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Chapter Text

"Erik! Come down! It's dangerous!"

In the middle of the meadow stood a large oak tree. Its circumference was so large that it would have taken four grown men to completely encircle it.

Its branches were long and sturdy, reaching high into the sky, giving those who looked up at it the feeling that they could touch the clouds with their fingers.

The tree was the favorite place of the children from the nearby orphanage. But it was also the nightmare of the two women who ran the orphanage.

There was really no way to keep the children away from its branches. Small or big, the little orphans soon fell under its spell.

Once, some carpenters from the nearby village decided to cut down the oak tree to sell the wood. The children organized a protest and climbed up the tree, refusing to come down until the carpenters' saws were gone. The protest was successful, and the tree officially became the property and mascot of the orphanage.

But of all the little guests at Marie's House, the one who loved the oak the most was undoubtedly Erik.

The boy didn't just swing from the lower branches of the tree, he always wanted to climb to the top, where the branches were thinner and in danger of breaking under his weight.

Mrs. Edie and Sister Castalia went crazy every time the boy was up there, but none of their yelling or threats of punishment ever deterred him from the tree.

Erik climbed it whenever he could, performing such acrobatics that anyone watching couldn't help but feel a thrill of fear as the child swung from branch to branch, hanging upside down, suspended only by his shoes, already worn from wear and tear, or barefoot.

There was only one person who could convince Erik to come down from the tree: his best friend, Charles.

Charles often climbed the tree with Erik, but he suffered terribly from vertigo, so when they were together, Erik was careful not to worry his friend too much. So when Charles' little voice could be heard below the tree, Erik would stop whatever he was doing and, however reluctantly, climb down to join him.

Sometimes, though, Erik would persuade Charles to climb up the tree with him, and then the two children would spend hours huddled together in a hollow on the main branch, looking up at the sky and dreaming of their lives when they got out.

It was the best time of the day for them. Together with their best friend, hand in hand, looking into the future and knowing that no one could ever touch them as long as they stayed up there. Nothing bad ever happened in their tree.

Erik and Charles had a special story that Edie and Castalia liked to tell the children when they put them to bed, and it had made them famous among all the guests at the orphanage.

Erik and Charles had been found together one winter night many years ago, right under the tree they loved so much. The women had heard someone crying in the blizzard that hit the hill where the orphanage stood, and they had rushed outside, fearing the worst. So they found them. Two newborn babies, wrapped in blue blankets now wet from the storm, crying with all the strength in their lungs. Castalia loved to tell how Charles, the first one she had approached, had stopped crying as soon as she had taken him in her arms. His eyes were so blue and his smile so open that the woman had immediately felt the need to make sure that this child could smile forever. A true angel. Erik, who had met Edie's arms for the first time, continued to cry, but it was not a cry of sadness, but rather something angry and indignant, as if the woman who had found him had interrupted something important that he was not ready to give up. As Charles began to giggle and gurgle in the nun's arms, Erik calmed down as well, his clear eyes, their color undefined in the darkness of that night, fixed on his rescuer. Edie sensed that the baby was testing her, something he would continue to do for the rest of their lives together.

So the two babies grew up together, because Erik could never stand the thought of being anywhere Charles wasn't. Edie and Castalia were convinced that the nervous baby was a few months older than the other, but with no birth dates to compare, no one could be sure how old they were. Erik reached some developmental milestones earlier, but no one could say for sure if he was just a hyperactive and precocious child or if he was just older.

Regardless, the children were raised as twins, and no one would ever consider separating them, as neither could survive without the other.

This worried Edie and Castalia greatly. It would be difficult to find a family willing to adopt them both. Sooner or later, someone would have to separate them, and that would break both their hearts.

Their discussions took place late at night, after the children had gone to bed. But Charles and Erik soon realized that these arguments were mostly about them, and they learned to pretend to be asleep so they could eavesdrop.

Like all orphaned children, Charles and Erik wanted to find parents and a home of their own. Their dreams were always filled with the desire to leave, but to leave together. Separation was not an option.

So they waited until the lights went out and the women went to sleep, then they crawled under the covers and held each other's little fingers, vowing that neither of them would ever agree to be adopted alone. No one would ever separate them.

"Charles, please. Put him down!"

Erik looked down. Castalia's complexion was now dangerously close to bright orange. Sooner or later she was going to have an aneurysm. Charles looked up at the other boy, his big blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun.

Erik didn't want to come down from the tree, but soon Charles would be moved by their governess's desperation and ask him to.

Erik sighed and let himself fall backwards, clinging to the thick branch with all his strength and continuing his unsteady descent. The nun's terrified scream was so pleasant.

"Erik, please..."

Erik burst out laughing. Charles was well aware that his friend's acrobatics were intended to scare the woman.

"All right. All right."

With one last somersault, Erik fell gracefully to the ground at the foot of the tree, where Charles looked down at him benevolently as the woman grew increasingly agitated.

"You are an evil being. Sooner or later you will have my lifeless body on your conscience!"

Erik fought back a smile that threatened to escape him. Sister Castalia was a good person. Deep down, Erik admired and loved her. But their characters were completely incompatible. His was too rebellious, hers too controlling. Despite their mutual love, there were always reasons to fight. Charles was the only one who could keep the peace between them.

Despite their constant bickering, Erik and Charles were undoubtedly the children Mrs. Edie and Sister Castalia loved the most.

"The moment we feared has unfortunately arrived."

The children were already asleep. The dormitory, filled with beds, was silent except for the slow snoring of a few children.

