"Young Master, how did the fish taste?" Ann asked afterward.

"Hmm, it was delicious."

"That’s great. It means my efforts to catch the fish for you were worth it."

A subtle, captivating smile appeared on Ann's graceful and delicate face, momentarily stunning Moen.

Though a yandere could be terrifying, Moen had to admit that Ann, when she acted as a normal person, was indeed a strikingly beautiful girl with exquisite features. Her figure, hidden beneath the maid uniform, was well-proportioned and curvaceous, rivaling even that of Celicia.

The thought crossed his mind—dating her might not be a bad idea.

Of course, the prerequisite was that she’d need to return to being a “normal” person.

"By the way, Ann, it seems like you're soaking wet. Did something happen?"

Because of the dim lighting, Moen hadn't noticed Ann's peculiar state until she brought it up. Only then did he realize that her entire body looked as though she'd just swum 400 meters in the river. Her usually meticulously maintained hair clung messily to her forehead, and her dress was speckled with mud.

This appearance was unimaginable coming from someone as strict and orderly as Ann.

"It’s nothing, Young Master. I just got caught in a bit of rain," Ann replied.

"Rain?"

Moen frowned.

"If you got caught in the rain, why didn’t you go take a bath and change your clothes?"

"Because I wanted to make sure you could have your lunch as soon as possible," Ann explained matter-of-factly. "Weren’t you hungry, Young Master?"

"A late lunch is fine. But what if you get sick from being wet?"

Moen's expression grew stern.

"Go take a hot bath immediately, soak for a while, change into warm clothes, and sit by the fireplace. Just to be safe, get the doctor to prescribe some cold medicine!"

"Young Master..."

Ann looked momentarily stunned, and her cheeks turned visibly rosy.

"You actually care about me this much. I’m so moved, I could—"

"That’s enough! Stop being weird and go!"

"Understood."

Feeling a rare sense of warmth coming from Moen, Ann nodded obediently and quickly set about cleaning up the remnants of the meal.

But even with Moen urging her again and again, she meticulously collected every single fish bone with great care before finally leaving.

"Well, Young Master, I’ll excuse myself now."

"Get lost already!"

"Understood."

Even though Moen’s words were harsh, a happy expression spread across Ann’s face, making her seem even more elated.

She walked away with a light, cheerful stride.

The narrow, dimly lit cell returned to silence.

Watching Ann disappear into the darkness, Moen’s serious expression suddenly crumbled.

Then…

A twisted smile crept on his face.

"Heh."

"Heh-heh."

"Heh-heh-heh-heh."

"As expected, love makes women stupid."

"An opportunity… isn't this the perfect one?"

…

Once Moen was sure Ann had truly left, he began stretching his body.

Although the restraints severely limited his movements, he started testing the boundaries of what little mobility he had.

"As I thought, the first step is to free my hands, huh?"

He glanced to the side.

To completely restrict his actions, his hands had been chained firmly to the wall, forcing him into the posture of a crucified figure on a cross.

In this position, he couldn't do anything. So free his hands were essential.

"It’s all right... it’s all right..."

Taking a deep breath, Moen steeled himself. Determination, long brewing, glimmered in his eyes.

"I’ve practiced this countless times in the Black Book space. I can do it."

With his resolve solidified, Moen tucked his right thumb into his palm, then pressed down hard.

*Crack.*

With a crisp sound of dislocated bones, a sharp, unbearable pain surged through his mind, causing cold sweat to bead on his forehead.

"Hiss—just as I thought, even after so much practice in the Black Book space, the pain is just as unbearable in reality."

"After all, dislocating your thumb is not a joke."

But the pain wasn’t endured in vain.

With his thumb dislocated, his hand was now slim enough to slip out of the shackle.

Turns out, TV shows weren’t lying to him!

Once his right hand was freed, Moen pressed his hand against the floor, aligned the joint properly, and...

*Thunk.*

The sound of bones popping back into place echoed once more.

And with it came a fresh wave of stabbing pain.

"Hiss—damn it, setting the bone back hurts even more than dislocating it."

Moen tilted his head back, gritting his teeth to endure the agony.

But he didn’t even have the luxury of resting to recover from the pain.

Though the joint still throbbed with a slight bluish bruise and his hand wouldn’t stop trembling, Moen didn’t have time to concern himself with such things.

With Ann potentially returning at any moment, time was of the essence.

Holding his trembling hand steady, Moen brought it to his mouth and carefully retrieved something.

Hidden beneath his tongue was a fish bone, one that had come dangerously close to being discovered by Ann.

This fishbone would be his key to freedom.

**Lockpicking Level 8.**

Moen glanced at the skill level recorded in the Black Book and felt a trace of satisfaction at his hard work paying off.

Father, Grandfather, ancestors of the Campbell family—I was wrong to doubt you.

The weird and eclectic books you stuffed into the library were not useless after all!

That book titled *How to Pick Locks with Fish Bones: 100 Methods for Breaking and Entering*? Incredibly practical!

"All right. Here we go."

Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Moen calmed his nerves and stopped the trembling in his hands.

Grasping the fish bone carefully in his right hand, he reached for the lock on the shackle binding his left hand. His heart threatened to leap into his throat.

Success or failure… it all depended on this!

…

It turned out to be even smoother than Moen had expected.

With the help of his Level 8 lockpicking skill, not only did he release the shackles binding his hands to the wall, but he also easily unlocked the large, heavy-duty iron lock securing the cell’s door.

It seemed that Ann had never anticipated such a possibility. Though she had been cautious enough to strip Moen of his clothes, she hadn’t considered that he might learn the overpowered skill of picking locks with a fish bone.

Father, Grandfather, ancestors of the Campbell family—thank you once again!

It’s a *blessing* that you were all a bunch of meatheads uninterested in books…

"I’d better run as quick as possible."

With the door unlocked, Moen slipped cautiously out of the cell.

Outside the cell, the area was even darker, lit only by a faintly glowing stone embedded in the ceiling several meters away.

Fortunately, there was still enough visibility.

"This place… seems to be an underground storage room?"

Taking in his surroundings, Moen observed the cluttered piles of items and felt a vague sense of familiarity.

At the farthest corner of the Duke’s estate, there had been an underground storeroom where maids kept various supplies. After a renovation, the area had fallen into disuse.

Moen vaguely remembered coming here once as a child for an adventure, only to take a nasty fall due to the poor lighting.

Reflexively, he touched his forehead, where he could still feel a faint scar.

"I remember… it was Ann, newly assigned as my personal maid back then, who comforted me when I cried and carried me out of here."

"That must have been the moment I began to rely on her more and more."

"Back then, Ann was so gentle… like an elder sister."

…

So how did she become such a dangerous yandere?!