Henry answered without hesitation, as if the truth no longer hurt him. "I wasn't alone… remember? You're my partner."
The words fell between them like a stone dropped into still water. The silence rippled outward, stirring everything they had buried in their memory—memories tangled with shock and confrontation.
Suddenly, a faint smile appeared on Kayden's face, rare and almost foreign even to him. "I… remember everything now."
Henry looked at him for a long moment, his voice low, threaded with quiet concern.
"Are you really okay? Ever since Mother took you to church on Sunday, I've felt like something hasn't been right."
Kayden stood and leaned his back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment.
'Kayden almost died that day… just how clever are you?' he wondered. He slowly opened his eyes and spoke clearly. "I'm fine… I just feel a deep emptiness, like something inside me burned out. I feel like I'm draining myself little by little… but I'm fine for now."
Before leaving the room, he cast his brother a serious look.
"This week… I'll ask Adam about how abilities are truly formed. We can't keep guessing any longer."
Henry nodded quietly and returned to his notes, while Kayden closed the door behind him, as if the space between them held a heavy silence—yet one filled with unspoken trust.
After returning to his room and taking a shower, Kayden felt a brief sense of relief, as if the water had washed some of the day's weight from his body, granting him a single moment to breathe. He put on comfortable clothes and stepped into the quiet chamber with its tall windows, where candles melted slowly in brass holders, casting soft shadows across the smooth stone walls.
Colton sat near the fireplace, reading a book he had picked at random from the shelf, his eyes moving steadily across the lines without distraction.
Kayden turned off the main light, leaving only the flickering glow of the fire. He lay back on his ornately carved bed and let his body sink into the warmth and shadow.
Before sleep could claim him, Colton stopped reading and asked softly,
"My lord… why do you feel such intense boredom?"
Kayden opened his eyes and shifted onto his side to face him. Colton had always been the silent attendant—the loyal presence, the mirror that knew everything and revealed nothing.
Kayden sighed, his voice low and unusually honest.
"Alright… I'll explain, truthfully this time. So you understand why my world… was better than your dull one."
Colton raised an eyebrow with genuine curiosity.
"I can't really imagine that. In your world, not everyone can meditate. That sounds like a disaster."
Kayden suddenly sat up, leaning against the pillow, as if nostalgia had awakened him from within. The small room seemed to overflow with distant memories, pulling his heart toward a bittersweet comfort.
"I had many things that filled my time… things that distracted me and made the world feel vast and endless… I had a phone, too."
He finished simply, as if the last word were an attempt to grasp a fading memory.
Colton blinked slowly, the word passing over him like a strange breeze.
"And what is a phone?"
A small smile curved on Kayden's lips as he began to explain, his voice gaining warmth and clarity.
"A phone is a small device… something we hold in our hands. It has a screen, like a window that shows you everything. I used to read novels on it, watch movies and series, follow the news while lying on the couch or stretched out on my bed… everything reached me with the touch of a finger."
His voice grew more animated little by little, his words quickening like the rhythm of an excited heart.
"I could talk to my friends anytime, from anywhere. I took pictures of beautiful flowers and shared them. I listened to music. I dived into endless worlds. There wasn't a single moment of silence unless I chose it."
But at the end, his voice softened, as if nostalgia had turned into a quiet ache.
"And now… I have nothing but these candles." Kayden gestured toward them.
Colton looked at him, his eyes filled with wonder and gratitude.
"I'd like to experience that world… it sounds like a dream."
Kayden laughed lightly, then murmured in a tone that was sarcastic yet honest:
"My dear devil… it wasn't always wonderful. Sometimes it was exhausting… like being trapped by news, by details, by everything all the time. Every human eventually needs a vacation from their phone."
He paused for a moment, then added in a softer voice, staring at the ceiling of the old room,
"Looking at the world through a computer or phone screen… made it seem as though the world was still the same. Even if the image moved, it always stopped in the end. Beautiful or terrifying, vast or narrow—it was just a flash… just a peak in a million minutes of waiting. And all of it ended."
