The washroom felt like stepping into another world. Gone was the gloom of the Abyssal Cells. Instead, Edward was surrounded by white marble and thick steam that slled incredible. It was a mix of sandalwood and so kind of refined oil that filled the air. The steam weighed heavily on the room, clinging to the gold decorations on the ceiling. Right at the center stood a tub made of so special stone, sunken into the floor. It was filled deep and kept at the perfect temperature, made to soak away every trace of exhaustion.
Edward lowered himself into the tub until the water reached his chest. It had only been five days since he had been dragged into that place, yet the hot water was the first thing that truly eased the tension in his muscles. His mind, however, remained sharp and alert.
Fiona, one of the maids, knelt beside the tub. Her pink hair had begun to curl from the steam. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing slender, bare arms as she scrubbed Edward’s back with a fine sponge soaked in expensive soap. He could tell she was nervous. Each ti the sponge touched his skin, a faint buzzing sensation followed.
She slowed as she cleaned the last remnants of gri from the Abyssal Cells off his back. Edward could feel her staring, watching the way his muscles shifted as he breathed. Fiona’s thoughts had clearly drifted elsewhere. Whatever rumors she had heard in the servants’ halls were clashing with what she was seeing now.
’It doesn’t make any sense,’ she seed to think as her gaze lingered on his back. ’The other maids said the Abyssal Cells turn n into wrecks. Shivering, broken, empty. They said the Null-Stone is a death sentence, that it drains all magic and leaves mages insane.’
Then ca the thought that truly unsettled her. ’But Master Edward doesn’t have magic. His condition should be worse. But.... why does he look like this? He doesn’t look sick or broken. If anything... he looks better than I last t him.’
She stopped, unsure, her hand hovering over his shoulder. She was wondering about the way he looked. His skin seed tougher, stronger, and maybe even brighter than it should be.
"Everything alright, Fiona?"
She jumped, realizing she had stopped scrubbing and was staring at his mostly naked body.
"I-I! No, Young Master! I apologize!" she said quickly. "I got distracted by how warm it is in here!"
She resud scrubbing at once, her face flushing red as she moved the sponge down his arms and across his chest. Edward could feel her heartbeat quicken. As a maid of House Vistro, she had been trained for this. Trained to tend to nobles who could not care for themselves. Yet Edward’s silent composure was more intimidating than any shouting she might have faced from the other children of the house.
A clear shift settled over the room as her movents went lower. The water was clear enough to see through, and as Fiona guided the sponge beneath the surface, the air seed to thicken all at once. The heat grew heavy, and it had nothing to do with the steam.
Fiona’s face was now very red. Her breathing turned quick and uneven as an internal struggle played out behind her eyes. She had been instructed to clean every part of him, to ensure he was presentable for the Marquis. That alone seed to imply what was to co.
She swallowed hard, and it was so quiet in the room he could easily hear it. Her hand, clutching the sponge, trembled as she reached for his waist. She paused a long ti there. She bit her lip, her blue eyes focused on the rippling water and nothing else. Edward could feel every last bit of her thinking and embarrassnt, and to make matters worse, she was around sixteen, close to his age, which made the situation far more intimate than it should have been.
Her fingers twitched, only a little bit away from grabbing his manhood and finishing the bath. The mont was like a test, like crossing a line between servant and master in a way that was way too close.
Just as her hand was about to make contact, Edward’s hand shot out of the water.
He caught her wrist, not hard, but firmly enough to stop her. Fiona nearly leapt out of her skin. She looked up, eyes locking with his. Edward’s expression was calm, almost gentle.
"It’s fine," Edward said quietly, breaking her rising panic. "I can handle the rest. You’ve done more than enough, Fiona."
Fiona seed so happy, and relieved. But also a little bumd out? She quickly moved her hand back, bowing her head until her hair hid her face. "Y-yes! Of course, Young Master! Please forgive my... my clumsiness!"
Ten minutes later, the door to the washroom opened.
Edward stepped out with a white silk towel wrapped around his waist. He was clean. The gray filth of the cells, the remains of the goblin blood, all of it was gone. His wet hair was brushed back, revealing the sharp lines of his face.
Fiona, who had been waiting by the bed with his fresh clothes, felt her breath catch again. She didn’t dare look him in the eye. She quickly bowed, her pink hair obscuring her face.
"I have prepared your breakfast, Young Master," she whispered. "I will fetch it now. Please, make yourself comfortable."
She hurried out of the room, returning monts later with a silver tray. On it sat a pot of steaming herbal tea, a plate of light honeyed biscuits, and a bowl of fresh fruit.
"The chef prepared a light al to settle your stomach after... after your ti away," she explained, setting the tray on the low table by the window. "It is the finest tea from the coast, and the biscuits are made with lavender to soothe the nerves."
Edward sat down, the silk of his robe—which Fiona had helped him into—feeling like a second skin. He took a biscuit and a sip of the tea. The taste was nostalgic. In many of his lives, this was his first al after the Abyssal Cells.
Fiona stood by the door, her hands clasped in front of her, watching him eat.
"You should join , Fiona," Edward said, glancing at her. "There is more than enough here."
Fiona’s eyes widened, and she shyly shook her head in protest. "Oh, no, Young Master! I couldn’t possibly. I am a re servant. Besides..." She paused, looking at the clock on the wall. "I don’t have much ti. I must soon leave to prepare to head to the market with the fellow maids."
Edward paused, the teacup halfway to his lips. "The market?"
"Yes, Young Master," Fiona replied, gaining a bit of confidence. "A master goldsmith is holding the jewelry that Lady Sara is to wear for the afternoon eting with the royal entourage. The Marquis has ordered that a contingent of us go to retrieve it and ensure it is polished and ready. We must be back before the Prince arrives."
This was new information for Edward. He didn’t have the exact sa conversation with Fiona in every regression, so things changed. This ti, he had simply asked her to join him for tea. That one small change triggered a different response from her, and she ntioned she was heading to the market.
Edward thought back to the market in the Marquis’s territory. Right in the middle of the main district, there was a forge run by a man who was both a goldsmith and a master blacksmith. Before the civil war started in Luminaris, that was Edward’s go-to guy for the specific kind of swords he liked.
In every lifeti, he planned on visiting that shop eventually. It looked like the opportunity was just coming up a bit sooner than he expected.
A change of pace was necessary. Sitting in the annex waiting for the Prince was always a waste of ti.
"The market," Edward said, setting his cup down.
Fiona blinked. "Y-yes, Young Master?"
Edward stood up, the authority in his gaze making Fiona straighten her posture involuntarily.
"I’ve changed my mind about resting," Edward said. "The manor isn’t interesting. I believe I will follow you and the other maids to the market."
Fiona’s jaw dropped. "But... Young Master! The Lord Marquis said you were to stay here until the entourage arrives! If you are seen—"
"Then they will see," Edward interrupted, walking toward the wardrobe to pick out a traveling cloak. "Make the arrangents, Fiona. I’m coming with you."
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