Third Person’s POV
Brett aimlessly wandered through his enormous house, his arms crossed. Suddenly, he came to a stop and let out a doubtful sigh. As he gazed at the floor, it seemed to blur more and more, his mind drifting away.
He shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, the surroundings became clearer. It dawned on him that his true purpose for aimlessly walking was to find Agatha. He needed to see her face, to figure out what was causing his confusion.
"I just want to know if this is a passing feeling," he thought to himself.
Brett was about to continue walking, but he paused when he felt a weight in his hand. He raised it up and stared at it with wide eyes. His vision narrowed as a certain memory flashed in his mind, but it was gone in an instant, leaving him unsure of what it was.
"That's strange," he muttered, slowly closing his hand. Somehow, he imagined someone holding onto him tightly. It felt odd because he knew that everyone had already left him, that no one would be there to comfort him during a nightmare.
No one.
No one.
As he raised his head after reaching this conclusion, he spotted the person he had been searching for. The gloomy clouds above seemed to part ways, allowing a glimmer of brightness to shine upon them. And all attention was focused on her... on his servant... on his pawn.
He couldn't quite decipher the expression on his face at that moment; whether he was smiling, grimacing, or simply gazing at her. Brett was completely clueless, as if someone had cracked open his skull and stolen his brain.
Despite temporarily losing his ability to think, his heart continued to beat within his chest. It thumped loudly, its rhythm palpable even if he couldn't hear it.
It required a great deal of bravery for him to raise his hand, as he believed he wanted to greet her in a genuine manner - something that was customary. But the moment Agatha lowered her head to avoid his gaze, his hand involuntarily clenched.
'What? Did she despise me that much?'
Instead of feeling let down, it felt more like a small gesture that caused him pain. Of course, he had no idea about that.
Brett walked towards her. Standing before Agatha, a soft and unassuming voice escaped his lips,
“Why did you suddenly look down when you saw me?”
'Will you do the same if I was Lanceil ?' he added inwardly while looking at her lowered gaze.
"Uhmm, j-just," Agatha stuttered. She peeked at him and was so relieved that he's not smiling anymore.
Didn't people find comfort in receiving a smile from someone? That's why she was grateful that he no longer wore a smile on his face, as it added another enigma she had no desire to unravel.
"By the way, you showed up at the perfect moment," Brett remarked, "I've been trying to find you. If I had known it would be so difficult to catch you inside my house, I would have taken you to a more secluded spot where it would just be the two of us and..."
"..."
He observed her engaging in the silent game. She stared into space with a vacant expression, as if she was lost in another world.
‘What's on your mind? Are you thinking about someone else?’ He despised the thought that crossed his anxious mind.
So, he decided to speak up and blurted out anything that might grab her attention. "This isn't working. Should I keep you tied to me? Or maybe I should tie you to my bed?"
"..."
Brett furrowed his brow. Despite his attempt at humor, she remained unmoved. But that wouldn't deter him from giving it his all.
"But tying you to my bed would be quite strange. Well, if you were to beg me to release you while addressing me as master, then I..."
"Why..." She spoke, at last, then looked at him.
Brett stopped babbling and stared at her as if he's ready to listen to anything she'll say.
"Why are you looking for me?"
Suddenly, it dawned on him - his rationale. He went on a quest to catch a glimpse of her visage. The reason behind his desire to see her face was his growing irritation. This irritation stemmed from the realization that there were numerous guys surrounding her. Ultimately, he was consumed by an unfamiliar jealousy, leaving him furious.
What's making him so jealous?
For sure, he's not jealous because he fell in love with all of the men she's hanging out with.
Brett put his hand inside his pocket, because it's one of the ways to keep his clenched fists away from her sight.
He discreetly slipped his hand into his pocket, making sure to keep his clenched fists hidden from her view.
"Have you eaten yet?"
'I wanted to see you. I badly wanted to see' – He can't say these honest answers. He couldn't.
“I haven’t had my dinner, UNCLE,” Agatha answered.
He could hear a thunderous noise in his mind, even though the sky outside was perfectly clear. Brett suddenly felt a wave of self-pity wash over him. He was so eager to see how she perceived him now, but she had called him what...? Uncle?
