With a soft sigh escaping my lips, I called for Abigail, asking her to assist me in washing my hair.
She then helped me rise from the tub, wrapping me in an oversized towel that enveloped me like a comforting cocoon.
She reached for another thin, worn towel to dry my hair, the fabric nearly transparent.
Letting out a wistful sigh, she hesitated before speaking. "I might be out of line saying this, but you have twelve soul marks, and yet not a single one has manifested. I hope you find them soon, so you can escape this abusive life, Young Master."
I nodded slowly, a lump forming in my throat as her words hung heavy in the air.
In the original story, Eiden was marked by only one soul mark, Kael's, but it had been revealed as a mere imitation.
Aria, the Saintess, bore the genuine mark, sparking a tragic chain of events that led to Eiden's demise, ultimately orchestrated by Aria herself.
Why did I awaken to find myself branded with so many soul marks?
Were these destined connections only meant for me because this world somehow recognized me as a separate soul from Eiden or were they somehow meant for Eiden as atonement for the injustice he faced in the original novel?
After dying my hair the best she could, she started to dry my body before letting out a gasp in horror.
I notice she does that a lot. A bit dramatic, but I guess that is what happens when you choose a teen as your personal maid.
"Young Master, you have what appears to be whip marks on the back of your calves!"
I turned to inspect the damage. I wasn't that surprised when I saw the grotesque scars alongside fresh wounds on my calves. It was more evidence of the punishment that Eiden must have suffered in silence.
This revelation made sense of the oversized pants that had been my only cover, designed to hide my suffering as the Duchess is in charge of managing the money that comes into the Dukedom, meaning she is the boss who approves the funds to buy clothes for everyone in this estate.
"I'm so sorry," Abigail said, her eyes brimming with tears as she felt sorrow for my plight.
At that moment, although she was a bit dramatic, I recognized the value of her empathy.
She seemed like a good girl, one who might prove loyal to me as I prepared to reclaim my place in this household.
With care, she picked up the black oversized shirt and pants from the bed and helped me change. The black shirt draped loosely over my frame and the baggy black pants provided a sense of comfort.
"Now for shoes!" Abigail chirped, delight lighting up her features.
But then I surveyed the oversized boots in front of me, and a wave of amusement washed over me. How had the Duchess and Lucien been so oblivious to my lack of proper footwear during our earlier meeting?
Like a sad kitten, Abigail's expression turned sad and said "These shoes...they're all too big..."
"Skip it." I said simply.
I was ready to go out from my room. While getting dressed, I already decided that in order to change Eiden's fate, I must completely shatter the script.
I wasted enough time in the North Wing lazing around. It is time that I pay a visit to my family.
With newfound determination, I stepped out of my room.
All of the maids bowed deeply, fear evident in their shivering forms.
The atmosphere shifted, and I felt bone setting confidence seep into my soul as proof that fate can change was right in front of me.
The maids changed from bullying their rightful Master to following their Master even if it was fear that was binding them in place.
With a small grin, I walked barefoot through the halls as I made it to the South Wing.
The moment I crossed the threshold into the opulent dining hall, I felt their stares pierce through me like daggers.
The rich aromas of honey-glazed meat, freshly baked buttered bread, and a symphony of spices swirled around the room, but the chill of five scrutinizing gazes weighed heavier upon my skin than any iron shackle.
Their eyes flickered toward me, startled, then confused, before sharpening into a collective glare that held its own unmistakable menace.
I had not been invited.
Yet here I stood anyway.
My bare feet danced across the cool, smooth marble floor as I made my entrance, the morning sun cascading through the towering arched windows, splattering gilded rays across the formidable dining table that stretched before me like the blade of an executioner's sword.
"Eiden." The Duchess's voice slithered across the expanse of the table, smooth and treacherous, reminiscent of poison syrup.. "How delightfully bold of you to grace us with your presence this morning."
Her smile, seemingly sweet, held lethal undertones, while she cradled her teacup delicately, as if it were a precious gem.
Vespera Constello, the esteemed lady of the house, a viper cloaked in pearls and satin, elegant yet deadly.
Two seats down, her eldest son, Lucien, sat rigidly, his posture resembling that of a stone statue. His jewel-violet eyes flicked toward me, narrowing into slits, a mute warning that sent an electric jolt through the air.
I returned his glare with a smile, razor-thin and sharp enough to cut.
"I woke hungry." I stated to no one in particular, not really caring to face the Duchess to reply to her.
It wasn't a lie, of course but I came here for something more important. To see the dynamics of this family, and change them.
My stomach knotted not only from hunger but also from anxiety that I tried to drown out. But I would not let them recognize that anxiety. Especially not now.
The Duke, an imposing figure at the head of the table, lifted his gaze from the newspapers spread across the table's surface. For the briefest of moments, his dark violet eyes met mine.
His expression betrayed nothing, no irritation nor approval but something lingered in the depths of his gaze, hiding behind an impenetrable mask.
The Duke said nothing, merely gesturing with a dismissive flick of his hand toward an empty seat far down the table.