Life flowed as it always did, unyielding and indifferent, waiting for no man. The passage of time carried with it an inevitability that no one could escape.
Seasons shifted seamlessly, painting the world in ever-changing hues.
Spring's tender greens gave way to summer's bold golds, autumn's amber leaves were swept away by winter's icy touch.
Yet, amidst these changes, people remained tethered to their routines, trudging through life as if on clockwork.
At the Marcellus Manor, the passage of time felt heavier, as though the weight of history pressed down on every wall, every creak of the floorboards. Each room hid its own secrets, every hallway echoing with the weight of unspoken truths. For those who lived inside, life continued in its carefully maintained rhythm, no matter the turmoil that brewed beneath the surface.
Lucien and Jane returned to the manor every holiday, their presence as fleeting as the seasons they came with. They stayed just long enough to remind everyone of their existence before leaving again, retreating to their separate lives far from the manor's oppressive atmosphere. Their relationship with the family remained as fractured as ever.
Jane's bitterness toward Noah ran deep, her contempt palpable, while Lucien's emotions remained an enigma. His actions were unpredictable, and his words were often as sharp as his silences.
Noah watched them come and go; their absence was both a relief and a source of deep loneliness. His days stretched long and empty, filled with Evelina's biting words and the weight of his own insecurities. His previous maid, Bell, had left suddenly, without even saying goodbye. It had felt as though the fragile thread of warmth in his life had been severed. She had been his companion, and her absence stung more than he dared admit.
It felt like a cruel confirmation of what Evelina had always reminded him: Perhaps he really was a troublesome child, a burden no one wanted to bear.
The new maid assigned to Noah was distant, her interactions curt and impersonal.
Evelina's outbursts became more frequent, her frustration spilling over onto Noah whenever she felt the need to vent her anger. With John often away or busy, Noah bore it all in silence, unwilling to complain. Instead, he learned to disappear into himself, to nod and obey, to make himself as small and silent as possible.
Madam Evelina was right— he was the problem.
He carried his bruises and pain, tucking them away beneath long sleeves and soft smiles. If he were less of a nuisance, maybe things would change.
Since then, his days grew quieter. He rarely spoke, keeping his head down, his presence as muted as the soft shuffle of his steps through the manor.
John, however, remained oblivious to the changes. Noah, in front of his uncle, was always the cheerful child John liked to dote on. The child smiled, cuddled, and talked brightly. John was like an oasis in a dry desert to Noah. His savior.
Contrary to that, John's heart always ached whenever he was with his nephew. That boy was too fragile and delicate, too trusting of people.
He knew he could not shelter the boy in his shadows forever. It terrified him how easily the world could hurt the child.
Soon it was time to send Noah to the academy. John thought it was for the best. Noah needed to be around other children, to make friends and learn to navigate the world on his own.
The day Noah left for the academy was bittersweet. John watched with a heavy heart as Noah boarded the car, his small figure disappearing behind the door. The boy looked back briefly, offering John a shy wave before the car began its long journey to his new life.
The ride to the academy felt both endless and fleeting. Noah kept his eyes glued to the window, his crimson gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. The campus loomed like a city of its own, a maze of interconnected buildings that seemed to stretch on forever. Students bustled about, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Noah watched them with fascination, pressing his hand against the glass as though trying to reach out and join their world.
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be one of them. For him to laugh and talk freely, to have friends who cared for him. The thought was ridiculous, tinged with the knowledge of how different his reality had been.
But the dream was fleeting. A sharp throb in his wrist pulled him back to the present. He winced, pulling his sleeve down to hide the purplish bruises that circled his wrist like a cruel reminder. Yesterday had been another one of Evelina's bad days. Her anger had been swift and unrelenting, leaving its mark on him as it always did. He sighed softly, clutching his sleeve tightly. There was no use dwelling on it now.
The car finally came to a stop in front of the dormitory. Noah stepped out nervously, adjusting his wrinkled clothes and brushing off invisible dust from his sleeves. The sheer size of the campus was overwhelming, but he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.
This was his chance to start over, to make friends and find a place where he belonged.
It had taken weeks of pleading with his Uncle to allow him to room with others.
John, although reluctant at first, had eventually relented to the boy's earnest desire.
Now, standing before the door, Noah wondered if he had made a mistake.
His heart pounded as he reached for the handle, his fingers trembling slightly. "What if they don't like me?" he whispered to himself.
He shook his head, trying to banish the thought. "At this rate, I'll be alone forever," he muttered, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Gathering every bit of his courage, he pushed the door open.
Inside, three unfamiliar faces turned toward him, their conversation halting mid-sentence. Noah froze in the doorway, his crimson eyes darting nervously between them.
"Umm… Hello," he said softly, his voice trembling. "My name is Noah. I'll be rooming with you all."
For a moment, the silence stretched, the weight of their stares pressing down on him. His hands fidgeted at his sides as his legs threatened to give way beneath him.
Had he interrupted something important? Were they annoyed with him already?
Then, one of the boys with big doe-like eyes bounded toward him, his brown hair bouncing with every step. He stopped just short of Noah, grinning widely.
"Finally! We were wondering who'd complete the room!" the boy said cheerfully. "Hi, I'm Silas! Happy to meet you!"
Before Noah could respond, another boy stepped forward. He was quieter, his demeanor gentle and his voice soft. "Welcome. I'm Jude."
The third boy smiled slightly, his sharp features giving him a mischievous air. "I'm Dorian. Hope you're not too noisy." His tone was teasing, but there was a warmth beneath it.
Relief washed over Noah like a wave. Their smiles and easy introductions eased some of his nerves, and he offered a small, shy smile in return. "It's nice to meet you all."
Just as the tension in his chest began to lift, a shadow fell over him. The door he had left ajar creaked slightly, and he felt a familiar presence behind him.
"Already making new friends, I see," a calm, low voice said, smooth and steady.
Noah stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Lucien leaned against the doorframe, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room. His presence was magnetic, sending a ripple through the group.
Noah turned around, startled. "…Brother Lucien?"
Standing in the doorway was a figure Noah recognized instantly but hadn't expected to see. Silver strands of hair shimmered in the light from the corridor, like a stream of moonlight. Golden eyes, sharp and unrelenting, met his gaze with a casual smile.
Noah had to strain his neck to look up at him. In the few months they had been apart, Lucien had grown much taller, his voice deeper.
His sudden presence caught the group off guard, the air in the room seeming to still at his arrival.
"I should have come to meet you at the entrance," Lucien said in a measured tone, his voice smooth yet distant. "I apologize for the oversight."
Noah blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before dipping his head slightly in a rush. "There's no need to apologize, Brother. You must have been busy," he replied, his voice soft and trusting.
Lucien's eyes remained fixed on him for a moment longer, studying him with the same veiled expression he always wore. "Even so, I should have ensured your arrival was properly managed."
Noah shook his head in denial, his hands gripping the straps of his bag.
"I trust the accommodations are sufficient," Lucien continued, his words formal and clipped, leaving little room for conversation.
Noah nodded quickly, offering a bright and shy smile. Lucien's gaze remained plastered on him, sharp and observant, as though searching for something unknown.
The room's occupants, who had been chatting only moments earlier, now stood frozen in silence, their eyes darting between the two. The lighthearted energy had evaporated, replaced by an air of cautious curiosity.