Charles and Erik, however, only pretended to be asleep.

A very wealthy family had visited the orphanage that day. Erik didn't like them, but Charles was struck by the little girl they brought with them: a blonde girl who looked at them all with obvious confusion. A sister and a home. Charles had wanted that for a long time. He had nothing against the place where he had grown up. Mrs. Edie and Sister Castalia were good people, but deep down he had always felt that something was missing. A home of his own. A place to call his own. The love of a mother and father. Having never known the warmth of a mother's love, Charles felt that such a feeling would make him happy for the rest of his life.

So they both decided not to wait for the two women to tell them what was going on, but to stay awake to listen to what they would say, thinking they were alone.

Sister Castalia sat at the small round table where the two women usually sat to drink tea before going to bed. The cup was steaming, but the woman seemed to have no intention of bringing it to her lips. She held it in her hands to warm herself, but her gaze was lost outside the window.

"Do you think there's any way to change their minds?"

Mrs. Edie was still pouring tea into her cup. She stopped after that question and stood motionless with the steaming teapot in her hands.

"No,-  Edie replied, continuing to pour the tea, but her tone was terribly sad. - Mr. Marko was quite categorical. They already have two children and don't want to expand the family too much. Mrs. Xavier might be persuaded, but she'd never go against her husband. She's not the one who makes the decisions."

"So what do we do?"

"You know as well as I do that children of this age have very little chance of being adopted. Everyone wants younger children who are more malleable and easier to raise. This family is wealthy and wants an older child. We can't afford to lose them."

"But they only want one."

Edie let out a long sigh, then squeezed Charles' hand tightly as he stood beside her, feeling him flinch.

One child. Erik hadn't liked them from the start. Maybe he wouldn't have accepted them even if they'd taken both.

He'd heard enough. With a shake of his head, he signaled to Charles that he didn't want to hear another word.

Together they crawled to their beds and slipped under the covers. But neither could sleep. The words echoed in their minds. They only want one.

"Does this mean we can't be together anymore?"

Charles' voice was a whisper full of sadness, so much so that Erik couldn't help but reach for his friend's hand under the covers and squeeze it tightly.

"No, I'm not going anywhere without you,-  Erik turned on his side to meet Charles' gaze, "-  can behave so badly that those pompous rich people won't want to have anything to do with me."

Charles bit his lip.

"I can't behave badly... I'm not capable of it..."

Erik was silent for a moment. It was dramatically true. Charles would never be rude even if his life depended on it.

"You can cry. You're good at crying..."

"And I can stop eating. I'm good at that too!"

Erik smiled. They had come up with a good plan.

No one would ever separate them. No one.

"'Get that monster back! I never want to see him again!"

Sister Castalia opened her arms to embrace Erik, who was particularly disheveled after being pushed out of the car by Kurt Marko, who was particularly agitated.

The man was angry, and Castalia had no doubt why. Although she loved the child with all her heart, Castalia, as an authority figure, was often the target of Erik's destructive outbursts, and she could well imagine how difficult that must be.

The man smoothed his crumpled jacket and looked irritably at Charles, who waited eagerly at his side. Castalia feared that one day Erik would undermine any chance Charles had of being adopted. She didn't want to be separated from them. She had raised them since they drank only goat's milk. She had rocked them when they couldn't sleep at night. She loved them as if they were her own. But the orphanage could offer them nothing more than a roof over their heads and meager food to eat. She couldn't give them an education, and she couldn't guarantee them a future. The Markos could.

Erik and Charles deserved a chance, even if they didn't want it right now, and it was her duty, just because she loved them more than herself, to make sure they got it. At least one of them.

Sister Castalia felt Charles tremble beside her and tried to smile at him reassuringly. Charles was not like Erik. Charles was a sweet, well-behaved child who couldn't do anything terrible even if he tried. The important thing was that Mr. Marko agreed to take him home for a trial period.

"The other child is ready, Mr. Marko. Do you still want to take him home?"

Marko, who was fixing his hair at the time, looked at him suspiciously. Charles, however, was the kind of child who could dispel any doubts. He was a small child with light skin and large blue eyes. Sister Castalia could already picture him dressed in expensive clothes, his hair cut by a barber and not by Mrs. Edie. He would be angelically beautiful. The kind of child everyone would want to adopt.

Marko finally nodded and motioned for Charles to get into his car.

"I hope this one is better than the other, otherwise I will have to question your ability to raise your children, Sister."

Sister Castalia forced a smile. The only thing that mattered was that Charles was getting into the car.

Charles moved, but before he got into the back seat of the car, he took one last look at his friend. Erik, his face still hidden in the nun's chest, broke into one of his most terrifying smiles and gave his friend the victory sign with his fingers. Marko didn't notice, but Castalia did.

"I wanted to compliment you on how you behaved at the Markos',- Sister Castalia had led Erik to her room. Edie had followed, but kept her distance, letting the nun do the talking. It was the old good cop, bad cop technique. Erik had known it since he was learning to walk. But it had never worked with him. - I don't think I've ever heard anything more stupid, Erik.

Erik just shrugged his shoulders without saying anything.

It was something Castalia hated, and he did it on purpose to annoy her. Talking wasn't much use anyway. Even the nun and Mrs. Edie agreed. They both wanted to send her away. Erik had thought about it a long time and decided that it was unfair. No one knew better than these two women how strong the bond between him and Charles was. They had been brothers from birth. They had never spent a day without each other. Charles was the only one who could calm Erik down when he got angry, and Erik was the only one Charles felt safe with. Anyone who thought of separating them was acting in bad faith and should be treated accordingly. For them, the cold shoulder was the lightest punishment they could get away with.

