Chapter 5: 03 - Swim or Sink

The young butler strode down the hallways. The pale sunlight leaked in from the window, filtered by a river of clouds. The brunette was deep in thought about the raven-haired boy he serves.

Huey Astaseul. A pitiful boy, orphaned by his parents' untimely deaths and neglected by the rest of his family. Thanks to this environment, the Young Master had picked up the cruelty as a way to survive in this vicious family. Unfortunately, the subject of his hate was often towards the servants. The brunette slowed down before coming to a complete stop. Owen's fingers ghosted past the scar. There was so much blood then... his hands clenched into a trembling fist.

The Young Master is a pitiful boy, but he's also a..

"A brat." Owen huffed.

He was confused. Who wouldn't be if their usual feisty Young Master broke all noble decorum and apologized to the servants!? It was strange, and Owen wondered if something had possessed his Young Master if not for the fact that the boy still retained much of his habits. However, conducting his duties comes first before any private musings.

Owen picked up his pace, returning to the calm indifference a butler should have.

Ahead, a maid was feathering a couple of hallway decorations. The girl, upon realizing Owen's presence, hurried to bow. The brown-haired maid from yesterday, the butler noted.

"Mr. Owen, good morning." She gave a small smile.

He nodded in response, "Good morning, Miss Elaine."

"Are you going to wake up the Young Master?"

"Yes, he has a busy schedule today."

Elaine's face lit up, and with a subdued excitement, she asked, "May I come with you?"

"..May I inquire as to why?"

"Curiosity. The Young Master has changed, don't you think?"

"I agree his actions yesterday were uncharacteristic," Owen contemplated shortly. "Very well, you may accompany me in waking the Young Master this morning. I will appreciate the extra hands."

-*:･ﾟ*✧ -

The boy's relaxed figure lay motionless on the bed, with the slow rising of his chest as an exception. From an unskilled eye, the young Astaseul would seem to be asleep.

He, in fact, was perfectly awake.

"..."

"THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING!" Hands immediately went up and smacked onto his face, muffling the screaming and spieling. He screeched, "I JUST PASSED OUT? I GOT KNOCKED OUT FROM ONE HIT? I'M THAT WEAK?! WHAT. NO!!!" Huey's voice cracked. "I ORDERED 'hit me' AND PASSED OUT ON ONE HIT. NO. STOP. WHY. My pride is in SHAMBLES!"

The boy had woken up a few moments prior, but upon realizing that he was knocked unconscious in one hit had pretended to go back to sleep in shame.

"I'm going to lie here forever." He sobbed.

"No can do I'm afraid." A smooth voice interrupted his musings.

Huey jumped, his eyes cracked open in shock to see Owen and Elaine standing before him. How they got into his room unsuspectingly and how much they heard was a mystery he did not wish to know. However, from the way Elaine's face contorted in mirth, he feared that they might have heard all of it—regardless! Huey forced his attention onto the calm face of his butler.

Owen, completely unperturbed (at least from the outside) by his Young Master's earlier screeches, listed out one thing after another. "Your schedule for today is etiquette lessons from 9 to 11, your tutor lessons with Sir William from 12 to 14, a horseback riding session from 15:30 to 17:30, and..."

Huey zoned Owen out. Life as Elijah had the extracurriculums spread throughout the week, not all fitted into the same day! Being abruptly thrust back into this type of schedule was a no-no! Absolute poison for his mind and body! Speaking of extracurriculars, he should've been doing the final touch-ups on that oil painting yesterday if not for his death...

His face sank immediately.

'No... it took me weeks!! I'll never be able to complete it now! Why world, why?! AUGH!!!!'

Huey wrangled and consistently attacked an internal punching bag in the form of the ugliest pillow he'd owned.

When living as Elijah, his therapist had suggested he pick up a calm and time-consuming hobby to help combat the depression. Art had naturally come to mind. All thanks to his maternal uncle (Huey), a fierce, stubborn, grumpy, and aggressive man.

Maxim Chrysanthine, a charming blonde man with enchanting purple eyes to match. He scarcely visited after the death of his sister (only appearing briefly to shower Huey with gifts every year on his birthday). His uncle was caring in his own peculiar awkward way, albeit he could've been more present. Perhaps even having someone there to provide warmth and reassurance, things would not have... spiralled. Nevertheless, Maxim truly cared for his family (His nephew, not the rest of the Astaseuls).

Even when Huey was sentenced to execution, his uncle had tried to plead for his release. Maxim wanted to sneak him out when that failed, only to die in the process. The scene, the sounds, and the blonde's last breath slipping away.

