This chapter is brought to you by 再会 by LiSa and Uru.
Edited by: bafflinghaze
---
It shouldn't be to anyone's surprise when the servants of the Odum Manor began to notice something very peculiar about their eldest Young Master.
During the spring holiday, he moved a few tables into his office and created a makeshift laboratory in a matter of days. Some of the manor staff saw him carrying equipment originally belonging to an alchemy institute or an apothecary into the room with the ease and familiarity of a professional.
The guards patrolling the grounds of the west wing have noticed the boy getting into the habit of disposing foreign liquids through his office window. The liquids were landing on a dead rose bush beneath the kid's office and have so far killed it twice and revived it thrice—the third one was to rejuvenate the plant; it was looking rather limp even after being brought back to life...
The servants have also witnessed his growing collection of houseplants forming on the tables.
It looked like the boy was taking an interest in a docile hobby, which surprised many of the staff members working in the manor.
Between Lady Guinivere's extreme swordplay, Madam Vespera's violent horse riding, Master Gareth's unhealthy obsession with bomb diffusion, and Young Master Aurelion's love of tearing into people and reading them for filth—only to be surprised moments later when they try to attack or kidnap him in an alleyway—the Ducal had been in dire need of a nonviolent extracurricular to balance the chaos.
All was well... until a week later the footman with a background in espionage confirmed some people's speculations.
The boy wasn't displaying an interest in houseplants—he was growing his own stock of poison.
"..."
No one said anything after the discovery. The servants had hoped Young Master Nazareth would be more interested in a normal hobby, but alas, it was too much to ask an Odum to be ordinary when they had the possibility to be extraordinary.
At the very least, they were glad the Young Master finally found something to focus on. The occasional instances of death have not occurred in weeks and no one's caught food poisoning, needed to visit a healer for any mysterious skin allergies, or been bedridden from some unknown disease.
One day, a maidservant walked into the office for the weekly cleaning and saw half of the plants dying from dehydration. The Young Master hadn't watered those plants in weeks!
The servants soon found themselves in a bind. They feared the Young Master would give up his new hobby and begin doing those illegal activities again.
A kitchen wench, who used to be an imperial-sanctioned hitwoman, took a trip downtown to a back alley apothecary and returned with care guides.
Rainier was thus given the high honor of caring for the plants.
The young man was confused at first but didn't question the housekeeper who gave him some oddly specific instructions regarding the plants in his Young Master's office. She was a decorated war hero back in her youth.
Once Rainier started attending to the plants, they began to flourish beautifully.
Life in the Odum Manor soon became strangely peaceful.
No one dared to say why this was, but the unspoken matter, as always, involved the Eldest Young Master.
It was not that the servant hadn't doubted the identity of their Young Master at first.
The kid had cut his hair and started to join the morning and evening meals. He'd been amicable to Young Master Aurelion and even openly interacted with Lady Guinivere.
He called Madam Vespera 'mother'.
But the servants' suspicions were futile.
The kid's behavior didn't drastically change overnight to the point they would suspect a body double.
He was still as awkward and expressionless as the rest of his family. He didn't say much when it came to conversations unrelated to his interests, and the way he stared into the souls of people like that Titus bastard was as immaculate as ever.
His usual coach drivers have also confirmed he still visited the local apothecary once a week to see the owners and restock for his projects.
So no, the Young Master was clearly still the same Young Master the servants fearfully (but loyally) served.
He was just more reasonable, now.
For example, there was that one time when a newly hired maidservant almost bumped into him in the hallway and the Young Master merely stepped aside as she fell.
The maidservant was once a mercenary; she caught herself and did a flip in midair to recover from her fall.
The Young Master barely said a word to her besides a small greeting, no threat of bodily harm to be heard, before he continued on his way, leaving her in the hallway to watch him with a wary gaze.
Oh! There was also that one time when the Young Master visited the kitchen again!
He was boiling something in a cauldron.
The sous chef saw a tail sticking out, but he didn't comment on it.
The boy hadn't disturbed anyone. He was working by himself off to the side, doing whatever it was Odum kids did these days in the kitchen. Someone accidentally spilled some water and it landed on his shoes. Everyone went silent, waiting for the moment when the Young Master would set the kitchen on fire.