"What were you thinking? Not only have you ruined any chance of adoption for yourself, but you've also seriously jeopardized Charles' chances. I thought you loved him, Erik. Being adopted by the Markos is the best thing that could happen to you. They can give you a decent life, send you to the best schools, and guarantee you a future. And you throw it all away?"

Erik felt anger rising inside him.

It was a low blow from the nun.

If adoption were described that way, it would seem like a wonderful gift that he was rejecting out of childish emotion. Erik would have accepted the idea if the Markos had wanted to adopt both of them. He didn't like Mr. Marko, and Mrs. Marko didn't care about him at all. But Erik could go anywhere and endure anything as long as Charles was with him.

"They just wanted one child."

The two women exchanged a quick look. How silly... they had been eavesdropping on their conversations since they were four years old.

"Now I understand why you did it."

Mrs. Edie looked at him with a tenderness that made Erik uncomfortable. Unlike Sister Callista, Edie had never hidden the fact that Erik was her favorite. She had found him first, she had been the first to soothe him. She had fed him and kept him warm, and she had always admired the fierce love that Erik gave to few, very few people.

Erik wasn't happy that he had disappointed her, but he didn't want to lose Charles.

"I suppose you convinced Charles to keep the Markos from adopting him, too."- Edie moved closer and put a hand on his shoulder. Erik wanted to remain motionless, but his head turned and he nodded against his will. - I understand that you love him, Erik, but don't you think it would be better for Charles to go to that home?"

"No."

Erik was only a child. The wealth the Markos could offer meant nothing to him. His life was just a succession of days, and he couldn't imagine a day when Charles wouldn't wake up in his bed. Such a thought didn't even cross his mind. He didn't care what anyone else said. He and Charles had made a choice. They had made a promise. That was the only thing that mattered.

Eddie nodded. There was no judgment in his voice, and unlike all the angry words from the nun, it almost moved her to tears.

Fortunately, Edie didn't want to witness her humiliation.

"You can go, Erik."

Castalia looked at Mrs. Edie, surprised at her sudden generosity, but the woman gave her a stern look that brooked no argument.

So Erik found himself outside on the hill. His child's mind was confused and frightened.

Before talking to Mrs. Edie, he hadn't thought about what adoption meant to Charles, and now the thought of hurting him made him uneasy. He couldn't lose Charles. He would never know what to do without him. They would get along well. They would face everything together. Erik was sure of that.

But his head was very confused. So Erik did what he always did when his brain wouldn't give him a break and his best friend wasn't there to help him calm down. He went to the tree where it all started and climbed into its branches.

"Charles, can you stop for a second? We need to talk to you."

They had just finished breakfast and the children were all busy with their daily chores. Erik and Charles always had to fetch water from the well, heat it on the fire, and wash the dishes.

Charles nodded to Erik and handed him the bucket before disappearing into Mrs. Edie's office.

Erik was puzzled and undecided whether to abandon his task of eavesdropping as usual or wait for his friend to inform him later.

Since not doing his duty would have made him easily discovered, he decided he could talk to Charles about it later and headed for the well with the buckets in his hands.

However, he felt a slight uneasiness. When Charles had returned from Marko's house, he had behaved as usual. But Erik, who knew him better than he knew himself, sensed a certain strain in his friend, as if he were trying to maintain a calm that he did not really possess.

The experience at Marko's house must not have been pleasant.

Erik remembered well how exhausting his stay at the villa had been. Fun, but exhausting. Erik had destroyed everything he could get his hands on, including clothes. He was still amused by Marko's expression when he had torn off all his clothes to run naked in the villa's large park. That was the last straw.

Charles, however, was strange. He had told Erik that everything had gone well, but he didn't want to talk about anything that had happened during his stay. Every now and then, when he was focused on something else, the name Raven, the Markos' other daughter, would slip out, and Erik sensed that Charles liked the little girl. He didn't remember her very well. During his stay, Erik had been so destructive that hardly anyone had approached him. But Charles' technique was different from his. Someone could have gone to him and tried to comfort him or convince him to eat. He might have known Raven better than anyone else. It was plausible.

But when he returned with the water, the scene that met his eyes was Sister Castalia holding Charles in her arms, tears in her eyes, and Charles burying his face in her chest as if he wanted to be inside her.

Edie noticed him and gave him a worried look. It was too much. Erik felt a knot of anger and despair forming in his stomach. Why was Charles crying? What was going on?

"What's going on?"

Charles' body jerked at the sound of his voice, and the child pulled his face away from Sister Castalia's chest to look at him in distress. His eyes were red and wet. He was crying.

"Erik, Charles has been adopted by the Markos."

Erik had to grit his teeth as hard as he could to hold back a desperate cry that wanted to come out at all costs.

Charles. Adopted. Those words swirled around in his head, preventing him from concentrating on anything else.

Charles. Adopted.

Erik started to breathe heavily. His lungs were on fire. The air entering his lungs gave him no relief, leaving him in desperate need of oxygen.

Erik couldn't bear to stay there another second, so he spun around and ran away with all the strength his legs would allow.

He was up in a tree when he heard the rustling of leaves.

"I'm sorry, Erik."

Erik saw Charles climbing towards him. His eyes were still shining and Erik wanted to wipe them with his fingers.

"It's not your fault. It just didn't work out.- He forced a smile. - I was always better at creating chaos than you."