'I won't let it happen again.'

Huey remembers that he once visited the Chrysanthine estate. As a curious child, he wandered into a room with paintings everywhere. The walls, the ground, easels, tables, chairs, and more. Some were mere sketches while the window left others to dry. Some were finished masterpieces. There were portraits of stunning gem-like men and women adorned in various outfits. Paintings of vast ethereal landscapes. Drawings of life-like objects. Abstract art which felt meaningful even if he couldn't decipher the content. It was beautiful.

Looking around the room, he stumbled across a large canvas on one of the easels facing the window. Curiosity got the best of him, and he took a peak; the most beautiful, life-like, and delicate portrait ever stood amidst the sunlight.

Luscious black hair froze mid-motion in the raw emotion the picture captured. The light shone perfectly onto the bejewelled clothing and polished violin. Red flowers bloomed on black hair, jade skin, ornamental clothes, and the instrument—the bare background emphasizing the person—drawn with meticulous care. If Huey hadn't known better, he would've thought the man in the portrait would begin moving.

The light trickling in from the window cast an enchanting ambience. However, it was clear the art was still a work in progress as the person's face remained a faint sketch on the canvas.

Soon, his uncle had caught him. Maxim berated him for entering the studio, but Huey would always find a way back in again. Ultimately, he relented and gave the young boy access to the space.

They built a routine. Every month, when he visited the Chrysanthine manor, his uncle would paint while he sat nearby, watching the process. It was a slow and tranquil procedure, one neither hated.

Unfortunately, after Delilah Chrysanthine passed away, his monthly visits disappeared, too. There were no more quiet hours within the studio. Maxim's visits were also getting less frequent, to the point Huey wasn't sure if he'd ever see the man again.

One thing that was for sure was that his uncle's expression each time he painted was calm—a stark contrast to his usual fiery temper. Not many would have noticed, but he knew. Art was his uncle's solace, his freedom.

On the day of his mother's funeral, the man did not cry. The sobs of people mourning filled the air, but he did not cry. Rain pelted down against his long hair and face, sliding down his cheeks like tears, but he did not cry. Huey should've been mad. The siblings were close; why didn't his uncle cry? Why is his expression so calm?! Despite his perplexity, Huey couldn't help but compare it to the peace he saw in those quiet moments. The type he'd get when finally finishing an artwork. One where he managed to save something from falling over in the studio. One that could be seen when Huey came in with a cup of coffee for the man.

One of relief.

"Owen." He blurted out before he even realized it.

"Yes?" The butler was now at the other side of the room, picking out an outfit for the day.

"Bring some drawing essentials to my room later."

"Of course." He paused. "Forgive my impudence, but may I inquire as to why?" Evergreen eyes peered at him curiously, let alone the reaction from Elaine.

"I should naturally bring glory to the Astaseul name by showcasing artistic talent when I get to the academy." That was all a lie, but they didn't need to know that.

'Yes to: expanding artistic talents. No to: bringing glory to the family name. Like hell I would try to stand out for that reason! I do that just by standing still (but in a bad way)!'

"Very well, I will arrange it promptly. In the meantime, Miss Elaine here will help you in place of me." Handing over the apparel to a stunned maid, Owen quickly departed.

"Looks like I'm in charge of you for the morning, Young Master!" The brunette declared. Her sky-blue eyes twinkled with resolve.

Huey nodded. "Then I'll be in your care."

He had half the mind to do a thumbs up, but from what he remembers, the connotation does not exist, so he discarded the idea.

'It'd be bad if it actually does exist but in the form of the equivalent of the middle finger.. like that whole biting thumb thing...'

For some reason, breakfast didn't feel as stifling. His apology the day before seems to have quelled some of the hostility, but instead, it spiked up the confusion.

"It's better than being glared at all the time," he mumbled while biting his fork. Breakfast consisted of a delicious fried egg with buttered toast on the side. The salad, however, tasted bland due to a lack of sauce.

After finishing the food, he was ushered to etiquette class. Baroness Misa Reuslo, the teacher, was a well-kept and graceful woman. Her hair was always tied up in a bun without one stray strand, and her dresses were modest with a touch of modernity. Despite the simple look, the woman managed to exude elegance and demand respect.

She was also an extremely strict teacher, so much so that some of her teachings were still engraved deep into his habits.

'She's scary!' Was what he thought then, as Huey, as Elijah, and now.

"Good morning, Miss Reuslo."

