Chapter 4- Tranquility

The greenhouse stood like a jewel on the manor's eastern grounds, its intricate glass structure catching the sunlight and refracting it into a kaleidoscope of colors.

Inside, the air was warm and fragrant, carrying the mingling scents of freshly watered soil and blooming flowers. Rows of plants stretched across the space, each one more exotic than the last.

Orchids in shades of violet and white cascaded down from hanging baskets, their delicate petals glistening like silk. Nearby, crimson roses climbed intricate trellises, their velvety blossoms so vibrant they seemed to glow. Ferns with frilly leaves created a lush carpet of green, while pots of rare blue lilies added a touch of cool serenity to the vibrant display.

Despite the beauty of the flora, the maids moving through the greenhouse barely spared a glance at the plants.

Their focus was on the elegant table placed in the center of the greenhouse and the three figures seated around it.

The table was a vision of refinement, covered in an ivory lace cloth that flowed like a gentle stream. Silver platters displayed an assortment of delicacies: dainty tarts crowned with slices of golden peaches, flaky croissants stuffed with almond cream, airy macarons in pastel shades, and miniature cakes adorned with candied flowers.

A crystal bowl held berries so plump and red they looked like polished jewels, while a porcelain dish showcased crisp butter cookies dusted with powdered sugar.

Steam curled from a silver teapot at the center of the spread, the fragrance of fresh tea mingling with the sweetness of the greenhouse. Fine china cups painted with delicate floral designs waited beside the dishes, catching the sunlight with their glossy surfaces.

Seated around the table were three young nobles who seemed entirely at ease amidst the splendor.

Lucien, with his sleek silver hair and piercing golden eyes, sat with perfect posture, a book resting lightly in his hand. Though his gaze appeared to skim the pages, there was a subtle sharpness in his expression, as if he absorbed far more of his surroundings than he let on.

Across from him, Theodore leaned back lazily, his arm draped over the back of his chair in a manner that was both casual and commanding. His jet-black hair caught the light as he smiled, revealing a fox-like charm that seemed to dance in his eyes. He reached for a tart, his movements unhurried as he enjoyed the scene around him.

Kevin, sat with a composed air, his blond hair grazing his shoulders as he sipped from his teacup. His icy blue eyes flicked between his companions and the maids in the room, his cool gaze betraying little of his thoughts.

Together, they formed a striking tableau, their refined manners and commanding presence making them the focal point of the greenhouse.

The maids moved around them with silent efficiency, their eyes darting between their work and the young nobles, careful not to disturb the serene yet charged atmosphere that surrounded the trio.

"I can't believe winter vacation is almost over," Theodore sighed, reclining lazily in his chair. "The thought of returning to the Academy is absolutely dreadful. All those boring lectures and restrictive rules…" His words trailed off as he picked up a pastry, examining it absently before taking a bite.

Lucien's golden eyes flicked up from his book for a brief moment, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I'd imagine the Academy would be far less dull than this," he said, his voice calm yet edged with subtle amusement.

"Is that so?" Theodore drawled, his tone skeptical. He arched a brow, giving Lucien a half-lidded stare that bordered on disinterest. "You sound unusually optimistic today."

Lucien gave no reply, instead turning a page in his book, his expression unreadable. Theodore's gaze shifted to the intricate cover of the book, curiosity flaring.

"Speaking of which, what is it you've been buried in lately? That book hasn't left your side all week," he remarked, tilting his head slightly, his dark eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher its secrets from afar.

Lucien paused, his fingers brushing over the embossed patterns on the leather cover. "Ah, this?" he said softly, tilting the book just enough for Theodore to catch a glimpse.

"Yes, that," Theodore pressed, leaning closer.

Lucien's lips curled into a subtle, almost mocking smile. "I think it's about life."

"You think?" Theodore repeated, raising an eyebrow. He leaned even closer to peer at the book.

"What the—? It's completely empty!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief.

For the briefest moment, Lucien's golden pupils seemed to tremble, a flicker of something unspoken flashing across his face. But it vanished almost instantly, replaced by his usual sly smile. He closed the book with a soft snap and leaned back in his chair.

