Smack! Smack!
The sting of a palm striking his cheek repeatedly, and the dull throb of exhaustion weighed down his limbs as Arthur slowly opened his eyes.
"Get up, boy! It's morning already!"
Before his mind could fully grasp the words, something cold and liquidic splashed against his face. A shock of icy wetness snapped his eyes open, his breath hitched as the chill seeped into his skin.
"Haa... Haah..."
The murky darkness of his surroundings greeted him instead of the warm glow of morning. The only light in the cell came from a small hole near the ceiling, a feeble thing that barely maintained the lightness of the dungeon.
'Wh-where am I...?'
Arthur lifted his gaze and saw the man standing before him. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, his body cast an imposing shadow against the damp stone walls.
'Why is this man here? He's supposed to be dead, isn't he?'
The man's expression was devoid of warmth. But it was his eyes that made Arthur the most uncomfortable.
'It seems I'm dreaming at the moment.'
The man's cold and indifferent gaze fixed on him.
"Now that you've finished washing up, why not get back to work, huh?"
Arthur blinked again and again, the chill of the water still clinging to his lashes. Slowly, he turned his gaze downward and caught his own reflection in the shallow puddle at his feet, hollowed cheeks, pale skin smudged with dirt and eyes that did not belong to a child.
"What? Still not awake?"
Before Arthur could reply back, the man made another move.
Wham!
"Urgh-!!"
Arthur couldn't stop the voice escaping his mouth as he experienced a sharp pain when the man's boot drove into his stomach. The force of it sent him sprawling onto the damp stone floor, his body curled in on itself instinctively.
'Why the hell does it hurt if it's nothing more than a mere dream?'
"Haa...!"
A slow breath escaped him as he fought the wave of nausea that followed.
Despite the pain that he experienced, Arthur glared up at him through strands of wet hair, his breaths shallow but steady.
Even as pain laced his ribs, even as his body trembled under the strain of hunger and exhaustion, he refused to look away.
"How dare a slave glare at me?!"
A hand stretched and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back with a vicious tug. Pain shot across his scalp, sharp and immediate, but he did not cry out. He clenched his jaw, biting down the sound that threatened to escape.
"Boy, don't test my patience today. I'm not in the mood to tolerate your insolence!"
His fingers dug deep into Arthur's scalp, pulling harder, forcing his neck into an unnatural angle as he said:
"And if you push me any further, I might just forget to hold back. I'd hate to damage something my master paid a hefty sum for."
Arthur had always been a side character destined to fade into the background. Nowhere in the story was it ever mentioned that he had been kidnapped, sold into slavery, or worse, left to wither away from hunger and exhaustion.
However, according to the little details Arthur knew, he could pinpoint that if he couldn't save himself today, he would die without anyone knowing what happened.
The steady sound of rain reached his ears, a quiet pattering that softened the oppressive silence of the cell. The dim light that filtered through the hole above flickered as storm clouds rolled in, shrouding the basement in an even deeper darkness.
Then, someone entered the dungeon as the sound of the basement door closing reached Arthur's ears.
Clack!
"Sir Samuel, master is asking for you."
It was the voice of a servant who worked inside the manor of the Baron.
The grip of the man loosened from Arthur's hair.
Samuel. That was his full name. He was always referred to as "Sam" by the other servants around him, so Arthur wondered if that was his name, but now he knew his full name.
"Tsk!"
Samuel clicked his tongue in annoyance, then turned his attention to the newcomer.
"Why now of all times?"
The reply came in the moment of a second.
"A guest is expected to arrive shortly."
A slow smirk spread across Arthur's lips before he could stop it.
The reason? He already knew exactly what was about to happen.
Samuel's gaze turned back to Arthur as he said:
"Huh? Have you lost your damn mind, you little brat?!"
A brat. A bastard.
That's what he always called him, spitting the words like venom. If only he knew the blood that ran through his veins, the noble lineage etched into his very bones.
Samuel's eyes darkened as he seized Arthur's jaw, his fingers pressing into his skin with bruising force.
"Answer when I ask a question, boy!"
His grip tightened as if daring Arthur to defy him. But before he could escalate further, the servant at the door shifted uneasily.
"Sir Samuel, the master is waiting!"
"Haah!"
Samuel exhaled sharply, releasing him with a rough shove as he fell down on the damp floor yet again.
"Tch. You just got lucky today. But worry not, I'd be sure to teach you a good lesson after I return."
