Luca remained rooted in the vast hall, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The polished marble gleamed under the chandelier's glow, and yet, despite being the son of this house, he felt more like a guest who had overstayed his welcome. His eyes darted across the endless corridors, each one stretching into unfamiliar territory.
…Great. Just perfect. She tells me to go to my room, but doesn't bother pointing me to where it even is. I can't exactly wander aimlessly without looking like an idiot.
As he mulled over his predicament, the steady sound of measured footsteps echoed through the hall. An old man appeared from one of the side corridors, his posture slightly bent but his bearing still sharp with dignity. His silver hair was slicked neatly back, and his uniform carried the discreet markings of a long-serving butler.
The man slowed as his gaze fell on Luca, bowing slightly. "Young master." His voice was smooth, calm, practiced from decades of service.