He had thought long and hard since they had given him the terrible news. Parting with Charles was something so horrible that his mind simply couldn't contemplate it. The only thing left to do was to make a decision.

"You don't have to worry. I've thought it through. I didn't want it to come to this, but unfortunately there aren't many options. We just have to run away. We'll pack our bags tonight and leave early tomorrow morning. If we walk fast, we'll make it to Layton Station before lunch. We'll get on a train and go far away. Together."

Charles looked at him, deeply puzzled.

"You don't want to wait for the Markos, do you? Then we can't escape."

"Erik...- Now Charles looked deeply sad, and Erik couldn't understand why. Sure, he hadn't offered him an easy solution, but it was still better than the alternative. Erik didn't understand why he was so upset. A part of him was a little disappointed. He hadn't expected Charles to come up with a plan, but he would have liked it if he hadn't always been the one taking action while his friend passively followed. - I don't think you understand. I've accepted the adoption. I've agreed to become Mr. Kurt Marko's adopted son."

Erik stared at him with an open mouth. What was Charles saying? He had agreed. He wanted to move into the big mansion, with the park full of low plants and disgusting flowers, together with those stupid people who would never understand the beauty of their late son?

But why?

"We had a plan. - Charles narrowed his eyes. - We had a plan. We had to stop them from adopting us. I ran naked through the shitty garden so I wouldn't be separated from you. I pissed on every plant in the house. I wanted everyone to despise me because I didn't want to go there alone. - Tears ran down his friend's face again, but this time Erik wanted them to flow faster, wanted Charles to feel his pain for betraying him. That was what he had done. He had betrayed him in the worst possible way. - But you didn't do your part, did you? I bet you were the good little boy you always were... Damn you, Charles!"

"I wanted a home, Erik. I wanted a mom and a dad... I wanted someone to love me..."

"I loved you!- Erik replied, but he didn't want to cry. He didn't want Charles to see how much he had hurt him. - Do you think I didn't want a family? Do you think I didn't want parents? But I didn't want them without you. I didn't want them to take you away from me! Oh, damn it!"

Erik felt on the verge of tears and quickly climbed to the highest branch of his tree, where only he could reach. Charles tried to call him several times, but Erik never turned to look at him. He needed to be alone.

For the next few days, Erik ignored Charles.

He ate breakfast quickly, before the others, and then went out into the forest. Sometimes he would return to the tree, other times he would disappear for hours, and no one, not even Charles, knew where he was hiding.

Mrs. Edie and Sister Castalia decided to leave him alone. Charles' departure was imminent, and they knew how much Erik was suffering.

Charles tried to talk to him whenever they were near each other, but Erik ignored him with all the stubbornness he could muster. After the first night, when Charles tried unsuccessfully to crawl into his bed, Erik began sleeping in the barn, away from everyone.

Charles seemed more miserable than usual, but Erik enjoyed watching him. Did Charles feel guilty? He should. It was all his fault. Erik had often been angry in his young life, but it was usually Charles who soothed his anger. Now that Charles had been betrayed, Erik didn't know how to resolve the situation because he had never been able to do it on his own.

As exhaustion set in and sadness overwhelmed him, Erik realized how much he missed Charles. But he had chosen to do without him, and Erik couldn't forgive such a deep betrayal.

So the day of departure came without the two exchanging a word.

Marko's car arrived on the hill late in the morning.

Erik had hidden before dawn. He didn't want to see Charles' suitcases. He didn't want to see his friend get into the car and drive off. He didn't even want to say goodbye, because part of him desperately hoped that Charles would come back sooner or later and that this was just a bad dream from which he couldn't wake up.

If he didn't say goodbye, Charles wouldn't leave.

It was a hope hanging by a thread, but it was the only way Erik could find to protect his broken heart.

From his hiding place in the barn, he could hear Charles calling him, and the panic and pain grew as the child called his name. But he stayed where he was, a part of him almost enjoying the sadness he felt in his friend.

Then the car's engine started, and Erik realized, as if hit by a bucket of water, that all his fears were coming true. Charles was leaving, to a place where Erik would never see him again. And Erik didn't even get to say goodbye.

So he ran. He ran out of the barn like a madman. The car was still in sight, but it would soon disappear over the horizon. Erik felt desperation overtake him.

"Charles!"

The child's window was open, but the noise of the car prevented him from hearing Erik's voice.

"Charles!"

Erik began to run. His feet barely touched the ground as he headed for his tree. If he climbed fast enough, he could tell Charles that he loved him. Because he did love him, even though he was angry and didn't want the last thing Charles would remember about him to be his angry words.

"Charles!"

With the strength of desperation, he climbed the tree, reaching the top at a speed dictated only by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. When he reached the top, he could see him and began waving his arms to get his attention.

"Charles!- Erik saw Charles' eyes meet his own. The boy shouted something to the driver and the car stopped. It was the last time they would see each other. Erik's heart felt like it was going to burst. - Charles! Goodbye! Don't forget me. I'll never forget you! I love you! I hope you're happy!"

Erik's eyes were blurred from all the tears he had been holding back for the past few days, and now they were streaming down his cheeks. Through them, however, he could see Charles' smile, directed only at him, as he held up his two little fingers, clasped together. A promise. That he would come back. Erik wasn't sure if he could believe it, but he clung to that promise with all the tenacity and desperation of his nine years, hoping that one day a car would drive up the hill again and Charles would get out to tell him that he was back and that they would never be apart again.

"I love you, Charles!"

Charles nodded. Erik didn't need to see him to know that he was sobbing. Then a man, probably Marko, said something in his ear and he retreated into the window of the car, which continued its journey.

