Chapter Sixty-One: An Hour of Peace

After I climbed to the second floor, my steps were heavy with exhaustion, but something about the thought of food gave my body a bit of energy. I headed toward the kitchen, located at the end of the corridor, adjacent to the noble Valis Raymond's chamber. This part of the castle was more organized and cleaner, with luxurious carpets covering the floor, muffling my footsteps from the echoes that accompanied me elsewhere.

I stood before the heavy wooden kitchen door and knocked three times in succession.

"Knock... knock... knock..."

I didn't wait long, as the door was promptly opened from inside with a near-military discipline, revealing a large man wearing a traditional white chef's hat. His face bore some wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, but his taut skin and broad shoulders showed he wasn't old—rather, middle-aged, young in build but wise in his gaze.

He spoke in a calm, low but confident voice:

"What do you want?"

I stood firm and placed my hand on my stomach:

"I'm hungry... do you have some food?"

He looked at me for a few seconds, with a gaze like that of a leader before issuing a verdict, then nodded and said:

"Of course, come in."

I entered the kitchen quietly.

The kitchen was large—a long rectangular room filled with polished wooden tables, scattered with knives, cutting boards, and shiny copper pots. In the corners were shelves full of dried herbs, bags of flour hanging by thick strings, and spices scattered around emitting different scents. In one corner stood a large stove radiating warm heat, with a big pot emitting an incredibly delicious aroma.

The scent of the soup filled the place like a perfume awakening the senses—a mix of cooked meat with vegetables and spices, as if each flavor whispered its name into the air.

The cook said without turning, moving with an unexpected lightness for someone his size:

"Sit on that chair over there... I'll bring you some soup and bread."

I nodded gratefully, then went to the single chair near the round table in the center of the room. I sat while my eyes roamed the place, like a child in a world of warmth and aromas.

After a few moments, he placed before me a deep bowl of soup, steam rising from it like stories being told, and next to it a piece of fresh bread, still warm.

I couldn't wait.

I grabbed the spoon, dipped it into the soup, and lifted it to my mouth.

The moment the flavor touched my tongue, I felt as if I were coming back to life.

The soup was rich, tender, perfectly balanced—not salty nor bland, but like a gentle melody playing inside me. As for the bread, it was soft inside and crispy outside, just as it should be.

I didn't speak.

I just ate.

...

After finishing my plate, I looked up at the cook, who was busy washing some dishes, and said:

"Thank you for the food... it was truly delicious."

He smiled without turning and said as he wiped a dish with a cloth:

"You don't need to thank me... I'm just doing my duty."

His words were simple, yet carried a kind of warmth.

I stood up from the chair, feeling a strange lightness, as if the food hadn't just filled my body but soothed my heart as well.

...

As soon as I left the kitchen, I still felt the warmth clinging to my breath, the delicious soup's aroma still dwelling at the edges of my senses. Before closing the door behind me, I turned to the cook and asked:

"How much time until dinner?"

He lifted his head from the large pot, wiped his forehead with the edge of his sleeve, and replied:

"About half an hour. After that, the nighttime meal begins, and then the new guard shifts start."

I nodded in thanks and made my way to the dimly lit corridor. I passed by Lord Valis Raymond's room without hearing a sound from inside, and continued toward the stairs leading to the third floor.

I had nothing to do during these thirty minutes, and a strange feeling came over me—I needed to breathe a different air... an air higher than the ground... closer to the sky.

My steps climbed slowly until I reached the wooden door leading to the third floor. I pushed the door gently, and a beautiful scene opened before me.

A solemn silence.

The sunset's light leaked through the tall stone columns, casting golden lines on the cold floor. The air here was different... pure, cold, with a flavor reminiscent of snow covering trees in the heart of winter.

I stood still for a moment, unsure how to describe what I saw. Everything here seemed motionless... as if the castle itself was breathing quietly.

I looked around and saw Marcus standing on the northern side, his sword hanging at his waist, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Knox was on the southern side, standing in his usual silence, as if part of the wall itself.

I approached the railing overlooking the outside and stood there.

The cold wind brushed my face, but it wasn't harsh. It was like a calm invitation, its whispers filling my ears as if saying: Take your time... breathe.

Perhaps this was the first moment I felt true calm since arriving in this world. No sound, no worry, no doors slamming shut, no strange noises in the dark... just me, the sky, and the wind.

But, as beautiful moments tend to do, it didn't last long.

"What are you doing here?!"

Marcus's voice rose, but his tone carried genuine warmth.

I turned to him and said with a light smile:

"I have half an hour before my shift, so I thought I'd get some fresh air."

Marcus laughed and said:

"But shouldn't you be getting ready?"

I raised an eyebrow in surprise:

"Getting ready? How does one get ready for a shift in a stone corridor where nothing moves?"

He came closer and said in a slightly serious tone:

"I mean mentally, my friend. You never know what might happen. Maybe enemies decide to come tonight."

I replied with light sarcasm, placing my hands on the railing:

"Don't remind me... last night was true horror, even though no one came."

He looked at me in surprise:

"What do you mean?"

I sighed and began to tell him what happened.

I told him about the footsteps, the door that closed on its own, the shadow I didn't understand, and the fear that overwhelmed me... then the surprising end—it was a small gray cat.

I told the story as it was, with all the details.

When I finished, Marcus chuckled softly and said:

"So that's what happened... a cat."

Then he added, placing his hand on the railing:

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit? I mean, why didn't you consider that it might just be a cat?"

I looked at him with a mixture of seriousness and sarcasm:

"How can I do that? We're in a new world, everything is possible. That cat could have been a monster, a shapeshifter, or even a disguised person."

He nodded but said nothing.

At that moment, Knox approached with his usual calm. He joined us without a word, so I told the story again, thinking he might be curious. But... nothing. No laughter, no surprise, no comment. Just a fixed gaze, then he looked back to the horizon, as if nothing had been said.

As the half hour drew to a close, the light dimmed and the cold increased.

We heard the guard shift bell ring softly, realizing the time had come.

We descended together from the third floor, our footsteps echoing on the stone stairs. When we reached the second floor, Marcus turned to me and said:

"Do your best tonight."

Knox nodded silently, adding nothing.

I smiled at them, then watched them gradually disappear from sight, their steps quieting as they descended the stairs.

Before I moved, I heard other footsteps ascending toward me. I turned to see Luxian and Tyros, their turn to guard the third floor.

Luxian gave me a quick glance, then smiled lightly, followed by a short laugh as he continued upstairs.

I was a bit surprised, but I didn't have to think much. Most likely... Cairo had told him.

I felt a bit annoyed inside. I didn't find the situation funny, but I quickly took a deep breath and regained my balance.

The night had come.

And my second shift on the second floor... had just begun.