Although in the Eryndor Mansion, the members of the family feared Marla, their fear could never compare to the dread inspired by the Patriarch of the Eryndor Family, Karol Eryndor.
He was a man of principles, a figure whose presence alone demanded respect, and whose absence was a rare mercy for those who lived under his roof.
Karol was one of the most important figures in the entire region. His duties often kept him away from home for days, even weeks. Yet, when he did return, his mere presence was enough to remind everyone within the mansion's walls of the law, order, and authority he upheld.
Wystan now stood trembling in front of Karol's Study. Lucas had already intercepted him, his figure looming over the thin, frail boy.
Without hesitation, Lucas grabbed Wystan, whose body was already slight and fragile, and flung him backward with a force that made the air shiver.
Wystan's cry of pain pierced the hallway, louder than ever before. "Lucas, please! I'm sorry for sleeping in your room! I was sick and couldn't spend the night in the attic! Please… please, help me!"
Even Lucas froze in shock at the unexpected shout. Wystan had never raised his voice before, never made a sound under his relentless torment, and now, the boy's fear and desperation had burst into an audible, almost shocking scream.
The exaggeration was clear, but it was his only chance to draw attention.
"What… what are you doing?" Lucas demanded, his voice tinged with annoyance and disbelief.
"Lucas, stop! Please! I'm already injured… don't open my wounds! Please… Lucas!" Wystan sobbed, tears streaming uncontrollably from his eyes. His voice cracked under the impact of fear and pain.
Within moments, the hallway was filled with onlookers, the servants, the members of the family were all drawn by the cries, shouts, and thuds. Even the heavy door of Karol's Study creaked open, and a commanding presence filled the space.
"I didn't… I swear to God I didn't…" Lucas stammered, his words tripping over themselves as he realized the source of the chilling eyes now observing him. His eyes met his father's, and his body stiffened involuntarily. "Fa… Father!"
"What is going on here?!" Karol's voice thundered through the cold hallways.
The murmurs of the gathering onlookers quieted, replaced by a heavy silence. Their fear mingled with curiosity and their faces was paled with horror at the spectacle.
The Patriarch of the Eryndor Family was known not only for his strictness and discipline but for an almost unshakable moral authority. He rarely remained at home, yet when he did, his word was law. No one dared enter the hallway that led to his Study, much less create a commotion before it.
"I… I was injured yesterday and didn't realize I spent the night in Lucas' room. This morning he came and began hitting me," Wystan sobbed, trembling so violently that his small frame shook. "I had to run… and he chased me here, Father. I… I'm sorry, Father."
The people gathered exchanged startled glances, their confusion palpable. But none were more shocked than Lucas, whose body now trembled under the unyielding gaze of his father.
"Wystan… why… why are you…" Lucas began, his voice trembling as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
Wystan cut him off, tears streaming hotter now. "Please, Lucas! I promise I won't sleep on your bed again! Forgive me! Father… please… beg Lucas on my behalf! He said he would kill me!"
Karol's eyes twitched, a barely perceptible movement that revealed the steel behind his stoic exterior. He watched the scene unfold... the youngest child of his house crying like an abandoned infant, a sight he had never borne witness to in all his years.
Wystan had always been quiet, frail, and distant. Ever since he was brought into the Eryndor Mansion, he had avoided speech and eye contact with Karol, the very man who should have been his protector.
So the patriarch's surprise was profound, the shock almost palpable in the frozen air of the hallway.
Karol turned his piercing gaze to Lucas, his eyes sharp and icy. If looks could kill, Lucas would have crumpled to dust beneath that stare. "Lucas, is this true?"
"Father… I…" Lucas stuttered, his jaw trembling uncontrollably, his words failing to escape him properly.
"This is true, Master Karol. Young Master Wystan was badly injured yesterday," Darius, Wystan's assigned assistant, broke the tension with a calm voice that showed no fear. "Young Master Wystan went missing two days ago and was found last night, injured and exhausted. Because of his condition, he could not remain in the attic."
