All was quiet but for the slow and controlled breathing that came from the velvet curtains. He made sure to not make a sound—to breathe very, very carefully. The air in between fabrics was stifling, but he endured it, for this momentary discomfort could spare him from the cost of being found.

Tap, tap.

Footsteps on the marble floor. He clasped his hand around his mouth, as though simply an exhale would give himself away. Closer and closer, the footsteps were getting louder towards his side, and by now he had ceased all effort to breathe.

"Where are you~"

Tempting it was to just make a run for it, but he knew better than to fall for the trap. Though the voice sounded like it was meters away, it was near the entrance of the room—there was no hope of getting out uncaught. So, his only choice was to wait.

"You're really good at this game, huh? But time waits for nobody..."

Just a few more seconds. A few more...

"Found you!"

He dashed from his hiding spot and bolted for the door. Turning the doorknob, the boy leapt out of the room and landed stylishly, turning around to face his seeker with a smug smile. "I win."

"That's not fair! You used a trick!" She pouted, pointing at the bundle of pillows stashed behind the curtain next to his hiding spot.

"There weren't any rules saying we can't use tricks," he said, leaning on the doorframe. "I've outsmarted you, Merry."

"I can't believe you." Merry kicked the pillows, which blossomed clouds of dust. "And I was this close to catching you!"

Careth chuckled as he pulled out his pocket watch. He flicked it open, checked the time, and gasped. "We only have ten minutes left!"

"Already?" Merry said, rushing to his side. "Then we better hurry!"

The two children took off from the guest room and went upstairs, after having maneuvered through the turns and twists of the manor. Careth shut the door once they entered his room and listened through it, making sure no servant or maid was passing through, before nodding towards Merry.

The girl opened his cupboard and dove into it, putting away the fake wooden base that hid a tied sack underneath. She heaved it out of the cupboard and placed it heavily on the ground, to which Careth shushed her.

"Okay, okay. Jeez..."

She undid the rope and emptied the contents, of which were books, books, and lots of other books.

"Where did we stop last time?" Careth went over to the pile and picked up a storybook with the words 'Dauntless Dark Knight'. "I should've had a bookmark to help indicate..."

"Found it!" Merry piped, tugging her finger into the page where it's corners were folded. "See? It's an easy way to check where we last read."

"By dog-earring it? Merry, that'll leave creases!" He exclaimed, frantically soothing out the fold.

"It's not like someone else would read it anyway, we're the only ones who's even interested." She propped her arm on the floor and rested her chin. "Now hurry! I want to know how the Dark Knight slays the villain and rescues his family."

Careth sighed, tracking where he last left off. "You know, learning to read is one way to enjoy the story."

"But I'm not as smart as you, dear friend. Like everyone else, I suck at reading and writing. You're just abnormal."

"Then I should start getting paid for my storytelling," Careth said, and cleared his throat. "Now, he brandished—"

A knock on the door jolted the both of them. Careth instantly swept the books into the sack while Merry yelled, "Okay! Just a minute!" and dumped the sack back into the cupboard.

"Maybe I should try learning. Else we'll never even get past that chapter for weeks," Merry said.

Both children went and greeted the person at the door, who was a servant tasked with the duty of escorting Merry out of the manor. Careth waved goodbye as the girl skipped off, but not forgetting to turn around and shout, "See you tomorrow, Careth!"

He saw her off from the window until the carriage disappeared from the horizon. As he heard the sounds of the rustling metal gate come to a stop, Careth's smile stiffened into a grimace. The silence of his room grew louder as his pocket watch ticked on robotically, a reminder that time was not to be wasted. Careth sighed, glancing at the cupboard one last time, before exiting the room.

_

"Evening, Young Master."

"Evening." Careth greeted, taking a seat at the dining table. Today was medium-done beef drizzled with black pepper gravy, diced carrots and mushroom soup. The dishes and utensils were set up for two persons, however the seat across his was still vacant.

"Father's not having dinner again?"

The servant nodded. "Regrettably, sir, the Master has some work to do-"

"As always." Careth picked up his knife and sliced a piece of meat. "So, is it mathematics or taxes later?"

"Taxes first. The Master has instructed for his secretary to provide you with the work later after dinner. Also, Miss Circum requested for you to do some extra pages of your mathematics workbook as pre-class activities."

"Hm. I wonder how the town would feel if they knew a fourteen year old was in charge of their taxes," Careth said, poking his meat with the knife. "Would you approve of it?"

"...we believe in your qualities, sir. So far the officials have not been able to tell apart your work from the Master's."

Careth gave a thoughtful sound, then frowned as he saw the soup. "Again? I thought I drank this concoction just two days ago."

The servant merely smiled, but her lips were stretched with plead. "There have been some changes in your diet, sir. The nutritionist has listed out a new one."

Careth wanted to argue, but kept his words. Since it was the nutritionist's doing, that means it has gone through Master Willdyer's approval—and that means his father had instructed it. Following his father's orders has always been Careth's rule, and he never dared to break it. So, despite knowing the awful consequences, he drank it in one hurried, wolfish gulp, enduring the slimy aftertaste that made his skin crawl.

_

At the far west end of the manor, where the light was always dim, a knock echoed throughout the hallway. The servant was granted permission to enter, but not lifting his head until he was given the order to do so.

"Master Willdyer."

"Mm. Any peculiar observations?" The man had a gruff voice, and he never lifted his eyes from the paperwork.

"No, sir. We administered the same amount of medicine as always, but still no signs of a Talent."

The superior paused in his writing, and pinched the nose of his bridge, thinking. After a slow moment, he looked at the servant.

"Increase the dosage. With the remaining amount of time, only a miracle could happen now," Master Willdyer said. "But if all still ends in disfavour, be sure to carry out the procedures flawlessly—we wouldn't want another mishap to happen again."

"Understood, sir."

The servant left without looking up, and Master Willdyer set down his quill, sighing as his eyes glanced over at the meadow outside the window.

"Look over him, Lillian."