The eastern corridor of the Xentras mansion was silent, broken only by the soft echo of steady footsteps. Helena walked with her back straight and her expression stern, as if every polished tile were territory that needed to be guarded. Unlike the warm atmosphere projected by other family members, she carried an imposing—almost cold—presence.
Upon reaching one of the side rooms, she found her children seated on a wide sofa. Jenny held a cup of hot tea between her hands, while Erick distractedly played with a small ball he had picked up from who knows where.
"Mother," Jenny greeted her when she saw her. "Did you finish talking with Father?"
"Yes," Helena replied, taking a seat across from them. "And that's precisely why I want to speak with you."
Erick immediately looked up. He knew that tone—direct, without detours.
"Is this about John?" he asked.
Helena crossed her legs elegantly, intertwining her fingers.
"Exactly."
Jenny and Erick exchanged a brief glance. It was no surprise; since John's arrival at the mansion, their mother's attitude had been noticeably distant—bordering on hostile.
"I don't understand why he bothers you so much," Jenny said cautiously. "John hasn't done anything wrong. He's… different, yes, but not dangerous."
Helena fixed her eyes on her daughter without raising her voice.
"That is precisely what worries me, Jenny. What does not feel, what does not react like a normal child. I don't trust someone who shows no emotion at all."
Erick frowned.
"But that doesn't make him bad," he countered. "We played soccer with him today. He didn't get angry when he lost, and he didn't brag when he did well. He just… played."
"Played?" Helena raised an eyebrow. "Or merely imitated behaviors without understanding them?"
Jenny leaned forward, uncomfortable.
"Mom, he's not an object. He's a person. He may not express emotions the way we do, but that doesn't mean he doesn't understand."
Helena slowly stood and walked toward the window overlooking the mansion's inner gardens. The light of dusk reflected against the glass.
"You see him as a strange but harmless child," she said. "I see something that doesn't fit. And in this family, what doesn't fit usually brings problems."
Erick clenched the ball tightly.
"You always see the worst first," he said, his tone sharper than usual. "John hasn't done anything against anyone. In fact… I think he tries not to cause trouble."
Helena turned abruptly.
"That is exactly what lowers your guard," she replied. "The absence of visible intent does not mean the absence of danger."
Jenny stood up.
"Then what? Do you want us to treat him badly? Avoid him? Look at him as if he were a constant threat?"
"I want you to keep your distance," Helena declared. "I don't want you getting emotionally involved with someone who cannot respond in the same way."
Jenny pressed her lips together. When she spoke, her voice was firmer than she expected.
"Not everything is about receiving the same in return. Sometimes it's simply about understanding."
Helena watched her in silence for several seconds. Deep down, there was something more than simple distrust—there was fear. Fear that her children might grow close to something she could not control.
"Jenny," she said in a lower voice. "You see potential, curiosity. Erick sees competition. I see a void. And voids… tend to swallow things."
Erick stood as well.
"Or they can be filled," he replied. "John learns. He observes. He doesn't mock, he doesn't manipulate. If he were dangerous, I would've noticed already."
Helena slowly shook her head.
"You're too trusting."
"And you're too rigid," Erick answered calmly, without backing down.
Silence fell heavily over the room. Jenny took a deep breath.
"Mom… no one is asking you to like him," she said softly. "Just don't force us to reject him. John isn't at fault for being the way he is."
Helena closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her expression hardened once more.
"As long as you are under this roof," she said, "it is my responsibility to protect you. And I will not change my mind so easily."
She turned toward the door.
"You may sympathize with him if you wish. But don't forget what I told you. Keep your eyes open."
When she left, the echo of her footsteps faded into the long corridors of the mansion.
Jenny collapsed back onto the sofa, exhaling slowly.
"Sometimes I feel like Mom fights things that only exist in her head."
Erick sat beside her.
"I don't think she hates John," he said. "I think she's afraid of him."
Jenny looked toward the window, where the sky was beginning to darken.
"John doesn't even know he's the center of this discussion," she murmured. "And yet… he's already changing things."
Erick nodded.
"That's what bothers Mom the most."
They remained silent for a few more seconds, aware that life in the Xentras mansion would test not only skills or talents, but also beliefs, fears, and the way each of them perceived the others.
And as Helena walked alone through the corridors, her brow furrowed and her mind alert, a thought began to take shape within her:
John was not a simple guest.
He was an unknown variable.
And she had no intention of ignoring it.