As the night progressed and my mind entered that hazy border of sleep, the warmth of Lysa behind me changed. The bed disappeared. The room's ceiling vanished.
It left its place to a gray, weeping sky.
A sharp smell of mold, rotting garbage, and cheap alcohol filled my nose. I wasn't Leon. At that moment, I was completely Clarean.
But not the current "me"; a younger, more broken, drunker Clarean.
I am in a narrow, desolate back alley. It is drizzling, soaking my expensive but stained velvet jacket.
I have taken shelter behind a wine barrel, pulling my legs to myself. Why am I here? I remember. I ran away.
I ran away from Sera's suffocating attention, from Mirel's weeping eyes, from the whispers of "Disgrace of his House." I just wanted silence.
Just a darkness where no one called me "Master."
My head is spinning. My eyes are closing. Just as I am about to pass out, I feel a slight movement in my jacket pocket. Like a ghost's touch. I open my eyes.
There is a child in front of me. Ten, maybe eleven years old. Wearing a dirty dress made of sackcloth.
Her hair is plastered down by the rain, her face covered in mud. But her eyes... Those amber eyes are alert and fearful like a stray cat's.
Her scrawny hand is in the inner pocket of my jacket. She is looking for my last few silvers.
"There..." I say, my voice creaking like a rusty hinge. "There is nothing left there, little mouse. I gave it all to wine."
The girl flinches. She pulls her hand back quickly and attempts to run but slips and falls into the mud. I expect her to run. But she doesn't.
She cowers where she fell, looking at me like I am a monster. I try to sit up, but I press my hand onto a broken piece of bottle next to me.
"Ah..." My palm is cut. Blood flows, mixing with the rainwater.
The girl's eyes latch onto my blood. That frightened expression goes, replaced by a strange focus. She approaches me hesitantly. "Don't..." I mumble.
"It will get infected." She doesn't listen. She holds my bleeding hand with her muddy, small hands.
And at that moment, a faint, greenish light shines in the middle of the gray street. The cut in my palm stings, itches, and closes in seconds.
Only a pale scar remains. I pull my hand back in surprise. Then I look at the girl. She looks at her hands as if surprised by what she did too.
"You..." I say, my drunkenness scattering a little. "You are a mage."
The girl doesn't answer. Her stomach growls. A sound so loud it drowns out the sound of the rain. I smile. A bitter, wry smile.
I check the deepest corner of my pocket, under the lining. I find one last gold coin I had hidden. "Are you hungry?" She nods.
"Me too," I say. "Come on. Let's have one last feast before dying."
The dream accelerates. I buy her warm bread and meat from a street vendor. And a bottle more for myself.
We sit side by side, sheltering under a shop's awning in the rain. She eats like a wolf, I drink. "Do you have family?" I ask.
She shakes her head while her mouth is full. "I do," I say, lifting the bottle. "But sometimes it is better not to."
Just then, a commotion breaks out at the head of the street. "MASTER!" Sera.
Her voice is so loud and full of panic that the cats in the street scatter. Behind her is Mirel, out of breath.
When Sera sees me, she runs to my side, falling to her knees. Her eyes are swollen from crying.
"You are here! Oh God, you are here! We looked everywhere! I thought we lost you!" Then she notices that little girl cowering beside me, trembling in fear.
Sera's hand goes instantly to her sword. "Who is this? Is she bothering you, Master?"
The girl, Lysa, hides behind me in fear. She grips the hem of my jacket tightly. I look at Sera. I make a decision inside at that moment.
Maybe to share my loneliness, maybe just because I needed those healing hands. I put my hand on Lysa's shoulder.
"Lower that sword, Sera," I say. "But Master, she is a street rat..." "No," I say, lifting Lysa up and leaning her against myself.
"She is our new family member."
When I opened my eyes, I saw the pale light of morning hitting the ceiling of my room. It took a few seconds to return to reality. My right arm was numb. I turned my head.
Lysa was sleeping curled up like a cat, her head on my shoulder. The dirty, scrawny girl from the dream was gone, but the innocence was the same.
I took a deep breath. So that's how, I thought. I picked you up from the street. I gave you food, I gave you a home.
But then... then I drowned you in my own darkness. These girls' traumas stemmed not just from my evil, but also from my role as "savior."
I had saved them, then condemned them to myself.
I tried to slowly pull my arm from under Lysa's head. She stirred, mumbled, but didn't wake up. I didn't want to wake her, but the sun was rising. I ran my hand through her hair.
It was soft. "Lysa," I whispered in her ear. "Come on, wake up little mouse." Lysa blinked her eyes.
She smiled when she saw me, then realized where she was and blushed. "Good morning, Master..."
"Good morning," I said, getting out of bed and stretching. "Sera and Mirel will wake up soon. If they see you here... Sera might have another crisis. You better return to your room without getting caught."
Lysa giggled, throwing the duvet off herself. "Don't worry, Master, I am very quiet."
Just then, a rhythmic, insistent clicking sound came from the door. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. Lysa froze. I froze. "Master?"
Mirel's voice came from behind the door. "I heard you were awake. I brought water for you to wash your face."
Lysa looked at me in panic. Whispering, "What am I going to do?" she said. I pointed to the wardrobe, but it was too late. The door handle went down.
"Damn it," I said internally. But the real surprise wasn't at the door.
My eye drifted involuntarily to the glass. My room was on the second floor. The door to that damn balcony I fell from yesterday was closed.
But there was a shadow on the window pane. Outside, perched on the edge of the ledge, a pair of dark eyes looking through the glass. Sera.
I didn't know how she climbed there or how long she had been there. But she was glued to the glass, watching us like a gargoyle statue.
Her gaze was weaving back and forth between Lysa in the bed and Mirel opening the door.
A bitter smile spread across Leon's face. "Not getting caught?" I muttered to myself.
"I guess a system called 'privacy' was never installed in this house."
As Mirel opened the door and entered, Sera tapped on the glass. Lysa hid under the duvet.
And I, in the middle of these three women, took a deep breath and tried to start the day.