The servant led Julian through a side hallway, away from the more polished sections of the house. The scent of polished wood and fresh linen gradually gave way to the subtler, humbler smells of a working household—candle wax, faint traces of soap, and the lingering aroma of cooked meals from the kitchen nearby.
They arrived at a modest but clean corridor lined with several doors. She stopped in front of one and pushed it open.
"This will be your room," she said simply.
Julian stepped inside. The space was small, but not cramped—furnished with a single bed, a wooden dresser, and a washbasin. A narrow window let in the soft glow of morning light, illuminating the dust motes in the air.
Better than a prison cell, at least.
The servant lingered by the door. "You'll be expected to wake before dawn and begin your duties immediately. Breakfast is taken in the servants' quarters, but don't be late or there won't be anything left."
Julian gave a small nod. "Understood."
She hesitated, as if debating whether to say something else, before simply nodding back and stepping away. "Work hard, and things will go smoothly for you here." Then, without another word, she left.
Julian exhaled, dropping his bag onto the bed. He sat down, letting his shoulders relax for the first time since stepping foot into the household.
So, this was his new life.
For now.
***
The first day of work began early. By the time Julian woke, the house was already stirring with activity. Servants moved swiftly through the halls, carrying out their tasks with quiet efficiency.
He was put to work immediately—sweeping the outer courtyard, assisting in the kitchen, and delivering fresh linens to the upper floors. The tasks were simple, but constant. The Averill household ran like a well-oiled machine, and there was no room for idleness.
Julian had expected this. What he hadn't expected was how quickly he would draw attention.
It wasn't that he was struggling with the work—if anything, he was adapting faster than some had likely anticipated. No, the real issue was the way he carried himself.
Even among servants, there was a certain unspoken hierarchy. Most avoided eye contact with their superiors, spoke in measured, deferential tones, and carried themselves with a subdued presence.
Julian, however, was different. He obeyed orders, but his posture remained straight. His gaze never wavered when spoken to. He was not defiant, but neither was he meek.
And that did not go unnoticed.
***
By midday, as Julian was returning from an errand in the marketplace, he was intercepted.
Lilia Averill stood in the courtyard, arms folded, her golden eyes glinting with something between curiosity and amusement.
"You're an interesting one," she said.
Julian came to a stop a few steps away. "I wasn't aware I was meant to be entertaining."
Lilia grinned. "Oh, you're not. But you don't act like the other servants." She tilted her head. "You don't look away when I speak to you. You don't shrink. Why is that?"
Julian met her gaze evenly. "Would you prefer it if I did?"
Lilia laughed, a short, genuine sound. "Not at all. In fact, I think I like it." She took a slow step closer. "Tell me, Julian… are you just naturally like this, or are you pretending to be obedient?"
A question. A deliberate one.
Julian kept his expression neutral. "Does it matter?"
Lilia regarded him for a moment before her smirk widened. "Not yet."
Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Julian standing in the courtyard, aware that he had just become a subject of her interest.
And in a household like this, that could mean a great many things.
***
The rest of the day passed in a blur of work, but Julian remained aware of the watchful gazes that occasionally fell on him. It wasn't just Lilia—some of the other servants had started to take notice as well. Some eyed him with curiosity, others with quiet wariness. He was an outsider, and his presence had disrupted the balance of the household, even if only subtly.
By evening, as the sky darkened to deep indigo, Julian was finishing up his final task of the day—cleaning the main sitting room. The house had settled into a quiet lull, the distant murmurs of conversation barely audible through the thick walls.
As he was placing the last of the books back onto a shelf, a voice interrupted him.
"You work quickly."
Julian turned to find Celeste standing in the doorway. Unlike her sister, she did not exude playfulness or overt curiosity. Her brown eyes studied him with an unreadable expression—measured, assessing.
"I don't like wasting time," Julian replied simply.
Celeste stepped further into the room, her posture effortlessly poised. "That's a good trait. But efficiency alone isn't enough in this household. You understand that, don't you?"
Julian met her gaze. "I understand that I'm here to serve."
A flicker of something—perhaps approval—crossed Celeste's face. "Good answer. But I'll give you a warning, Julian." She stopped a few feet away, hands clasped loosely behind her back. "My sister enjoys toying with people. She's not cruel, but she likes… pushing others to see how they react."
Julian's expression didn't change. "And what about you?"
Celeste smiled faintly, though there was little warmth in it. "I don't play games."
A silent understanding passed between them. Unlike Lilia, who thrived on testing boundaries, Celeste was straightforward. Calculating. A woman who valued order and control.
Julian inclined his head. "I'll keep that in mind."
Celeste studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small nod. "Good. Finish your work and rest. Tomorrow will be just as busy."
With that, she turned and left, her footsteps echoing softly down the hall.
Julian exhaled slowly.
One sister amused by him. The other watching him carefully.
He had only been here for a single day, and already, the pieces were moving.
He would have to tread carefully.