It took Arthur some time to decide what and who to take with him. Though, in the end, the decision wasn't difficult.
After much effort, he discovered that Julia wasn't an assassin, but merely a spy who had been aided by Demetrius and had since lived as a servant of the Ashbourne family.
Therefore, he asked her to accompany him as his maid, not out of mere convenience, but because he knew she would keep Demetrius informed of his well-being.
He would never admit to worrying, but Arthur knew better. If Julia was there to reassure him, then he could be at ease, even if only slightly.
Then, he asked Ralph to choose whether he would live as a butler-in-training or train to become a bodyguard. Naturally, Ralph chose to be a bodyguard.
Thus, Richard was tasked with instructing Ralph, shaping him into the perfect bodyguard for Arthur.
However, after all this time, Ralph still couldn't manage to get along with the servants. Perhaps it was his indifferent demeanor that unsettled them, or perhaps, in their eyes, no amount of training could strip him of the title they had already given him: an outsider.
But if he wanted to stand as their equal, he would have to make the effort himself.
At last, the preparations were complete. And the journey to Granville Manor began.
'I wonder… what kind of people the Granvilles will be, the ones my mother and Theodore live with?'
It didn't take him long to arrive.
Granville Manor.
The grand iron gates loomed ahead, their intricate design bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.
At the coachman's signal, the gates creaked open, revealing the long path leading up to the manor.
The carriage rolled forward, wheels crunching against the gravel.
The difference between this place and Ashbourne Manor was undeniable.
Ashbourne Manor reflected those who lived within: a fortress as much in presence as in structure. It was a place where silence stretched endlessly, suffocating and absolute.
Granville Manor, however… it was warm and lively.
Even without stepping inside, he could feel the difference. The very air carried a softness, a quiet hum of warmth that reminded him of Theodore's easygoing presence.
The carriage slowed to a halt before the grand entrance. The door opened, and he stepped down onto the stone path.
Outside, the sky hung low with clouds, the air heavy with the scent of rain yet to fall.
And there she was.
His mother.
She stood beneath the archway, untouched by time or emotion. Her back was perfectly straight, her chin tilted at a precise angle that conveyed neither affection nor coldness. She was a living portrait of aristocratic grace.
She regarded him with her usual calm.
The word caught faintly in his throat as he spoke.
"Mother."
It was all he could manage to utter.
She inclined her head slightly.
"Let us head inside."
"Yes."
As he crossed the threshold, he was met with an unfamiliar sight.
The manor's interior loomed with quiet opulence. The tall ceilings, velvet-draped windows, and chandeliers hovered above like watchful eyes. Yet what caught his attention was not the architecture, but the people.
The servants here… they were different.
The servants moved about with ease. Their footsteps were not weighed down with the trepidation he had grown accustomed to; their eyes did not flicker nervously toward her with every movement. They approached her openly, without fear.
There was no stiffness in their posture. No silent bracing for a cold word or an icy dismissal.
It was a house that breathed differently from the one he had known.
And his mother… she, too, was different.
The dark circles that had once marred her pale skin had vanished, as though time had erased the exhaustion that had clung to her like a second skin.
The weariness that had weighed on her at Ashbourne Manor, the quiet burden that seemed inescapable, was gone.
Here, standing in the dim glow of the chandeliers, she appeared lighter, untouched by the past.
Her expression remained composed, but the sharp edges had dulled. The quiet severity that once defined her gaze, the unyielding steel behind her words, had softened into something unreadable.
She turned to look at him and spoke.
"Arthur, as you are already familiar with Anne, ask her if you need anything."
Arthur shifted his gaze to the maid who stood silently at her side.
"I understand."
She then turned her gaze to the butler.
"Butler, have the chef prepare a feast for our guest."
"Yes, madam."
Arthur, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.
"Will the Marquess also be joining us at the table?"
"No. I don't think he will be able to arrive by then."
"I see. Then, let's postpone the dinner feast for another time. I would like to rest for today, I am quite tired."
His mother offered a faint nod.
"Very well. If that is what you want."
She then turned to Anne.
