Waiters in the waiting room

Now echoed different sounds the clinking of metal utensils, the squeaking of shoes over polished tiles, a faint hum of servants exchanging orders and glances. Above it all, Carlos sat at the edge of a long bench in the back kitchen, his head resting on his palm, sighing as if his breaths carried the burden of past centuries.

His face was slightly tense, with two permanent lines above his brows from thinking or as he liked to call it, "a philosophical contemplation of the absence of meaning." But in truth, he was depressed. His master Valerian's absence from the palace for several months now, ever since he was sent to Novastra Academy, made him feel like an abandoned servant… or rather, like a cat whose owner had left him behind with empty dishes.

"My God, I watered the plant three times this week instead of just once…" he muttered to himself as he stared at the decorative plant Valerian had once planted in the corner and told him in a passing tone, "Don't let it die. It doesn't ask for much just water… and not to be disturbed."

Carlos shook his head. "I'm disturbing it with my emotions now, aren't I?"

From the other side of the room, Maria, one of the maids, had been watching him for the past fifteen minutes. She whispered to her colleague: "I think Mr. Carlos… is ill." The other replied wickedly, "No, he's in love. In love with his handsome master!" They both giggled softly, but fell silent the moment Carlos released a new sigh that sounded like it came from the depths of a well.

Then, as if summoned by fate or bad luck the kitchen door burst open, revealing Edric, Alexis's servant, with his confident stride and annoying smile.

"Oh my God, this scene again?" Edric said, extending his arms as if greeting a play he'd seen a hundred times, "Sad Carlos, mourning his beautiful master. Shall I bring you a lace-embroidered handkerchief? Or would you prefer a pillow to scream into?"

Carlos slowly raised an eyebrow. "Edric… I haven't seen you since the last time you caused an explosion in the kitchen because you thought yeast was a magical powder for summoning spirits."

"Lies and slander!" Edric shouted, taking a dramatic pose, "That was part of an artistic experiment! You don't understand art, Carlos, because you're a slave to routine and regulations!"

"And you're a slave to chaos and nonsense, Carlos replied, then looked at him for a second before adding sarcastically, "Did your master Alexis send you to check if I've turned into a puddle of tears?"

"On the contrary, I sent myself to witness your mental collapse. It's entertaining. I think I'll write a novel about it, titled: Servant Without a Master, Heart Without Life."

"You'll fail as a writer just as you failed as a baker." "At least I have ambitions, you mop of sorrowful hair."

They looked at each other. Silence. Then both burst into laughter.

"Oh, how I hate you," Carlos said with a faint smile. "And I adore your hatred for me," Edric replied, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, offering him a piece of bread from his pocket. "I brought this from our kitchen. It's cold and tough and full of disappointment just like your life right now."

"Thanks for the accurate description. I'll consider it an insult wrapped in bread." "You're welcome. So what's really bothering you, you unlucky soul?"

Carlos hesitated a bit, then said while staring at the bread as if it were a window to another world: "The palace was different with Valerian. Quiet… but alive. He used to pass by the library every morning, give me just one look and it held a thousand words that didn't need to be said. Now… everything feels mechanical. Silent."

"You miss him." "I miss the order. The energy he brought. No one here can create that mix between effort and joy."

"Strange… that sounds exactly like Alexis, but reversed. Alexis combines apathy and intelligence." "And what about you?" "Me?" Edric raised his arms proudly, "I am the walking glory. Without my master, his life would be boring."

"And probably shorter." "Ha! A jab at my sword?" "A jab at your constant desire to pretend you're a swordsman when you can't even slice cheese without cutting your finger."

They both laughed again, and this time their laughter caught the attention of the other servants. One whispered: "You know? I think Carlos is okay… as long as Edric is around."

After an hour of shifting conversations between sighs and weird bread metaphors, Edric decided to drag Carlos out of his deadly routine.

"Let's go to the servants' quarters. Maybe you'll find comfort among the blankets."