Colton remained silent for a moment, then whispered gently,
"I understand you now… everyone needs a break sometimes."
Kayden smiled faintly, though the weight in his expression never truly left. Barely audible, he said,
"But I still miss the songs…"
The next morning, everything in the room was still and quiet—except for the soft sound of footsteps approaching quickly.
The door flew open with relative force, and Henry stepped in with the lightness of someone accustomed to chaos, as if determined to shatter the sacred silence of a peaceful morning. He strode toward the bed, waving a brown envelope in his hand like a priceless treasure—an omen of a new day filled with movement and surprises.
"We have a day off work!" Henry announced brightly, as though declaring the end of a long war.
Kayden groaned from beneath the thick silk covers and forced his eyes open, as if dragged from a deep, heavy sleep. He stared at his brother blankly, his expression full of silent questions about this blatant morning intrusion.
"Henry… close the door, please…" he muttered faintly, turning his face toward the other side of the pillow, attempting to escape his brother's overwhelming energy.
But years of experience had taught him that Henry knew no mercy when he was in a good mood. With childish recklessness, Henry yanked the blanket off him, then grabbed his arm and pulled him out of bed with irresistible determination.
"Get up! No one sleeps on a day off! Breakfast is waiting, the sun is shining, and hope—well, no, there's no hope, but we have time!"
"I'd prefer time be killed without me," Kayden replied, clinging to his pillow as if it were life itself. "If you don't close the door, I will hit you."
Henry refused to surrender, standing firm as though challenging both sleep and morning at once.
At last, after a brief battle with his drowsiness, Kayden sat on the edge of the bed, his hair a mess and his eyes half-closed, while Henry handed him the letter he had brought.
Kayden opened it slowly, his gaze drifting across the lines as though swaying in a sea of words.
"We have an official holiday today. Therefore, please try to rejoice a little, move around, breathe—and perhaps… do not die of boredom.
— Ayrton."
Ayrton's handwriting was elegant as always—sharp-angled and carefully balanced in its structure—but it brought Kayden no comfort. He lowered the letter and spoke slowly.
"I don't understand anything… maybe if I go back to sleep, I'll understand later."
Henry took the letter from him with a light laugh. "It's a holiday!"
"Is that what they call a joke? I feel like the letter is threatening me to be happy under swordpoint," Kayden muttered, rubbing his eyes, his voice a mixture of sarcasm and exhaustion.
"Exactly. And therefore… breakfast now!" Henry clapped his hands loudly, as if the morning war had officially begun.
After reluctantly eating breakfast and drinking black coffee—the only thing that seemed capable of awakening what remained of his soul—Kayden returned to his room with slow steps. He quietly opened the windows, allowing the cool morning breeze to slip inside. The heavy curtains stirred as though breathing with him.
Kayden inhaled deeply, as if the fresh air washed something long lodged in his chest.
He pulled a chair forward, sat down, and began writing in a precise, steady hand. He did not write much; the words came directly, as though he were trying to organize his thoughts before they escaped him.
When he finished, he sealed the letter inside an envelope marked with his personal seal. Then he rang the small bell on his desk, announcing the beginning of a new chapter in his day.
Moments later, a servant entered—a man in his late thirties, dressed in formal attire, his posture straight. He approached with disciplined composure and stood before Kayden without speaking, as though silence itself were part of the household's strict ritual.
Kayden handed the letter to the servant and pointed to the address written in elegant handwriting.
"Make sure it's delivered to this address… personally," he said in a calm tone.
The servant paused for a moment, as if weighing the responsibility, then nodded with firm commitment before leaving the room in quiet, measured steps.
Kayden waited all day.
He sat by the window, watching the light shift slowly across the quiet floor, studying the sky, glancing at the door as if the reply might pierce through it on its own.
Mafilda looked at him and spoke firmly.
"Stop sitting like that. If you keep thinking about the letter, the reply won't come. Stop insisting. Nothing arrives quickly. Didn't I teach you that?"
