I sat in my office, unmoving.
The room was vast, carved from the same black stone as the rest of the mansion. Tall windows stretched from floor to ceiling, revealing the drifting city beyond. The sky was pale, distant, almost unreal.
I closed my eyes.
There it was again.
The hum.
Low. Constant. Endless.
The city's heartbeat.
A rhythm beneath everything—beneath voices, beneath movement, beneath thought itself. It did not stop. It could not stop.
"If it were not for that old hag's command," I said quietly, "I would remain here… and listen."
My fingers rested lightly against the arm of the chair.
"This eternal hum… the city's heartbeat."
Silence followed.
Valerius stood behind me. I did not need to look to know his expression—slightly confused, slightly uneasy. He could not hear it. No one could.
He never asked.
Not until now.
"My lord…" he began, then paused.
I opened my eyes slightly, though I did not turn. His voice carried hesitation, like something bitter caught in his throat.
He swallowed.
"Why… do you hate your aunt?"
A pause.
"…your family?"
Silence stretched.
I turned my head slowly and looked at him.
Blue eyes. Clear. Uncertain. Golden hair falling neatly, almost too clean, too composed. Pale skin that had not yet been worn down by time or weight.
He looked away for a moment, then quickly corrected himself.
"It is just that… I have never seen you smile when they are mentioned."
Another pause.
"…or smile at all."
I looked at him.
Then I laughed.
It was short. Dry. Mechanical.
Even to me, it sounded unfamiliar.
I laughed not because it was amusing—but because it was unexpected.
Someone had spoken without restraint.
That alone was… rare.
Valerius stiffened slightly, unsure how to react.
I stopped.
The silence returned just as quickly.
"Because I hold them accountable," I said.
My voice was flat.
"Every single one of them."
Valerius looked at me, but said nothing. He did not ask further. He only nodded.
He understood enough.
I closed my eyes again.
The conversation ended.
The hum returned.
It never left—but now it was clearer again. Louder. Closer.
A cursed, endless melody.
A city that never stops speaking.
I let myself drift with it.
And then—
A dream.
A boy.
Young. Dark-skinned. Smiling.
Holding the hands of two figures.
Warmth.
Something soft. Something distant.
Something that no longer existed.
The boy was happy.
—
I opened my eyes.
The hum remained.
It always does.
I stood from the chair.
"Valerius," I said.
He straightened immediately. "Yes, my lord?"
"How long have you served me?"
"Two years, my lord," he replied quickly, a hint of anxiety slipping into his voice.
I looked at him.
Then I smiled.
Faint.
Small.
Real enough to be noticed.
He froze.
It was unfamiliar to him.
"Continue as you have," I said.
He relaxed—visibly. The tension left his shoulders.
"Of course, my lord," he said, a slight smile forming.
I watched him for a moment.
"Drop the honorifics when we are alone."
He blinked.
Surprised.
Then, slowly—
"…of course… Ahim."
The word came out carefully, as if it did not belong to him yet.
I turned away.
The smile faded.
"Is the Kutsche prepared?"
"Yes," he said quickly. "Everything is in order."
"Good."
I stepped toward the door.
"Let us go," I said.
A brief pause.
"…and meet the old witch."
We left the room.