"The Count wishes to relocate all former Countess' servants to the Countess' wing, Young Master Cale."
Words flew from one ear to another, but they surely stuck in his mind. The hand that was gripping the quill paused and looked up slowly.
Those burgundy eyes held bewilderment before the words sank into the deepest part of his brain. Playing the words over and over again like it was a cycle, a nightmarish cycle.
His throat felt dry, but he forced out his words in a hoarse voice.
"What?"
The butler grimaced, unable to look at the way he stared at the young master with pity. The butler repeated what he said patiently, watching as the noble boy stared.
Cale was forced to breathe before nodding, taking a deep breath before exhaling. Because, dammit, that hurt like someone had pressed onto his lungs. Like when he drank too much of that bitter brew of his sworn brother. Like when he voluntarily swallowed poison to offset enemies.
However, those times seemed to be much more subdued, slowly emerging into him as he let them.
Not this, though. This was killing him.
"Okay…" He breathed.
"Understood."
The butler bowed, but the redhead couldn't see it. He only saw the black ink dripping onto his page, like how his heart was facing the cruel truth he swore he knew.
He swore he had known.
Except that knowing was different from experiencing it himself.
***
"Countess is pregnant, Young Master Cale."
Cale stared as whatever word he had heard from before would disappear. However, this was a cruel reality he was living in.
Now, he understood why all the servants were relocated to the new Countess wing. He understood the importance of what it meant when a woman bore an offspring.
He understood that he needed to go see her; to be seen as a sensible stepson, he was. He understood that he needed to send gifts, to show concern, and whatnot. He did it all, so that was put out of the way.
Admittedly, it was a numbing and stressful day.
With the relocation of the servants he was familiar with, a new wave came in. All were inexperienced in what they were doing, even when well-trained beforehand, even with the help of a senior servant; he was far too old to delegate so many people for his old body.
So with his butler gone, there was a need to get a new one. Only, he doesn't trust them.
Not when one of them was a spy. Not when one of them was a thief. Not when one of them was a snob. Not when they seemed to find him to be easily bullied. Not when one of them was a terrible cook.
No, none of them.
He sighed, digging his fingers into his hair as he breathed. Something he noticed hazily was that he had been doing it a lot lately.
He had just finished cleaning up for the night. By himself.
And now? He was lying on the bed as if it would swallow him and drown the reality he was facing. He hoped it would drown him.
He didn't move. He let his sworn sister rub his wet, dripping hair, feeling how those hands rubbed his stress away.
How those big hands rubbed… no, his sister doesn't have that big of a hand. Cale jumped, and he reached out in a panic, only for his hand to be caught in a grip.
He heard an amused chuckle and looked toward the person who made that sound. It was coming from the crystal ball held by the person who also captured his wrist.
Cale scowled and yanked his wrist back, glaring at the person, an old man, before glaring at the crystal ball. Oddly enough, he couldn't see his sworn sister on the other side, only packed with swirling golden mist within the crystal.
"Noona?" He called out, still creating a distance between the old man and him.
His sworn sister replied with amusement in her tone,
'Obvious' was what he wanted to say. However, someone decided to be a psychic and continued.
Beep—
Cale stared at the darkened crystal ball before turning his gaze.
The old man and the young masters stared at each other in silence.
"Hi?" Cale started lamely.
Ron smiled benignly. "Hello, Young Master Cale."
At that moment, Cale had a moment of chills as he sat silently. Crossed legs as he just… let this old man rub his wet locks to get rid of the water.
Those fingers were firm but careful, as if not used to serving someone else but were expertly trained. Just like how silent those steps were, flying across the floorboard as the old man went out of the window. Bringing the chills away with him.
Cale plopped back to the bed, staring at the ceiling unblinkingly.
Even with the sun waning and the moon hanging in the darkness, he couldn't close his eyes.
He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and went to grab the locked box on his bedside table, knowing he couldn't get any sleep tonight.
Not when the chills of death lingered in this room.