Erik stayed where he was until the outline of the car faded and then disappeared. For the first time in his life, he felt completely and terribly alone.

Chapter Text

Dear Charles,

I am very sorry for the way I treated you when I found out you were leaving without me. We had little time and I wasted it by moving away to lick my wounds from you.

Now I want to go back to those days and stay by your side every second so that I can remember those moments with sweetness and no regrets.

I am especially sorry that you did not have the courage to tell me how you felt.

I knew that you longed for a family. You told me about it since we started talking.

I could see you looking at the families that have paraded in front of us over the years, always leaving with a child who was not us.

It's probably my fault again.

If I had not shown you such fierce and morbid affection, Madam Edie and Sister Castalia might not have been so insistent on trying to adopt you as a couple, and you might have found what your heart desired much sooner.

What I wanted to say, Charles, is that I miss you.

Now the tree is strangely quiet without you.

There is no one left to run away with in the middle of the night.

New children have come to the house, but they are too young to really keep me company, and no one could replace you.

By now I think they all think of me as the shady kid, too big to join their games and too small to really leave.

Families still come, but I don't really believe it anymore. So I don't even show up for tryouts. I still can't figure out if it's because I don't want to suffer another rejection or because I can't imagine going to a home without you.

Maybe that's the problem.

I am not able to please people, Charles. You used to be able to get into people's hearts; I was just a burden you carried around.

I am glad you were able to get rid of me, and I hope this decision brings you all the happiness you deserve.

I don't know if these words will ever reach you, because I don't think I can send this letter. Sister Castalia refuses to give me the address of your new family, and I cannot blame her. Perhaps she fears that I will run away to reach you, and in part I understand her. I might be able to do that.

So I don't know if you will ever read this letter of mine, but I hope that the love I feel for you will still reach you.

I love you, Charles. You are and always will be my brother.

Erik.

After Charles' departure, Erik's world suddenly shrank.

He could no longer enjoy the activities he used to. He could not concentrate on his studies, which patient Edie had tried to instill in him.

Throughout the day, he did nothing but wander from place to place without finding peace.

The two women who ran the institute were genuinely concerned about him, but their worries irritated him, and he somewhat blamed them for Charles' departure.

The more they tried to understand his nervousness, the more nervous Erik became.

In the first few months after Charles left, the situation had become untenable. Erik was torn between wanting to see his old friend and wanting to erase him from his mind.

But nothing, not even the liquor he once managed to steal from the medicine cabinet, could prevent his head from being filled with worries about his best friend at night.

Was Charles all right?

Had he adapted to his new family?

Erik had not really liked this Marko. His kindness was insincere, and Erik had not had to work very hard to annoy him during his test day.

What if he had mistreated his friend?

Erik went crazy with the thought that no one would answer these questions.

Madame Edie and Sister Castalia would never answer him truthfully because they knew exactly how Erik would give them hell if any of his nightmares turned out to be true.

So his mind was caught in a loop from which he could not escape.

The idea of a future was suddenly gone. Erik had never asked himself what he wanted to do with his life, because his life was Charles, and it did not matter where their steps would take them, the important thing was to be together. Charles dreamed of a life outside the orphanage. Erik was fulfilled only by the thought that nothing and no one would ever separate them.

Erik could not believe that this idea was gone.

When his anger was sucked out by a burning nostalgia, he would climb the tree and write letters to Charles that ended up tied with a rubber band under his bed.

Erik never sent one.

Charles never wrote anything.

Dear Charles,

It has been a year.

I think Sister Castalia's perfidy has infected you, too, because it's as if you've literally dropped off the face of the earth.

I would like to see you. I miss you so much.

There is no great news here.

I've grown ten centimeters. Madame Edie had to make me a new bed and I finally got a room all to myself. It won't last, of course, but I've promised myself I'll scare all the children who come under this roof so they'll all refuse to sleep with me for fear of being suffocated in their sleep.

Hunk and Angel left, as did you.

They were both very happy, and Sister Castalia made sure that we all went to say goodbye to them the day they left. This made me think a lot. The day you left, you were not happy and it was my fault. It was your day and I ruined it.

Angel was in tears before her parents came to pick her up. She was afraid they wouldn't like her. Of being sent back.

I hugged her and she was as surprised as I was by the gesture. Maybe she didn't think I was capable of it, and I didn't either.

So I thought maybe you needed a hug that day, too. Someone to tell you that everything was going to be okay and that no one in the world could ever bring back a child as perfect as you.

But I was selfish, Charles. I was so selfish and filled only with my own pain that I understand why you haven't written in all this time.

You may still be angry with me, and I want you to know that you have every reason to be. I have been the worst friend a person could ever have.

I'm sorry, Charles.

I hope one day you can forgive me. I already have.

Erik.

So the years passed.

Erik watched her clothes get shorter and shorter on her long, thin legs, and her governesses get smaller and smaller in front of him.

Edie had never been a tall woman, but by the time Erik turned fourteen, he was already so tall that the woman had to lift her head all the way up to look him in the eye.

Sister Castalia, who had always been tall and slender, had more room to move than Edie, who was short and plump, but she was no match for the stature of their eldest orphan.

Erik had given up on the idea that anyone could be interested in him.

If his age had made him difficult to adopt when he was with Charles, now that he had turned fourteen, even his governesses did not think he would leave, and they had already begun to look for someone in the neighboring village who would be willing to take him as an apprentice.

His fate seemed to be written.

