The mansion stood on top of the western hill, far from the narrow streets where I learned to survive. It was possible to see it even from the city center, a building too large to seem real, with light-colored walls, tall roofs, and wide windows that reflected the sky. For years, that place had been only part of the landscape, something I ignored because I knew I would never set foot there.
Until now.
We stopped in front of the iron gate. It was open, as if it had been waiting for us forever. Even so, none of us moved immediately.
Elara was the first to break the silence. "It's… big."
"Is that a technical observation?" I asked.
She smiled, but there was something nervous there. "I'm trying to process it."
Liriel observed everything calmly, her eyes scanning the façade with genuine curiosity. "I don't feel hostility here. Only… space."
Vespera crossed her arms. "Space requires maintenance."
I laughed softly. "Of course you would think of that."
I walked first. Every step felt wrong, as if I were invading a place that did not belong to me. The gravel under my boots made a sound that was too clean. Nothing creaked. Nothing threatened to collapse.
When I pushed the main door, it opened without resistance.
The interior was even more silent.
The hall had a high ceiling, supported by simple but solid columns. Thick rugs covered the floor, and the smell was of clean wood, not old dust. It was not an abandoned place. It was a prepared place.
"This doesn't look like an improvised reward," Elara commented.
"Because it isn't," I replied. "The king does nothing without thinking."
We explored slowly. Each corridor led to more doors than necessary. Large rooms, windows that let the light in effortlessly, furniture that seemed too new to have been used before.
When we reached the bedroom wing, everything became stranger.
There were four main bedrooms. Each with a bed far too large for just one person.
Elara stopped in the middle of the corridor. "Is this intentional?"
"Probably," I replied.
Liriel tilted her head. "They didn't hide anything."
Vespera entered one of the rooms and examined everything carefully. "If this were a trap, it would be more subtle."
I chose the room at the end, with a view of the garden. I opened the window and let the air in. Down below, the city seemed distant. For the first time, I couldn't hear the constant murmur of the streets.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
The mattress sank under my weight, too soft. For some reason, that was what bothered me the most.
Elara appeared at the door. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know," I answered honestly. "It's just… strange."
She came in and sat beside me. "You always complained about the inn."
"Yes, but it made sense. This doesn't."
She laughed lightly. "Maybe that's why."
Later, we gathered in the main room. None of us seemed to know exactly what to do. There was no mission. No urgency. Just time.
Liriel broke the silence. "We lived for a long time reacting. Now, we are still."
"And that bothers us," Vespera added.
I nodded. "I spent years thinking that if I stopped, everything would fall apart."
Elara rested her chin on her hand. "But it didn't."
Not that day.
We spent the afternoon exploring the mansion without hurry. We found a small library, a dining room far too large for four people, an inner garden that still needed care. Each discovery reinforced the same feeling.
None of that had been built for someone like me.
When the sun began to set, I went to the garden and sat on a stone bench. The sky was orange, and the wind carried the distant smell of the city.
"Thinking too much again," Liriel said, sitting beside me.
"Maybe." I looked at my hands. "Until recently, I had nothing. Now I have this."
"This doesn't erase what you were," she replied.
"But it changes what they expect from me."
She stayed silent for a few seconds. "Expectations don't define who you are. They only show who is watching."
Vespera and Elara joined us shortly after. We stayed there, in comfortable silence, watching the night fall.
When we finally went to sleep, I walked to my room with slow steps. The bed still seemed too big. I took off my boots and lay down without turning off the lights.
The white ceiling told me nothing. No familiar cracks. No comforting noises.
I closed my eyes anyway.
For the first time since I arrived in this world, I was safe.
And that scared me more than any monster.
Because, looking at that silent mansion, I understood something with uncomfortable clarity.
Doors like those do not open without charging something later.
And I still didn't know what the price would be.