Kayden murmured,
"That's true, but…"
"There is no 'but.' Come help me," she interrupted sharply.
He stood, lowering his head slightly.
"Is that an order?" he asked softly.
She smiled with an edge.
"Don't defy your governess. Don't be ungrateful."
Soon, Kayden found himself in the kitchen. Mary was speaking with his mother, Isabel, while on the other side Henry shaped pieces of dough and ate chocolate carelessly.
Without a word, Kayden began helping. He spent hours performing routine tasks, but each minute without news of the letter deepened his boredom—then irritation. He raised an eyebrow tensely as he checked his silver pocket watch.
Four-thirty.
"Ignored? Disrespect?" he muttered to himself, gripping the leather armrest of a chair. "Why did I come back to this chair?"
He wasn't used to being left suspended in uncertainty like this.
At five o'clock, a servant knocked lightly and entered, carrying a small envelope.
Kayden took it quickly, tore it open without patience, and read with eager eyes. The handwriting was poor—or perhaps his annoyance made it difficult to focus—but after a moment, he read clearly:
"Wait for me at the library at six."
He inhaled sharply and stood at once. He climbed to his room in swift steps and opened his old wardrobe with brass handles. From within, he took out an elegant black suit he had never worn before, carefully wrapped in silk.
He retrieved his favorite cologne and began preparing himself—
ready to go and disturb someone else, simply to pass the time.
"Kayden looks perfect." Kayden murmured to himself as he descended the marble staircase quickly, checking his watch without pause.
Before he reached the door, his mother stopped him. She was still wearing her kitchen dress, a teacup resting on a tray in her hands. A faint, surprised smile touched her face.
"Kayden, why do you look like that? Are you going somewhere important?"
Henry peeked from behind a hallway pillar, one eyebrow raised in equal astonishment.
"No, I'm just going out for a walk! And you—idiot—why are you standing behind that pillar? Are you being punished?" Kayden replied quickly, opening the door before more questions could fall on him. His steps were firm and swift as he left.
Henry remained frozen in place, speaking toward the door as it shut.
"Henry, don't move. You're punished. Didn't I tell you not to eat without permission?"
Kayden arrived at the library precisely at six. He paused to inspect his clothes, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve.
He did not wait long.
Adam soon appeared, walking calmly, faint traces of fatigue lining his face.
"Take me to an upscale restaurant, or I won't talk about anything," Adam said without preamble, as though they had already agreed to such terms.
They boarded a carriage and rode through the paved streets of the district. Evening light shimmered across the building facades while Kayden sat alert, watching every movement, every reflection of light—as if adjusting himself for whatever awaited him.
On the way, Adam broke the silence, staring out the window.
"Where did you get my address?"
Kayden lifted an eyebrow, his tone lightly laced with pride.
"I have my ways."
He pulled a small silk pouch from his coat pocket and opened it slightly, revealing calming pills he had obtained from Fiona. A faint smile curved his lips.
"This is what you want, isn't it? I'll give it to you after I ask a few questions."
Adam looked at him coolly, raising a brow.
"Before that… I'm hungry. Don't be rude."
The carriage stopped before the main entrance, and a servant opened the door for them with a measured bow.
Kayden entered first, Adam following behind. Adam showed little visible awe, but his sharp eyes observed every detail.
A waiter greeted them with a polite smile, his attention naturally settling on Kayden, who carried himself like someone entirely familiar with the place.
"A table for the gentlemen?"
"Damn you, showing off your money," Adam muttered before sighing. "Look at how he treats you. Unfair."
"Yes," Kayden replied simply.
The waiter led them to a table by the window overlooking a quiet street bathed in soft golden lamplight. Kayden sat down and slowly removed his glove, while Adam sat opposite him, one arm resting casually on the table, keeping his glove on.
Menus were placed before them, handwritten elegantly on thick, lightly scented paper.
Kayden looked at Adam and asked, "Do you prefer anything in particular?"