Darius had served Wystan faithfully since his arrival in the mansion, quietly shielding him from the cruelty of others whenever he can. Though he had never understood why Wystan endured such abuse, he had always stayed on his side, watching over him silently.
The change he now witnessed filled him with joy. This was a rare opening to intervene in the tyranny that had plagued the young boy.
"Sleep in the attic?" Karol's voice was low, calm, and edged with authority.
"For the past several months, Young Master Wystan has been confined to the attic, Sir," Darius replied, bowing his head in respect. Wystan passed him a grateful glance, an acknowledgment hidden in the act he performed before others. "Although I am merely a servant, Sir, I have seen what he has endured. Your son has suffered greatly, and yet…"
The hallway seemed to hold its breath. Silence enveloped the space like a dense fog, broken only by Wystan's stifled sobs. Lucas' eyes glistened with tears; for the first time, he understood the trap in which he was caught.
He had never anticipated Wystan, the silent, frail child, acting in such a manner.
Darius continued, "I am not trying to make you look bad, My Lord, but Young Master Wystan—"
"What is happening here?" a cold voice rang out through the halls making heads turned instinctively.
At the far end of the hallway, Marla, Karol's wife, appeared. Her Icy and calculating eyes swept the room. Her stride was that of a predator, each step deliberate as if she were hunting prey.
"Since when did a servant have a say in our family?" Marla's words dripped with venom. In a swift motion, she struck Darius across the face, forcing him to stagger. "Return to your duties! What are you doing here instead of working on this bright morning?"
The crowd, jaws dropping in shock, immediately dispersed. Only Darius, Wystan, and Lucas remained.
Marla's fists clenched, her gaze locking on her husband. "So, you want to disgrace our son now? Embarrass him in front of the entire household? What does it matter if Lucas hit Wystan? Why—"
"Marla!" Karol's voice resounded like thunder, echoing through the mansion. "How dare you allow a son of mine sleep in the attic? How dare you?"
Marla blinked rapidly, taking several cautious steps back. Her mind scrambled, trying to grasp the reality of the situation. "Karol! Are you trusting the words of a servant over mine? Why would I harm Wystan? Perhaps Lucas did strike him, but only because he slept in my son's bed! He had his reasons."
A cold flush swept over Marla as she took in Karol's piercing expression. Could he truly be siding with a mere servant against her? She instinctively glanced at Wystan who was still crying, and a shrewd, cunning idea took root in her mind.
"You can ask Wystan if this servant speaks the truth," she said sharply, gripping his arm, testing both boy and servant.
Darius' heart sank. This was over. Any interference he had hoped to manage was now in jeopardy. Wystan, despite his bravery, had to be careful. A single misstep, a poorly timed word, and everything would crumble.
Wystan blinked, his lips pursed, his expression calm and unreadable despite the storm around him.
"Why don't you tell your father the truth, Wystan?" Marla's voice tightened, her grip pressing as if to remind him who held the power.
A smirk tugged at Wystan's lips. In a single, fluid motion, he yanked her hand away and turned to Karol, his eyes turning colder and burning with disdain. "Everything Darius said is true, Father."
Darius let out a small, surprised gasp. Marla's heart skipped a beat, lost in shock.
"Wystan… why—"
"I have been sleeping in the attic ever since my arrival at this mansion because of my stepmother. Lucas has bullied me relentlessly. Two days ago, I was abandoned in the forbidden forest before being found. My suspension at the academy last semester? Lucas and his friends blamed me for stealing the sacred globe," Wystan revealed, each word hitting both Lucas and his mother like a stone they hadn't seen coming, each memory adding salt to his stepmother's wound.
Lucas stumbled back, losing balance, falling to his knees. "Father, I swear… it's not my fault! My mother forced me! She wanted to get rid of Wystan! It's not my fault!" His voice cracked and hands shook uncontrollably.
Marla stood frozen, unblinking, unable to process the rapid unraveling of her carefully constructed world. Wystan's sudden boldness, Lucas' accusations, Karol's piercing gaze... it was all too much.
And that, finally, was enough. Karol had seen the other side of the woman he had been living with for years and the new side of the boy who had never said more than two words to him.