Chương 3: 1. 3 Existential Crisis

Barefooted, Nero sauntered around. The floor was made of hardwood and he cringed each time it squeaked under his footsteps. He observed the dim room. Although it was like he was blind at the lack of brightness, he made no effort to pull the drapes.

Nero observed walls that lacked distinctive features. There were no paintings and portraits, only their dark color. Surrounding the bed was the standard furniture and if he looked closely enough, he could see cobwebs all over it. At one corner of the room, there was a shelf filled with thick books behind what seemed to be a working desk. The surface was messy enough to imply that it was regularly used.

"So, someone does live here no matter how unkempt it was," Nero deduced, muttering to no one in particular as he walked towards the table. He was too preoccupied to notice the different language he had spoken. He picked up a small piece of paper that was probably a note.

He was not a nosy person in nature but he wanted answers. The paper was filled with unfamiliar strokes, a peculiar language, but what surprised him was that he was able to comprehend the text.

'The dragon nest at the east border was empty. Villagers have stated they caught glimpse of the First Knights. It looks like the young lord of Monrell is aiming for Lanchaster's military authority. How brave to challenge you. Don't you think so too, Master? – Cx'

Nero blinked at the content he just read. Dragons? Knights? His train of thought halted at the sound of three soft knocks. He tilted his head to the large door but remained quiet, unsure of what to do but was still calm.

At his silence, the gold lever slowly turned, opening a slight gap where a young woman with braided hair took a nervous peek.

Nero was quite concerned at how her body visibly shivered as she gazed around. Her eyes widened when she saw the enormous bed. Like a deer caught in headlights, the young woman froze at the sight of messy pillows and creased blanket. She then audibly gulped, more of a nervous wreck than a while ago.

The young woman then let out a shaky exhale, closing her eyes shut before opening it once again to trail her gaze from the empty bed to the drapes and finally, to the man that stood beside the desk.

"Ahh!" The young woman suddenly squealed in horror. Her arms shot up in shock snapping the door wide open.

Nero was dumbfounded. He was told he had an intimidating face but he never knew he was that scary.

"Who are you?" He asked slowly, his voice was a bit hoarse as he has yet to hydrate himself. At the back of his mind, he was caught off guard at the sounds that slipped past his lips. He spoke in an unfamiliar language but it felt natural. Stunned, he thought to himself, what the hell was happening to him?

The young woman's eyes widened even more with unshed tears. Trembling lips parted and she stammered as she replied. "I a-am the n-new servant-"

Nero realized that she was true to her words. She donned the typical white maid uniform but still, it was ridiculous. Nero put the note down and frowned at the absurdity of the situation. Was he kidnapped for a reality show? Something like a hidden camera?

As Nero began to think about filing a lawsuit to the entertainment agency about violating his rights and using of unethical approaches just for a so-called creative content, his frown deepened which instilled more fear to the poor young maid.

"What the hell," he muttered; unaware that he said it out loud. The servant misunderstood that she had angered her master and immediately dropped down to her knees, too overwhelmed with fear. Her young heart cried as she wailed for forgiveness and Nero flinched when the young woman started to cry.

"F-forgive m-me, My Lord! Francine had to go to town so the head maid requested me to do the task of serving you, My Lord!" The young woman repeatedly bowed, pleading so fast she forgot to breathe.

My Lord? Nero frowned even more. The young woman was not acting. Her fear was far too genuine to call it all an act. He knew of this because he had been taught about traumatic responses in body language. But even with that, Nero can't still understand the situation. He has a great memory and this young woman was someone he had never met. So what could warrant such distress and terror?

Nero parted his slightly chapped lips and was about to speak when two tall figures casted her body whole making him stop himself. Nero then lifted his gaze from the kneeling figure of the young woman to the tall figures behind her.

Dark slacks with shining swords by the waist, white long-sleeved shirts with an emerald gem placed between the low collar, and finally, two unfamiliar faces. Their hair was dark as the night and their eyes— Nero was shocked to see exquisite viridian eyes. It was like gems themselves.

One of them had a serious expression while the other held a naughty grin. If there was one thing that they were both doing, that is the hostility within their gaze.

"Causing trouble again, little brother?"

Nero blinked, dumbfounded. 'Little brother?' Speechless, that's what he was. First, a medieval room then a maid and now, two brothers; was his whole life a lie? Was everything a long dream and he was actually in a state of coma?

But then again, their reactions were not something directed to a person who just woke up from a long time of unconsciousness. One looked scared and the others were angry.

Speaking of anger, his silence must have angered the two men even more with the way their gaze sharpened. If looks could kill, he would already be dead.

"You dare ignore us, Nero Lanchaster?"