Somehow, it never happened. The boy ignored his wet shoes and continued working, only looking up from his cauldron when he realized the room had gone quiet.
It was surprising to see him tolerating mistakes.
Many servants were relieved.
Perhaps the kid was finally becoming an adult.
Of course, there were a few who still retained some wariness, but they were people with civilian backgrounds.
Others, those who'd lived less than savory lives, rejoiced.
Having been a street rat, Young Master Nazareth used to be a tiny thing—fitting into small corners and shadows and places he really shouldn't be in. He was more trouble than Young Master Aurelion and Lady Guinivere combined.
Compared to his siblings, he was also more expressive with his anger, more emotional, and outright aggressive. It was nothing like the coolness of Lady Guinivere or the chilly anger of Young Master Aurelion.
Nevertheless, no one had the heart to blame him for his obvious flaws.
The child would lash out and bite and punch and kick like a wild animal for the first year of his stay in the manor.
Those who have been working for the Odum Family for over a decade still remember the gremlin child, so small and furious and a whirlwind of emotions, habitually hunting down traitors and spies in the middle of the night with the skills he learned in the streets of the Red Light District.
Young Master Nazareth claimed the manor as his own, as much as he would like to deny it. He was like a dragon—a hatchling, really—trying to protect his new home from the clutches of unfaithful retainers and hidden moles. Those who claimed he was an ungrateful runt knew nothing of his undying loyalty to those who showed him even a small bit of kindness.
Few knew this, but the servants plucked from the slums and the underworld found him absolutely adorable.
The civilian servants, unfortunately, were a bit more cautious of the small child going around poisoning maids and making people twice his weight class disappear within a week, but what should they expect of an Odum?
All of a sudden, the manor staff felt oddly nostalgic...
"I have news!"
In the late evenings, the gardener quickly rushed into the servant's wing, a look of panic clear in his eyes.
"What is it?" a scullery maid asked, giving only half her attention. She pointed her bow and arrow at the archery target sixty meters down the corridor and shot herself a bullseye.
The gardener, a retired shadow guard from the Hangul Kingdom, pursed his lips. "The Eldest Young Master is planning to gain access to the Glasshouse."
The entire wing suddenly fell into a heavy silence.
In the corner of the wing, the kitchen wench threw the blade she'd been sharpening toward the target, splitting apart the arrow on the bullseye.
The scullery maid shot her a glare. "You cheated."
"Fuck off, Linda."
---
Neo realized he was turning his studies into a jungle.
The plants were thriving like never before, which surprised him. He originally had really low expectations for their survival rate.
In the modern world, he once got himself a snake plant after he moved out.
It was dying within a week even though he made sure it had enough water and sunlight. He even bought the most expensive potting soil recommended to him by the snake plant seller for the repotting.
His Pa dropped in for a visit one day and ended up taking the plant with him. The snake plant was still alive to this day and living its best life on a kitchen counter.
Yet, despite his unfortunate experience with houseplants, Neo saw the harvest Ortho and Artho's Apothecary managed to yield. The owners were gracious enough to give him some seeds for the plants he'd been repeatedly buying in bulk despite his protests.
Besides, one bad experience didn't necessarily make it a pattern. In the end, he decided to start a small garden in his office.
The outcome had caught him completely off-guard.
The plants were still alive after a few weeks.
He didn't think he was so talented in gardening—was it because they weren't technically houseplants?
Not only did the plants live, but they grew to the point he needed to propagate them. They were starting to grow uncontrollably, nearly taking up a quarter of his office. It was then that he decided he needed to move them to a larger space.
"Rainier, can you help me write something?"
He pulled out his handwritten work and showed it to the servant.
Rainier paused after looking at it.
"My handwriting is lacking. Do you think you can copy it with your own penmanship?"
"... Certainly."
Six hours later, Neo was ready to speak to his father.
---
"You want the Glasshouse?"
"Yes, Father."
His eldest son stood in front of him with an unreadable expression on his face.
Gareth furrowed his brows after hearing the odd request.
The glasshouse has been put under stasis since his grandparent's generation. He didn't bother reviving the place since he had no interest in plants and Vespera was even less inclined than he was.
There were a variety of plants being nursed inside it. Some were rare species and the last of their kind, while others were experimental and have been bred artificially by his Great Aunt Gwendolyn.