"Good day to you too, Mr. Astaseul. Have you practiced what I taught you two classes ago? Duke Astaseul has requested me to expand more on it this month."

Huey's brain short-circuited by the sudden enquiry. Fortunately, he managed to pull himself together. Through simple deduction, he surmised.

"Social etiquette?"

"Yes, I do hope there isn't any specific incident that caused the duke to request that I focus on this topic." She raised one of her elegantly trimmed dark eyebrows. The look she was sending him was vexatious, and a finger twitched.

"There's none; please do not worry yourself with trivial matters, miss."

"Regardless, today we will be expanding on social and event etiquette. It is a crucial must for a nobleman especially of your status-are you listening?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fix your posture, keep your chin up-no a little lower, make eye contact when talking, do not fiddle your fingers." She sighed in a disappointed manner while Huey attempted to correct himself." It seems my one-week absence was enough for you to forget a good chunk of what we learned. Very well, we will start from the top."

Her glare was intense, making the male's guts churn and spin. Cold sweat germinated immediately, and Huey internally cried from the bottom of his soul.

-*:･ﾟ*✧ -

After an agonizingly long lesson, Huey could no longer feel his tongue or hand from being forced to repeat words verbally and on paper. He bade farewell to Miss Reuslo before collapsing onto the maroon bed. Immediately after, Elaine came in with lunch on a small silver cart.

"Young Master, it's time to eat."

He grumbled into the covers before strolling over to the table.

"Thank you, Elaine."

The maid froze before continuing to set the table.

"It is my duty, Young Master."

"You still deserve gratitude." Huey had rebuked.

"You have changed, sir, as your vassal, I am glad."

"Don't you hate me?"

Elaine reared back, her hands waving in denial. "Goddess, no! You are only sixteen with much room to grow! How could I hate a child who has such... Never mind, please excuse what I just said."

"..So you pity me?" Huey deftly rolled the cutlery between his fingers. Wordlessly watching the brunette struggle with making up an excuse only to fail, sighing in defeat instead.

"..Yes. I am terribly sorry if it were to offend you."

"It's alright." He scooped the mushroom stew. "It's nice knowing I have someone who cares about my life here."

"Young Master.." The brunette bit her lip. Her blue eyes were trepid. "To speak the truth, I did resent you a little in the past."

Huey paused.

"Although I did not wish to hate you because of your situation. I could not stand you physically and verbally abusing your servants as a way to release your feelings. Especially when it left those scars.. It was horrid. More than once have I seriously considered the idea of quitting, but I have a family to feed back home. Younger siblings to care for, and hunting for a well-paying job is much more difficult than it sounds. So, like many others, I stayed. I believe the rest of the staff's feelings are justified. Although I do pity you, I also hated you."

"..I'm sorry-"

"But not anymore. If you are planning to change, then naturally, as your vassal, I should rejoice. The others may take a while to come around (especially Owen, who was left unsaid), but they will if you commit to this change. So please do not assume that I hate you any longer." Elaine's gaze held intent and was quite intimidating.

Huey flinched at the firm tone and sat motionless while processing the words. As the weight of the realization settled in, it was as if the icy Astaseul exterior he put on slightly melted. His face betrayed him, and soon, a pleasant blush appeared alongside a small minuscule smile, which the maid promptly returned tenfold.

The brunette then excused herself from the room, her chest thumping joyfully.

Huey took a sip of the stew.

It was warm.

After lunch, Owen came to (drag) escort him to class. His expression was the same as ever but seemed a bit.. edged?

'Just how many times did I skip class before to the point they come to fetch me before and after every lesson?!'

"Young Master, as we do not have any art-specific materials, I have arranged for someone to purchase them. Before I give the order, are there any specific needs?" the butler stated. Huey's expression brightened in response. "However, please keep the purchase tame as it is not a purchase authorized by the duke."

"Alright, thank you, Owen. The basics aside, it'd be nice to have a couple of oil paints and size-varied canvases."

"Understood, I will inform them shortly. In the meantime, we have arrived."

"It appears we have." Huey quickly bade farewell to his butler before entering the office where his professor, a tall and slim figure, stood.

"Good afternoon, Sir."

"Good afternoon."

Something... felt wrong.

William spoke with a glint in his eyes, "I hope you came prepared. The test on units 7-10 is today. I understand it is very sudden, but I will not take excuses. Duke Heiden has ordered your studies to advance, and I have given you plenty of time and resources on this subject. I expect you to reflect that."

Huey frowned at his teacher, who seemed not one bit apologetic. No matter, the difficulty is eighth grade at best.

