The sun was already up, yet the mansion remained quiet and still. No voices echoed through its halls. On the second floor, inside a small room, a bed had been neatly prepared with clean white sheets. Beside it stood a table stocked with basic medical supplies. George gently brought Soren into the room, and with his help, Soren lay down on the bed.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm just getting surgery, not dying. And don't say it again—I told you, I want to surprise my parents," Soren said to George, who was staring at him with teary eyes. "You looking at me like that makes me feel like I am going to die."
"Young master... I can't help it. My face isn't in my control," George replied, wiping his eyes quickly.
"Then go and help Sophie calm down. She's probably crying her eyes out," Soren said firmly.
George tried to protest, insisting he should stay by his master's side, but Soren didn't budge. His request was rejected, and George was gently ushered out of the room.
Now alone, Soren lay flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Thoughts swirled through his mind—what would life be like after this afternoon? And how would his parents—Zephyr's parents—react?
The door creaked open. Alfred stepped in, fully prepared: gloves, a mask, and protective gear covering him from head to toe.
Soren glanced at him, half-curious, half-annoyed. Despite this world feeling like it belonged to the 18th century, there were plenty of things that didn't match the timeline—like the surgical tools and equipment neatly arranged on the side table.
"So, boy—are you afraid?" Alfred asked as he began checking the instruments.
"No, I'm not. But don't mess up the surgery," Soren replied, his voice steady despite the nerves he kept buried beneath the surface.
"No need to worry. Everyone in my Depth has almost a 90% success rate," Alfred said as he picked up a vial and began preparing the anesthesia.
Soren looked at him with suspicion but stayed quiet.
"And I've never failed a surgery—not even once. So relax. I'm going to administer the anesthesia now," Alfred added with a reassuring smile.
"Even your smile is giving me the creeps, old man," Soren muttered, trying to ease his anxiety with a weak joke.
"Oh, and since it's me performing the surgery—and I've got a few tricks from my Depth—you'll recover in just two days," Alfred said, ignoring Soren's comment as he focused on his task.
Soren didn't reply. A storm of emotions swirled in his chest—fear, uncertainty, hope—but he said nothing. Moments later, the anesthesia took effect, and his vision slowly darkened.
Within seconds, he slipped into unconsciousness.
........
He woke up and saw that he was in his own room, surrounded by white pillows and soft light blue blankets. He tried to sit up but felt a little weak. His face lacked the liveliness it usually had, and even after waking up, he still felt tired. Finally, he moved his hand to pick up the bell to call the servants.
George and Sophie, upon hearing the bell ring, hurried to Soren's side.
'Young master, are you all right? Are you feeling well? Is anything hurting?' they asked in concern.
'Could you ask one question at a time? I can't answer all of them at once,' Soren replied with a sigh.
'We apologize, young master. Please forgive our impoliteness,' they said quickly.
'Help me sit up first,' Soren requested
They helped him sit up, and Soren pulled off the blanket—only to notice that his lower legs were missing. His expression darkened, and a gloomy silence settled over him. But crying over spilled milk was pointless, so he said nothing. His servants knew when to hold their tongues, and they remained silent as well.
"It seems the surgery was successful... How long was I unconscious?" Soren asked. His tone betrayed his sorrow over the loss of his legs, but he remained remarkably composed.
"Yes, young master. The surgery was successful. Lord Alfred has been waiting for you to awaken. You've been unconscious for two days."
"I see," he murmured with a sigh, then added, "Go call Lord Alfred."
Sophie left while George remained by his side. Soren was lost in his thoughts, his expression completely blank—no grief, no joy, no pain, no relief. Just nothing. He stared at the ceiling in silence, while George stood quietly beside the bed.
Suddenly, he asked George a question.
"Do you think I've changed?"
Then he shifted his gaze from the ceiling to look directly into George's brown eyes. The intensity sent a chill down George's spine.
"Be brutally honest," Soren said, his face blank and his eyes empt
"Young master, if you want the truth, then I'll tell you the truth. You've changed so much that sometimes I wonder if you're even the same person.
The old you was reserved, cold, aggressive, unreasonable, pitiful, and unlikable. You always wore the same expression—one that gave off a feeling of emptiness.
But the new you… you're different. You talk to others. You smile at them. You're not as withdrawn anymore. You show your emotions. You feel human—alive.
You give others a sense of warmth, of friendliness. And when problems come your way, you face them. You try to fix them instead of making them worse."
"Thank you. I think… somewhere inside, I wanted to hear that," Soren said with a smile, though his eyes remained just as empty.
Soon, Alfred entered alongside Sophie.
"So, boy, are you alright? And what about my fees?" Alfred asked with a teasing tone.
"Greedy old hag, is that the first thing you ask a patient? Anyway, when am I going to get my prosthetics?" Soren replied.
Don't rush. You're awake now—get some rest Princess Alfred said.
"No, I don't want to rest," Soren replied, determined.
"And don't you dare call me 'Princess' again," Soren said, throwing a pillow at him.