"Huh? U-Uncle?" he questioned, a Botox smile creeping back onto his face.
"I got so caught up in the moment that the word just slipped out," she offered as an excuse.
"Uncle, huh," Brett repeated, this time with a mocking tone. He rolled his eyes, turned his head away, and clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Now he felt even more irritated than before. However, he didn't want to storm out, so he decided to stay. He ran his fingers through his platinum hair, watching the silky strands cascade down.
Don't worry about it," he mentioned after a brief pause. "If you haven't eaten yet, come on. This UNCLE for yours will make sure you're fed."
After stressing the word UNCLE, causing her to shiver, he took her by the wrist and led her into the kitchen.
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Agatha's POV
I must say Brett looked like he can cook well. But when I tried the food that he cooked, it taste not good.
"Do you think I'm a talented chef?" he asked me.
I forced a smile and glanced at him. 'How can I say anything negative when he's asking like that?' I thought to myself.
If I had known it would taste like this, I would have begged the maid to cook for me instead. He insisted on cooking dinner for me and brought me into the kitchen.
I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. 'Oh dear, please give me the strength to finish this meal without reaching for the salt or fish sauce,' I silently prayed.
Amen.
"Mmm, mmm, mmm, it's absolutely delicious," I complimented, trying to sound sincere.
"You sounded quite insincere just now." He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I am not.”
"Make sure you're telling the truth or else..."
"Or else what?”
He tilted his head and rested his chin on the back of his hand. "Nothing."
Why does he always put the blame on me?
I just shook my head and took a sip of the soup he made. Well, at least it's edible.
"You should be thankful that I cooked for you. You're my servant and I'm your master. Being served food is a privilege."
"That whole servant and master thing again. Aren't you tired of it?"
He glanced back at me. "And what about you?"
"What?"
"Weren't you originally trying to break the contract? You should have done it when I gave you the chance. Then you wouldn't have to hear about this servant and master nonsense anymore."
That's true. It could have been that simple. But that was the only reason I had to keep fighting. Without it, I would feel scared. The contract I have with him is like the chain that keeps me standing.
"Hey," I called out, absentmindedly playing with my food, which is totally not cool.
"Hmmm?"
"Actually, I've been trying to find you because there are two things I need to tell you."
He straightened his posture and nodded.
"First, why did you allow Mr. Adam to live in this house?"
Brett shook his head and replied, "No way. I can't even bear to think about that stupid topic. It gives me a headache."
"So, he didn't ask for your permission?" I asked. "That guy is dangerous."
"Dangerous?" His face twisted into an angry scowl and he clenched his teeth, making me regret sharing my opinion. "Did he do something while I was gone?"
"W-Well..."
He stood up, holding a knife in his hand.
"Wait a minute! Stay right there!" I instinctively grabbed his hand.
Brett looked at me with a mix of anger and suspicion. I quickly let go of his hand and averted my gaze.
"N-Nothing happened. I-I mean..."
"If you stutter like that, I'll be even more suspicious." He placed the knife back where it belonged and sat down again.
You're really something, aren't you? Acting all uncle-like?" I whispered.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I was just saying the moon looks nice tonight."
"The moon looks nice, huh? You're in my house, there's no way you can see the moon from here."
"Well..." I gestured towards him with a grin. "You shine as bright as the moon. Looking at you, I feel like I've seen the moon."
Even though he tried to hide it, the hint of a smile on his face gave away his satisfaction.
Phew~
"Alright, spill it. What's the second thing you wanted to talk about? Maybe I'll reconsider letting someone alive," he threatened, arms crossed.
I put the bowl of chicken soup aside, but when he looked at me with wide eyes as I set aside the food he cooked, I returned the bowl to its place. 'Why is he so grumpy tonight?'
"Actually, I received a text from Vincent," I said.
Brett's expression changed as I mentioned him.
"He asked me to meet him and talk."
All I need is to ask for Brett's permission. I don't know why, but I just felt like I had to hear his voice. After all, I had discovered that he's doing all of this to seek justice for his sister's death.
"Are you going to ask for my permission to meet him?" Brett understood my intention well.
However, before I could respond, Brett spoke.
"Instead of meeting Vincent, what if I go in your place?"