After a long time, light finally reached the cell's interior, illuminating a small, thin, filthy, injured, and malnourished figure.
Tristan shrank back and recoiled when the light, which had only existed in his imagination for so long, hit his eyes.
'What's happening?'
Two guards entered the cell, their faces twisting for a moment due to the stench and filth inside. Soon, one of them spoke.
"Get out. Lady Valerie ordered us to bring you to her," said the dungeon leader.
'Damn, what does that woman want with me? It can't be anything good. Does she know what I've been doing? That shouldn't be possible.'
Tristan trembled slightly and slowly began to step out of the cell.
The dungeon leader, irritated, kicked him, sending his frail body crashing hard against the stone floor.
"Ahh!"
"Move along, filthy rat."
The guard accompanying the dungeon leader cringed at the scene and looked away, trembling slightly.
'Damn, that hurt.'
Tristan looked at the two guards. He only recognized one of them, the subordinate of the dungeon leader, who used to be the former dungeon leader. He had been hired while Tristan's mother was still in charge of the mansion.
'The bastard who kicked me must have been hired by that witch.'
He thought, 'I wouldn't be moving so slowly if you hadn't left me to starve here, bastards,' but decided to remain silent and used his remaining strength to follow the guards.
As he walked through the large mansion, he saw images that were once familiar to him but had long since become distant memories.
He saw many people while walking, most of them strangers, probably servants from Valerie's clan, but some he recognized. It seemed that Valerie had fired most of the people his mother had hired.
'Well, that's no surprise.'
Many faces stared at him, some with disgust and contempt, others with pity and sadness. Tristan wasn't sure which of these looks bothered him more.
'Until now,' Tristan gritted his teeth, irritated by the exhaustion of the walk.
Finally, he arrived at the mansion's main hall as the large wooden doors opened. He looked ahead and saw a scene that made his stomach churn.
In front of him stood a red-haired woman with lilac eyes, around 25 years old with pale skin and a short stature. Her beauty was evident, and she wore a long, beautiful medieval-style blue dress that covered her entire body.
When she looked at him, her face twisted into a grimace for a moment, probably unhappy that he was still alive, but soon a wide smile appeared on her face, revealing her perfectly white teeth; his miserable state must have pleased her.
"Roaches really are creatures that can survive anywhere," Valerie said, turning her face away in disgust.
A murderous rage nearly overtook Tristan's mind, driving him to madness, but he restrained himself because there was hope—he had hope of changing his situation. He couldn't die just yet.
Looking at her with eyes full of anger, Tristan wondered.
'Why did she call me here?'
She watched his miserable appearance for a while and then sighed.
"My daughter Vivienne has been pestering me for a long time to see you, and since today is her birthday, I couldn't deny her request this time. I was also curious to see how you've been spending your life," Valerie said, laughing a little at the last part.
"Stay quiet and don't cause trouble during her birthday, or you'll regret it," Valerie said, a murderous look in her eyes.
Tristan's face twisted again, his fury rising, but there was a thought that disturbed him even more.
'Does Vivi still remember me?'
In the past, Valerie and her children lived in the second mansion near the main one, so he only met her children on a few occasions. Valerie had four children: the eldest daughter, Vivian, who was three months younger than Tristan; Victor, who must be 10 years old now; Vivienne, who was turning 8 today; and lastly, Violet, who was 5 years old.
He and Vivienne had a good relationship. She was an energetic girl, and Tristan had given her some toys he had copied from Earth. The two could technically be considered friends. He had only spoken a few times with Vivian and Victor, as they didn't feel very comfortable around each other. Well, at least Victor tried to be cordial, but Vivian completely despised him.
Being the eldest daughter, she was her mother's first hope of attracting Tristan's father's attention, which also meant she was her first failure. Although she was extremely talented, Tristan had the mind of an adult, which made it easier for him to learn about cultivation.
"Take this rat to clean up quickly. He'll ruin my daughter's birthday if he shows up like this," Valerie said.
He left with the guards, and after another long walk, he was handed over to a maid of the mansion who would help him clean up.
The guards left, and now it was just him and the maid in the bathroom.
Tristan knew her—it was Margaret, a beautiful woman in her thirties who had taken care of him when he was a child. After a moment of looking at him, Margaret began to cry and sob uncontrollably.
He just continued to stare at her with his usual dead eyes.
Margaret knelt down and gently hugged him.
"Those monsters, what did they do to my boy?"
She remained silent for a while, trying to hold back her tears.
"I'm so sorry, Lady Nerix..."
Tristan rolled his eyes at all of this; he couldn't feel any emotion.
In truth, he just wanted this day to end as quickly as possible. But it wasn't that he didn't care about Margaret—he really liked her. The problem was that his situation wouldn't be solved with feelings, so all of this seemed like a waste of time to him.
He patted her back to see if she would calm down.
After a few minutes, the woman managed to pull herself together and started to clean Tristan. Or at least she tried.
He literally had a layer of all kinds of dirt stuck to his skin; it took a long time until the water running off him stopped resembling sewage water.
Eventually, Tristan's true marble-white skin could be seen, but when Margaret saw all his scars and bruises, a new round of crying began.
He submerged his body in the bathwater.
'This feels so good. A moment of relief after so much suffering.'
Tristan's long, coal-black hair was now spread out in the water. He touched his strands of hair, finding it strange to feel that his hair was no longer stuck together as if it had been glued.
'My hair is so long.'
Now that his hair moved freely, it almost reached his legs.
"Can you cut my hair for me?"
Margaret's brown eyes sparkled with emotion as she replied, "Of course, young master."
With a smile on her beautiful face, Margaret began cutting Tristan's hair.
He looked in the mirror and ran his hand through the fringe on his forehead.
'Not bad.'
Tristan examined his body from top to bottom.
'Maybe I could be considered handsome if it weren't for the scars and the fact that I have no body fat.'
After drying off, Margaret said,
"Here are your clothes, sir."
Now, he wore a long-sleeved black shirt underneath a short-sleeved white shirt filled with gold details and designs, paired with long black pants and stylish white shoes with some golden accents.
"Are you ready, sir?" Margaret asked.
"Yes," he replied.
'Let's get this over with,' a slight touch of emotion stirring in his heart.
He reached the hall, and Margaret withdrew.
Tristan entered the hall and waited for the others to arrive.
After a while, he heard hurried footsteps. His heart became restless, and he started to feel nervous. He wondered who could be approaching, knowing that the chances of it being someone unpleasant were high.
Sigh.
'Most people here are a problem for me. I never thought I'd say this, but I almost miss the prison.'
The wooden doors of the hall opened.
Then he saw a relatively tall girl for her age. Her wavy hair was red, and her eyes were lilac like her mother's; the two were very similar. She wore a long black dress embroidered with gold details.
The girl became a blur, moving faster than Tristan could see. She collided with him, sending his body flying and crashing into the wall. He spat out blood and felt a massive pain surge through his body.