A bowl of steaming, freshly made noodles sat invitingly before Harper, the rich aroma wafting through the air, infusing the space with warmth and comfort. The bowl was a colorful medley of vibrant vegetables, tender cuts of meat, and delicate strands of noodles, all intertwined in a delightful dance. She took a moment to admire the feast, but then her gaze drifted sideways to me, standing there and shivering from the cold. My clothes, drenched by the misfortune from earlier, clung uncomfortably to my skin, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed.
"You're no different from a wet cat," she chuckled lightly, twisting her fork into the noodles and elegantly bringing them to her lips. However, her amusement faltered as she caught the glare from Roman, sitting across the table. His dark eyes pierced through her, laced with disapproval for the mischief she had conjured earlier.
The laughter faded from Harper's face as she dropped her fork back into the bowl, the clink of metal striking ceramic echoing in the suddenly tense atmosphere. With barely a word, she scrambled out of her chair, leaving me bewildered. "Do you not like it?" I asked softly, but my question hung unanswered in the air as Roman stood abruptly, his focus solely on retreating upstairs.
Confusion clouded my mind as I watched the fractious energy between the siblings play out. Just then, Harper emerged from a room, shutting the door softly behind her. In her hand, she held a dry shirt, a small olive branch in this perplexing scene.
"Sorry about the water," she mumbled, her cheeks slightly flushed.
"It's fine. It wasn't your fault," I replied, but a mischievous smirk spread across her lips. She tossed the shirt toward me, and I caught it deftly, the fabric cool and welcoming in my hands.
"Whose shirt is this?" I asked, marveling at the green long-sleeved shirt that rested against my palms.
"Julian's," Harper said nonchalantly, slurping a noodle with a hint of satisfaction. "Roman would never offer you one, so Julian's is all I could grab." Her mouth was fuller than usual, a testament to the meal that she had devoured.
"Thank you," I muttered, my fingers tracing the soft material as I looked around, feeling a sudden urge to change. "You can use my room," Harper offered again, and I nodded, turning on my heels to ascend the staircase that loomed above the dining area, its wooden steps creaking slightly underfoot.
****
Moments ago, Roman emerged from his room, gripping a thick white shirt in hand. He paused at the staircase, his expression an unreadable mask as he observed the exchange between Harper and the woman. His fingers tightened around the fabric, his eyes narrowed in irritation at his sister's carefree demeanor. But as soon as Carol stepped toward the upper levels, he retreated silently, slamming his door in annoyance.
****
Entering Harper's room was like stepping into another world. The lavish interior enveloped me in warmth and comfort, contrasting sharply with the chill that lingered on my skin. I headed to a corner, shedding my wet clothes and carefully slipping into the dry shirt, feeling the fabric embrace me like a long-lost friend. I tucked the damp garments neatly away, placing them in a bag before returning downstairs, clutching the sleeves of my newfound attire.
As I descended, I noticed that Julian had already arrived, seated at the dining table with Roman, both indulging in a simple bowl of grapes. Julian's gaze fell upon me, his brow knitting in concern. He opened his mouth as if to speak, only to be cut off by Harper's sharp interruption. "I gave her the shirt, Julian. She desperately needed it," she quipped, a hint of playfulness lacing her words as she glanced in my direction.
"What happened?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
Roman, usually a bystander in such discussions, spoke up with an air of seriousness. "Harper messed with the tap, and water splashed all over your maid," he stated, directing a sharp look at me before quickly averting his gaze, as though my presence were an unwelcome reminder.
I couldn't fathom his words. Harper had deliberately tampered with the tap, knowing fully that I would be using it? Confusion twisted in my gut as I scanned the room, noticing how the brothers seemed to brush off Harper's antics.
Julian turned his attention back to Roman, annoyance evident in his tone. "You see what I was saying about her? She's getting out of hand. Might as well return her to Father's mansion so we can have some peace here," he mused, rising from his seat and heading my way.
"It's about time all of you left so I can enjoy the peace, alone in my own house," Roman shot back, his eyes lingering on Julian before settling on me.
"Stay warm. I'll prepare something to help," he offered, striding toward the kitchen with a newfound sense of purpose.
I approached the dining table, where an awkward silence loomed. Harper, clearly uninterested, left for the sitting room, her irritation palpable. My focus returned to the empty plates before me, and I reached out to collect them, trying to make sense of the dynamics that had unfolded around me.
As I grasped the bowl, the familiar sound of clattering ceramic filled the air. Suddenly, Roman's voice sliced through the cozy atmosphere, sharp and grating. "Green looks better on you," he mumbled, his tone carrying an edge that hinted at something far darker than mere jest.