He then turned and walked toward the exit, leaving Arthur behind, alone in the dampness of the cell.
***
A man with polished black-colored boots stepped down onto the damp ground in front of the manor as a servant opened the door to his carriage, while another stood there with an umbrella in his hands, shielding the man from the raindrops falling from the dark sky.
It was morning, but the clouds covering the whole sky made it difficult to say whether it was evening or the start of the day.
The man who stood beneath that same dark sky seemed even more threatening than the storm that was about to come.
Then again, it was no surprise, he was none other than the infamous Earl Frederick Ashbourne.
The Earl looked at the manor for a while, his expression filled with disdain, and then spoke.
"Are you sure this is the right place?"
"Yes, master."
Richard, his left-hand man, wore a cloak and followed behind the Earl as he stepped inside the manor.
As soon as they entered, they were greeted by the Baron, who said:
"Greetings, Lord Ashbourne. May I inquire what brings you here so suddenly?"
The Earl's piercing gaze bore down on the Baron.
"Suddenly? I believe I already sent a messenger, didn't I?"
"Yes. However—"
The Earl spoke again, cutting the Baron off mid-sentence.
"And regarding the reason… where is my boy?"
"P-pardon? What boy, Lord Ashbourne?"
The Earl took out a revolver from inside his coat and checked how many bullets it had.
"Hmm... it's four..."
He then pointed the gun at the Baron and said:
"Let me ask you again. Where is the boy with turquoise eyes and dark black hair?"
"Th-that's... Samuel! Where's that boy?"
Samuel, who had been standing right behind the Baron, was startled as the gun was now aimed at him.
"Speak."
"Th-the boy's inside the basement."
Without wasting another second, the Earl pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The sound of the gunshot rang throughout the whole manor. The servants gasped, their hands reaching towards their mouths before they even realized.
Thud!
The servants were horrified by the sight of the body that fell onto the polished floor, blood pooling around him. They froze in place, and before they could comprehend what had just happened, the Earl spoke:
"Richard, take care of everyone."
"Understood, master."
Richard took out a gun and pointed it at the servants standing in the hall as he said:
"Lead the way to the basement."
Not long after, the heavy creak of the basement door signaled new arrivals. The sound of steady footsteps echoed inside the dungeon.
Arthur knew who it was before he even came into view.
Earl Frederick Ashbourne.
Even in the darkness, Arthur could see the unmistakable resemblance. The same jet-black hair, the same sharp, unyielding features, the same gaze that held no warmth. He stood as if the world itself bent to his will.
After a brief silence, he spoke:
"Richard."
His left-hand man stepped forward, opening the cell with the key he had taken from a dead guard.
His gaze softened upon meeting Arthur's as he said:
"Young master, are you hurt anywhere?"
His tone held genuine concern as he knelt before Arthur, producing a handkerchief and wiping the blood from his lips. His hands were rough, calloused, but careful.
Arthur didn't reply and stood silently.
Richard's brows furrowed as he examined him, noting the bruises beneath his dirtied shirt. A shadow of something dark passed over his face, but he said nothing.
Just then, the Baron attempted to speak:
"Ea-earl Ashbour—"
Bang!
The sound of the gunshot was deafening, shattering the stale air like thunder. The Baron collapsed, blood pooling beneath him, his body still in an instant.
Arthur flinched. His breath hitched as his fingers curled into the tattered fabric of his shirt.
Frederick turned away, his expression unchanged.
"Now that we have him, let us depart for the capital."
"Yes, master."
Richard took off his cloak and used it to cover Arthur. It was far too large, the fabric pooling around him. Richard's fingers gently adjusted the hood, pulling it low to obscure Arthur's face.
"Young master, please bear with me for a moment."
Without hesitation, he lifted Arthur into his arms.
"You may rest now. When you wake up, you will be home."
Even though his embrace was strong and firm, it was also warm.
As they moved through the blood-streaked corridors, the scent of death clung to the air. Samuel's lifeless body lay among the others, his cold eyes staring at nothing.
'Samuel...?'
Richard shifted slightly as he attempted to shield Arthur's gaze with the cloak, unaware that Arthur could still smell the metallic tang of blood.
They soon reached the carriage, and even as they settled inside, Richard did not release him. His arms remained steady, his hand running down Arthur's back in slow, soothing motions.
For the first time in months, warmth enveloped the young Arthur, and exhaustion began to pull him under.
The last thing he remembered was the rhythmic sound of rain against the carriage roof, a soft, persistent lullaby that carried him into darkness.