The weekend had soon gone by in a flash, and before we knew it, another weekday was upon us. Not only did I invest my weekend break in lots and lots of books about magic, but I also got into another episode of my rather occasional fights with Henry basically for calling me immature and emotionally unstable, even though he tried putting it in a more polite way. He was still entirely clueless as to why I was mad at him. However, I wasn't going to utter a single word to him for the next couple of days or so, as I thought that would torture him enough. Still and all, I wasn't very convinced it was working out as intended, because he didn't quite seem like he even noticed I had stopped talking to him, no matter how much I tried making it seem obvious. I suspected he might be doing it on purpose to make me feel entirely useless, and eventually get fed up with the whole silence treatment, so instead of backing down, I further stepped up my game. The game was on, "Let's see who would flinch first," I thought.
While I had to deal with Henry and study magic, I still had to deal with maintaining my fake identity at work, as well as the perturbing little thoughts of the master possibly finding me suspicious following our rather abrupt meeting the previous week. However, so far that day, everything seemed to be going so perfectly normal, that I fully believed there was in fact nothing to worry about, even from the onset. I had just finished watering the seedlings at the nursery and cleaning droppings out of the poultry pens and was now seated at my favourite resting spot in the garden. I preferred staying in the garden most of the time, as I mostly enjoyed the quietness and solitude. It was the one place in the compound everyone hardly visited, which made it the perfect place to avoid getting to relate with the other workers. I was reading one of the books I had collected over the weekend; a certain codex of the mystic arts, which was mainly written in Latin with a hint of Spanish. I didn't know any Latin, but I sure knew a little bit of Spanish I had learned from my mother who grew up in Mexico and was in fact fluent in both languages. However, I didn't have that much of a hard time reading the book, as I noticed there was a significant resemblance in both languages.
While I was gradually starting to pick up on the contents of the codex, I heard Miss Penny calling me, so I hid the book there and went off at once towards the direction her voice was sounding from.
"Miss Penny?" I called out as I found her.
"Well, there you are!" she said, her voice resounding with a sense of urgency.
"Does anything seem to be the problem, Miss Penny?" I asked curiously.
"None that I'm aware of, no," she replied, "Only that the master sends for you at his study."
As I heard her, I felt a sudden bolt of panic hit me so hard my heart skipped a beat.
"Did you just say the master sent for me?" I asked, to be extra sure of what I heard.
"I believe I sounded crystal clear, dear," she replied.
"But you must be mistaken, Miss Penny," I said, "I mean, why would the master want to see me?"
"Well, I was surprised as well," she said, "no one ever enters the master's study, you see."
"And also, did you say to the master your name is Bruce?" she asked.
My heart leaped. I had already sensed this was coming.
"He did ask for my full name," I lied, "Thomas Bruce Willis?"
"You never told me your name was Bruce," she said.
"You never asked," I replied shortly. "By the way, how did you know I was the one he was referring to?" I asked her.
"Yeah, he sort of mentioned something about the new one that is too pretty for a boy, and I just couldn't unsee you in my mind," she explained.
I was speechless upon hearing that.
"I believe you must be well aware of the history that name, Bruce, holds around here?" she asked.
"Yes, who doesn't know of the late master; Sir Bruce Wade?" I answered. "Wait, I'm not in trouble, am I?" my eyes widened with anxiousness and plain sincerity.
"I don't think you are, dear, but you might be if you keep wasting time," she replied.
"Now hurry, I wouldn't dare keep the master waiting if I were you," she added.
Heeding to her words, I hurried up at once towards the back entrance of the building. As I went, I couldn't help but wonder why the master would want to see me. I thought of any possible reason why he would send for me except something relating to the awkward encounter with me in the kitchen, and I couldn't come up with anyone. Whatever it was, I didn't want to get all fidgety and panicky for the second time in a row. I wanted to be prepared for anything this time; the questions I felt he was most likely to ask, the most suitable answers to said questions, and also a believable explanation as to why no one else knew me as Bruce among all the workers.
I went in through the kitchen door and then through a second door at the end of the kitchen that led to the living room. I had never been to any other parts of the building aside from the ground kitchen. That was the first time I had ever set foot in a place that seemed so luxurious and remarkably expensive that I couldn't help but feel instinctively cautious not to leave even the slightest insignificant dent or a smudge of dirt on the tiles from my grotty old shoes. I was simply mystified by the magnificent sights, heights, and so much spice of luxury my eyes could behold, that I was momentarily held spellbound.
"Are you lost, lad?" I suddenly heard a voice say from atop the staircase. I turned quickly to where it had sounded from, almost knocking down an alabaster vase.
"Uh, n…not really, no," I stuttered nervously, as I managed to keep the vase steady. My eyes quickly found someone standing at the higher end of the spiral stairs. I immediately knew she was one of the indoor servants by merely looking at her appearance. The chief housekeeper, Madam Constance, made them wear clean pressed clothes and white aprons all the time, as the master occasionally had several of his rich friends and guests visit the mansion, sometimes unannounced.
The servant lady was still there looking at me with this expectant expression on her face like she was waiting for something, then she just shrugged indifferently and went her way.
