Michael tensed as Melody approached. Now employed as a butler under her father, he was effectively her servant too—and from what he'd seen so far, it wouldn't take much for the girl to make his life a living hell if she wanted to.
Judging by their first encounter, he wouldn't be surprised if she did have it out for him. After all, she'd been publicly admonished in front of the servants just last night.
Still, Michael swallowed his unease and bowed with practiced grace.
"Good evening, young miss," he said evenly.
"Michael, was it?" she asked, her small lips curving up slightly.
"Yes... Is there something I can help you with?"
With his head still bowed, he braced himself for a scolding or some biting remark. Seconds passed. Silence.
Furrowing his brow, Michael hesitantly raised his head.
Melody stood frozen, her mouth slightly open as if trying to speak. A strange sight, considering how she usually carried herself.
"Young miss, are you okay?" he asked, a note of genuine concern creeping into his voice.
The question seemed to snap her out of it. Her cheeks flushed, and a flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes—then anger.
"I—I'm sorry," she said suddenly, her voice tight and unfamiliar coming from such doll-like lips.
Huh? She's... apologizing?
Michael blinked, stunned, as if she'd just grown a second head.
The reaction only seemed to irritate her further. With a sharp harrumph, Melody spun on her heel and stormed off down the hall, her shoes tapping sharply against the polished floor. She didn't glance back once.
Michael stood rooted in place, staring after her retreating figure.
"What the hell just happened?" he muttered.
A hand landed heavily on his shoulder, followed by the sound of muffled laughter.
"Isn't the young miss cute?" Shirley said, grinning brightly.
"R-Right…" he replied, masking his confusion behind a forced smile.
"Oh! Almost forgot," the maid said, perking up. "Your first tutoring session starts tonight. You should probably get moving—otherwise you'll have no time for dinner."
"Tutoring?" Michael's heart skipped with excitement. Finally, the moment he'd been waiting for.
But Shirley gave him a sly nudge. "I know you're thrilled to be close to the young miss, but make sure you actually listen to the teacher, okay?" she added with a wink.
"Sorry?" His heart dropped.
"You heard me," she teased, shoving him gently toward the corridor. "Now go on. I'll come fetch you tomorrow morning to go see Vaughn."
Before he knew it, he was trudging down the hall, his earlier excitement now weighed down by a growing sense of gloom.
He had forgotten. His tutoring would be alongside Melody
Despite only a few interactions, one thing was clear—she didn't like him. And for the life of him, Michael still wasn't sure why.
I can't let it get to me, he sighed inwardly. This is a golden opportunity from Lord Winterborne. I have to make the most of it.
With that thought to steady him, Michael pushed open the door to the servants' quarters. Inside, he was greeted by a wave of friendly faces.
"How was your first day, kid?" one of the gardeners Michael had worked with earlier flashed him a smile.
Before he knew it, he was swept into cheerful small talk with several of the servants, each one welcoming him warmly. A moment later, an off-duty maid placed a steaming plate of food in front of him.
"Eat it while it's hot," she said, ruffling his hair as she passed.
"T-Thank you," he stammered, still not quite used to such kindness.
The lively, warm atmosphere around him was something he'd never experienced before. As the son of a lord, he had attended countless dinner parties and formal events—but there, he was little more than a decorative presence. Few spoke to him, and fewer still acknowledged his existence beyond politeness. Only his mother ever truly paid him any attention.
Yet here, among servants, he felt seen. Valued.
Even though he was still just a child, these people treated him like one of their own.
Michael's lips curled into a quiet smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, a small flicker of warmth bloomed in his chest—the kind that hinted at belonging.
I'm doing okay, Mom, he thought, picking up his fork and digging into the hearty meal.
"Honey, what's wrong?" a gentle voice beside him asked, tinged with concern.
With a mouthful of food, Michael turned his head to look—only to realize his vision had blurred.
Huh? What's happening?
Something warm and wet slid down his cheek.
I'm crying? But... I don't know why.
Embarrassed, he quickly wiped his face with his sleeve, forcing a small smile. "I'm alright... maybe just a little tired," he murmured, returning to his plate.
Thankfully, no one pressed him. It was as if the room had silently agreed to give him space.
After dinner, Michael made his way to the library for his scheduled tutoring session. He hadn't had time to change out of his work clothes—not that he owned anything else yet. Still, he was growing more familiar with the vast halls of the Winterborne estate, and he found the library without trouble.
The moment he opened the door, the musty scent of old books hit him—and with it, a calm washed over his nerves.
Large windows lined the western wall, framing the sun as it dipped below the horizon. Warm orange light poured into the room, bathing the space in a soft, tranquil glow.
Towering bookcases lined the walls, stretching nearly twenty feet to the ceiling. A stone fireplace rested along the southern wall, already primed with firewood, while a handful of elegant wooden chairs stood nearby in a loose, inviting arrangement.
The room radiated comfort and quiet sophistication.
Michael could already imagine himself spending countless hours here, the soft crackle of the fire in the background as he lost himself in the pages of these books.
His daydream ended as the door creaked open behind him.
Turning, he saw a man step inside—a stranger dressed in a sharp black suit and bow tie, a polished cane resting in his right hand.
Michael studied him instinctively. The man's skin was pale, his hazel eyes glinting with intelligence. His brown hair was tousled, giving the impression he'd just rolled out of bed, despite the sun having nearly set.
He looks so young...
The man smiled gently. "You must be Michael, my newest student. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his left hand for a handshake.
This guy is the tutor!?