Charles had never written a letter, and Erik had never felt more alone and without a compass.

Dear Charles,

I haven't touched a pen for months.

I wanted to write to you more, but life has become so monotonous lately that I really didn't know how to fill these pages.

Yesterday Sister Castalia let slip that she had read about you in the papers. I'm sure she regretted it later, because she looked at me suspiciously all day, but I didn't give her the satisfaction of knowing how sad this news made me.

I learned that you graduated from one of the most exclusive high schools in the state, becoming the youngest graduate ever.

I'm so proud of you, Charles.

You were always the smarter and more motivated of the two of us. I remember Madame Edie's eyes glazing over when she read your essays. I was always bored with school books and could not really understand what I found so interesting about them.

Apparently, our lives deserved to end like this: you graduating from a prestigious school and me looking for a job that would allow me to support myself when I was alone in the world.

Madame Edie managed to find me a job with the village blacksmith. I have to walk an hour to get there, but strangely enough, Mr. Gunnell is not a particularly irritating person, and even stranger, he is happy to teach me the trade. Working with iron makes me happy. I can't really explain how I feel, but when I see the hard, heavy metal becoming soft as butter in the furnace, I feel powerful.

It is not an easy trade. It is quite tiring. Yet I enjoy it. If my destiny led me to spend my days in Mr. Gunnell's workshop, I would not object.

Sister Castalia seems to be counting the days until I am kicked out as well. She has never been much of an admirer of mine, as you well know. Madame Edie, on the other hand, looks at me as if she knows something about me that even I don't. Sometimes she's really creepy and I still haven't decided if I like her or not.

I hope your life is fulfilling, Charles, and that your studies lead you to become an important person. Maybe one day you will be a famous professor and I can attend one of your lectures with you. I imagined this a few nights ago when I could not sleep despite being tired. I would walk into a classroom full of people and manage to hide in the back row, and you would walk in, well dressed, and start talking in front of them without showing a shadow of shyness or embarrassment. I watched you all the time, searching your adult features for the child I knew.

I woke up feeling that this dream was real. I never know if, at the end of the dream, I would have had the courage to reach out and talk to you. Maybe I would have just walked away, but I hope you saw me in the middle of all those people and realized how proud I was of you.

I wish you happiness.

Erik.

When a new adopter was announced, Erik was not yet fifteen years old.

Mr. Shaw was a widower with two children, but he wanted to welcome another child into his home. His family was as wealthy as the one that had adopted Charles and could guarantee the future chosen one an excellent education and the opportunity to visit the old country, where Mr. Shaw owned several homes.

Mr. Shaw did not visit the orphanage just once, as most adoptees did, but his visits became more frequent.

His family, he later explained to Madame Edie and Sister Castalia, was a bit unique, and he wanted to be sure that the newcomer would fit in well with the family unit.

His manner was polite and kind. Whenever he visited the orphanage, he brought gifts for the younger children and fine food for everyone else, so much so that the arrival of his car, black, shiny and powerful, was always greeted by a festive procession of willing little hands.

Erik, however, never saw the man until his last visit, as his apprenticeship took him out of the house most of the day.

He did, however, hear the gossip about the new benefactor. The children talked constantly about how kind and generous Mr. Shaw was, and how they admired his toys, even at dinner, although the governesses were strongly opposed to the introduction of toys at the table during meals.

Then, one Saturday morning, Mr. Shaw came to the house.

Erik was in the tree when the black car appeared on the horizon.

Mr. Shaw stepped out of the car, his arms laden with the usual gifts, surrounded by cheerful children. Erik was tempted to stay where he was, for he was too old for trinkets and toys, and he had now lost hope that anyone would finally take an interest in him, but Sister Castalia called him in for lunch and he was forced to get out and join the rest of the group.

It was then that he saw Mr. Shaw's smile for the first time.

Dear Charles,

Sometimes life can really take you by surprise.

It has been a long time since I wrote to you, but the job as apprentice to Mr. Gunnell is interesting, though very tiring. I am usually so tired at night that I can hardly reach my bed. Would you believe it? I have solved my insomnia problems.

Sister Castalia was convinced that I would not be able to keep my job as a blacksmith and that sooner or later my temper would make me do something irreparable and they would throw me out. But I must admit that she was able to admit that she was wrong. I like to work and I am good with my hands. You were always the smart one.

I thought my future was already set.

Instead, something happened that no one could have imagined.

Someone came to adopt me. Just me. In spite of my age, in spite of my character, in spite of everything.

The man who chose me is really strange. I won't deny it. Madam Edie was not entirely convinced when the man said he wanted me. Mr. Shaw already has two children my age, and he wanted someone they could be friends with. I was the only one in the house who was the right age.

Sister Castalia did not shower me with praise. Maybe she was afraid that I would do something terrible again, like when I went to Mr. Marko's house and he was still undecided between you and me. Between you and me, even if I had done well then, I didn't have much hope. I mean, who between you and me would ever choose me?

I thought long and hard about what to do. I could have refused and given a younger child a chance. But, let's face it, this was really my last chance. If I had not gone with Mr. Shaw, no one would ever have considered a boy of my age and reputation. I would have continued to be a blacksmith, living in Edie and Castalia's house, resigned to never leaving this county.

It was not a bad life. Despite what our governesses think of me, they are the only mothers I have ever known, and I am convinced that they love me more than anyone else. Even Sister Castalia, who loves to talk about how I am a thorn in her side, loves me at heart. I might as well stay here and give back some of the love and care I have received.