"Wait!" I called out just in the nick of time, "Uh, s…sorry I um… Miss Penny said the master sent for me," I explained.
She smiled.
"Let me guess… you want me to take you to the master because you clearly can't even figure out which exit door you got in through, let alone find the master yourself in this humongous castle of a mansion," she said with a typical broad smile on her brow that made her seem like she somehow knew something about me that she shouldn't know.
"I guess so…maybe…" I muttered in response, forcing a smile.
Shortly after, she signalled for me to come, so I met her up the stairs where she stood, straightaway. She led the way as we went through a fancy broad hallway lined with doors on both sides and an array of artistic paintings on display. We came to a stop at one of the doors.
"This should be the master's study, right?" I asked her, just as I was about to try the doorknob. She immediately grabbed hold of my wrist right before I could reach for the doorknob, stopping me from opening the door.
"What the hell?!" she whispered sharply with so much seriousness, as her eyes widened almost to a frightened glare, with an almost imperceptible hint of annoyance in her tone.
"Huh?…" I muttered under my breath, still wondering what I might have done wrong, with my innocent eyes widened in total puzzlement.
She sighed, "You really don't know a single thing about this house, do you?"
"This is the master's study, you never open this door under any circumstances, you never go inside no matter how tempting it might seem, don't even look inside," she explained carefully.
"By the way, don't you ever knock before entering someone else's private space?" she added, "or did Mommy and Daddy forget to teach you that one?"
"Sorry…" I managed.
I gave her no further response, though her words really upset me. I was starting to wonder, though, why I went straight to open the door without knocking, and it was then I realized I was panicking again. She soon knocked on the door herself, and without opening it, informed the master of my presence at the door with her. She further instructed me to wait for the master to meet me, and then she went off on her way, leaving me alone at the door. I knew it wasn't a time to show any sort of panic, hence I took several deep breaths to calm myself. A little while after, I heard his voice say something to me.
"Come in," he called out.
I heard him clearly, but based on the serious warnings from the house-help lady, I thought he mustn't have actually meant that, or maybe it was just a slip of the tongue, or even a deliberate trap to see if I would take the bait and go contrary to the warnings I had received. I did what I thought was the best thing to do; ignore him.
"Come in!" he said a bit louder this time. I ignored him again for the second time.
"Hello! I said you may now come in!" he said, "Is someone not out there?!" I was starting to feel really uneasy at this point, and quite sceptical, to say the least, about what to do.
"I'm out here, sir," I eventually responded after a brief delay. "You want me to come inside the study, sir?" I asked, to be certain I wasn't getting him all wrong.
"Well, the door is unlocked, lad," he said, "come on in now."
"Uh…but you said not to come in, sir," I managed to say in my meekest voice.
I waited for his response. I had already made up my mind to do whatever he said next. I was already starting to feel really nervous and uneasy, considering the odd amount of time I had already spent waiting for his reply. Shortly, then, the door suddenly opened in front of me. He had stood up to open the door for me himself. He was standing there now, signalling to me with his hand to come in. I simply walked into the study, straight through the opened door right past him without showing any sign of hesitance. The room was incredibly larger than I imagined for a study. The space alone, as I observed, could contain up to four times our house's living room tops, and the height of the walls from floor to ceiling was approximately a towering fourteen feet. However, my gaze was captured by something even more baffling and remarkable. On almost every side of each wall in the room were these really large bookshelves exactly the height of the walls, with a jaw-dropping abundance of books that filled up the shelves from top to bottom. My eyes were wide with awe and wonder at the number of books all arrayed in one place. There were just so many books; about a million, I guess, in so many different sizes and colours. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I just stood there gazing, so mystified and mesmerized by such a peculiar sight. Aside from the bookshelves, there were so many other objects and furniture of significant value and luxury; there was a large globe with the continents partially plated in gold, a black grand piano in the corner, a long gold telescope mounted by the open window with a narrow lens projected outwards, slightly through the window, a computer set on the large wooden centre desk, and several stone sculptures of busts and birds mounted on stone pillar stands in a somewhat symmetrical array on each corner. I also noticed the many other objects and gadgets scattered all across the desk and the floor, along with the heaps of papers and books from the shelves. With all of my observations, I had a bit of a hint as to why I was there. No doubt, the room was fairly disarrayed and untidy, so I was convinced he had summoned me to help put it in order.
"Quite a sight, isn't it," he bragged. He had caught me gazing intently at the bookshelves, momentarily unaware of his presence, and immensely entranced by the sight.
My self-awareness immediately returned, the second I heard the sound of his voice.
"Yyy…yes, sir," I stuttered nervously, standing as though the floor was brittle as much as it was expensive.
"Yeah, this was my father's study, you see," he continued, "I can still remember seeing him seated right there on that chair every night. He would study till dawn sometimes, mostly plotting exorbitantly clever strategies for the expansion of the family business," he smiled.
"This is the one place that makes me feel much closer to him now. It's almost sacred, I'll tell you, holding so much virtue, as does… memories, which is why I couldn't ever have any of the other servants come in here," he explained.
