Chapter 5: A Frost in the Air
Kai awoke that morning with a dark cloud hanging over him. Gone was the sleepy warmth that usually lingered in his eyes; instead, a chilling distance filled his gaze. His usual half-smile had been replaced by a cool, indifferent expression that left his household—and particularly Edward, Noah, and Charles—in quiet dread.
From the moment he set foot in the dining room, it was clear something was different. He barely acknowledged his three devoted attendants as he took his seat, his gaze focused somewhere distant, as if the room itself was a mere illusion. Edward, ever the observant butler, noticed the tension immediately and exchanged a brief, concerned look with Noah and Charles.
"Good morning, young lord," Edward greeted him, carefully setting down a fresh cup of tea by his side. He waited, poised and expectant, for the faint smile or nod he was used to. But Kai didn't respond. He barely glanced at the cup before he picked it up without a word, taking a sip as if he were entirely alone.
"Are… you feeling well?" Charles ventured, his voice quiet, his gaze hopeful as he waited for even a small response.
Kai continued sipping his tea, his eyes cold and unseeing. He didn't look at Charles, didn't even seem to register his voice. It was as if they weren't even in the room.
Noah's tentacles twitched, coiling under his sleeves as he clenched his fists. This wasn't right. Kai was warm, gentle in his own distant way, never mean or dismissive. His kindness was a constant that they all clung to. Yet here he was, looking at them like they were nothing more than air, his expression unreadable and far from the relaxed warmth they'd all come to treasure.
Throughout breakfast, Kai continued his silence, his attention focused entirely inward. It was as though an icy wall had risen around him, shutting everyone else out. Every attempt to reach him, every effort to catch his eye or offer him comfort, was met with cold indifference.
Edward cleared his throat, leaning in slightly. "If there is anything troubling you, my lord, we are here to assist," he offered softly, hoping to break through whatever barrier Kai had built between them.
But Kai merely shifted in his seat, setting his teacup down with a cool clink. He glanced at Edward with a look that was both bored and distant. "I don't need anything," he said, his tone flat and dismissive. His voice carried an unfamiliar chill, and for the first time, he seemed more like a stranger than the easygoing lord they had all fallen for.
The words cut through each of them, leaving them at a loss.
The morning dragged on, each of them following Kai through the routines of his day, yet remaining unacknowledged and, worse, unseen. Their hearts ached with a quiet desperation. They had grown so used to basking in his gentle attention, to feeling the warmth of his presence, and now it felt as if that warmth had been snatched away.
Kai spent most of the day sequestered in his study, and when they tried to bring him anything—snacks, a fresh cup of tea, or even just a book he might enjoy—he dismissed them with a wave of his hand or a curt shake of his head. At one point, Noah dared to brush his hand against Kai's arm, an attempt at connection, but Kai stepped away as if even the touch was unwelcome.
Hours passed, and the distance between them felt as vast as an ocean. For the first time since they had come together in Kai's mansion, Edward, Noah, and Charles felt a painful helplessness.
It was Edward who finally broke the silence between the three of them. They were gathered outside Kai's study, watching him through the slightly ajar door as he stared blankly at a pile of documents.
"I don't understand what's happening," Edward murmured, his voice heavy with frustration. "He's never acted like this."
Noah nodded, his gaze dark with worry. "It's like he's… somewhere else. Somewhere we can't reach."
Charles shifted uncomfortably, his nine tails brushing against the floor as he lowered his head. "Maybe… maybe we did something wrong? Maybe he's upset with us?"
The possibility was painful to consider, and each of them felt the sting of it. Had they somehow failed him? Had their devotion, their quiet pact, been in vain?
But then Noah's tentacles twitched, coiling tighter. "No," he said firmly, his voice thick with resolve. "We've done nothing but serve him, care for him. If something has driven him to this, then it's something we have to help him with. We're his protectors. If he's suffering, we have to find out why."
Edward nodded, his jaw set. "Agreed. No matter what it is, we'll stand by him. This… coldness—whatever it is—it doesn't change our duty."
With that resolve in place, they continued their silent vigil. They watched over him, brought him food he never touched, and offered comfort he never acknowledged. Each of them grew more desperate to understand the reason for his change in mood, yet Kai continued to ignore them, his face unreadable, his manner distant.
But as the day drew to a close and the last rays of the setting sun filtered through the windows, a change flickered across Kai's face. As he sat in his study, bathed in the fading light, they saw the slightest tremor in his usually calm expression. There was a heaviness in his eyes, a moment of vulnerability that seemed to slip past his defenses.
It was a small, fleeting moment, but it was enough.
Edward stepped forward, speaking softly. "My lord… if there's anything troubling you, if there's something you need to say… we are here."
For a long, agonizing moment, Kai didn't respond. He seemed frozen, his gaze locked on the wall ahead of him. But then, just as the silence grew unbearable, he let out a sigh—a deep, weary breath that seemed to carry with it a weight he had been holding all day.
Without looking at them, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just… needed some space."
The words were simple, but they cut to the heart of his loyal attendants. They understood, in that moment, that Kai's coldness hadn't been born out of anger or disdain. It was something else—something heavier, something he had been carrying quietly. It was a reminder that, for all his gentle warmth and oblivious charm, Kai had his own burdens, his own struggles.
The three of them shared a look, a silent understanding passing between them. They had been so consumed by their own need to protect and possess him that they had forgotten that even someone as bright as Kai needed a moment to himself.
In the end, they did the only thing they could do: they gave him the space he needed, but they remained close, watching over him from afar, ready to offer their devotion the moment he would allow it once more.
As night fell, the distance between them felt a little less vast, the silence a little less cold. And though Kai still held himself apart, the three of them understood that they would wait, as long as it took, for him to return to them.