Carlos looked at him slowly: "Did you forget what happened the last time we went there? Lisa thought we were intruders and hit me with a broom."

"And she was right. You look like someone who steals potatoes from storage." "And you look like someone who sells souls in back alleys."

"But I'm handsome." "Like the pain that comes after eating spoiled food."

They reached the door of the personal servants' quarters, an old wooden door painted in faded white, as if time itself decided to pause in front of it. Edric opened it without knocking, as he always did, revealing a chaotic mix of reality and mockery.

The first thing that caught their attention was the caricature-like scene in the far-left corner of the room: Lisa, Claire's personal maid, asleep on a small bed, curled up like a pampered cat. Her face relaxed, her mouth slightly open, and a soft snore coming out as if she were composing her own lullaby of absolute comfort.

"Is… is she asleep?" Edric asked, staring at her in disbelief.

"More than asleep. She's in a state of inner peace I believe can only be achieved after a pact with a higher being." "Or after serving someone like Claire, who will never need you." "I envy her." "I envy her pillow."

But their moment of sarcasm was suddenly interrupted by a soft movement in the opposite corner, something like a shiver. They both turned to find another servant sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, hands trembling.

It was Thomas, Raine's servant.

His face was pale, his shoulder wrapped in an old bandage that looked like it hadn't been changed in days, and his eyes were lost as if searching for an exit from an endless nightmare.

Carlos frowned immediately and bent down slightly to get a closer look. "Thomas? Are you okay?"

Thomas slowly lifted his gaze and smiled a distorted smile closer to crying: "Is… is this a dream? Or am I going back to his room again? Will the bell ring now? Will… will he throw books at me?"

"My God…" Carlos muttered in concern as he got closer, "Where's the doctor? Has anyone seen you?"

"No one sees. I'm a ghost. A servant of ghosts. A servant of hell..." Then he covered his face with his hands, mumbling: "I hate this. I hate this job. I hate my life. Why me? Why not someone else?"

And before Thomas could finish his emotional breakdown, Edric jumped forward with a sarcastic smile, squatting in front of him as if observing a rare animal.

"Oh, look who we have here! The great servant of Raine, the hero who survived the paper cup attack yesterday, and the murderous stares this morning! How brave you are, Thomas!"

Carlos stared at him coldly. "Not the time for sarcasm, Edric."

"But it's exactly the time for sarcasm! If we don't laugh now, we'll cry later. Besides… this man has a flair for drama that surpasses even Raine himself."

Thomas, still trembling, raised his head with a hoarse voice: "Are… are you laughing at my suffering?"

"I laugh at everything, Thomas. Even at myself. Life in this palace is like a bowl of soup on a winter day: hot at first, then suddenly turns into frost." Then he pointed at Lisa sleeping and said: "Look at her! A maid… living in an eternal dream. Her lady only asks for tea and pillows. And you? Raine asks you to rearrange books by their color, mood, and the planet's position in the sky!"

"Don't forget the corner angle!" Thomas cried, as if recalling a terrifying memory, "He once told me the corner's angle affects the flow of energy…!"

Carlos muttered, placing his hand on Thomas's shoulder: "You need to find a way to rest. Raine may be a genius, but he's… not entirely human."

"He's a demon, Carlos. A demon wearing a human."

"And maybe you're the victim of some dark ritual we don't yet know about," added Edric with a smile, "But at least… you're still alive, right?"

Thomas looked at them, then at Lisa, then whispered: "I want to be reborn. In a family far from here. Or become a tree."

Edric burst out laughing: "Magnificent, a servant asking to become a tree! That deserves to be written on the palace gate!"

The silence that followed Thomas's breakdown and Edric's mockery didn't last long.

Suddenly, the woolen blanket in the corner shuddered, followed by the sound of snoring that turned into a soft gasp, then a slow rising of lazy limbs. Lisa opened her eyes halfway, her blurry gaze wandering across the room until it settled on Edric, who was staring at her as if he'd discovered a new continent.

