The bitter taste of black liquorice was something I never understood the appeal of; it was a nasty excuse for a sweet.

Makhi used to enjoy them and always bought a piece from the corner shop when he could. Those memories carried me throughout my tasks in the mansion.

My job was simple; I helped the boy cook, pick out his clothes, arrange his schedule, manage his mail, pay his bills, and make his tea. The easier tasks, such as his finances, bored me. His wardrobe was so drab, formal, and stiff that I could not even pull a fun outfit from his collection. However, I expected that. What I did not expect was picking out books for him to read and sitting by the fireplace while he read them.

I knew I had to accompany him whenever he went out because of his poor eyesight in the daytime. Maybe it was a blessing that the afternoon's lustre was dimmed by a thick fog that rolled from the marsh like a wool blanket.

"Shite, can't see nothing now," I grumbled. I stood by with a lamp illuminating the garden for Loukas to work in.

Wasn't he wealthy enough to afford a gardener?

"Um . . . I guess I have to hurry after I care for Momm—Mother's marigolds," he stuttered as his gloved hands disappeared into the fog.

"Mama's marigolds are trying to get us sick," I said.

I did not know whether he saw me roll my eyes at his concern for the weeds. But, I never expected to receive a bouquet of the brightest flowers we tended for the day. It was a thank-you gift for my patience.

No one had ever given me flowers before . . .

This job was more than simply peculiar. I never expected to smile at his cooking or see myself calming him down whenever he had a nightmare. He never elaborated on his dreams, but with his clammy, sweaty skin and shaky breath, I assumed it was for the best. It was all weird, but I could not say I hated it.

The boy was so nervous that, at first, he could barely look me in the eye as we spoke. His gaze was always on the ground and his shoes, never on the person before him. I would always remember when I saw faint, horizontal scars on his arms and thighs when I walked in on him dressing. Ever seen a human tomato before? Loukas would probably win the grand prize in a contest like that.

Meanwhile, I knew my end goals and began my search on my Sundays off. My drawers were empty when I arrived, like every cabinet of the butler's quarters. Not one sign of Makhi was found in this room, even though he had lived there for months.

I had to be more direct in my search for him.

My first course of action was to gather information from the other servants, as few as they were. I always had a natural charm, so with a brush of my hair and a wink of my eye, my questions began. Yet, all I got was more concerning information about the young owner of the manor.

"Sorry, but I know nothing about this boy. He barely goes outside or even looks at us, mostly sending some temps to do the talking for him," the maid said, very much done with me, even after I complimented her large, enticing bosom any man would fall over for.

Bloody slag. Could she not take a joke?

"Brown hair, green eyes, crippled leg? Yes, I've seen him around, Patchwork. Probably did what the rest of these ragamuffin men do with Master Asbjorn. In one day and leave the next," said the accountant.

That . . .

That was not Makhi.

I restrained my annoyance at this bastard insulting him. He knew nothing about my friend. Makhi would not have just come and gone without a word. He might do many things, but to leave me in a void of emptiness was not one of them.

He was far from a good man, in and out of jail, getting into fights. He was more or less like me but was always more gullible than myself. I always kept my guard up, but he, with his big dumb grin, accepted everything.

The fool did not even notice when I felt a lot for him.

I did not even entertain the glasses-wearing penny bugger's offer of "I'll tell you for a price." Something was wrong, and I refused to give up my search for answers. Hence, I decided to go to the man himself, Loukas.

"Hey, boy. I'm bored," I said as I poured his evening tea.

Loukas pulled his nose from his book to say, "S-sorry, I don't have a lot for you to do right now."

"How about a little game? You and me," I suggested, pulling out a deck of cards.

The library was a cosy little room with a fireplace to huddle for warmth and a splendid sitting area surrounded by towers upon towers of bookshelves.

The boy's red eyes stared at me in disbelief at my offer.

"What? Never played a little game between men before?"

Loukas fiddled with his fingers. "No, I haven't since my brother . . . But that was years ago."

"Huh? You have a brother?" I asked, a bit surprised at the revelation. "Where's that lad?"

Loukas breathed a laugh that sounded oddly empty and cold. "I wouldn't know. We—I was separated at eight. I've been here since . . ."

I gave the young man a simple knock on the arm. "Hey! Don't get the morbs about it. We'll give you some fresh air away from this damn mud pit another time. So let's play like men for today."

The boy's blush deepened at my offer, and his hand grasped the shoulder I hit cautiously. "You always make jokes."

"I ain't joking, Loulou. Anyway, we're playing All fours. You know this, right?"

Loukas' solemn posture was remedied by my shuffling. "Oh, in the novel, the children of Marybeth and Jefferson played it before the landslide, right?"

". . . he, who?"

"Never mind, but yes?"

"Usually, I prefer a good game of dominos, but I doubt you highfalutin people got them. I normally bet some cash with something to drink alongside."

"I . . . I don't drink."

I licked my lips at the revelation. "Come on. A little sip together to loosen us up for some fun."

I knew one thing, drunk men did not lie. A positive for Loukas—he needed to relax a little around me and not be so stiff and worried every waking moment of the day.

The tall man scratched the back of his neck, eyes squinted at such a proposal. "Um . . . I guess my uncle has a few drinks and wines. I mean, I never drank them or—"

"You get the glasses, and I set up the cards. Alright, baby boy?"

"Hide!" Loukas gawked at the name, looking away with obvious embarrassment, which I could not help but laugh at.

In no time, we set everything up, and I was amazed that the old dead bastard had that green poison on his shelves. Right there for a young man like Loukas to innocently get a hold of. I said nothing as I poured the emerald liquid into our glasses. Both drinks held a smooth yet dangerous aura.

I picked up my glass and asked, "You're a pretty fancy fella. Ever tried this with some water and a bit of sugar?"

"Um, no. Why?" he asked as he picked up his cards.

His eyes seemed enamoured by the glasses' bright, almost ethereal green shade. "It's so pretty," he whispered.

Dear lord.

Loukas was something else. How could a grown man like him, who lived in the lap of luxury, not have at least heard or tried something like that? The more I learned about him, the more I wondered if this lad was adopted. Despite his looks and manners, he did not act like what I expected of the son of a wealthy family. Every so-called poet at the pubs, who were as empty-pocketed as me, would use the last of their coins on the spirit. If only to feel and act like they were a part of the upper class already, they would boast and show off to all who would listen how they'd powder their hair and write their claim to fame.

Being invited to one lavish party did things to people.

I heard the sound of a gag which brought me out of my musings to witness Loukas covering his mouth with his brows knitted in disgust, cup in hand.

"Urg, this is disgusting," he cried.

"There's your answer," I said, snickering at his reaction. "Do you enjoy the bitter taste of garden worms? They say adding water makes it less like a mouthful a parrot feathers, but those blokes at the pub also added a sugar cube. Unless you love the taste of piss and iron, you can try it straight."

"Um . . . No," Loukas said as he fumbled with glass. "Okay, I'll try."

He allowed me to add my little additions to the drinks before us. I noticed his gaze fixate on the colour change with a noticeable wince. The water muted the antiseptic green, and I dipped a spoon into the mixture, slowly letting the sugar dissolve. It wasn't as pretty, but I'd grown accustomed to the sweet taste. Not that appealing at a glance, but there was an unrefined splendour past it all.

I sipped at my now cloudy fluid as I stared at my cards. I briefly peeked over my hand to watch Loukas take a small sip. His eyes grew wide, and he stared at his cup as if it was gold.

"It's . . . nice," he said, eyes not once leaving his glass and barely containing a small smile. I could not help but grin at his enjoyment; at least he was smiling more lately.

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