Harry moved down the long, narrow corridor, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. Shadows from the torchlight danced along the walls, casting fleeting patterns that made the place feel more ancient, more timeless. He glanced around, noting how the heavy tapestries and faded portraits seemed exactly as they were when he'd left. Not a single thing had changed.
_"Everything's still the same,"_ he thought, feeling a strange comfort mixed with unease. _"As if time here has been frozen."_
He was just a few steps away from the end of the corridor, where he expected to find Mrs. Glinda, the housekeeper, waiting for him. But, to his surprise, someone else appeared first.
A young man, barely older than Harry himself, stepped into view. He looked about seventeen or eighteen, dressed in a striking red long-sleeved shirt that stood out vividly in the dim hallway. He was handsome, with a boyish charm in his face that softened his sharp, noble features. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw Harry, and he broke into a warm smile, rushing forward eagerly.
"Harry! You're back," he called out, his voice full of genuine excitement.
Harry dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Brother Alfie, " he replied, a hint of formality in his tone, though he returned the smile. The young man before him was Alfie, another son of Baron Ethan, though unlike Harry, Alfie was a legitimate child. Harry, on the other hand, bore the title of "illegitimate" wherever he went in this household, a constant reminder of his status.
"I came back some time ago," Alfie continued, studying Harry with an almost comical amazement, "and I tried looking for you, but all I heard were rumors that you'd gone off on some grand adventure or… had run away."
He paused, squinting slightly as he took in Harry's appearance. "It's only been a few months since we last saw each other. Have you… changed?"
There was genuine wonder in his voice, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. And indeed, there had been changes. When Harry had left, he'd been a frail, quiet boy, his frame thin and his spirit more shadowed than anything else. His skin had a sickly pallor, and his demeanor was withdrawn, almost as if he was trying to disappear into the walls. But now, he stood taller, his physique stronger, his face carrying a trace of confidence that hadn't been there before. He looked… alive, in a way he hadn't before.
Harry offered a modest shrug, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe it's because I've been working under Brother Reggie's command," he said lightly, the hint of a joke beneath his words. "It seems to have… toughened me up."
Al nodded, a dreamy expression crossing his face. "I heard the guards under Brother Reggie have to face all sorts of danger, even battling those wild orc tribes. That sounds… incredible." His tone was almost wistful. "I wish I could be there, fighting by their side."
There was a hint of regret in his voice, and he sighed, glancing away for a moment. "I've applied more than once to serve under Reggie, but Mother refuses every time. She says it's 'too dangerous.'"
Harry felt a mixture of amusement and disbelief rise within him. He studied Alfie's face, wondering if this was some elaborate act or if his brother truly didn't understand the reality of what he was wishing for. Alfie's enthusiasm seemed genuine, but it struck Harry as deeply naive, even reckless. Reggie was known for his ruthlessness, his ability to manipulate and break those who served under him, and if Alfie, Baron Ethan's beloved legitimate son; were truly to fall under Reggie's command, Harry was almost certain it would end badly.
Did Alfie really believe that Reggie, with his dark nature and brutal leadership, would spare him? The thought was almost laughable.
But Alfie's eyes sparkled with admiration and curiosity as he leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Harry, you must tell me… what was it like? The battles, the thrill, the enemies you faced. I've only ever heard stories, but I want to know what it's really like."
Harry obliged, recounting a few sparse details of his experiences. At first, he spoke with interest, but his patience wore thin as Alfie continued to prod, asking for every detail. He hadn't come here to indulge Alfie's fantasies about war and adventure. There were matters that needed attending to, and time was slipping away.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, a servant approached them, bowing slightly before murmuring something in Alfie's ear. Alfie nodded, a touch of disappointment clouding his expression as he turned back to Harry.
"Well," he sighed, "it seems you have business to attend to, so I won't keep you any longer."
Harry gave him a small, polite nod. "Thank you, Brother Alfie, " he said, managing a respectful smile. Inwardly, he felt relief as he watched Alfie step back, the young man's face still alight with a spark of admiration for a world he barely understood.
And as Alfie disappeared down the corridor, Harry took a steadying breath, pushing away the lingering frustration. He had come here for a purpose, and it was time to fulfill it.
Alfie hesitated, shifting his weight slightly. "We'll have a good chat next time we get the chance," he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.
"Next time, for sure," Harry replied, turning on his heel and striding purposefully into the hall, not looking back.
As he walked further away, the sound of Alfie's voice faded until it was nothing but a memory. Gradually, his own mood settled. He couldn't shake off the image of Alfie's innocent enthusiasm.
_"A woman like Madam Glinda raised such a naive boy,"_ he thought, a wry smile crossing his face.
After a moment, he entered a room, where a familiar voice greeted him.
"Good morning, Mr. Harry."
The words were polite but devoid of warmth, almost chilling.
Harry offered a casual shrug. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."
"It's no trouble at all," came the reply, as Madam Glinda turned around, her lips curling into a faint smile. "It's all Alfie's fault for wasting time."
