Chapter 2 – The House of Lord Pearce
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The estate stood like a scar in the quiet hills outside the city.
Large. Isolated. Cold.
Not rich with warmth, but heavy with silence.
Auron reached the gates just before sunset, his legs aching from walking all day.
He hesitated—not out of fear, but from the strange feeling in his chest.
This place… it didn't feel empty.
It felt like something was watching.
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The iron gates creaked open on their own.
Auron stepped through.
The courtyard was too clean.
The stone path led to a mansion with windows like dark eyes.
No birds. No wind.
Just the sound of his own heartbeat.
A man stood waiting at the entrance.
Tall. Well-dressed. Pale eyes. Pale smile.
"You must be here for the servant job," he said.
Auron gave a cautious nod.
"Yes… My name is Auron."
The man didn't flinch. Didn't react.
"Come inside. Lord Pearce has been expecting someone like you."
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The mansion was beautiful—
But too beautiful.
Every corner polished. Every wall bare.
Like someone cleaned it every day…
But no one ever lived in it.
Auron was led to a grand study where the lord of the house waited.
He was older. Sharp-featured. Hair silver as winter fog.
Frankfurt Pearce.
"Sit, boy."
Auron obeyed.
Lord Pearce studied him for several moments.
His eyes weren't just observing…
They were calculating.
"Tell me, Auron… where is your family?"
Auron paused.
"I don't have one."
Pearce smiled.
"Good. No attachments. No questions. No history.
You're exactly what I need."
---
The job was simple, he said.
Cleaning. Serving meals. Keeping the estate quiet.
But there were rules.
Don't enter the east wing.
Don't speak to any guests you might see.
And no matter what happens at night,
never open the cellar door.
---
Auron accepted. He had no better option.
A room was prepared. Warm bed. Hot food.
Everything felt… too easy.
But as he laid down that night, listening to the stillness,
he couldn't help but wonder—
Why did Lord Pearce need a servant who had no past?
And what waited behind the cellar door?