Dylan blinked once, then twice and thrice. He gazed blankly at the ceiling, it was not that of the wooden crates but was instead sparkly and shone with gold. A beautiful painting of the forest and lake, and within it, the playful water spirit frolicking about, was painted on the whole ceiling, it was both mesmerising and overwhelming at the same time.
It had already been a few days since Dylan arrived at his father's house and he had yet to meet this father of his even once. He was told that the lord was busy and because he had to serve the country and what not, but Dylan could tell that they were just empty words. That man wasn't interested in him, all he cared about was himself.
Why had such a selfish man taken the trouble to take him back into the family? Well, it was because the heirs of the household, Neil and Neah were both sickly children. They were born with weak constitutions and were recently struck by an illness. They showed no signs of recovery for a whole, and so the lord sent people to find the woman whom he had kicked out years ago after remembering that she was pregnant.
Thus, Dylan was made to learn how to behave like a noble. From day til night, Terisa and other teachers taught him how to smile, how to talk, how to stand, how to walk, how to eat, how to drink, basically everything he knew had to be relearnt in order to became 'graceful' and 'refined' to fit his noble status.
Generally, Dylan learnt things pretty quickly. He had only started his lessons yesterday but he already knew how he should interact with various individuals. He was taught to basically treat the servants as if they weren't there as it was unbefitting of his status to be of familiar terms with a mere servant. How he should behave around other nobles was also hammered into his head. He was to be cautious but obedient towards those of a higher status, i.e. dukes and royals and to be friendly with marquises, while those of a lower status were there to butter up to you.
The world how nobles was similar to the slums except that the nobles tended to fight behind the scenes, under the disguise of a friendly smile and sweet words. The slums were much more straightforward in what exactly they wanted. They were at times cunning but the end goal was pretty obvious. With nobles, their intentions were carefully disguised with honeyed words and a mask of smiles.
"Straighten your back, hold your head up high and don't look down. Always look forward, take each step with ease and grace." The monotonous voice of Dylan's teacher echoed. Dylan tried his best to follow her instructions but he was too accustomed with staying low and always looking at ground, and walked stiffly like a rusty tin soldier.
"Too rigid! Chin up! Walk properly!" The teacher hit Dylan's limbs with a ruler and scolded. Dylan fought back his tears and repeated his actions, trying his best to amend them. However, he was once again scolded and ruthlessly hit for his mistakes.
More time passed and Dylan was able to replicate what a noble should ideally seem like. However, the habits were deeply ingrained in his bones, and he had to be a conscious effort to pretend to be a noble. He was often punished and had all sorts of bruises on his body by the end of the end. Perhaps, when faced with this kind of torture, Dylan would have long run away, but the prospects of warm and delicious food, a warm bed to go back to and the comfort in knowing that he no longer had to provide for himself held him back and acted as a fuel for his determination to do what they want.
A little more time passed and Dylan was finally able to meet the twins that he had heard of in the rumours. They had blonde hair that was paler than his gold ones and a pair of violet eyes. The twins were younger than Dylan and walked into the room hand in hand. They wore a malicious expression on their face, deterring attention from their adorable facial features.
Dylan was in the midst of his lessons, and heard the twins walk in. His teacher paused in a fluster and bowed to the twins. "Young master Neil, young master Neah! What brings you here today?" She spoke with fear.
They looked down at her despite being shorter and snorted, ignoring the teacher. "You are the bastard child?"
"The child of that vixen?" They asked, the disdain in their voices undisguised.
"…" Dylan clenched his hands into a fist and grit his teeth in silent anger. His mother was the most beautiful and loving person in the world. She was kinder and smarter than anyone else, always bright and warm. She was his sunshine, and he loved her more than anything in the world. Yet, the twins were now insulting this wonderful person and slandering her name. However, what upset Dylan the most was that he couldn't fight back and argue his case. He was the home crasher and his standing in the family was too weak and insignificant. To fight would do nothing but further their prejudice against him.
"Father may have let you live here but that doesn't mean we do."
"How dare a street rat like you think you can stay."
"Father gave up on us because of you."
"You took advantage of our weakness to take over."
"But we're not going to let you win!"
"We're the real heirs to this family!"
Having said what they wanted to, the storm stormed off. But Dylan could see the tears welled up in their eyes and the injustice and indignant emotions running rampant in their chests. He didn't feel guilty or sorry for them though. He was aware that such emotions would mean his downfall sooner or later. The twins hated him with all their guts and they wouldn't let him stay comfortably in this big mansion. If he wanted to survive, Dylan had to do all that he could to obey his father and fulfil his expectations.