She couldn't help but chuckle. "I think you're getting impatient with him."
"No, not at all," he replied, though his expression hinted at a different sentiment. "Al has such a pure heart; it's always a pleasant experience to be around him."
"Yes, he is pure," Madam Glinda sighed, her gaze distant. "But that innocence worries me sometimes."
She paused, then shifted the topic abruptly. "I heard Baron Senda's daughter eloped with someone?"
At that, Harry fell silent, the weight of the news settling heavily in the air. After a moment, he finally spoke. "That was quite an unexpected turn."
"Yes, an accident, really," she nodded thoughtfully. "If it were up to anyone, I believe they would want to avoid such a scandal, yet here we are."
After a brief silence, she looked at him directly. "Harry, there are several young ladies in my family who are nearing marriageable age. Would you be interested in any of them?"
Harry blinked, taken aback. _Marriage? Is that what this is about?_
The thought left him speechless. _They want to arrange a match for me?_
But that wasn't what he sought. What he needed was something far more substantial, something that could provide real benefit in this cutthroat world.
"Sorry, I'm not in the mood for that right now," he finally said, taking a deep breath. "Not after what happened to Miss Alice. I need time."
Madam Glinda's expression shifted, a hint of understanding in her eyes. "What you seek now is knowledge, I presume? The Aura Technique?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed, eager. "The subsequent Aura Technique is what I need most at the moment."
"Oh? The subsequent Aura Technique?" Her eyes sparkled with interest. "I thought Reggie had already taught you the complete technique."
"Not quite. There's more I need to learn."
She considered this for a moment before responding. "The Cecil family's Aura Technique is under Baron Ethan's control. I can't share it without his permission. However…" She paused, a sly smile forming. "If you're willing, I could offer you a Aura Technique from my own family."
Harry's interest piqued. "Really? What kind of Aura Technique?"
While he had already acquired the Aura Technique from Baron Senda's family, he understood the value of possessing multiple techniques. After all, in their world, more knowledge meant more power.
"I think you might find it quite beneficial," she replied, leaning slightly closer, her tone conspiratorial. "It could complement what you've already learned."
"That sounds intriguing," Harry said, his curiosity ignited. "I'd love to hear more about it."
Different Aura Techniques possess unique characteristics, making them invaluable not just for personal practice but also as references for others. Even if one doesn't train in them directly, their worth lies in the knowledge they provide.
"Don't worry," Madam Glinda assured him, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "This is a genuine Aura Technique that will help you become a knight."
She smiled, a mysterious air surrounding her. "I'm not like Reggie; I won't hoard knowledge. As long as you're willing to help Alfie, I believe you'll find this very beneficial."
After a while, Harry stepped out of Madam Glinda's room. He paused for a moment, looking back at the closed door with a calm expression that betrayed no surprise.
Her intentions were clear to him. _She's here to win me over._ He couldn't shake the feeling that she had heard about his situation, perhaps even the events surrounding Alice. It seemed like she saw an opportunity and seized it, just as Reggie would.
Their conversation had been filled with implications and promises, yet Harry knew from experience that many of those promises would take time to materialize, if they ever did at all. The Aura Technique she promised would likely take days to acquire, and he recognized the emptiness behind such assurances.
_False hopes._
With his face set in a calm demeanor, he turned and walked away, his thoughts already shifting as he returned to his previous room.
Having been away for months, he expected to find it in disarray. To his surprise, when he entered, the room was in the midst of being cleaned. A figure was bustling about, her movements quick and efficient.
As she heard his footsteps, she turned, her eyes widening in surprise. "Master Harry!" she exclaimed.
"Mariah," he replied, a genuine smile breaking across his face.
Unlike many smiles he wore, this one was authentic, warmed by the sight of the only true friend he had in this strange manor. When he had first arrived in this world, it was Mariah who had helped him adapt, offering her support and kindness.
"I've been gone so long," he said, glancing around the tidy room. "Why are you still here?"
"I was worried about you, Master Harry," Mariah replied, a hint of shyness in her voice. "I wanted to be here when you returned, so I've been coming to clean whenever I could."
Her face lit up with anticipation. "Now that you're back, will you leave again?"
"If nothing unexpected happens, I might not be returning often," Harry said, watching as hope slowly faded from her features. He felt a twinge of guilt and quickly added, "But would you consider coming with me?"
"Leave with you?" she echoed, surprised.
"Yes. There's a war raging outside. This area isn't safe anymore." He stepped closer, his voice steady. "If you want, you can leave with me. You won't have to stay here and endure this life any longer."
Without hesitation, Mariah nodded. "I would love that," she said earnestly.
There was no reason to linger in indecision. Staying here meant living as a lowly maid, vulnerable to the whims of others and often going hungry. The prospect of joining Harry, even if their future was uncertain, promised a better life than the one she led now.
In her heart, she knew: _There's nothing to hesitate about._