Whispers and Wounds

20 Minutes Ago – Valentine Mansion

The shadows stretched long across the hallways of the Valentine estate, where a small group of slaves whispered quietly in a secluded corner.Their faces reflected a mix of awe, fear, and confusion.

—"Did you see Elisa and Richard's boy?" asked Cristina, arms crossed, brows furrowed.

—"No, I didn't. Which one are you talking about?" replied Ofelia with a puzzled frown. "And... why do you bring him up?"

Gregoria, a middle-aged woman with a face weathered by years of servitude, leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone:

—"Oh, you don't know? I'm talking about the younger one—the twelve-year-old. That boy actually stood up to Lord Henry...And"—she paused, smirking with a touch of mischief—"he's not ugly anymore. Believe me, if he keeps it up, he's going to grow into a real heartbreaker."

Ofelia raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

—"Seriously? The younger one?" she gasped. "He really looked... less grotesque?"

At that moment, Olbert—a serious-looking slave with tired eyes—approached the group cautiously.

—"Sorry to interrupt, but truth be told, Lady Patrice couldn't take her eyes off him."He hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words."Even calmed Lord Henry when he tried to harm the boy... and when I looked closely... I saw something in her eyes."

—"What did you see?" Gregoria asked, visibly unsettled.

—"Lust," Olbert muttered, a chill running down his spine.

The group fell silent for a long moment.

—"Yeah... that w—" Barto stopped himself, closing his eyes in frustration and letting out a long sigh."Sorry. Lady Patrice... she seems to have taken an interest in the kid."

His tone darkened.

—"You guys... don't remember young Carl, do you?"

In a nearby hallway, a delicate-looking girl froze mid-step.She had been listening unintentionally, and the name "young Carl" struck a chord deep within her chest.

From afar, she had seen the boy they were talking about—the one who had fearlessly stood up to Count Valentine.He reminded her of someone from her hometown.Someone who had also refused to bow to authority.

Driven by a growing curiosity, she stepped timidly toward the group and asked with a soft but determined voice:

—"Who was Carl?"

The slaves turned quickly, surprised by the unexpected interruption.Upon recognizing her, Cristina exhaled in relief.

—"Ah... it's just you, Karen. For a second I thought it was someone else. I forgot you're new around here."She cleared her throat and looked at Barto."Tell her."

Barto nodded solemnly.

—"Young Carl was older than Sam... about twenty years ago, people said he was the most handsome slave in the entire Valentine estate.He was around nineteen at the time."

Karen listened attentively, eyes wide.

—"Then," Barto continued, "Lady Patrice took an interest in him. She made him her personal assistant... just like she wants to do with young Sam once he comes of age."

Karen felt a shiver crawl down her back.

—"A-and what's... so bad about that?" she asked, her voice trembling.

This time, Olbert answered, his expression grim.

—"Carl was strong. Good build. But after Lady Patrice made him her assistant, he began to fade fast.He looked pale, hollow-eyed... and within a few months, his condition was awful."

Gregoria looked away, lips tight.

—"He fell ill... and never recovered," Olbert finished dryly, avoiding everyone's gaze.

Karen stood frozen, her hands trembling slightly.She didn't understand why they all spoke in half-truths and implications.In her mind, the only explanation was that Lady Patrice had made him work too hard—until his body gave out.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm.She needed air.

She turned and began walking quickly toward the exit—but then paused.She turned back to the group, gave a slight bow, and whispered:

—"T-thank you... for telling me."

Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off.

The slaves watched in silence until her silhouette disappeared into the dark hallways.

—"I think the girl didn't really get what you meant," Barto whispered to Olbert, half amused, half concerned.

Olbert scoffed, tired.

—"What was I supposed to say? That Lady Patrice is basically a succubus?"

Barto let out a dry chuckle.

—"I get it. If we said things like that out loud, we'd all be dead tomorrow."

Ofelia crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

—"Alright, enough gossip. Let's get back to work before Miss Dussia reports us to Lady Patrice."

The murmurs slowly faded, and one by one, they returned to their tasks—But the air still carried a lingering, quiet unease.

***

Private Hospital in Kyoto – Overcast Afternoon

Room 807

The silence was thick—almost liquid.

Only the constant beeping of the heart monitor broke the air.

And she stood at the edge of the bed.

Alice.Hair perfectly combed—though her trembling hands gave her away.Her blue eyes gleamed, not with light—but with guilt. With memory. With him.

And all she could think was...

"Ha... what a joke... The magazines call you the most beautiful man alive... but that's just the surface, you stupid idiot...You trusted a woman like Liliana. Why? Why the hell... Why did you have to be sincere? A sensitive jerk...Why do you have to be like this—when you're the best person I know?"

Her thoughts were a storm.And even now—wrapped in bandages, burned, broken, face expressionless—he still looked like art to her.

Brian.Trapped in a deep sleep.His chest slowly rising and falling, as if his soul still hadn't decided whether to stay or leave.

Alice stepped closer.

Her trembling fingers brushed against one of the bandages.

She peeled it back slowly, as if the slightest touch could shatter him further.

Beneath it, the skin was new... and ruined all at once.

A map of pain.

—"Damn you... even after being struck by lightning... you're still so beautiful..." she whispered, her voice cracking at the end.

She sat down on the edge of the bed.

Her fingers traced softly over his scars—his chest, his shoulder, his neck.

Each scar was a confession he never voiced.Each burn, a word she never dared to say.

—"I've known you my whole life... I remember playing with Spike, when my sister used to take care of you...Brian, why didn't you tell me?Even when you chased me all the way to Houston after Spike died..."

Her lips trembled.

She wanted to cry.She didn't.Even though the tears were already there, brimming in her eyes.

Instead, she leaned in slowly...

And rested her forehead against his chest—seeking shelter from the pain that wouldn't let her sleep.

—"You chased me, stood by me, supported me...Please, Brian... don't leave me alone... I need you, idiot... so please... wake up."

Her hands clenched tightly into her skirt, holding back the urge to touch him more.

But then she looked up.

And let herself give in.

She caressed him.

Touched him as if it were the first time—Like that one time before the exchange program.Like touching him now could bring back that magical past.

Her breathing grew shaky.

Her lips trembled, holding in words that burned more than the scars she was tracing.

—"If you open your eyes...I swear I'll never leave, even if you try to push me away... because...You'll always be my first."

The room gave her only silence in return.

But then...

His fingers twitched.Slightly.

As if he'd heard her.

As if—despite being unconscious—his body knew she was there.

And for the first time since she'd entered the room...

Alice let a tear fall.

Silent. Slow.

And absolutely real.

She lowered her gaze—

And quietly left the room.