The Male Leads Are Trapped in My House

[Make sure to remember this.

1 is Brunel, 3 is Spring Water, 6 is Hague, 8 is Notium.]**

I pointed to the memo written on the back of the blueprint and asked Vanilla,

“Do you know what this is? I found it written on the back of the mansion’s blueprint. I know Brunel is the name of this village, and Notium is a street in the capital, but I have no idea what Spring Water and Hague are.”

Vanilla furrowed her brows and stared at the writing. After a moment, she tilted her head.

“Well, I didn’t write it. But it does look like my father’s handwriting... Since it’s written on the blueprint, it’s probably something related to the mansion. But I inherited the house, so there’s no one I can ask about it.”

Hearing the word “inheritance,” I could already guess her family situation. Vanilla’s father must have been the original owner of Happy House and passed away, leaving only the mansion behind.

Still, I wasn’t satisfied with the vague explanation, so I pressed her further.

“If it’s related to the mansion, why is Notium listed? It’s a street name in the capital.”

Vanilla’s eyes widened as if she had just remembered something.

“Could it be one of the Ruskin family’s properties? I actually own another mansion in Notium.”

“What about Hague and Spring Water?”

“Uh… I don’t know about those.”

Vanilla tilted her head again.

Ethan, who had been sitting across from us and sipping his espresso, suddenly spoke up after overhearing our conversation.

“It’s probably referring to Hague Street. It’s near Westmoor Station.”

Benton, Westmoor, Hondorf, and Kintne.

Westmoor was one of the train stops between the capital and Kintne.

Hearing Ethan’s explanation, Vanilla nodded vigorously.

“Oh, that’s right! 10 Hague Street in Westmoor. That’s another house I inherited. But I still don’t know what Spring Water could mean. I’ll let you know if I figure it out later.”

“Okay, but what do you think the numbers mean?”

When I raised another question, both Ethan and Vanilla shrugged, clearly clueless.

“Beats me.”

Vanilla seemed to lose interest after that, her tone turning flat.

If this memo was just a list of Ruskin family properties, I didn’t really have any reason to dig deeper either.

“Got it. Thanks for answering.”

After thanking her, I watched as Vanilla gave a brief nod and left without hesitation.

I folded up the blueprint, stuffed it back into my dress pocket, and finished the rest of my juice.

Ethan was still sitting across from me, reading his newspaper.

When I stared at him, he finally lowered it.

“Have you seen this?”

He set the newspaper on the table and pointed to an article.

My picture was printed right there on the front page.

[Sinclair Family Heiress, Cherry Sinclair—The Worst Cricket Player Ever…!]

The headline was painfully familiar.

Below it was an old photo of me, beaming in a cricket uniform while holding a bat. I looked ridiculously young—because it was an old article.

At fifteen, I had loved cricket. But loving something and being good at it were two entirely different things.

I had some decent technique, but I was far too frail to be a proper athlete. My grip strength back then was practically nonexistent.

I had gotten a harsh taste of reality as the media and cricket fans tore me apart.

“Where did you even find this?”

“We keep archives of old newspapers at the station.”

“And why exactly were you looking that up?”

“I’m studying you.”

“What?”

What the hell was he talking about? I stared at him in disbelief.

He sat there, legs crossed, holding his espresso cup with the elegance of someone straight out of a magazine.

“You’re an unpredictable person. I figured looking into your past might help me understand you better.”

Was this a confession?

If anyone needed explaining, it was him. I had no idea why Ethan was so fixated on me, but he’d figure it out soon enough when the world started falling apart.

For now, the smart thing to do was ignore him and focus on my preparations.

“You only played cricket once. Was there a reason for that?”

“Didn’t the article make it obvious?”

“The public’s opinion was harsh, but making it onto a team at such a young age shows some level of skill—”

“I wasn’t skilled. My parents secretly made donations to the club. That’s how I got to play for that season. I didn’t find out until later.”

It had been devastating to realize that my success wasn’t due to talent but money.

‘If I’d had this strength back then, things might’ve been different.’

Not that it would’ve been easy for a woman to succeed in cricket even with my current strength.@@novelbin@@

While I forced out a bitter laugh, Ethan kept staring at me.

“I’ve had plenty of people approach me just because I’m a Sinclair.”

I wiped at the corner of my eye with a handkerchief, pretending to dab at tears. Of course, I wasn’t actually crying.

“I get misunderstood a lot. I like luxury, act reckless, and get into trouble all the time. People probably think I’d commit crimes without hesitation.”

I sniffled loudly for effect.

“But it’s fine. I’m used to being judged.”

Ethan never even asked if I was okay, yet I answered as if he had, standing up dramatically.

I didn’t care what information he had on me. The fact that he hadn’t arrested me yet meant he had no evidence—just suspicions.

‘All I have to do is hold out.’

As long as I could avoid getting caught until the apocalypse, I’d win.

‘I’m good at holding out!’

Clenching my fist with determination, I left the restaurant.

I could still feel Ethan’s gaze following me, but I ignored it and headed home.

Time to finish cleaning Happy House.