Stepping out of my room, I'm struck—again—by the sheer scale of the manor. The corridor stretches far beyond what logic insists should be possible, disappearing into the distance like a horizon trapped indoors. Even the grand staircase seems to defy reason, its upper and lower reaches swallowed by shadow.
For a moment, I simply stand there. "...Yeah," I mutter. "This definitely isn't a dream." Dreams fall apart when you examine them too closely. This place doesn't. Every carving, every pillar, every light fixture feels painstakingly consistent, as though generations of architects had devoted their lives to creating something impossible.
'My subconscious isn't nearly this talented.'
Maria walks ahead with the confidence of someone who's lived here her entire life. I follow, trying not to stare too obviously at my surroundings. She suddenly stops beside what appears to be an ordinary section of wall. At least...
...until it silently slides open.
An elevator. I hadn't even noticed the outline hidden within the ornate panelling.
'Sneaky.'
The interior is surprisingly luxurious. Dark fabrics line the walls, accented by polished gold trim. One side is occupied by an absurd number of buttons—far more than any normal building should ever need. Maria presses a sequence without hesitation. The doors close.
"...How many floors does this place have?" I ask. She glances at me, amusement dancing in her sapphire-blue eyes. "Depends how you define 'floors.'" I raise an eyebrow. "That wasn't an answer." She smiles. "Neither was the question."
Touché.
Moments later, the doors open. Or perhaps they never moved to begin with. I blink. I didn't feel acceleration. No vibration, no shift in balance, nothing. 'I didn't even notice it moving.' Waiting outside is a man standing with impeccable posture.
His head is cleanly shaven, whether by age or preference I can't tell. His dark skin bears only faint signs of age, while his calm gray eyes quietly assess everything around him without ever appearing intrusive. If I had to guess, I'd place him somewhere between forty and fifty years old.
Then again...
Something tells me appearances might be deceiving in this family. "Good morning, Young Master," he says with a respectful nod. "Your father is expecting you." Maria gestures toward him. "Theo, this is Malik Adeyemi. He's new." I incline my head politely. "Butler?"
A faint smile touches the corners of his mouth. "And bodyguard." He pauses. "Depending on the day." I nod slowly. 'Definitely more bodyguard than butler.' There's a stillness about him. Not the stillness of someone relaxed. The stillness of someone prepared. Someone who could move in an instant if necessary. 'A professional.'
We continue walking. For a while, only our footsteps echo through the endless corridor. Eventually, Maria leans closer. "Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?" The answer comes naturally. "The difference between inherited intelligence and cultivated insight." Her smile widens. "Good. Most children our age can't even remember what they had for breakfast."
"Most children our age also aren't living inside a building that appears to ignore geometry." She laughs. "Grandfather says the mind adapts faster than the body." She looks ahead. "Especially when it's forced to." I glance sideways at her.
"Your grandfather studies things that warp causality." She blinks. "That's not adaptation." I look back down the hallway. "That's inviting consequences." Maria stares at me for a second before smiling again. "...You really don't talk like a kid."
"Neither do you." I shrug. "And I certainly don't feel like one." She nods enthusiastically. "Honestly? The other kids are way too slow." I can't argue with that. Before long, we arrive outside a pair of enormous double doors. Malik opens them without ceremony. Inside stands a man who somehow commands the room without saying a word.
Richard Rich.
He's tall and broad-shouldered, carrying himself with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to responsibility rather than authority. His light brown skin contrasts with dark hair streaked naturally with silver. His eyes immediately capture my attention. One is a warm golden-brown touched by crimson. The other is a cool silver-blue with hints of emerald green.
They're unusual. Striking. When he notices me, his face immediately softens into a warm smile. "Theodore." His voice is deep and reassuring. "Come here." I step closer. Only then do I notice the small bundle resting comfortably in his arms. Richard carefully adjusts the blanket before looking back at me. "This," he says proudly, "is your younger brother." He smiles. "His name is Alvin."
Alvin.
For just a fraction of a second...
...my heart skips a beat.
The baby opens bright cerulean-blue eyes. A tuft of midnight-blue hair sticks out from beneath the blanket. Then he giggles. Something stirs deep inside me. It was not a memory, and neither was it recognition. Just...
Warmth.
Comfort.
Something strangely familiar. Richard chuckles. "I think he likes you." Before I can protest, he gently guides my hands into position, showing me how to support the baby's head. I awkwardly take Alvin into my arms. He immediately settles against me, tiny fingers wrapping around one of mine. "...Huh."
He's...
Surprisingly light. The room's peaceful atmosphere lasts exactly twelve seconds. The door opens again. A short, round man rushes inside. He is completely bald, sports a greying moustache, and wears a white lab coat covered in suspicious food stains. His sharp little eyes dart nervously around the room. "Mr. Rich." His voice is tense. "I need a word."
Richard frowns. "It can wait." The man hesitates, "...It's about the Conflict Energy." Everything changes. The warmth disappears from Richard's face. His smile fades. Concern replaces it almost instantly. After several seconds, he exhales. "...Very well." He turns toward us, forcing a reassuring smile.
"Maria."
"Theodore."
"Watch over Alvin for me."
"I won't be long."
As Richard leaves with the scientist...
...something feels wrong.
A strange pressure builds behind my eyes. Nothing painful but plain pressure. The world... hesitates for lack of better phrasing. Time doesn't stop. It doesn't slow down. It simply...
...stutters.
I look down at Alvin. He giggles. Then, the sound repeats. Not another giggle. The exact same giggle. An echo. For a single impossible instant. The pressure vanishes. Everything returns to normal. But I continue staring at Alvin. Because somehow...
Without understanding why...
I know. Something has already begun to unravel.