She was the one who created the Glasshouse and was exceptional in magic engineering.
Gareth marked a spot on the parchment he was reading and met Nazareth's gaze. After a moment, he finally asked, "You will take care of it?"
His son nodded quickly.
He eyed him for another second, still dubious. Why did Nazareth need the Glasshouse all of a sudden?
Before he could ask for his reasons, Nazareth wordlessly handed him a large folder. Casting him a curious glance, Gareth opened it and was immediately met with what looked like a fifty-page thesis arguing for the benefits of a working Glasshouse. He noticed many of the reasons revolved around medicine.
Had his son developed an interest in healing?
He flipped through the document and found recommended additions for the Glasshouse. A self-functioning watering system, heating system, and weather control system were mentioned. His son even worked out the details and instructions for each system build with his personal talisman and charm designs. They looked similar to some of the talismans for commercial uses, but more... refined, perhaps?
Gareth felt as if a lightning bolt shot him in the head. This was his first time learning of Nazareth's abilities.
He didn't know if he should laugh or cry. His son had barely shown any interest in anything that didn't revolve around violence and backhanded schemes.
Had he been so blinded by those shortcomings, he wasn't able to see his genius?
"It's been closed for the last fifty years," he croaked, his voice feeling oddly dry. "It is dirty and disorganized. Wait for another week. I will have someone prepare it for you."
He pretended he didn't notice the way his son brightened, his eyes narrowing, not unlike a cat who'd been given cream.
Gareth observed his son a little longer, feeling something warm growing in his chest.
The child used to be so apathetic to everything; he feared his heart could never be mended.
Gareth knew he wasn't a good parent. A good parent wouldn't be able to watch their children single-handedly figure out how to survive the chaos of the aristocracy. A good parent would protect their children, would communicate with their children, and be there for them.
He did none of these things.
The aristocracy didn't want ordinary and simple—of being satisfied and accustomed to a life of being comfortable. He feared that if he coddled his children too much, it would only end poorly for everyone. History had often mentioned spoiled lords and ladies, emperors and empresses, princes and princesses—all who were beheaded in rebellions for their lack of virtue.
One thing he made sure Aurelion and Guinivere knew was noblesse oblige. It was the responsibility of the privileged to act with generosity and nobility toward those less privileged.
Nazareth was of both worlds, yet, he often seemed to be of neither.
Gareth didn't know if he should even mention noblesse oblige to his eldest when he lived a less fortunate life. His first mistake was to assume his son would be compassionate. He never thought about how hurt the boy was, how difficult it was to be kind when he was so angry at the world already.
Vespera had always called him a bleeding heart. Even if Gareth hadn't been required to take the child in, he would have done it a hundred times without regretting his choices.
He couldn't find it in himself to leave the small boy dressed in nothing but rags, hair black as ink and eyes shining red like vermillion. The child was an Odum. He knew it in the way he moved, the presence he exuded, and the icy exterior of his face. His intelligence and his wit.
Gareth had hoped the luxury of their home would help the boy, but it wasn't so.
Between the comfort of the manor and all the money he had, Gareth sometimes wondered if the child would have been happier in the streets of the Red Light District.
The child seemed so uncomfortable living in the walls of the manor, and neither he nor Vespera knew what to do.
When Nazareth almost blinded Rainier, Gareth knew he couldn't stop overlooking the unhinged malevolence stewing in his son. It was unfair to his other children, but the realization came too late. Aurelion feared for his life and Guinivere turned cold. And Nazareth...
Nazareth was miserable.
He was a child who'd learned how to survive in ways he shouldn't have had to. He drank clean water for the first time at the age of seven. He was able to wear shoes for the first time at the age of seven. He was full from a meal for the first time at the age of seven.
Gareth had bitten off more than he could chew.
He didn't have the heart to punish him or expel him from the manor. He was worried he would break him even more if he did such a thing.
In the end, the only punishment he felt suitable for his eldest was a week of confinement in the west wing. Gareth brought him books: books on ethics, morals, principles, and ideals. He made sure Nazareth read them, took notes, and asked questions.
He put all his hope into his efforts.
Nazareth left confinement and was back to being himself a few days later. He only learned to be extra careful when making plans against his enemies.
Time went on. Gareth tried to do damage control. The rivalry between his sons became more and more violent.
