Annette noticed me standing there and quickly placed her hand on the man's arm, explaining in an aggrieved voice, "Joanne, don't be angry. I am only staying at the Orville Family for a few months. Charles said there are many nannies here, so it will be easier to take care of the baby."
"Don't worry, I won't compete with you for Charles. I will leave after the baby is born. After all, I don't have the blood of a royal embalmer, so I cannot help the Orville Family … "
Charles hugged her tighter like he was showing off.
His expression turned cold as he mockingly spoke, "What royal embalmer? It's just a trick to fool people."
"If there is any difference between her and you, it is that the blood inside her body is even dirtier than yours. You smell like death. Frankly, it makes me sick."
"This is the Orville Family's mansion. I am the one who gets to decide who stays here, so I don't need to ask for your permission."
After saying that, Charles hugged Annette and walked past me, heading upstairs.
He paused for a moment on the steps and said, "Remember to splash your son's blood with pig's blood before he comes inside. If he scares Annette, don't blame me for throwing you out."
After speaking, he slammed the bedroom door shut. The panting sounds from upstairs grew louder and louder. I held the spirit-calling flag in my hand and, following its guidance, found my son's spirit hidden in a corner.
Unfortunately for Alex, he had already become a lonely spirit. I could see that he was tightly clutching something in his little hand. With heartache, I carefully put his spirit away.
Then, I saw clearly what he had been holding. It was a small baby windmill made from paper that was sprayed with holy water. Although Alex was only five years old, he was very smart. He knew that only if Annette were happy could the family stay peaceful.
After Annette became pregnant, he started making little toys for the baby, trying to please Charles and make him happy. The paper that was sprayed with holy water was something very complicated to make. It was a ritual of royal embalming. In fact, I did not have time to teach him properly.
I couldn’t help but feel stunned. After all, Alex made these windmills himself, using them as his wishing trees. The handwriting on the paper was crooked and shaky. Still, I read all of it.
Each one said something along this.