"

His face was a fuming puffy red that melted into an unstoppable simmering bath of rage. He nearly choked on his frustrations as he puffed. "There was a bucket of warmed tar seated at the top of my room door, and the moment I went in, I was tarred! Do you know how insulting it is for that woman to treat a man of my expertise and skills--- I'm only 32!"

"Oh..." She deflated with a pained wince. "Alright. Okay." She jittered on her toes. "W-well, if it's any consolation, I couldn't even tell you were 32!" She tried to salvage whatever was left of the losing battle.

"Could never tell?" His face contorted into horror. He was utterly offended at the statement. "I must take my leave, Lady Sutherton!" He whipped away the slamming of his feet and agitated steps were growing in intensity.

"O-oh heaven, oh my." She was tripping over her words. "W-wait, wait! Sir Reynolds!" Her eyes widened. "No, don't take it that way! I meant that in a good way! I know many women who would love to look like you do!" She nervously added with a stretched smile.

He glanced back at her with another deeply insulted look burning into his face. Once more, he picked up speed, his bags flying around.

"That came out wrong! I mean age like you do!" She swallowed again, her smile faltering.

He continued speeding on, anything left in his spilling bags becoming emptier with each stomp.

"Hold on! Wait, wait, wait! Let's talk about this! If you don't want a raise, we can consider other options! We can compensate you! We can get anything you want if you just stay a little longer!"

Her anxious bargains were of no use to him.

"Lady Sutherton, I mean no disrespect to you or the honorable Sutherton family, but that daughter of yours is nothing short of impossible. Her behavior is repugnant! Such unladylike mannerism is devoid of any proper upbringing! Lord Sutherton ought to send that awful incarnate far away lest she insults your family name anymore!" He pushed onwards, leaving a shaken Lady Sutherton behind.

"Sir Reynolds—-!"

BAM!

The doors slammed shut in her face.

For a few moments, she stared at the rich color of the doors, the resounding sound of silence and permeating defeat.

It all dawned on her.

What was seemingly perfect was no longer perfect, and they were, in fact, and indeed, screwed.

Reynolds had just been hired as a temporary caretaker and head butler only a mere few days ago. But with her daughter in the home, she had a hunch that he certainly wouldn't be the last to go.

Swallowing a boulder, she spun on her heels. She hurried through the long, winding corridors and ran to the main house servants' quarters, making a beeline for her daughter. With a flustered frown, she rushed to the room where all the commotion had started.

"Erina!" She almost fell as she skidded on her heels to the doorframe of a wide-open room.

It was Reynold's quarters, and it was once a modest room curated with carefully selected wooden furniture, occasional gold splashes, muted color scheme, and earthy tones. Bookshelves were lined from floor to wall for reading.

Once it was a neat and cozy room meant to be enjoyed. But its present state was an absolute disaster. Patches of oil black waxy blotches stained the carpeted floors leading into the room. Clothes were thrown about the place, and furniture was flipped over damaged, or broken beyond repair. A few maids were on the floor working tirelessly to remove the black stains splattered on the floors and walls before they became apart of the decor.

At the origin of the fiasco was her: She was a dainty girl who always tethered a line of delicate fragility, but somehow she was overflowing tall with spite. She seemed like a sculpture of beauty with neatly molded features of youth, black pearly eyes, smooth umber brown skin, and short, coiled hair. She even had a smile bright like the sun---a smile rarely used to spread warmth, but instead to blight, and her doe eyes suggested innocence, but they were always shimmering like the glare of a sword.

Everyone in the manor recognized her as the Erina Sutherton, a young lady of notorious reputation with cruel inclinations. 

𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖂𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖊?