As I walked back to my room, Brock by my side, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude towards him. His contributions had been instrumental in helping me gain the princess's favor, and I knew that I owed him a debt of thanks. I turned to him with a sincere smile, my eyes shining with appreciation.
"Brock, I don't know how to thank you," I said, my voice filled with emotion. "If it wasn't for the silver spoon you gave me, I wouldn't have been assured that the food wasn't poisoned. I wouldn't have eaten any of it because I would have been too scared, just like the others. I would have been paralyzed with fear, unable to take a single bite."
Brock's expression remained stoic, his face a mask of calmness. He didn't react to my appreciation, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his gaze unwavering.
"Even after confirming that the food wasn't poisoned, I was still too scared to eat first," I continued. "But with your help, things went really easily. You saved me from making a fool of myself in front of the princess. You saved me from embarrassment and humiliation."
Brock's poker face didn't waver, his expression unchanging. "It was nothing, Young Master," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I'm just doing my job."
I chuckled, shaking my head in amusement. "You're a hard man to thank, Brock," I said. "But I mean it, thank you. I owe you one. I owe you big time."
Brock's expression remained blank, but I could sense a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You don't owe me anything, Young Master," he said. "Just remember, I'm always here to help. That's what I'm here for."
We walked in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath our feet. I couldn't help but think about how much I owed Brock, how much I relied on him. He was more than just a servant, more than just a bodyguard. He was a friend, a mentor, a guardian.
"Brock, can I ask you something?" I said, curiosity getting the better of me.
"Of course, Young Master," he replied, his voice neutral.
"How did you know that the food might be poisoned?" I asked, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. "How did you know to give me the silver spoon?"
Brock's expression didn't change, but I could sense a hint of tension in his voice. "Let's just say I have my ways, Young Master," he said. "I've been around the mansion long enough to know how things work. I've seen things, heard things. I know how to protect you."
I could tell his words were defensive and cautious, a clear indication that he was hiding something. "You still don't want to tell me about the other kids before me, right?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. I had been wondering about this for a while now, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something important that I was missing. The thought of other kids, possibly going through the same experiences as me, sent a shiver down my spine.
Brock's expression turned stern, his eyes flashing with a warning. "Forget that I ever said that, Young Master," he said, his voice sounding firm and serious. "You would put both of us in danger if you keep pursuing this topic." His voice was low and menacing, and I could sense the underlying threat. It was as if he was trying to protect me from something, but also warning me to stay in line.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized the gravity of the situation. I had forgotten that things here were different from the orphanage, where I could just voice out anything without fear of reprisal. The orphanage was a place of freedom and openness, where we could talk about anything and everything. But here, in the palace, things were different. There were secrets and lies, and I had to be careful not to cross any lines. The weight of this realization settled heavily on my shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Brock," I started to apologize, but he cut me off.
"Never apologize to me again, or anyone at all, except for the Boss," he said, his voice deep and hard, sending chills to my body. "We all are nothing but your pawns, so treat us anyhow you like." His words were harsh and unforgiving, and I felt a surge of fear at the realization that I was trapped in a web of secrets and lies. The thought of being a pawn, a mere object to be used and discarded, made my blood run cold.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I was trying to understand the dynamics of the mansion, but it seemed like the more I learned, the more confusing it became. The Mansion was a labyrinth of secrets and lies, and I was just a small part of it.
"You're the chosen one, the favorite of the princess," Brock replied, his voice dripping with venom. "You're the one who will do her bidding, no matter what. And we're just mere pawns, disposable and expendable." His words painted a bleak picture, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. The thought of being a mere pawn, a tool to be used by the princess, made me feel sick to my stomach.
I felt like I was living in a nightmare, where nothing made sense and everything was upside down. I was a pawn in a game of power and politics, and I had to be careful not to get caught in the crossfire. "I understand," I said, my voice firm, trying to hide my fear. But deep down, I was scared. I was scared of the unknown, of the secrets and lies that surrounded me.
Brock's expression softened slightly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of approval. "Good," he said. "Remember, Young Master, in this world, might makes right. And you're the one with the power." His words were a reminder that I had to be careful, that I had to navigate the treacherous waters of the mansion with caution. But they also hinted at something more, something that I couldn't quite grasp.