"Anne, show Arthur to his room so that he may rest."
"Yes, madam."
"Arthur, Anne will show you to your room. I have work to attend to, so I'll excuse myself."
"Ah, yes."
With the same grace she always carried, she vanished down the corridor, her footsteps light.
And in that stillness, a single thought rooted itself in his mind, impossible to ignore.
'Have I ever truly known her at all? Was I the only one who was ignorant of her?'
Anne then led him through the endless corridors of Granville Manor. The walls rose high, adorned with oil paintings, generations of Granvilles peering down with haughty indifference, as though judging every breath he took.
His pace slowed as his gaze snagged on a particular set of doors to their left.
The doors were half-open. Through the narrow opening, he glimpsed rows upon rows of bookshelves rising toward a ceiling lost in shadow. The scent of old paper and bound leather seemed to reach him.
It was a library.
"Anne."
She halted and turned slowly.
"Yes, Lord Arthur?"
He tilted his head toward the doors.
"Who does this library belong to?"
She followed his gaze. Then, with the composed tone of someone who had rehearsed such answers a hundred times, she said:
"That is the library that belongs solely to the young master, Theodore. Master had it constructed especially for him, so he could use it freely whenever he desired. However, madam has allowed the library to be shared during the time of your stay."
"…Hmm. I see."
Arthur knew that Marquess Granville adored his son. It had been a fact mentioned in the novel.
But he hadn't been aware of the extent of that affection until now, until he saw it carved into the very architecture of this manor.
Benjamin Granville.
A man the novel had described with reverence. A father of unshakable devotion, a husband whose loyalty remained unsullied by the rot of nobility. He cherished his family and protected them with a fervor bordering on fanaticism.
Anne stopped in front of a door not far from the grand staircase.
"This will be your room. You may rest comfortably until dinner."
He gave her a brief nod.
"I see. Please let my mother know that I'll be having a simple meal in my room and won't be joining them at the dinner table."
"I understand. If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to summon me."
"I will. You may take your leave."
She curtsied in silence and withdrew just as silently.
And now, he was alone in someone else's home.
Julia arrived not long after from her solitary tour around the manor.
Arthur had instructed her to familiarize herself with the structure well, every corridor, every stairwell, and hallway, so she could navigate the manor without needing a guide should he ever require something.
She began unpacking his belongings quietly.
She removed garments from their folded states and hung them in the grand wardrobe with practiced precision.
His books were arranged in a neat row atop the desk, shoes aligned near the foot of the bed, and personal effects placed with care where he might instinctively reach for them.
When she was done, he gave her a quiet nod of dismissal, intending to rest.
"You may leave now."
"Yes, young master."
'I had been doing paperwork last night, since I had to leave today. Now, I should get some proper sleep.'
He tried to get some shut-eye. However, he couldn't fall asleep even after closing his eyes for a long time. His body was already exhausted from working all night yesterday.
However, after much effort the sleep soon took him.
He didn't know how long he drifted in that formless dark, but at some point, something pulled him back.
It was a soft sound.
The faint patter of rain against the windows.
He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head toward the window.
'Huh? Is it raining right now?'
The night had already fallen, draping the world in a heavy shroud of darkness. Beyond the glass, rain swept down in silvery veils, the droplets tracing crooked paths across the pane.
Growwlll!
Arthur noticed the loud growl coming from his stomach and reached for the bell pull, giving it a gentle tug.
'I should have my meal for now.'
Moments later, the door opened quietly and Julia stepped inside. It was as though she had been standing just beyond the threshold, anticipating the summons.
In her hands, she carried a silver tray, upon which was his evening meal. It was still warm, its savory aroma weaving through the room, intermingling with the lingering scent of rain-soaked wood and the faint, smoky breath of firelight.
She set the tray down on the table and offered a subtle bow before departing as silently as she had come.
"Hm… the food sure has a nice aroma."
He had his meal alone, the silence of the room a companion more familiar than any voice could be.
The clink of silverware echoed faintly in the stillness, punctuated only by the ever-present murmur of rain outside, an odd comfort in this unfamiliar world.