It felt like a never-ending spiral of misery in the manor, until one day, Nazareth came down for breakfast with a new haircut.
Gareth set down his pen and was now openly staring at his son.
Neo was about to stand up and take his leave before he caught his father standing up from behind his desk.
"Father?"
Gareth made a gesture to his personal servant to bring them some snacks before sitting down on one of the sofas across from Neo. "Sit with me."
Neo wordlessly remained in his seat.
They remained awkwardly sitting there until the servant came back with a pot of coffee and a plate of cookies. Gareth stirred in an ample amount of sugar and cream into his cup and furrowed his brows slightly as he watched his son drink his with nothing else.
As any awkward father would do in a situation he had put himself in, Gareth asked the one question he deemed safest—the one he always asked when he didn't know what to say.
"How are your studies?"
Neo raised an eyebrow.
---
In order to remove the Slave Emblem, Neo made several different prototypes of the anti-emblem talisman. After spending a week working on the formulation, he finally made a small breakthrough.
He stretched his neck from side to side and stretched his fingers. It felt like months since his last experiment with the trial vaccine. He was excited to start testing the effects of another antidote.
But first...
"Rainier, I need you to go to the library and retrieve the Codex of Amellyurias."
He needed to send Rainier on an errand to the Odum Library.
"Would that be on the fifth shelf, or the sixth, Young Master?"
"Fifth. One from the Hangul Kingdom and another from the Francois Republic. It's on the left side of the shelf where Uncle Aureylis' journals are kept, it should be marked as such." His eyes remained glued to the journal he'd been using to write down his research. To onlookers, it appeared to be a scribbled mess with incomprehensible writing.
It was a good thing he was able to read his own handwriting.
Light footsteps made their way out of the room.
When the door closed, Neo began to work.
Slicing, pulping, and grinding. His movement was fluid and elegant. Pale hands held a small knife and quickly diced a weird, tail-like thing into pieces.
As he started the first few steps of the process, Neo absentmindedly thought back to all the recent events that happened.
After returning to this world, things were starting to stray from the trajectory of his previous life. His relationship with his family was awkward but not as bad as it could be. Aurelion was less hostile to him and Guinivere's made it a habit to 'borrow' his handkerchiefs on days she had to spar.
Tybalt and Finneas were surprisingly honest with him after their conversation about his death and reincarnation. The two of them were more open with him now compared to his previous life as Nazareth. Neo discovered some interesting things about them he never knew in the past.
Finneas had a potty mouth and very extreme seasonal allergies.
Tybalt's dry sense of humor was amazing and his sarcasm had gone way over his head in their last life.
And Royce...
To be honest, he didn't know what to make of Royce. They still worked together in class, and he still talked to him, although rarely.
He didn't know if the relationship could be salvaged, and this realization caused him to hesitate like a coward.
Neo sighed as he crushed a dried Devil's Breath with a knife.
He checked the distillery on the other end of the table and was satisfied to see steam rising from it.
Clear liquid began to drip down from the condenser tube into a cup underneath.
Neo cut the flow and poured the contents of the cup into a mortar. He allowed it to settle with the ground herbs inside the mortar before adding a sprig of Sand Hemlock.
The mixture bubbled, a reaction to the hemlock. The fizzing died down and a green paste remained.
Neo unbuttoned the first two-quarters of his shirt and dipped a handkerchief into a bowl of antiseptic. The Slave Emblem peaked out from below his left collarbone. It had healed cleanly, the black line carving a place for itself on his skin.
He rubbed the antiseptic over the mark and covered his latest anti-emblem talisman prototype with the paste.
Neo took a seat on one of the sofas and drew in a deep breath. He carefully placed the talisman over the slave emblem.
"Hisssss..."
This was a terrible decision and he regretted all his life choices.
His body turned stiff as a painful sensation crawled its way through his nerves. It felt like a billion lasers were being beamed down into his flesh and tearing him apart.
Steam began to rise from the talisman. Neo didn't know if the magic was eating him or doing a fantasy version of laser tattoo removal, but he really hoped the reaction would be over soon. He was starting to see black spots.
"—aster... Young Master... Young—"
He only ever removed a tattoo once in his life, and the reason for it was because he had no recollection of ever getting it. According to his college roommate, he got a random name at a tattoo parlor at two in the morning after getting drunk at a party.