Mr. Shaw, however, could promise me a life I never dreamed of. I could study. I could find out if I was good at something. I could see the world, and who knows, maybe someday I could even see one of your lectures, as I have long dreamed of.

Staying here would be convenient.

Going to Shaw, on the other hand, would be a leap of faith.

But you know how I've always loved to fly high on the branches of our tree, don't you?

I don't know what I'm going to choose, but I will admit that this new alternative has given me a lot of thought, and I'm not entirely opposed to taking this opportunity.

It is six years since you left, Charles. In a few years, I will have lived more years without you than with you. I still miss you as much as the day you left, but I haven't had the courage to send even one of those letters. They are still where I left them, tied together under my bed. Every now and then I start to count them. There are over fifty of them. Sometimes I think that you too have a bundle of letters under your bed that you never sent because you lacked the courage.

I have never stopped thinking of you, but this silence, Charles, is so suffocating now.

As always, I hope you are well.

But now I have to make a decision.

Erik.

Dear Charles,

This is the last letter I will write to you.

I have decided that when I am finished, I will give it to Madam Edie along with the ones I have kept for years. I still hope that one day you will return here to the hills of your childhood and perhaps you will read my words and remember me.

I don't dare hope that you will seek me out after reading them, but it would be very nice if you did.

I have made my decision.

Mr. Gunnell disagreed. He was used to my presence and truly believed that I had the talent for his profession. I had always thought of him as a good man, and I was sorry to disappoint him.

But recent events made me realize that I needed a change.

I will never forget that place. It was a place that gave me much more than it took and literally saved my life. I will always be grateful to our mothers and everything they did for me.

But now I must move on.

Sister Castalia cried when she heard this. Would you believe it? I always thought she couldn't wait to get rid of me, but apparently her shrunken heart is more romantic than I thought.

Madam Edie also had an unexpected reaction. She asked me several times if I was really sure of my choice and begged me to be careful, as if I were about to step into a lion's den.

Mr. Shaw is very rich. Perhaps I am too old to learn how to behave in such a context. I've never been one for manners. You were. But he seems to be amused by my lack of etiquette, and I think I can at least learn not to make too much of a fool of myself. If that's the price I have to pay to find out what's beyond Layton, then I'm willing to pay it.

It's already decided.

Tomorrow, I too will get into a black car and disappear into the horizon, like so many comrades before me. I was always the one who watched the others go. It will be strange to be the one who sees things from the back window of a car.

If I said I wasn't nervous at all, I would be lying. I have never seen the outside world before. Everything will be new to me. I imagine you felt the same way when you left six years ago. But I remain convinced that this was my last chance to discover what the world has to offer besides a blacksmith's job and a monotonous life in a provincial town.

Maybe the world will disappoint me and I'll want to go back, but I wouldn't really feel like myself if I didn't try.

So my farewell to the house on the hill is also a farewell to you, Charles. It took me six years to get it down on paper, in black and white. It has been a long journey and even now I feel the same pain I felt when I saw you get into Marko's car. But the time has come and, as you know, I am quite firm when I make a decision.

I hope life brings you all the best you can dream of, Charles. You will always remain the friend who made my childhood happy and carefree.

I love you very much.

Goodbye.

Yours,
Erik.

As the car that would take Erik far away from these places disappeared over the horizon, Madam Edie finally allowed tears to flow down her face.

By her side was Sister Castalia, her lifelong companion, in the same state.

"It was a blessing. - Edie nodded, though she did not feel she was being entirely sincere. - A 15-year-old boy is too old to be adopted. We knew that."

Edie dabbed at her face with a large handkerchief she kept in her apron pockets.

Erik had been by her side for fifteen years, and none of her children had been as close to her as he had been. Edie had made no secret of the fact that she thought of him as a son. In that moment, Edie understood the agony of a mother who lets her child go, knowing she cannot guarantee him the same future as the one she takes away.

This was fortunate. In her experience, it had never occurred to her that someone would want a boy so far away.

Instead, Mr. Shaw had latched onto Erik from the first moment he saw him.

The fact that this was an unhoped-for opportunity had obscured the uneasiness the man aroused in her.

He had always been generous, kind, and very giving. He was the prototype of the ideal adoptee. Yet Edie had always had mixed feelings about him, for every now and then his naturally pale face would slip the matter-of-fact smile he always wore, giving way to something slimy she could not quite categorize.

Edie had hoped to the end that Erik would refuse the adoption, and for that she had felt deeply selfish and unworthy.

But now that her favorite boy was gone, her heart desperately hoped that all those negative feelings were simply the fruit of her love for Erik, whom she wished all the best.

Erik had promised to write her soon. Edie sincerely hoped that the boy would keep his word.

She knew full well that her anxiety would continue until she was certain that the child was well.

Chapter Text

The journey hadn't gone exactly as Erik had imagined.

In fact, Erik had no idea what to expect when he found a new home. It had never happened before. The only thing that seemed similar was his attempt at Marko's house, but that was nothing like this. He had never wanted to live with the Markos and had never allowed himself to admire what a real home with real parents must be like. He had gone there with the intention of not liking them, but now... it was just different.

Mr. Shaw didn't say a word during the trip.

Erik just watched the landscape unfold in front of him. His brain, without any real motivation, wanted to cling to details that would allow him to retrace his steps if something went wrong. It was his last attempt at self-preservation, a way to maintain a connection to his childhood, which had come to a definitive end that day.

When the car stopped, there were no houses nearby, only a modest inn.

Erik was quite surprised, but he said nothing, sure that someone would soon deign to explain what was happening.

