"Hey, hey! This has to be a hallucination. Why would there be a villa on a deserted island?"
The white-haired young man stared in disbelief, as though his entire worldview had been reshaped.
"Even if my family bought an island for vacations, we'd pick somewhere with a nice environment. This place is in the middle of nowhere. What kind of idiot would live here?"
He made no effort to keep his voice down, and the servants inside the door all heard him, yet the smiles on their faces did not change in the slightest.
Goosebumps prickled over the group as they wondered whether they should leave immediately.
It was not just the strange people here who made them want to leave. They had just heard the villa's name, Kanibari, which meant "cannibal" in Latin. What normal person would give a villa a name like that?
"Please come in, guests. The master has prepared a sumptuous dinner for you all. Please enjoy it to your hearts' content!"
Seeing them hesitate at the door, an elderly man who looked like the butler spoke warmly. He wore a tailcoat, and every strand of his silver hair was neatly combed back, giving him a refined and elegant appearance.
At the news that there was food in the villa, the group, who had gone hungry for nearly three days, could not stop their stomachs from crying out. Saliva filled their mouths, as if urging them to hurry inside.
Hunger took hold of their minds, making them ignore their unease as they walked through the door one by one.
As soon as they entered the hall, an enormous, striking portrait met their eyes. It depicted two adults and two children, who appeared to be the villa's owners.
It towered high above the long staircase. The eyes of the figures in the portrait were hidden by the shadows of the second floor, the black hollows like whirlpools threatening to suck in everything within sight.
With difficulty, they tore their gazes away from the portrait. Only then did they notice that heavy tapestries covered the walls around the hall. Their colors and patterns had faded with time, yet they still exuded an old-fashioned opulence. Every tapestry bore an iris design, like a totem, and through the gaps between them, the raw texture of the stone walls beneath was visible.
Intricate patterns were also carved into the soaring vaulted ceiling. The central chandelier was made of wrought iron and glass, and its dim yellow light spilled down, creating a peaceful atmosphere throughout the hall.
The servants led them to a long wooden table at one side of the hall. A finely woven linen cloth covered it, and several high-backed wooden chairs stood beside it, as if awaiting the start of the banquet.
"Where's the owner of the villa? How come we haven't seen him?"
Once again, the white-haired young man was the first to speak. His name was Phil Chris, the second son of the Chris family.
He had an outstanding older brother, and as the younger son with no right of inheritance, his creed in life was to eat, drink, and have fun. Whenever he ran out of money, he would plead poverty to his brother. If he had not been unlucky enough to be shipwrecked and stranded on a deserted island, who knew how carefree his life would have been?
Seeing the villa's imitation medieval decor, he looked disdainful.
The silver-haired butler smiled as he answered Phil's question. "Please take your seats first, guests. I'll go and fetch the master at once."
While he was speaking, the blonde woman who had already rushed into the villa was curled up in a chair. Her seat was beside the fireplace, where burning logs gave off a warmth that thawed her icy hands and feet.
The others took their seats at the long table in turn, and the servants who had greeted them at the door set ceramic tableware and glass wineglasses in front of each of them.
The bespectacled man had been carefully observing the interior decor ever since he entered. Seeing that the butler had gone upstairs, he quietly asked a servant setting the table beside him, "Hello, could you tell me about the owner of this place?"
Though he spoke softly, everyone else was on edge. Seeing his unusual behavior, they all turned toward him.
The servant was a brown-haired girl with freckles on her face, and she looked innocent and lively.
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with her smile. "The master is the master, of course. The greatest master of all!"
At her words, everyone at the table exchanged glances, and their sense of unease grew stronger.
Then, out of the silence, someone suddenly asked in a trembling voice, "Could it be... is this the Caster family's villa?"
The moment the words left her mouth, the servants around them turned in unison to look at the woman, like machines following a program.
The woman had long black hair and a delicate, pale face. Her eyes filled with tears under their stares, and it was clear at a glance that she was extremely timid.
She hurriedly explained, "I'm a novelist. I only happened to learn about the family while gathering material. I just saw the iris design here, the Caster family's crest... I really am not a bad person!"
Watching a frail girl anxiously explain to a group of strange beings that she was not a bad person was a bizarre sight no matter how one looked at it.
"Annie, do you know about the owner of this villa?"
The bespectacled man asked, his expression grave.
"Mm... yes. If it's the Caster family I know about, they've been in the arms trade for generations. During the First World War, they sold weapons all over several countries. After the war ended, those countries went after them. Rumor had it that the family fled to a small island and went into seclusion. After that, very little was heard of them. I was only guessing, but who would have thought it really was..."
"Clap! Clap! Clap!"
A burst of applause came from the staircase.
Everyone looked up to see the silver-haired butler supporting a woman by the hand as she slowly descended the stairs.
"I never expected anyone today to still know of my Cast family. How delightful."
The woman, who appeared to be the villa's owner, had a thick mane of soft, smooth blonde hair and looked only to be in her twenties. Yet her amber eyes were like moonlight on a lake, carrying an air of mature mystery.
She wore a fitted black gown and white lace gloves, her bearing elegant and composed.
There were purple iris designs on her gloves as well.
Perhaps because they had not expected the owner of this strange villa to be a beautiful young woman, several of the men at the long table grew a little restless.
Everyone rose and politely greeted their hostess, then sat back down when she took her seat.
"My name is Cassandra Cast. You may call me Mrs. Caster. I know you all have questions, but after drifting at sea for days, you must be starving. So let's dispense with further talk and eat first."
Mrs. Caster slowly removed her gloves and handed them to the butler standing beside her, then called out a name. "Kanibari!"
"Yes, my master."
Under everyone's gaze, the man called Kanibari appeared in a white chef's uniform with a neat, small turn-down collar. A black leather apron was tied around his waist, outlining his lean, strong build.
He wore a tall white hat, beneath which was a face with distinctly Eastern features. Even though most of the Westerners at the table could not tell Asian faces apart, they all had to admit that the chef was handsome.
Plates of various sizes sat on the cart the chef was pushing, and he used one slender hand to serve the dishes to the guests one by one.
"Today's appetizer is pan-seared foie gras, carefully prepared with the freshest ingredients. Please savor it."
A smile on his slightly pale face, the chef introduced the day's dish to his hostess and the guests.
Before each person was a plate holding a piece of foie gras only the size of a coin, drizzled with brown sauce. Both its color and its aroma were immensely tempting to the group, who had gone hungry for days.