"Well," he said smoothly, "life is meaningless anyway."

Theodore clicked his tongue in irritation, falling back into his chair with a dissatisfied grunt. "Here I thought it was something interesting," he muttered.

Kevin, who had been quietly sipping his tea, set his cup down with a faint clink. His icy blue eyes glanced toward Theodore, disapproval evident in his gaze. "You'd do well if mind your own business for once," he reprimanded curtly.

Theodore shrugged, brushing off Kevin's words as he reached for another pastry. The conversation drifted into other mundane topics as the three boys continued their afternoon in the greenhouse, their words blending with the distant hum of their surroundings.

The maids of the Marcellus manor moved with deliberate care as they worked in the vast, enchanting garden.

The estate's grounds, renowned for their beauty, demanded constant attention, and every flower, hedge, and cobblestone reflected their tireless efforts. Yet, today, there was a heightened sense of urgency in their actions.

Master John Marcellus, the enigmatic head of the household, was walking the garden paths with a young boy at his side—his newly discovered nephew.

Whispers about the boy's origins had already spread among the staff, fueling intrigue and speculation.

However, the maids kept their thoughts to themselves, fully aware that the slightest lapse in their work would not go unnoticed under their master's watchful eyes.

The blooms were adjusted to face the sunlight, stray leaves were whisked away, and the fountains were polished until they shimmered. Each maid felt the weight of unspoken expectations, and though John Marcellus said little as he walked by, the subtle intensity of his expression was enough to keep them on edge.

The boy, however, seemed unaware of the tension. He trailed behind his uncle, marveling at the vibrant flowers. His quiet exclamations of delight added a layer of innocence to the scene, a stark contrast to the rigid discipline of the maids.

The soft crunch of gravel beneath their shoes echoed gently as John and Noah strolled through the sprawling garden. The air was fresh, scented faintly with lavender and roses, and the golden sunlight filtered through the branches of ancient trees, casting dappled shadows on the marble paths.

John walked with a relaxed yet purposeful stride, his hands clasped behind his back. His dark crimson eyes surveyed the surroundings with a mixture of pride and fondness.

Beside him, Noah trailed a step behind, his small hands clasped together nervously. His gaze darted from one vibrant flower to the next, lingering on the delicate movements of a butterfly that flitted between blooms.

John glanced down at the boy, a faint smile touching his lips. "You know," he began, his voice warm but measured, "This garden has been here for over a century. Every head of the Marcellus family has contributed something to it. My grandfather added that rose arbor over there." He pointed to a stunning archway covered in red and white roses.

Noah nodded quietly, his lips pressed together as he listened intently. He didn't respond, but his wide eyes followed John's hand as it gestured toward the various features of the garden.

Taking the boy's silence as a sign of interest, John continued, his voice softening.

"And over there, the koi pond. My brother….uh..your father was the one who suggested adding it. He was so fascinated by the fish as a child. He'd spend hours watching them."

At the mention of his father, Noah's steps faltered slightly. His gaze shifted to the pond, where orange and white koi glided gracefully through the water, their fins catching the sunlight like molten gold.

Noah's gaze lingered on the pond a moment longer than usual, his hands tightening slightly around the hem of his shirt.

John's eyes softened. He decided not to press further, sensing the boy's unease. Instead, he turned his attention back to the path ahead. "It's a peaceful place, isn't it?" he remarked. "You can come here anytime you like. This garden is as much yours as anyone else's."

Noah's eyes widened slightly at the words, and for a brief moment, he met John's gaze. There was a flicker of gratitude, but it was fleeting, and the boy quickly looked away again.

John resumed walking as Noah trailed after him, his footsteps a little less hesitant now. Though he didn't say much, there was a faint sense of ease beginning to replace his initial tension.

John, noticing the subtle change, allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. He wasn't sure if he could ever fully bridge the gap between them, but for now, this was a start of a shared moment.

"This was a start of a shared moment." Lucien read aloud, his voice low and smooth, carrying a musical quality. He closed the book slightly, running a thumb along its delicate spine. His gaze returned to the figures below as the words lingered in the air, weaving into the tranquil atmosphere.