I felt a frown tug at my brows, recognizing the insincerity behind his words. It felt as if they were laced with suppressed irritation, a tension that prickled the air around us. I chose silence, allowing a wave of determination to wash over me as I turned away, the cool tiles underfoot guiding me toward the kitchen.
In the kitchen, I immersed myself in the rhythmic motion of washing dishes, the warm, soapy water enveloping my hands as suds bubbled up around me. The faint aroma of the meal lingered, mingling with the scent of lemon-scented soap. I rinsed the plates methodically, letting the feel of the ceramic ground me amidst my swirling thoughts. Once I had cleaned up, I walked into the sitting room, where Harper was buried in her books, her brow furrowed in concentration.
A few moments later, Julian appeared, his presence warm and reassuring. He approached with a glass of warm water infused with honey, a bright halo of lemon slices floating atop. The steam wafted up, carrying a zesty fragrance that danced in my senses. "This would help with cold" He said.
"Thank you," I said, a genuine smile breaking across my face as I took the glass from him. The honey and lemon created a comforting taste, each sip wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. As the sweet, tangy liquid cascaded down my throat, I felt my thoughts shift. Perhaps Julian was not so bad after all; his caring demeanor seemed to light a spark of kindness.
"If you feel sick, just let me know, and we can go to the infirmary together," he suggested, his voice soothing as he settled onto one of the plush couches, the cushions sinking beneath him.
"That's not necessary. I have some medication in my dorm; I'll be alright," I replied, wanting to alleviate the concern in his eyes. He nodded in understanding, the warmth emanating from him creating a peaceful bubble around me.
I returned to Harper, guiding her through her studies, her eyes brightening with understanding as I explained each topic. As the hours slipped away, the night deepened, casting shadows that danced across the walls. Finally, knowing curfew was approaching, Julian offered to drive me back to the dormitory. The gentle hum of the car engine filled the air as we drove through the quiet streets, streetlights casting a soft, golden glow on the pavement.
When I arrived at the dorm, I waved goodbye to Julian, the warmth from our moments together lingering as I walked toward my room, the cool night air sending a shiver down my spine.
Crossing the threshold into my room, I was greeted by the soft glow of Coco's desk lamp. Coco was still awake, her face illuminated by the light, the scattered pages and textbooks around her creating a haven for late-night studying. Leah, in contrast, lay blissfully asleep, the gentle rise and fall of her chest soothing the silence.
"Hey, how was your work?" Coco asked, her vibrant smile banishing the remnants of my earlier tension. She then left her space and headed for mine.
"It was fine; I just need some rest," I replied, letting my bag thud softly against the floor as I dropped it onto my bed. Turning to face Coco, I noticed her eyes narrowing at my shirt—an oversized garment that obviously belonged to a guy, the loose fabric hugging me in a way that felt foreign.
"It's not what you think!" I exclaimed, an embarrassed flush rising to my cheeks as I scrambled to explain. Coco merely laughed, her eyes alight with mischief.
"Did you get wet?" she asked, her teasing tone light as she reached out to ruffle my hair, the damp strands falling in unruly waves.
"Yes, it was just an accident; I'll be fine," I assured her, hoping to dispel her worries. "And this shirt is from a friend who was just concerned about me," I added, watching her nod as she processed my words. Her gaze swept over my shirt one last time before she returned to her studies.
"If you feel sick, let me know, and we'll head to the infirmary together," she said, her voice echoing the words Julian had spoken earlier. A soft blush crept onto my cheeks, warmth blooming in my chest. It had been a while since I had messaged him, no— Erin had messaged him. Maybe I would reach out tomorrow, I thought, as the idea floated pleasantly in my mind.
I hurried through a steaming shower, the warm water washing away the day's worries, steam rising around me. Climbing into my nightwear, I bounced into bed, wrapping myself in the soft duvet, which cocooned me in comforting warmth. My hair sprawled across the pillow like a halo, and I closed my eyes, seeking solace.
As the dormitory lights disappeared, darkness enveloped the space, creating a serene hushed atmosphere that snaked around us as most retreated to dreamland.
Yet despite the comforting silence, I lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling as my thoughts roamed. Minutes dragged into what felt like hours as I turned and twisted in bed, desperate for sleep. Finally, I turned to the window, and something caught my eye, a figure glued to my window. My heart raced as I squinted into the darkness, an icy chill creeping up my spine.
Just as I opened my mouth to call out, a finger pressed gently against my lips, silencing my breath and sending shockwaves of fear coursing through me.
The golden mask and red eyes felt familiar.
Master?