Who the fuck would name their kid Jedidiah?!
He didn't even know a Jedidiah.
Now, Neo knew he had no right to complain when he was named Nazareth, but the chances of someone walking around with 'Nazareth' or 'Neo' tattooed on their body because the two of them didn't make good choices while drinking was very likely. If the other party wasn't able to afford laser removal... oh, the poor sod.
He was rambling.
Was the talisman working? How long had he been sitting here?
Neo removed the talisman and checked the Slave Emblem.
Damn.
The mark was still there.
The lines didn't fade one bit. The area still stung from the talisman, but everything was still the same.
Sigh.
Fatigue settled in like a second skin.
"Young Master!"
He jolted in his seat.
---
It took a while for Rainier to find the book his Young Master was looking for. As it turns out, it was on the right side of the shelf, not the left, like Young Master had told him.
Suspicion rose in his heart after he retrieved the book. The Young Master's memory was one of the best, he wouldn't forget these minor details after giving him such specific instructions.
Rainier ended up rushing back to the office, breaking several etiquettes as he traveled from the north wing of the manor back to the west wing. The location of the library was a ten-minute walk.
Slam!
He threw the door open and lo and behold, the Young Master was doing something reckless again.
Rainier wasn't an angry person.
In all honesty, he could be quite forgiving. It was a flaw, unfortunately. Most servants from domestic backgrounds usually developed this... unnaturally forgiving nature by the time they graduated from the Servant Academy.
It was usually known as the first virtue of a Capable Servant.
The students learned a good amount of patience to put up with their master's bullshit.
The third virtue was foresight, an instinct honed through brutal training in what was known as the Arena. Students usually dropped out in the winter once the Arena was introduced in their curriculum.
These three qualities would have been enough for students to graduate as Servants, but Rainier was an Odum servant before Master Aurelion sent him to the Academy. Odum servants sought to be extraordinary when there was a possibility, similar to their masters.
He chose to become a Capable Servant despite his drawbacks. The blindfold only served to make him better, because he would have preferred dying than to believe a piece of cloth was going to stop him from proving his capabilities.
Rainier collected every single virtue, graduated with high honors, and allowed himself back into service under the thumb of a beast.
A professor once told him with a knowing look directed to the mark on his face, "You may know every virtue and reach the epitome of perfection, but never forget you are human. The person you will someday serve may be a saint, but it doesn't mean there are no chances you must serve the devil. No matter who you belong to, in times of crisis, your masters will value the trust you share more than any of the capabilities taught to you here. Remember this, Rainier."
Rainier was a Capable Servant, but he wasn't a good servant.
When he came back to the Odum Household, the very first thing he did was betray the Young Master he swore his loyalty to.
It wasn't like he was even trying to earn his trust.
The Young Master barely looked at him after his return. He only demanded he cover his eyes.
"Rainier..."
The Young Master finally took notice of him. The hazy look in his eyes faded away as he became more aware.
Rainier scowled.
"Why did you do that?" He tore off the blindfold and tried to get a closer look at the mark, feeling frustration bubbling in his throat.
The Young Master grimaced and pulled away, only to be stopped by a hand on his wrist. Rainier put pressure in his grip and forced him down. Realizing this was a losing battle, the youth remained seated and obediently let the servant check him for any wounds.
Rainier glared at the remains of the talisman he had to tear out. It was sticking to the youth's skin like glue.
What a wretched thing. What the hell was his Young Master thinking? After pulling that stunt with the slave brand, he wanted to brand himself again?! If the Young Master was such a masochist, Rainier would have gladly beaten him over the head with a flowerpot!
Rainier wasn't an angry person, usually.
But right now, he was furious.
"I don't understand you!" he finally snapped, glowering at the youth.
The other didn't say anything. He stayed still as Rainier once again checked for self-inflicted wounds and helped him clean his work area.
This wasn't the first time a talisman went wrong.
Rainier watched his Young Master work for an entire week straight, mostly brewing something questionable or drawing talismans that looked more like a three-year-old's ultimate masterpiece.
This was the first time he sent him away, but Rainier only left because he thought the Young Master wouldn't be thoughtless enough to try something as dangerous as putting the damn thing directly on his skin!
