Soon, a new day dawned.
His back no longer hurt, but the moment he caught sight of the scars etched across his once beautiful skin, bitterness welled up inside him.
'Did that maid have a cursed mouth?
She said my back was smooth… and now it looks like this.'
With a quiet sigh, he slipped into some simple clothes and decided to step outside for fresh air. Ever since that maid had been sent to prison, no one had come to attend him. He had been left to do everything alone.
Even his meals hadn't arrived.
Because of that, he had gone to bed starving the night before.
Now, as soon as he woke up, his stomach protested loudly. He rubbed it absently, feeling strangely exhausted just from missing a single meal.
After changing into loose, comfortable clothes that didn't cling to his skin, he thought he was ready. But when he glanced at the mirror, he froze.
A complete disaster sat on top of his head.
"Fuck! I forgot I have long hair."
He cursed without thinking, then stiffened.
It took him a few seconds to remember, he was supposed to be an eight-year-old child. Those words definitely didn't belong in the mouth of someone his age.
"I have to be careful, I shouldn't curse," he muttered.
He stared at his reflection, wondering what to do with the mess.
'Easy. I'll just cut it.'
He rummaged through the table drawers, but there was nothing sharp enough. Defeated, Henry lazily gathered his hair and tied it with a ribbon instead.
"It's ugly," he said flatly to the mirror.
"Should I ask Martha to help me? But what if that fu- duke punishes her for it? Tch… I should just kill him."
He hissed under his breath and turned to leave the room, only for the door to open from the outside.
"Ah… Young master. From today onward, I will be your personal maid. My name is Neila."
A beautiful woman bowed deeply, her voice polite and composed.
Even though Henry knew this was normal, he still couldn't get used to elders bowing to him. It felt wrong. Uncomfortable.
"Thank you," he said. "Can you help me tie my hair?"
A few minutes later, he stared at the mirror again.
His long black hair was neatly tied into a high ponytail, framing his delicate face. The crisp white, long-sleeved shirt, properly buttoned, now brightened his complexion. His brown eyes shimmered softly, almost enchanting.
He couldn't deny it.
He Kinda look a lot like that mean bastard too...
Maybe it was the eyes...
Even if the man was rotten to the core, Henry had to admit the truth. The duke was a handsome, domineering, middle-aged man on the outside though scary and disgusting as fuc-...
Unlike him, however, the duke kept his hair short though. Henry was the only male in the mansion with hair this long. Though he had noticed the healer, Arthur, also wore his hair a little long it was not this long.
"Neila," Henry said, still looking at the mirror, "can you cut my hair short? It's getting in my way."
She froze.
Surprise flickered across her face, followed by hesitation. Cutting a noble's hair was not a small matter. Still, after a moment, she nodded.
"I will follow any order you give, young master."
"Thank you. Then can we do it now?"
He touched his neatly tied hair, irritation clear on his face. He truly wanted it gone.
"I'm sorry," Neila said softly, "but you'll need the duke's permission."
'Ugh! Then I'd rather suffer with this every day. I am pretty sure the duke wouldn't let me do whatever I want...'
Henry already kind of gave up on the idea for the time.
"No need," he said, waving it off.
As he turned away, he didn't notice Neila quietly releasing a breath of relief.
So thinking back to what to do...
Henry didn't have any concrete plans yet.
First, he needed to understand this world, its rules, its dangers. Only then could he figure out how to survive peacefully.
When he stepped out of his room, he nearly collided with someone, who Henry seconds later recognised to be Ricarda.
She seemed to have come looking for him. A food basket rested in her arms, while Martha followed behind with another.
"We're going to the garden to have breakfast," Ricarda said naturally. "Why don't you join us?"
Henry stared at Ricarda, who he felt like was talking like she practiced speaking to him...
She sounded nervous...
Henry felt a little better because he felt someone's kindness even though might be fake, after so long...
It wasn't the hunger driving him. He realised this was a good chance to begin developing a friendship between them. Obviously he couldn't waste this invite.
But...he wasn't sure if others would be okay with it.
Like that mean bastard...
"Is it really okay?" he hesitated. "What if the duke-"
"He left for business," Martha interrupted.
"He won't be back for two weeks."
'Yes!'
That was enough.
And, Henry followed them.
Martha and Neila spread a mat over the grass and laid out the food. They were in an open field surrounded by rose bushes.
Crimson blooms blanketed the greenery, creating a breathtaking view.
For a moment, the food was forgotten.
"It's beautiful," Henry murmured. "So peaceful."
When Ricarda handed him a sandwich, he couldn't hide his happiness. This garden felt like another world entirely.
The mansion itself was grand and luxurious, but to those who lived inside, it was nothing more than a prison in hell.
'I understand now why grandma said that not every house is a home...'
"I thought you disliked the outside world," Ricarda said quietly. "But this isn't the real outside though. Life beyond these walls is harsh. You might not even understand it."
She continued.
Martha and Neila sat beneath a tree some distance away, deliberately giving the two children space. They believed these siblings would need to rely on each other in the future.
"From the way you speak," Henry said seriously while chewing, "you've experienced a lot. I don't really know anything about the outside world."
Henry really didn't.
Unnoticed by them, their conversation carried the weight of adults, two souls shaped by trauma, hidden inside young bodies.
"I see," Ricarda replied after a pause. "You really do look like a noble. Someone who have only experienced wealth."
He did. Because he was one, right?
And with that, Henry's refined features and flawless skin spoke of privilege and careful upbringing. Anyone could see it.
He was polished by noble's standards.
As their conversation slowly died down, but the unfamilairity slowy dissappeaeing too, Henry felt comfortable with the company and he guessed she did too from the way she is smiling, handing him everything she brought.
She was honestly nice.
'She and Henry would have become the most adorable sibilings if they got along...'
Henry smiled at her and shared everything, the lines between the two children slowly getting crossed as acceptance of each other made them closer.
'She is nice...And I hope he stays nice. Maybe nothing will go wrong ever. It was all because of the real Henry was a bad person.'
Henry could now proudly say though.
He and Ricarda are definetely friends.
It's just one shared meal together but, it is still a win that they are smiling, full and happy.
So...it is a win.
And a progress.
So,
'I feel good. I can survive here.'