The soft sheet brushed against Kieran's skin; he felt the silk beneath him. Lying on top of the bed, he almost drifted off to sleep after that tea-time dessert.
He had eaten almost an entire tray.
Especially those moonlight snow cakes.
The skin of the snow cake was soft and smooth, like a delicate veil of starch. Soft fruit cream filled the inside, and the sponge cake melted like foam on his tongue.
To the point that Eric had to take the tray away from him.
"If he always eats like that, I won't complain in my life," Kieran said, tapping his slightly bloated stomach.
As he almost drifted off, his eyes wander off the room. He lay his eyes on until the desk that sitting near the window. The desk itself seemed empty, with almost nothing on it.
The cabinet of the desk was locked with a padlock, yet there was a symbol resembling a star, no keyhole or mechanism to open it.
Curiosity got the better of him. He approached the iron lock and examined it. The pattern glowed faintly where he touched it.
As Kieran moved it to the side, cracks appeared in each point of the star. Colors began to glow, each side a different hue, like stained glass panels.
Beautiful, yet full of secrets.
Kieran tried tapping it, hoping it might be code-based or some puzzle mechanism.
He pulled, but it held firm.
Standing there, he tapped hia feet to the marble floor, an idea formed. He could cut the cabinet in half, or make a hole to take whatever was hidden inside. Only the lock seemed complicated, not the desk itself.
Kieran went to the thick oak door and felt the heavy wood. He saw a servant.
"You there, fetch me a hammer."
The man flinched before complying, running as fast as he could.
After five minutes, the man returned, sweating, his previously neat hair falling into his face. He handed over the hammer
"Here you go, Your Highness." He said handed the hammer, his chest puffed up and down.
"Thanks," Kieran took the item, closing the door behind him.
The servant froze, realizing he might have made a huge mistake by giving a child a hammer, especially this child, Luke.
Behind the closed door, Kieran crouched in front of the drawer.
"You're a good desk, but now it's your time," he said, raising the hammer.
He stopped mid-swing.
Then a thought struck him. "Oh yeah, I could call a lock master first. I'm rich."
For a moment, he forgot that Luke was a prince.
He stepped back put the hammer on the desk. He walked and opened the door slightly to peek at the servant.
"Actually, could you call the master lock?"
The servant sighed in relief. "Sure thing, Your Highness. May I have the hammer back?"
"Nope."
"Alright."
While waiting Kieran returned to the desk and searched the unlocked drawers. Almost nothing useful was inside, except for a textbook he can't read.
Then, in a middle drawer, he found what he wanted: a money pouch.
His hand snatched it up and opened it. His eyes widened in shock. He gasped.
The pouch was filled with gold coins.
The shine nearly blinded him.
"I'll take this as compensation then," he said, giggling nonstop. Gaining a lot of gold in one night was exactly what he needed, especially for someone who survived only on instant noodles.
Not long after, a knock sounded at the door. Kieran quickly returned the pouch to the drawer.
"Come in," he said, his expression back to normal.
The door clicked open, revealing an elderly woman.
Her grey hair framed a face full of wrinkles, and she wore a white blouse with a loosely tied bow, a brown ankle-length skirt, and a dark blue vest that reached her waist, held by a belt. Her back was arched.
"It's an honor to serve you, Your Highness," she said, lowering her head in courtesy.
"Please stand up," Kieran said quickly; he wasn't used to seeing older people bow to him.
He stepped aside. "This is the lock that needs to be opened."
The woman walked closer, examining every detail of the lock with her fingers.
"Interesting… Your Highness, may I know where you got this lock?"
"I actually don't know the details," he admitted.
She smiled. "This lock is one of a kind. It's infused with the element of its owner and has a unique pattern to open it." She gently swung the lock and rummaged through her bag, searching for something. "Even in my 46 years of experience, it's the first time I've seen one like this."
She looked at Kieran with a gentle smile. "Your Highness, do you know how to use any elements?"
Kieran crossed his arms. "I don't."
She took out a monocle, its small gears catching the light. A small lever clicked as she pushed it down. The gears turned, and the lens darkened to black. She held it to her eyes.
Through the lens, she could see faint traces, though it had been years since the lock was last touched.
"Strange," she murmured. "It seems this can only be opened by its owner." She lowered the lever, returning the lens to transparent glass.
"And what happens if someone tries to force it open?" Kieran asked, wanting to know the consequences.
"I'm not entirely sure," she said, "but it seems it could shock you."
A chill ran down Kieran's spine. "So you can't open it?"
"Probably not," she admitted. "Unless I find the lock maker, the only person who likely knows how."
Kieran sighed inwardly.
"How long would that take?" he asked.
"Around a month, or possibly longer," she replied.
Kieran's shoulders slumped slightly. If it took too long, the hammer would be his next option.
"You may leave for now, but please inform me of any updates."
She packed her bag and nodded politely. "Certainly, Your Highness. If that's all, I'll take my leave."
Before exiting, Kieran called after her, "Wait, was this a custom-made lock?"
She only nodded.
"And how much would this cost, roughly?"
"Considering the complexity and materials… around 2,000 gold, perhaps."
Kieran felt as if a thunderclap hit his head. He almost like being slapped by a salmon.
How could someone just throw away that much money?
Luke really was a trust-fund kid.
Oh wait, he is the trust-fund kid.