Darkness again, but this time it was different. There was no more cold, no more hunger, no more pain. Only darkness.
"Did I die, or was it all a dream? Sir, he... I wonder where I am at all? It doesn't matter... I'd love to sleep some more..."
— Get up. Eric, it's time to get up... — again this voice. A voice that gave Eric hope and security, that pulled him out of the darkest corners of his mind and gave light to unsightly nightmares.
— Eric, you sleep too much. If you don't wake up right now, I'll eat the whole breakfast myself.
— Sir? — the young man groaned very quietly, still not believing his ears.
— Did you finally wake up? You overslept and...
— Sir, is that really you? — Richard didn't have time to finish when Eric pounced on him with a strong, almost suffocating hug. Losing their balance, they both tumbled to the floor.
— Yes, what's wrong with you today, Eric? Was it a nightmare again? — the boy put his hand on the fluffy hair of his friend after sleeping.
— No... I'm just... Master! — Eric could no longer restrain himself, he clung even more tightly to his surprised master and began to cry. — Excuse me... Excuse me... — he repeated, burying his nose in the expensive jacket of a young aristocrat.
— Well, hush, hush, — Richard patted the boy on the back. He barely moved as Erik wept into his shoulder. Only when he more or less calmed down and only occasionally sobs did he continue the questioning. — So what upset you so much?
— Nightmare.
— It's just a dream. You have nothing to worry about, — Richie smiled, so gently that all worries immediately receded. There was no more of that terrible feeling.
— Yes, you're right, I...
— It's all right, but you need to hurry up. Breakfast won't wait forever, you know. — The gentleman stood up slowly, then helped his friend up.
— Sorry, I overslept, — the boy looked around to understand what time period he was in.
— Everything is fine. Yesterday you were so excited about my birthday that I thought you could use a couple extra hours of sleep. — Richard put his hands behind his head. — But stop talking. I'll be in the library, bring breakfast there, okay? And hurry up. Rufus doesn't seem to be in the mood.
The door creaked softly and the gentleman left. Eric stood motionless for another minute, staring at the spot where Richard had just stood.
"Birthday? Is it a dream? Or is it real?" – his gaze slid over the calendar hanging on the wall. – "So it was yesterday..? What a strange dream…"
After spinning a little more, looking at all the details of his room, Eric sighed.
"It's all so real..." — out of curiosity, the boy went to the mirror. A child with black unruly hair and large blue eyes stared at him. "I feel like I'm twelve again." Out of curiosity, he bit his hand with all his might. A metallic taste appeared on the lips, a few drops fell on the floor, and with them tears.
— It hurts! — Eric whispered to himself, blood and tears streaming down his face, but
he smiled.
"Have I been given another chance? This time, I'll do it right. I swear on my blood."
The wound on his wrist was slowly healing. Wasting no time, the boy decided to take up his duties. Hastily wiping the floor with a dirty shirt, he hurried to get dressed and headed to the kitchen.
***
Eric had not been to the estate for a long time, since his beloved master died, he had nothing to do here. But his legs themselves carried him along the old corridor of the house.
"Now the mansion looks better than I remembered it. The servants are doing a good job under Rufus."
The boy ran as fast as he could. He had already spent too much time thinking about his position.
"I need to make him laugh, I don't want to keep him waiting. And I should..."
— Ai! — running around the house completely immersed in your own thoughts is a bad idea.
— I already said that you should run around the house, young master. It's dangerous for you and those around you. — It was Rufus. Head butler. A man in his late fifties, gray hair neatly combed back, a perfectly styled mustache, and a cold severity lurks in green eyes. Clothes ironed and washed to a shine. A true example of pedantry.
— Sorry, Rufus. I'm in a hurry.
— What then he annoyed me, what now. So meticulous, but he always does the job perfectly.
— The master even refused to have breakfast because of you, — the old man frowned, — he said that you should serve him food.
— Then please don't detain me, — Eric ignored the butler and sped away.
— What a disrespect! You should learn manners! And as soon as the young master! — Rufus shouted at him.
"Are you jealous, old man?" The boy chuckled to himself.
The only thing that has not changed in the young man's memories is the kitchen. Matilda, the chief cook of the estate, is the same age as Rufus. She was always very careful about her kitchen, she didn't even allow anyone to cook in it. But Eric liked Matilda, she was the only person who cared about the master.
— Good morning, sir, — the old woman was now resting. Breakfast had long since cooled down, and it was still too early to start preparing dinner.
— Good morning, Matilda. I came for food for the master.
— Of course, I covered it so that it would not get cold, — Matilda pointed to the full covered with a lid and smiled, — I cooked chicken in cranberry sauce with potatoes and salad.
— Thank you, have a nice day, Matilda.
Eric grabbed a full tray and rushed to the stairs, he was itching to get back to his master. His second chance starts right now.