"The time limit will be an hour. The test starts now."

Huey got to work. Answering the questions easily, purposely messing up in some of the 'harder' ones, staring idly at others, and soon the one hour time frame passed.

The remaining class time was spent on worksheets while the professor marked the test. Near the end, William finally spoke up.

"Impressive, despite the minor mistakes you have surpassed my expectations. All the foundations seem pretty solid." The blonde showcased a rare smile. "I believe it is appropriate to move on to the new units now."

Huey's face lit up, and he couldn't help but smile. Sir William, who was closing his eyes, missed it and continued.

"Since there's not enough time to go over the new subject for homework, I want you to do pages 178 to 183 for the next class. Now then, hand me your homework."

-*:･ﾟ*✧ -

Huey's finger twitched. He had nearly forgotten the tailor his uncle had sent. The man was bald and wore a deep Fuschia-coloured suit. The tailor-made quick work, measuring him with supreme speed before flitting off. It was irresponsible for the tailor to leave without asking for his preferences, but he supposed his uncle already had designs in mind. Despite the fact he was treated as an outcast, they couldn't just broadcast it to the entire kingdom of Ecrelyn. Therefore, to prevent more staining on the Astaseul name (caused mainly by Huey himself), he would often prepare matching outfits to demonstrate a minuscule familiarity.

Thankfully, the Duke's fashion taste wasn't anything gaudy or terrible; they rather aligned with Huey's own. That fact was fortunate in that he did not need to wear anything abysmal, but alternatively unfortunate with the likeness always leaving a bad taste.

After a devastatingly long day, Huey practically melted into the chair. Horseback riding was absolutely horrible. It was raining! Furthermore, His horse was a demon in disguise. It was a glutton. A glutton that kept biting and sneering at everything, let alone mounting it! A perfect personality and appearance to match the old Huey Astaseul.

Its name is Apple.

...

'No, Apple, why are you mean to me now...' Huey lamented while eating dinner.

That horse with an attitude used to only submit to him, but perhaps an animal's intuition lets it know that he's technically not the same? He's still Huey, though. He groaned in frustration.

"If this continues, I'll die from fatigue before I even get to the main event." The steam of the bath fogged up his vision. Wet bangs clung to his forehead, dripping with warm water. Huey sank his body, his head submerging underwater.

It's an old habit he picked up a couple of years ago. Seeing how long he could hold his breath started as a challenge, but soon became something else.

He'd stay submerged 'till his body lost to the muddled heat. His heart thumped against his ribs. His lungs burned like a tiny ember, slowly sparking at the bottom before travelling up root-like veins. The pain sifted his realm of consciousness. With eyes despite being closed felt hazy. He'd stay under until a human's natural fear and rejection of death forced him up.

His therapist had told him that it was a form of self-harm or a physical manifestation of his psychology.

"You're drowning inside, but you don't know it. Thus, your brain developed this habit to manifest the issue physically to bring attention to it."

'The issue.. guilt? Outcast? Or more?'

The shadows crept closer.

Through the dark, murky screen, he could see the ghost images of each of his sins play out in muddy details.

The demon's sweet, enticing words blanking and glitching out.

The girl who he black mailed and hurt to steal a family heirloom and provide information.

The boy who he fed poison to because he was angry.

The couple that mourned the loss of their child.

The people's screams of agony as the poison worked through their bodies.

Celine's skreigh as he killed her companions.

Sorin's wrath.

The King's authoritative voice that declared his crimes and execution.

All their voices seemed to push him deeper and deeper into the water. They coalesced like ice to keep him trapped. Eyeballs of contempt grew from the darkness, looking, glaring, sobbing, shaking, and fading.

"It's your fault!"

"Murderer!"

"You killed me!"

"Why?!"

"Bastard."

"You should've never been born."

"Demon."

"Huey.. let's-"

'No!'

'None of this has happened yet! They're all alive, and I'm not him anymore!'

Something in his mind refuted.  A cruel reminder that wore the same malicious smile he had whenever he committed pain to others.

'But it has. ' It drawled. 'They've existed, lived, and died by your hands. The very hands you wish were clean are stained with the stench of iron, and you know it. The delusion you cocoon yourself in is but a fragile, thin, and see-through wrap.'  The voice laughed.

The shadows touched.

The blood dribbled down his throat and filled his lungs. The murky water rippled in red. His palms bloomed red peonies that stained all that it touched. His last breath escaped.

'It would be better if you spared them of their tormentor here and now.' The sweet, sweet temptation is almost too enticing for the sinner to bear.