"What…? What is this nonsense?! Why are you all here?! And why am I here?!"

Carlos said calmly, "Welcome to reality, Lisa."

Edric added, "Welcome to the servants' room. Or as we call it: the official madhouse."

"Servants' room?" Lisa looked around in bewilderment, "Ah, damn... I thought I was back in my suite. I just assumed the bed was stiff, didn't imagine it was literally wood."

Thomas mumbled, "Servants' wood... tougher than their fate."

Lisa frowned, then quickly ran a hand through her hair and shouted: "You! You idiots! Why didn't you wake me up?!"

"You looked at peace. We didn't want to ruin that," Edric said, clapping slowly, "You were like a statue of the goddess of ultimate rest."

"And you dared to see me like this?!"

"Believe me, we've seen worse. We just watched Thomas have an existential collapse a minute ago."

"That's not worse. That's normal," said Thomas, then added, "I live in a state of constant collapse."

Lisa looked at him in surprise, "Oh... your face looks like you came out of a tragic novel."

"I'm living it, not reading it." Then he curled up again, whispering: "Edge corner... edge corner…"

Carlos sat next to Lisa and said gently: "We all go through things. Servants to masters from another world, almost. Why don't we take this as a rare opportunity? Let's talk... about our lives. Honestly."

"Ah, a philosophy session? Nice," said Edric, pulling a worn pillow and sitting cross-legged, "Let's crush each other's hopes. Who starts?"

Lisa raised her hand: "Me? I have the best life here. My lady is cold, her requests are limited, her mood is stable, and the best part? She's not even in the palace! I'm living in paradise."

Carlos muttered, "You're living in a five-star hotel disguised as servitude."

"But it's boring!" Edric shouted, "I live on the edge! With Alexis, every day is an adventure: maybe we'll get stabbed, maybe poisoned, maybe he'll blow something up! No time for boredom!"

Thomas raised his trembling finger: "I don't live. I just breathe. Raine… he doesn't talk. He stares. And when he talks… he speaks in riddles. And when he commands, it's things only he understands. Once, he asked me to put a book on the pillow because he said, 'thoughts rest during sleep.'"

Carlos sighed and looked up at the ceiling: "And I… Valerian. The embodiment of effort. He doesn't order much, doesn't shout, doesn't punish. But he's present in everything. Like his eyes wander through the whole mansion even when he's not here. Serving him... feels like living with a noble ghost. Scary, profound, and inspiring."

"Oh, how poetic of you, Carlos!" Edric said, placing a hand over his heart, "Do you love your master?"

Carlos looked at him with deadly stillness: "I respect him. Deeply."

Lisa laughed: "You respect him deeply? Sounds like a repressed love confession."

Thomas shook his head, "I don't respect Raine. I fear him. Big difference."

Edric said, thinking for a moment: "You know? We're not just servants. We're… mirrors of our masters. Thomas lives in chaos because Raine is a non-human ball of chaos. Carlos reflects because Valerian speaks rarely. And me? I scream, laugh, make noise, because Alexis dances on the tune of madness itself. And Lisa… well, she sleeps because her lady loves the night."

"And is that a good thing?" Lisa asked.

"Not good… but it's real. At least we're not fake."

A silence fell. Each of them drowned in thought.

Then Lisa said quietly as she placed her hand behind her head and leaned against the wall: "I think… I'm lucky. But I'm starting to feel guilty about it."

Carlos smiled softly: "Don't feel guilty. Just… share your blanket from time to time."

Edric muttered: "Or biscuits."

Thomas raised his finger again, eyes teary: "Can… can I sleep here tonight?"

Lisa nodded: "Just don't get near my pillow."

They all laughed, this time genuinely. Strange how servants worn out by life, found solace in a cold basement, in a forgotten servants' room, amidst exhaustion and memories.

And despite their different masters, one thing united them:

They lived in a world not theirs, served people unlike them, and laughed in the shadows… because the light, simply, wasn't for them.

But still, they laughed.