The Young Master promised he would erase the brand he placed on him, but Rainier still doubted as to whether or not he meant it.
"I can clean the rest," the Young Master spoke after a period of silence.
Rainier lifted an eyebrow. He inwardly scoffed and dropped a bowl of green paste into a bucket of water lying under the table.
"You can sit there and wait."
A while later, after the Young Master was able to recover from his experiment, the two of them finally started a long-awaited conversation.
At first, neither of them was willing to say anything. The Young Master was too lost in his thoughts while Rainier tried to patiently wait for him to speak up.
The youth kept his mouth shut and Rainier had enough.
"What happened?"
Etiquette and virtues be damned. There was never a textbook answer to prepare him for Nazareth Odum.
---
Neo's head snapped up to meet cornflower blue eyes.
It was rare for him to see the upper portion of Rainier's face, so he began to notice some features he wasn't aware of in the past.
Rainier had long eyelashes, archly curved and delicate. The way he lightly wrinkled his eyebrows together as he stared at him like a puzzle piece was both intimidating and oddly intimate. The display of concern caused a slight flutter in the pit of his stomach, which he ignored with great effort.
Focus!
Neo mentally slapped himself.
"I thought I could handle it," he admitted, not unlike a petulant child who'd been caught digging his way into the neighbor's yard.
For gods' sake, he was a near forty-year-old man and should have known better.
He confessed he'd been taking advantage of his newfound youth to be more heedless, but could anyone blame him? Being back in his sixteen-year-old body had given him more freedom than he was ever allowed as an adult.
All children wanted to grow up until they realized being an adult wasn't as rainbows and sunshine as they thought. Teenage him assumed he could handle life out in the world. How wrong was he when he needed to deal with the month's internet bill...
Not to mention, he was in no way as strong or as flexible after reaching his mid-thirties. He got achy on rainy days and with his work life being so busy, self-care for him was visiting his parents once a week for a few hours of recharge.
He didn't not love the career he built for himself, but he admitted to it being a tiring one. On the other hand, his life as Nazareth was worlds apart from Neo's.
He had money, he could live off of the Ducal for literally the rest of his life if he wanted to. He could dedicate his life to researching medicine again without having to borrow any loans or write grants, and he had access to all the resources he needed for all his interests.
Sure, the world lacked cellular devices and proper internet, but he had other ways to communicate—although, Royce did seem thoroughly disgusted by his BlackBerry...
Besides any of these things, Neo had the opportunity to repent and enjoy life a little more than he was able to in the modern world, which meant he also had the opportunity to share the happiness he was accumulating.
And that meant he had to fix the mess between him and Rainier.
Rainier should know.
He deserved to know.
The two of them were, in reality, an awkward pair of master and servant, but it didn't mean either of them was incompetent in holding a proper conversation, right?
It was an understatement how much Rainier distrusted him, not that anyone could blame him.
Except Rainier was now trying to communicate and Neo was running away from a much-needed conversation like a coward.
Suddenly, Neo understood how secretive he'd been appearing to Rainier. All he did was promise the servant he would remove the brand, but did Rainier even believe him?
Belief was what all doctors fed on. The patient had to believe and trust the doctor to perform a miracle. A little dose of it could mean life or death, especially if the patient truly wanted to live knowing they could rely on their doctor.
Neo was leaving the patient out of the loop, therefore, creating a breach of trust between him and Rainier. He understood it wasn't necessary for the other to believe him to be a better man, but it was crucial for him to know he would uphold his promises.
"Would you like to help?" Neo asked after some time.
The servant cocked his head, a faint look of confusion appearing on his face. "Help...?"
Neo nodded hesitantly, "You can watch... and if something goes wrong, you can help me." He ended with a hopeful tone of voice.
Rainier stared at him skeptically, disbelievingly. He was like a man who only just figured out the rules of a game, only to be told none of those rules applied to the game at all.
A self-deprecating smile appeared on his face, giving him the appearance of a wolf dressed in wool.
Neo didn't miss the way Rainier radiated this off-putting energy. The man was strung up tighter than a knotted rope, threatening to snap if he even took one single misstep.
Before the servant could respond with something snarky, he intercepted him with a few more words, "I know I haven't been fair to you,"—that was an understatement in itself—"You think I'm irresponsible and arrogant, lacking in good values, and can't give a damn to consequences. I will be honest with you. I am definitely all of those things and more. You don't have to tell me because I am aware of this."
