The East Wing was a labyrinth of soundproofed walls and deep, velvet carpets. Inside the master suite, the air was unnaturally still. Sofia, Anna, and Jordan moved with a synchronized, eerie grace, closing the heavy curtains against the night.
Dafne stood in the center of the room, still wrapped in the silk gown from the restaurant. Her skin felt too tight for her body, her mind a haze of Raphael's lingering commands.
"It is time to prepare for rest, Miss Dafne," Anna said, her voice firm and perfectly modulated. She was the eldest of the three, her posture as rigid as the rules she lived by. "Mr. Raphael has specified the schedule. Seven minutes for the bath, ten for the skin treatment. You will not protest. It is for your comfort."
Under the weight of the Primary Tone still echoing in her mind, Dafne's resistance felt like a dying ember. She nodded, her limbs moving with a mechanical heaviness.
The Bathing RitualIn the porcelain bathroom, the steam rose in thick, white plumes. Jordan, the youngest, was already on her knees by the tub, testing the water with a frantic, eager energy. Her eyes were wide, fixed on Dafne with an intensity that bordered on worship.
"It's perfect, Miss," Jordan whispered, her hands trembling as she reached for the buttons of Dafne's gown. "Let me help you. You shouldn't have to lift a finger. I want to make sure every inch of you is cared for."
As the silk gown fell away, the room went silent.
Sofia, who had been preparing the linen towels, stopped mid-motion. She was the most direct of the three, her face usually a mask of blunt honesty. She looked at Dafne's frame—the way her ribs were starting to show through her pale skin, and then, the marks.
On the back of Dafne's neck and around her jaw, the dark, purplish bruises of Raphael's thumbprints stood out like ink on parchment.
"He's marking you like territory," Sofia said, her voice flat and disturbingly honest. "I've seen a lot of 'wards' in these houses, Miss Dafne, but he's breaking the porcelain just to see if it still holds water."
"Sofia, that is enough," Anna snapped, though her eyes flickered with a brief, sharp pity. "We have a directive. Scrub the marks gently, but do not acknowledge them again."
The InspectionThe bathroom door creaked open, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Raphael stepped in, his jacket removed, his shirt sleeves rolled up with clinical precision.
The three maids immediately stood and bowed. Dafne sat frozen in the water, her arms wrapped around her knees.
"Report," Raphael commanded, his eyes raking over Dafne's pale form. "How was her behavior during the transition?"
"She was perfectly compliant, Mr. Raphael," Anna reported. "Though she seemed hesitant at first, she followed our instructions without a single word of protest."
Raphael stepped closer to the tub, looking down at the bruises he had left on her neck. He noticed the way Dafne had moved the moment Anna spoke—a reflexive, robotic twitch of obedience. A dark, satisfied smirk touched his lips. He realized the Echo was so sensitive now that even the authoritative tone of the maids was acting as a secondary trigger.
"She followed you because you 'commanded' her, Anna," Raphael said, his voice a low, resonant hum. He looked at the three girls, his eyes flashing with a manipulative light. "Her mind is... fragile. If she begins to struggle, if the 'noise' of her old life makes her disagree with my wishes or yours, you have my permission to be firm."
He looked back at Dafne, who was shivering despite the heat of the water.
"Listen to me, all of you," Raphael lied, his voice wrapping around the room like a shroud. "Dafne is unwell. If she tries to resist or act out, it is a sign of a mental break. In those moments, you must command her. Tell her to listen. Tell her to behave. It is the only way to keep her 'safe' from herself. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr. Raphael," they whispered in unison.
"Good." He reached down, his wet fingers tracing the bruise on her jaw. "Rest now, Dafne. My shadows will ensure you never have to make a choice again."
He turned and left, leaving the three maids looking at Dafne with a new, reinforced sense of duty. They didn't see a girl; they saw a patient who needed to be commanded into silence.