And it broke.

"Young Master!"

Owen hauled up Huey's body. Water rolled off him like a shedding cocoon. The shadows retreated while hissing, and the eyes, the voices, them, sunk back into the depths. The boy inhaled a large gulp of air before coughing hysterically. His lungs were burning, and his limbs trembled uncontrollably. His chest ached and greedily took in oxygen. Huey recognized a towel wrapped around him before the butler guided him out of the tub, leaning him against it. The brunette scrutinized the quivering youth whose breathing had finally evened to an acceptable pace.

It was supposed to be a typical day. One where the Young Master was a bit more peculiar, but nevertheless, the routine was supposed to stay a routine. He would help the Young Master get ready, order the servants to their respective chores, commit to his own tasks, and prepare the Young Master's bath.  Then, he'd leave the boy to his own devices to relax, with him checking in occasionally. Then he'd help him to bed, and the day would repeat.

It should have been a typical day.

It should have.

It was not.

The butler's entire body perspired with cold sweat upon seeing a very much dying Huey Astaseul in the tub. Moving before he could even think, Owen had already dragged the boy out from death's reach and onto the floor(where he is now wrapped like a burrito). He glowered at the male furiously.

"What did you think you were doing?"

Red eyes blinked bewilderedly. "I-"

"You could've died. Would have, had I not checked on you." Owen's legs, now soaked wet from the previous action, quivered in rage and shock. Jade eyes glistened with a reprimanding glare. "Do you want to know what would have happened if you died?!"

"I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing! You just almost died for Goddess' sake stop!"

Ruby eyes shook and Huey curled in further. Seeing this, Owen grabbed the back of the towel, forcing the male to sit straight and stare into his eyes.

"You are an Astaseul. The rightful successor to this family's legacy, not your cousins, not others, you. Your father saved me, and I vowed to serve him with my life. As a servant, I will follow my master's will no matter what. He has entrusted your care to me, and it is my duty to execute his orders. So regardless, I will upkeep that order." Owen allowed himself to catch his breath.

"I hate you. I hate you for blinding me, I hate you for treating people like trash, I hate your family, I especially hate that motherfucker of a duke and his kids, but I hate the man who went and died leaving his only child at a lion den the most. Master Harold, as infuriating as he is, ordered me to take care of you, so don't you dare die until you've reclaimed the Astaseul name!"

Owen's chest heaved up and down. The older male was flushed red from adrenaline. A few speechless moments ticked by, and he heaved. "Understood?"

Huey was gaping, and it took him a few seconds to respond. "Yes!"

For once, Owen smiled—nothing like his usual professional smile. This one was gruff but real. "Good, now get ready for bed, you brat. I have to sleep after you."

In response, Huey scrambled up to do as he was told. Eventually, when he came out of the bathroom, Owen was unsurprisingly waiting for him. The black-haired male settled into bed and made eye contact with his butler again. The verdant eyes (despite their circumstances) seemed more alive than ever after that eventful exchange.

"Have a good night's sleep, Young Master."

"You too, and thank you for saving me."

"It is my duty."

Huey hummed before an impulsive thought took over.

"Owen, that was the most emotions you've ever shown me. You should do it more often; it makes you actually seem alive." He snickered, "You know that it's okay to show emotions, right? It's unhealthy to bottle them up." His grin promptly vanished upon seeing the butler tread towards him.

"You brat, I said sleep!" Owen smacked the back of his head, earning a yelp. The man folded his arms before responding, "And I could say the same to you, hypocrite."

The boy looked away with a smile. A pale hand scratched his head, still stung from an earlier smack. "Ah, you're right."

Owen huffed before pushing Huey down, covering him entirely with the blanket, and smacking a pillow onto the lump.

"Yes, yes, now lie down and stay down. I'm closing the lights." Just as his words had said, the brunette closed the gas lamps before immediately exiting the door. Right before he closed it, Huey peeked out from beneath the covers to utter another thank you. Owen had already closed the door before the man could think of replying, but the youth was sure he heard an exasperated "Sleep!" coming from behind.

A warm feeling stirred in his chest and pooled deep within. The person he thought hated him the most cared about him! There's a possibility of making amends after all! Huey's hand ghosted across the velvet curtains. The cool sensation tickled before sticking the limb back in the covers. The fabric was breathable and soft, like sleep's palms massaging and beckoning him closer. The inaudible lullabies of slumber embraced him and soon lulled him into a tranquil rest.

~🎩🪄 ✧ ✦~

Not sure what I was doing here but.. 😁

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