The house was large.
Not luxurious — oppressive.
It did not try to impress. It did not announce its wealth. It simply stood, as if it knew it would outlast everyone who ever lived inside.
The dark stone of the walls held cold even in summer. When sunlight finally forced its way through the narrow windows, it brought no warmth — only shadows pulled from the corners.
The high ceilings dissolved into half-darkness above, as if even light refused to climb that high.
It hadn't always been like this.
Kira remembered it dimly. Paintings on the walls. Vases by the columns. Carpets that swallowed footsteps. Now all of it was gone. Paintings removed. Vases sold. Carpets gone.
Only traces remained rectangular patches on the stone, slightly lighter than the surrounding wall.
In this house, silence was not a comfort. It was a rule. No one forbade breaking it.
No one needed to.
---
Kira opened his eyes.
A white ceiling. Perfectly flat. Not a single crack.
He had seen it every morning for seventeen years. By now he knew it better than his own face — where the lamp threw its shadow, where the light grew slightly warmer.
Sometimes he thought that if he lay still long enough, the day wouldn't begin. Time would simply... pass him by.
The silence outside was absolute. No trees grew in the inner courtyard, so there was never any wind.
The stone cobblestones lay too perfectly flat for anything to take root between them.
In the center of the courtyard stood a fountain.
Three tiers of marble basins, veined with cracks and moss — dry for far too long.
Kira could not remember ever seeing water run through it. Not even in childhood.
He sat up on the bed.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Master Kira," Darwin's voice.
"May I come in?"
"Yes."
Darwin entered first. A tall man with silver hair combed neatly back. His suit was always impeccable, as if a crease in the fabric were forbidden.
Two maids followed.
They bowed simultaneously. Their eyes did not rise.
"Good morning, Master Kira," said Ella.
"Good morning."
The words came out familiar. Empty.
The clothes were already waiting. Laid out neatly. As always.
Darwin helped him dress — slowly, without hurry. Buttons closed one by one. The collar aligned. The vest settled perfectly into place.
Kira looked into the mirror.
The reflection was flawless.
A thin face. Sharp cheekbones. A narrow mouth. Clean features. Clothes fit perfectly.
The perfect son of an Association advisor.
But the eyes...
Dark green eyes.
Who is that?
I look at him every morning.
And I don't recognize him.
Darwin watched him through the mirror. Something like pity crossed his eyes, as it always did.
But Darwin stayed silent.
Ella stepped closer with a basin of water.
— Master Kira… — she hesitated.
— Did you sleep well?
The room seemed colder.
Darwin looked up.
Kira was already looking at her.
Why is she asking?
The question felt wrong. People didn't ask that here.
— Yes, — he said after a pause.
— Thank you.
— That's good... It's just that lately you've looked so tired. If you need anything… I could bring—
— Ella, — Darwin's voice sharpened.
— That's enough.
She flinched. Bowed. Left quickly.
Darwin exhaled. He looked at Kira:
— She's new. Two weeks. She hasn't adjusted yet.
— To what?
— To the fact that you… prefer silence.
Kira looked down.
I don't prefer it.
I just don't know what to say.
Darwin lingered. Looked at him too carefully.
— Master Kira… — he hesitated.
— If you ever need anything… if you want to talk… I am always here to listen.
Kira looked at him.
Talk about what? About the fact that I can't remember the last time I felt anything but emptiness?
He stepped close to the mirror. He wanted to smash that perfect glass, shatter the false face into pieces. Instead, he straightened his cuff.
— Thank you, Darwin. Everything is fine.
Darwin nodded. Only sadness remained in his eyes.
— As you wish, sir.
He left.
Kira was alone.
He wanted to scream. Wanted the white ceiling to collapse on him.
Then reality began to bleed. The white walls darkened with mold. The scent of expensive soap turned into the stench of dried blood. The perfect coat became filthy rags, cutting into broken ribs.
Kira opened his eyes.
He smiled slightly with split lips. The pain was real. That meant he had finally woken up.