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Naively, Dark-Hair thought Elliot was not serious. He was confident that Elliot’s threat was a mindless gibberish, as he believed that Elliot was fond of him.

But, it was not the case.

For a few days, Elliot had not visited him. Dark-Hair thought it was simply because Elliot had something else to do, as he had stated on the last day he visited. However, he was not sure. Even when he had a dinner meeting, even when he had an appointment—Elliot would always make time for him. Yet, now, all of a sudden, he had not a single second to spare.

Perhaps, the Marquess was serious and he would never visit him again.

The door to his room creaked open, and Dark-Hair instinctively lifted his head, eager to find Elliot entering the room—or not. It was yet another maid—who was as startled as the morning one—bringing his lunch.

Feeling defeated, Dark-Hair leaned against the wall and sighed. He could not understand why he was conditioned to expect Elliot to greet him every day.

“Excuse... me, it is lunch,” the frightened maid curtsied from open door before taking a baby step inside. Even from a few feet away, Dark-Hair could see she was terrified. Mineral water from the clear glass and jug shook, indicating vibration from the hands of the maid.

Well, it was not her fault that she was wary of the boy in captive. He could not prove himself harmless, what with being locked in the tiny room all the time.

Now that he thought of it—how long had he been kept captive? He had lost count from the first time he arrived here, the time Elliot began visiting him, and now the time he spent alone. Time became a distorted concept in his mind, unable to be perceived.

“Uh... Mister...” the poor maid—still standing on the door frame—tried to garner his attention.

Dark-Hair flickered his gaze to the poor maid—who flinched at the slightest eye contact—and gave a curt nod, indicating her to place the tray anywhere.

The maid put the tray on the stool that was left by Elliot and scurried out. She closed the door a little too harsh due to nervousness. Dark-Hair did not take offense and let her be. He eyed the tray. On top of it were a simple bowl of cream soup paired with plain bread and a glass of water accompanied with a jug full of refill. Dark-Hair did not mind a simple meal—any meal at all was appreciated, really. He was not a picky eater, but he was not hungry—or, at least, feeling hungry. He had no appetite, knowing that there was nothing else beyond the tray of food.

What else could he do? Eat, and sleep. Gaze at the window, and daydream. Sometimes, being visited by strange nightmares several sleeps in a row. There was nothing entertaining about being locked here, especially that Elliot was not here.

He was full of pride that he did not want to admit that he was lonely. He did not want to show his vulnerability to the point of forcing himself to be alone. Yet, all he wished for was another person’s company.

Elliot was a perfect fill for his emptiness. He talked a lot, yet he did not force Dark-Hair to reply. Perhaps, that was the reason he took Elliot’s kindness for granted.

Dark-Hair spun his attention towards the window once again, gazing at the cloudless sky above. It was such a nice weather. He would love to walk around, sure. He felt suffocated in this tiny room and he wanted to get away.

But, if he ran away, what would he achieve?

Going back to his ‘Master,’ maybe, and then what? It did not sound appealing to him. Being held captive here was far safer than being a fugitive—hunted down by people. At least, there were food and bed and a roof to shelter himself here.

His gaze blurred as his head was in daze, daydreaming and thinking of nothing at all. As the room was silent, his mind was silent—a silence that did not emit even a silent noise. His consciousness wandered away travelling outside the realm of reality and the realm of daydream. As if he were outside the window, yet inside his own mind.

Thus, the consciousness within his mind dug deep inside his brain, discovering fragments of memories and knowledges he did not knew he possessed; all the while his consciousness outside the boundary of this tiny room travelled to the edge of the world.

His mouth gaped slightly, between an awe and an urge to let out a word. His eyelids fluttered closed, absorbing the view of the world and recreating it inside the realm of his imagination.

As though the depth of his heart took over his own realm of mind, he sang a song he did not recognize ever learning.

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