He sat in the car, and they came back home.
Strangely enough, Eline thought he would be punished the moment he stepped into the mansion. Or maybe slaughtered. He was very scared. But at the same time, he kept remembering what Alaric had said — that nobody was going to kill him.
Maybe he should believe him.
There was no reason for him to lie. If they wanted to kill him, they could. He wouldn't even have made it to the bus stop. Surely, for now at least, he couldn't run away again.
That's what he kept telling himself as the car stopped inside the mansion gates.
After getting out of the car and walking inside, Alaric simply said, "Rest well," and went to his room.
That was it.
Eline just stood there, confused.
Why are you so calm?
I just tried to run away.
Why aren't you angry? Why aren't you locking me somewhere? Why aren't you threatening me?
It wasn't as terrifying as he had imagined it would be if he got caught.
He almost ran away.
He almost had his freedom in his hands.
And then he watched it slip away just like that.
No struggle. No drama. Just… gone.
He walked to his room — his new room — and lay down on the bed without even changing.
Staring at the ceiling.
Is this the calm before the storm?
What the fuck is happening?
Or maybe it's not a big deal at all.
Maybe I'm not an offering.
Maybe it's not that serious.
Because if it was something huge, they wouldn't just let it slide like this, right?
Nothing big happened.
At least… that's what he thinks.
After staring at the ceiling for a while, he started to feel hungry.
But asking for food from the butler in the same mansion where he had worked before felt… uneasy. Still, he couldn't stay hungry forever. So he pushed himself up from the bed.
As he walked out of the room, he passed Mr. Carlson's door. His heart started beating fast for no reason.
But then he noticed—the door was locked.
I think he's not there.
(Maybe that's why everything feels so calm.
He wouldn't even know I ran, I guess. It's not that big of a deal, right?)
That's what he told himself as he walked past the door.
And then he saw it.
The same bat.
The one that had dropped that book in the library on his head.
The book about weirdly unique and dangerous creatures,
He remembered it clearly.
The bat was sitting again on the balcony railing like it owned the place.
(Is this a mansion owned by billionaires or a haunted temple? What the fuck is a bat doing here?)
This place is weird.
He shook his head and walked downstairs.
He entered the kitchen and awkwardly approached the maid.
"Um… is there something to eat? I'm pretty hungry. I missed breakfast, as you know… I wasn't here."
He gave a small, awkward laugh.
The maid looked at him calmly. "Master said you will be having a different diet from now on. Your food is already prepared. It's in a separate container."
Different diet?
He immediately felt suspicious.
(Is this the punishment? Rotten food because I ran away?
So that's why it was so calm.
They were going to attack my stomach instead.
Oh my God. My weakest point.)
He walked into the kitchen like someone accepting his fate.
And then he saw it.
A container placed aside.
He opened it.
Soup.
Deep red.
Almost like blood.
What the hell are they feeding me? Blood?What the heck?
He went back to the maid.
"Can I ask what that is? Is it some rare meat cooked in blood? Why is it so red? I mean… it doesn't look right. Can I at least know what I'm putting inside my stomach?"
The maid replied calmly, "It's not meat. It's a plant. And that's not blood—it's just the natural pigment of the plant. This soup will be your breakfast every morning from now on."
"Why though?" he asked immediately. "Is there some rule? Why am I supposed to eat that?"
"It's not my decision," she said. "Mr. Carlson instructed it. If you don't want to eat it, you can speak to him. We have no say in this."
For the first time, he thought—
(Of course I'm not going to go talk to Mr. Carlson.
And it's not illegal, right?
They're not feeding me poison.
Right?
What if it is poison?)
He stared at the soup again.
Okay.
I'll take one bite and wait thirty minutes. If I die, I die.
But if I'm going to die, what's the point of taking just one bite? Might as well eat the whole thing.
Shut up, stupid brain. You never work at the right time.
He looked at the maid again. "Can I… not have breakfast?"
She shook her head slightly. "No. You must take it. Mr. Carlson said you would come by yourself, so I didn't bring it to your room. He also said, in case you ask, that you will not die from it. It's important for your body."
"Of course I believe him," he said dryly, pure sarcasm.
He took the soup in a bowl and went back to his room.
He sat on the bed.
Took one spoonful.
Waited.
Nothing.
He took another.
It was normal.
Actually… it was pretty tasty.
He blinked.
"Okay… that's unexpected."