Vermillion eyes dropped down to his hands. Neo clasped his hands together and sighed. The stony cold mask slowly crumbled away to show vulnerability in all its glory. His face softened at the edges and his entire posture sunk into a heap of frumpy-looking and hunched-over mess.
Rainier watched the minute change with wide eyes, his mouth opened into a slight 'oh' as he quietly took in the way Nazareth Odum transformed from nightmare-extraordinaire to... this.
This was Doctor Neo Overland without filters. Stressed out, tired, living off of Yakult, and minutes away from keeling over and dying.
Neo made eye contact with Rainier.
"Just, please. I know you are always unhappy with me, but you don't have to think about anything else but my ability to erase the mark. I am arrogant, but I have the right to do so when I have the skill to back it up. I created the emblem; I am just as capable of getting rid of it."
There was a look in his eyes, intense and sparking with a disposition only few could understand. It wasn't like the cold gaze of an Odum, cold and unfeeling. There was heat, blistering hot and burning brighter and brighter until you couldn't feel anything, dragging you into a chaotic whirlwind of 'what the hell' and damnation.
Rainier didn't know how to respond to that.
---
The two of them were terrible with words.
Rainier chose not to respond, but he did give the Young Master a small nod after mulling over his request for thirty minutes.
"I am not unhappy with you all the time. If you can make my life a little easier, we won't have any problems."
The Young Master answered with a huff and went back to finding a cure to their shared predicament.
Rainier stood by the sidelines. He wasn't sent away this time and could now watch each and every step the Young Master was taking to create a potential antidote for the Slave Emblem.
A while later, after the Young Master finished recording the day's task in a notebook, he called Rainier over.
"Can you come closer?"
The question came out so quickly and so quietly, that Rainier had to strain his ears. The other looked a little embarrassed, but the determined look on his face was unexpectedly cute. He quickly took a step away from that particular thought.
He stood in front of his Young Master, his head cocked to the side owlishly.
The Young Master came forward and Rainier saw a pair of pale hands, delicate and smooth, reaching for his face.
The first thing he realized was how cold those hands were. They were soft and remarkably unblemished and smelled vaguely fragrant from all the plants they'd been handling.
"Young Master?" he asked, confused by the gesture.
There was silence between them. Rainier felt those fingers trace the scars. They followed the pattern and smoothed out the slightly wrinkled furrow between his brow.
It was quiet and awkward. The Young Master didn't make any eye contact with him, his focus drawn mainly to the markings. He looked like he was trying to pinpoint something, so Rainier stood still.
A funny thought suddenly came to his head.
The Young Master was shorter than him, at least by a quarter of a head. The height difference wasn't anything remarkable, but he could look down and see a pair of worry-ridden lips twisted in concentration—
The door abruptly flew open.
"Brother...!"
Footsteps strode past the threshold of the office, and then, paused.
"What are you doing?"
Shaken by a newcomer's voice, the Young Master dropped his hands. Both he and Rainier turned to the door.
Standing there like a glacier was Master Aurelion, his sapphire blue eyes narrowed a little more than usual as his gaze fell on his Young Master's hands.
"Aurelion." The Young Master greeted Master Aurelion, as if nothing happened.
Master Aurelion frowned in turn, making his way into the room at a brisk pace.
He came closer and stood in front of the Young Master, unintentionally (or was it intentionally?) cutting in between Rainier and his older brother.
"Rainier, go prepare tea and snacks," he ordered with a stern tone.
Rainier found himself somewhat helpless as he stepped back and bowed, "As you wish."
He left, but not before hearing the conversation between Master Aurelion and his Young Master.
"Did you give Guinivere another hairpin?"
"Yes?"
"Stop giving her those, they have knives in them!"
There was a pause, and then, "... Do you want one...?"
Rainier had to wonder when the Manor became so lively.
He didn't notice until he was halfway to the kitchen, he left his blindfold back in the Young Master's office.
---
Step 20. While the servants working in your family manor try to keep your plants alive, make their lives even harder by expressing a desire for a greenhouse. After, you should do more research and find a cure to the Slave Emblem. Take this chance to talk to your personal servant. The two of you are a mess and you only have so much time before your little brother barges in.