The Redo of a Novel's Villain: Moira

12 - Should've Known

Splash

In a separate and smaller room connected to a larger one, was a simply furnished bathroom. A handsome and tall figure wearing a loose white shirt exposing his collarbone, rolled up sleeves, and tucked into black pants, was hunched over the water basin washing his face.

Owen raised his head, usually well kept hair disheveled and damp. Water droplets dripped from his bangs and into the water below, creating small ripples. Coming face to face with a mirror in front, the butler brushed his hair back (temporarily gelled with the water) and inspected his face. Specifically, his left eye.

A wispy jade hue, pale. A cruel difference compared to his right and working eye. A vibrant parakeet with the tiniest hint of peridot. He then scrutinized the ugly scar marring the upper left side of his face. Stemming from his forehead and stretching down to his cheek like cobwebs. At first, he sought to hide this unsightly disfigurement.

He kept wearing the bandages even after recovery. Then he moved on to an eyepatch but quickly discarded it as the wound was far too big to hide (unless he wore a ludicrously large one). After that was makeup, but it could only be concealed for so long. Herbs did not help, unless he continually bought expensive ones. Healing magic was incredibly pricey, and now the scar was much too old for any magic short of a miracle to heal. It was permanent.

So Owen just accepted it.

He was a half blind man now, with a big face scar to boot. All because he had gotten in the way of one of his Young Master's worser tantrums.

He sighed, wiping away any water before walking into his bedroom.

Knock knock

Hm?

Owen perked up and turned to his door. It was well past dinner time, and although admittedly he had retired much earlier than usual, no servant should be seeking his help in any matters or chores near the end of the day. Unless it was about their charge, or on rare occasions one of the other Astaseuls.

Either way it was troublesome.

Owen sighed, far too much these past couple months to his liking and opened the door. Eyes widening while coming face to face with a tuft of black fluffy hair.

"...Young Master?" Why would the youth be knocking at his bedroom in the evening? "What are you doing here?"

Huey bit his lips and looked down at the ground, ashamed. It took a while, but after a bit of coaxing from silence, his voice coming out shook and said, "I'm sorry!"

"...Haa." The butler found himself sighing again. Three times within the span of three minutes! He wanted to laugh and cry. "Come in."

Huey followed the brunette inside, too nervous to take in the styled yet simply furnished room. Sitting opposite each other on the seats, the interrogation began.

"So, what is this about?" Owen, to Huey's dismay, did not look impressed. His displeasure is still very much clear and very much heavy. Only thing that changed from last night was that instead of mostly rage he felt, now it was disappointment.

He fiddled his fingers, "...I came to apologize for last night's.. situation."

Owen smiled ostensibly, "Ah yes, your little midnight expedition where Sir Kayson, the cherished second son of Marquess Nevoid, came back unconscious?"

Huey pursed his lips at the passive aggressive attitude, "...Yes."

Owen hummed, then continued what he wanted to say, "And pray tell, why'd you sneak out like that again—and with Sir Kayson and Sir Joseph this time as well, might I add?" The youth winced. The man really wasn't gonna let him off the hook without making him come clear was he?