"But… why did you let me in here then, sir?" I thoughtfully inquired. He looked at me with a sudden slight change of expression, seeming so composite to comprehend, even for me.
"Never mind, sir, I…mustn't ask questions," I added shortly.
"No, no, feel free to ask me anything lad, you're a proper wage earner, not a mere servant boy," he objected.
"Yes sir," I managed.
He smiled faintly.
"It's Bruce, isn't it?" he inquired, "quite impossible to forget that name," he added.
"Thompson Bruce Willis, sir," I replied, "though around here most people just call me Tom."
"So I've heard, but I'm fine with Bruce if you don't mind," he stated.
"I don't mind at all, sir," I told him.
"Good to know," he replied. "So…about your question regarding your being here," he continued, "despite being ever firm on my stand in keeping this study out of bounds for every worker here, I considered you an exception because I trust that you couldn't possibly be of any trouble, and as you can see, I'm redecorating the place and I need extra hands that's why you're here."
I was wondering why he said he trusted me, even though there was obviously not even a single reason why he should, I couldn't even trust me. I was starting to think it was all some kind of test; surely the master wasn't any stupid, thus I became a lot more cautious not to make away with anything of his whatsoever, from the fancy covered books on the shelves to the shiny little trinkets scattered all across the desk, no matter how tempting they seemed.
I joined the master in rearranging the room. We took down the stone sculptures and sorted out a pile of outdated books and magazines from the shelves. Next, we cleared out some of the gadgets and accessories like the computer set, the very recently outdated model non-colored telly box, the dusty jagged fax machine, and the clunky wall telephone with the tangled spiral wire thing. After that, we had the old wooden desk replaced with a more modern-looking one; sleeker, lighter, and much sturdier too. Master Wade assembled the new desk himself, while I gave a little assistance, holding up the parts in place and handing him the right tools from the toolbox. He seemed rather impressed with how I could somehow identify the name and usage of essentially every tool in the toolbox, I reckoned.
In just the number of moments spent with Master Wade, I found he wasn't really as hard and strict as I had portrayed him to be. In fact, I found him to be the exact opposite of what I had thought of him. He whistled silly tones while he screwed on the desk boards, he told jokes and stories about his childhood and the city, and he asked about me and my parents, and if we had moved to town sometime or were actual Bucharest natives. I became convinced he was quite lonely in his mansion despite how it was always teeming with servants, maintenance staff, and many other workers. He sincerely just wanted someone to talk to on a more open and personal level, and what better person than a little innocent me, namesake to his late father? Soon we were done. We had given the study a somewhat brand-new feel, particularly much simpler. Master Wade let me look at the books on the shelves while I merrily feasted on the delicious treats he had specifically sent to be brought for me from the kitchen; a big bowl of handsomely sized oat milk biscuits still fresh from the oven, with a glass of hot chocolate.
While I skimmed through the shelf, picking out some books with attractive covers and titles, I randomly took out a folded newspaper that was stuffed in between some books on the shelves. Casually unfolding the dusty brown paper and glancing over the cover page, my eyes suddenly caught sight of something I wasn't expecting, or even in the slightest sense, capable of deducing, as a sharp shocking bolt of panic surged through my bones. I saw a photo of our old house on Lonely Street, with that of my late mother. Beneath the photos was a large bold text that read; "Deranged witch murders entire family in brutal house fire at Lone Street, Bucharest." My jaw immediately dropped open as I read it in my mind. I was utterly devastated. It was referring to my mother. For some reason, they had wrongfully accused her of the most atrocious and nefarious acts, even in her death. Knowing it was all a lie, having been there and witnessed everything in person, how both my parents sacrificed their lives for me and my brother, I couldn't hold back my tears any longer. As I went through the words over again, maybe to see if I had misread them the first time, I felt this heavy strong tightening sensation on my chest, and all of a sudden, despite the large windows in the room which were all open, it felt like I could no longer take in a deep satisfying breath to my lungs, like there suddenly just wasn't enough air in the room and my lungs had lost some of its expansivity. I soon noticed Master Wade had just glanced towards me from where he sat across the room and my heart pounded even faster with more intensity. I couldn't have him notice the tears in my eyes, the uneasiness I struggled to conceal, or worse, suspect something from the newspaper I had been intently staring at for quite a while already. I quickly dried my eyes on my sleeves, then turned to return the newspaper where it was previously hidden among the many books on the shelves, but instead ended up drawing further attention as I spontaneously bumped against the shelf, causing several books to fall off the shelf, about over a dozen.
"Everything alright there?" he inquired.
"Everything's fine sir, just a few books to pick up," I managed.
I knew he was looking at me, so I kept the newspaper back on the table to prevent being caught in the process of hiding it, and then I began putting the fallen books back on the shelf.
"…and here I was thinking our work was finally over, yet there you are surprising me, Bruce," he teased jokingly, advancing towards the shelf where I was.
"I am so sorry sir," I replied.
He went towards the table and casually picked up the newspaper. My panic increased as I mindlessly arranged and rearranged the books on the shelf.
"Quite a disturbing way to go, isn't it," he empathized, "To be burnt alive within the confines of your own home."
My heart sank. I realized now he definitely saw me reading the newspaper.