Blood stirred awake at midnight.
His little sister was fast asleep, her breathing soft and steady. He swung his legs off the bed, only to feel warmth and softness beneath his feet. Glancing down, he saw the wolf curled peacefully on the floor, its breath rising and falling in a calm rhythm.
He steadied himself, found his footing, and slipped quietly from the room, closing the door behind him so as not to disturb them. There was someone he needed to see.
Moving through the manor, Blood kept to the shadows, deliberately avoiding the main corridors where he might encounter his parents and face their questions. He crossed into the Sickhouse's vicinity, the air shifting as he entered. The sharp, layered scents of herbs and tinctures greeted him, blending with the faint smoke of dried leaves.
The Sickhouse section stretched wide, divided into labeled chambers and corridors that smelled faintly of medicine. Blood moved quietly through the long hallway until he reached the door marked A21, the private room where Ballock was being treated. It was a space set apart, equipped with everything the family could provide.
Inside, Ballock lay awake, his back against the bed. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling as though something unseen held his attention. The door creaked open, and his gaze snapped toward it. Not just anyone could enter here. The memory of Madam Marble's earlier visit still burned in his mind, leaving him embarrassed and unsettled.
Ballock was fearful it might be the Lord this time, so he quickly shut his eyes and turned his face away, as if he was sleep. He had done the same before when Madam Marble came to check on him, hoping to avoid the weight of her questions.
Blood entered silently into room A21, his steps careful against the polished floor. He moved toward the single bed and studied his friend. Ballock lay there, seemingly asleep, his body was free of visible wounds.
Something felt off.
Why are his eyes clenched so tightly? He's never slept like this since I've known him,
Blood thought, leaning closer. He reached out and let his fingertips brush against the lashes—only for Ballock's eyes to snap open wide.
"Ahhhh!" a sudden scream tore through the room, echoing against the walls and spilled into the hallway, disturbing the other patients in their chambers, halting whatever quiet tasks they had been doing.
Ballock's eyes widened in shock when he realized it was his young master standing before him. For a moment his face fell, weighed down by the thought that Blood had risked his life unnecessarily. In Ballock's mind, the young master could have walked away unharmed without touching him—that would have been the wiser choice.
The crimson beam could have scared anyone out of their wits, but the young master still went and saved him, putting his own life at risk.
Ballock suddenly slid off the bed at once, his knees hitting the floor as he bowed low. His forehead touched the ground in a deep kowtow, his voice steady and solemn.
"As from this day onward, I, Ballock Isac—my life wholly belongs to you, Young Master Blood Marble," he declared, his tone grim and unwavering.
Blood froze where he stood, stunned into silence. The words were heavy, binding, and so sudden that they felt almost unreal. His friend's vow was both strange and overwhelming, leaving him speechless as the weight of loyalty was totally foreign to him.
Blood reached down and lifted Ballock from the floor, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "What are you doing?" he asked, his tone was more curious than stern.
In truth, the ritual was well known; once a servant was formally bestowed or designated a master, they were bound to swear absolute loyalty. But everyone understood that such loyalty was ceremonial, since it was imposed rather than earned. Real obedience—true loyalty—was something deeper, something that was forged through respect and tested by time.
Within every family or faction, it was the master's responsibility to establish dominance, so as to prove themselves worthy of command. That was the unspoken trial.
Blood, however, had little patience for such traditions. He cared nothing for the rigid expectations of hierarchy. What he desired, he pursued without hesitation, and he believed no one could stand in his way.
His smile eased, not from arrogance but from a quiet certainty; whatever path he chose, he would walk it on his own terms.
Ballock was really thankful. With every treatment Blood had given him since the very first day, he had come to appreciate his young master. He understood the difference between bestowed loyalty and true loyalty, and he believed he had already been loyal all along.
Yet what happened the other day had opened his eyes. He realized then what true loyalty meant—and who deserved it.
Yes, this master of his was the one.
What master would risk their life for a servant? Most would have walked away or watched from a distance. Blood had not. That act alone had sealed Ballock's conviction.
He had been thinking this over in his mind since he awoke, and before he knew it, his body had moved on its own. He was on his knees, kowtowing, his forehead on the floor.
It was instinctive.
"Young…" Ballock began, but Blood placed a finger gently against his lips.
"I've told you countless times not to call me 'young master,' haven't I? From now on, you should call me by my name," Blood said with a frown. Then, he added firmly, "I really mean it this time."
Ballock's face flushed, words caught in his throat as emotion surged in his heart. For an instant, tears threatened to drop, but he remembered Blood's old 'righteous' saying whenever he was struck at home; "Boys don't cry." Of course, he would cry soon after saying it, but the memory softened him, and a smile crept across his face.
Blood snorted, catching the expression. "It's good you remembered those words, but I'd appreciate if you don't keep that look."
Ballock quickly let the smile fade, nodding subtly, as if in obedience though his heart still swelled. Blood's expression remained unchanged.
"I'm sure you're fine by now," Blood said, his tone shifting. "Then unto the next matter at hand; how to explain everything to my parents when I passed through that main door." Blood's expression became serious.
There was no escaping it—this was the thought that troubled him the most. Should he tell his parents? At this point, it couldn't be said that he knew nothing of the strange 'thingy'. He hadn't even scanned through it properly, let alone considered how he would explain it.
Ballock, watching him closely, spoke with a steady breath. "What are you thinking so much about when you have such good and loving parents to take care of you? Thinking about it more, when the Madam came earlier, I also shut my eyes just as I did now. It would have been foolish to think I escaped her scrutiny." He inhaled deeply, his voice carrying both resignation and clarity.
"She must have known I was awake the whole time. She only left as she came. Never would lords from the great families act like that. I'm just a mere servant enjoying his master's luxury. I should have been kicked out, locked away, or even executed." His words ended with frustration, but also a strange relief.
With this kind of family, he didn't understand why Blood felt troubled.
Blood mulled over Ballock's words, and his mind became clear. How foolish he had been, sneaking from shade to shade through the building as though his parents' senses could be deceived. With their cultivation realms, it would have been effortless for them to detect him and summon him for questioning—if that was truly their intent.
His stealth had already betrayed him. It implied he carried something he wished to hide. And no matter how careful he thought himself, he couldn't claim to have left no trail behind.
The Marbles weren't the kind to oppress their offspring, nor would they oppress another's child without cause. That was the truth of his family.
Blood Marble accepted this realization, straightened himself, and stepped through the door without hesitation.
Behind him, Ballock let out a breath, his voice low. "Was I too hard on him?" The question hung in the air, but he shook his head almost immediately.
"It should be okay,"