The journey home was a blur.
I used a VIP teleportation gate—an exorbitant facility that could only be paid for with an unreasonable amount of gold coins.
The City of the Sun's Son.
Nighttime.
We stood before the iron gates of my home.
A massive stone mansion on the outskirts of the city. Quiet. Dark.
I turned the heavy key.
Click. Creak.
The door opened, exhaling a breath of cold air and the familiar, faint scent of dust.
"Enter."
We stepped inside.
The marble floors reflected the moonlight spilling through the gaps in the windows.
This house was far too large for one person, and even now, it still felt too large for two.
I flicked my thumb—not magic, just a lighter—to ignite the oil lamp in the living room.
A dim yellow glow illuminated the vast, nearly empty space.
Alicia stood in the center of the room, her bag of new clothes in hand. She looked around, bewildered.
Perhaps she had expected a torture chamber, or at least a kitchen where she would be put to work.
But this house... was empty. Just like her.
"Follow me upstairs," I instructed.
Alicia followed me in silence. Her footsteps were nearly inaudible on the stairs, as if she were afraid of waking the ghosts in this house.
We reached the second floor.
I opened the double doors at the end of the hallway.
The Master Bedroom.
The room was spacious.
In the center sat a massive bed with pristine white sheets that had rarely been touched.
In the corner, near the floor-to-ceiling glass window, lay my personal sanctuary: a worn leather recliner, a small side table with an ashtray, and stacks of books.
Through that window, one could see the empty garden and the clear moon hanging high above the slumbering city.
"Put your things over there." I pointed to an empty wardrobe near the en-suite bathroom door.
Alicia set her bag down hesitantly. She looked around, her eyes darting from the enormous bed to the recliner in the corner, and finally to me.
"Sir..." Her voice broke the silence. "Where are the servants' quarters?"
"There are no servants' quarters. You will sleep here."
Her eyes widened slightly. The instinctive fear of a slave surfaced for a fraction of a second. She glanced at the massive bed.
"In... that bed? With you, Sir?"
I took off my red coat and tossed it over the back of the recliner.
"Don't misunderstand. I have no physical interest in you."
I walked over to the small table by the window.
A glass jar of coffee grounds sat waiting.
I brewed a cup using the remaining water from the magic heating kettle. The bitter aroma filled the room, chasing away the lingering, foreign scent of the slave shop.
"Sleep in the bed. It's yours now," I said, settling into the recliner with my back to the room, facing the large window.
I lit a cigarette.
Haa...
Smoke billowed out, pressing against the cold glass pane.
"Then where... will you sleep, Sir?" she asked softly, still standing rigidly in the center of the room.
"I'll be right here."
I patted the armrest of my recliner.
"I don't like sleeping in beds. They are too soft. Too... dulling to the senses."
The truth was, I simply suffered from insomnia. And whenever I did manage to sleep, nightmares of an absolute void often awaited me. This chair was safer. Watching the night sky was far more soothing.
"But..."
"Go to sleep, Alicia," my voice softened, just a fraction.
A heavy silence hung in the air for a long moment.
Then came the rustle of fabric. Hesitant footsteps approached the bed.
The faint creak of mattress springs compressing under a light weight.
She climbed into bed.
I didn't turn around. I simply watched her faint reflection in the window glass.
A small girl in a giant bed, curled up beneath the thick blankets.
And a man in a corner chair, accompanied by nothing but smoke and coffee.
One room. Two hollow humans.
One who felt empty despite having everything.
And one who had been emptied out by losing everything.
There were no walls between us, yet the distance felt like thousands of miles.
"Good night, Sir," she whispered, her voice muffled by the pillow.
I didn't answer.
I merely took a sip of my coffee, letting the caffeine and nicotine anchor my sanity on the border between consciousness and dreams.
Tonight, at the very least, the sound of her breathing filled the empty frequency in my ears.