"I need you to stay here for a few nights.-  Erik raised an eyebrow, but didn't have time to say anything because Mr. Shaw pulled him by the arm. - The house isn't ready for you yet. I need a few days to have everything in place for your arrival."

Erik was rather perplexed. The words of his supposed adoptive father were unclear. Erik had had a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in until that morning. Why had Shaw come to pick him up today if he hadn't prepared his house to receive him yet?

He could easily postpone it. Erik had waited more than fourteen years. Another day or two wouldn't make much difference.

In any case, he picked up his modest cardboard suitcase and followed Mr. Shaw into the inn, keeping the thousand questions swirling in his head to himself.

"It won't take long."

Mr. Shaw handed him a small key with a patronizing smile.

Erik didn't think he liked it very much, but he wasn't sure he could complain.

"When everything is ready, I'll send a letter to the innkeeper and you can join me at home."

Erik clutched the key.

"By myself?"

Mr. Shaw's smile widened and Erik had the dark feeling that the man was enjoying himself immensely.

"The house isn't far. You won't have any trouble finding it. The innkeeper often comes to work at my house and will be able to help you.- Mr. Shaw patted him on the shoulder and took his leave. Erik had the feeling that the man was in such a hurry to leave that he continued talking as he walked away. - I won't keep you waiting long."

Erik watched him go, still holding the key to his room, not knowing what to do with it.

The days passed and no letter arrived at the inn.

Erik spent them in a daze. He was not at home and did not know what to do with his time or how to cope with his loneliness.

In the orphanage he had to fight to get every minute of solitude. Day and night, he was surrounded by children and there was always something to do. Erik was good at running away, but he was also good at working, so neither Madame Edie nor Sister Castalia had ever decided to scold him for his escapades. But Erik was never really alone.

In this place, however, the days unfolded before him tasteless and colorless, so much so that only his hungry stomach dragged him out of bed in the morning.

Erik was tempted, very tempted, to pack his things and return to the orphanage. His life wasn't supposed to be like this. He had made a mistake. Maybe Mr. Gunnell would take him back as an apprentice.

Erik packed and unpacked his suitcase several times.

What was stopping him?

After days of soul-searching, the answer came, along with the reason he had agreed to be adopted. Mr. Shaw was a member of high society, as was the family that had adopted Charles. Living with him would increase his chances of seeing him again, compared to a humble job as a blacksmith in a small provincial town.

For years he had tried to put thoughts of Charles out of his mind. He had written him letters, it was true, but he had never managed to send a single one. Erik had simply followed his instincts, which had led him to the post office, but then he had always turned back. The truth was that he was simply afraid to send those letters. Not because of what was in them, but because once he did, it would create the expectation of getting an answer, and Erik wasn't sure he could survive the disappointment when that didn't happen.

The truth was that when Charles had broken the pact they had made, Erik hadn't been able to really hate him, and had even forgiven him, but something inside him had changed forever.

He no longer trusted Charles. Not because he wanted to be adopted, but because he hadn't told him. He didn't trust Erik to understand.

For Erik, the lie was much more painful than the decision.

It didn't make his love for Charles any weaker, but it certainly made it more uncertain.

Until one morning the innkeeper left a large brown envelope on his breakfast table. Inside was a letter written in elegant gold calligraphy with the address of the Shaw family mansion.

It was expected to arrive that very day.

Erik returned to his room and packed his bags for the last time.

His life had come to a crucial crossroads. It was the last time he could choose between returning to his frugal life, never seeing Charles again, or continuing on the new path into the unknown.

Erik picked up his suitcase, asked the innkeeper for directions, and made his way to his new family with a determined look on his face.

The gate to Shaw's mansion was very different from the one at the Marko estate, the only one Erik had ever seen.

It was inlaid with intricate gold patterns that resembled a rose garden with thorns. The house, like Marko's, was not visible from the road, but there was a wide dirt trail winding up a hill.

Erik had been walking since that morning because he had gotten lost twice in the woods and he was hungry. These needs were stronger than any feelings of shyness he might have felt.

The problem was that he had no idea what to do once he got there.

The house on the prairie where he grew up had no gate. Anyone who wanted to visit simply had to enter the small fence that surrounded the house, walk up to the door, and knock. Unless, of course, they had already been spotted by the children scattered across the nearby meadows.

No bolt.

No gate.

So what was he supposed to do once he got there?

Erik approached the bars and tried to shake them. But the gate remained firmly shut.

Then he looked to see if there was anything he could ring to signal his presence, but saw nothing. Determined to follow his instincts, he threw his battered suitcase over the fence and climbed over the bars to drop down on the other side.

Once he was back on his feet and had retrieved his belongings, Erik checked to see if anyone had noticed him. What if they took him for a thief? He didn't trust Shaw after the prank at the inn, and this situation set off alarm bells in his head.

The last stretch was pretty steep, but that wasn't why his heart was racing.

Luckily, no one saw him arrive. Otherwise, he wouldn't have survived the embarrassment.

The house was as regal and imposing as Erik had expected. Who knew how many rooms such a large estate could contain. It was so big that it was impossible to see where the entrance was.

He was walking under an imposing balcony when he heard noises, then received a shower of ice-cold water directly on his head.

Erik stopped in surprise.

Voices were laughing loudly above him, but Erik was too focused on the state of his clothes, which were completely soaked, and his modest cardboard suitcase, which, to his great disappointment, opened and dumped all its contents on the muddy floor.

Finally he managed to look up.

On the balcony were a boy and a girl about his age. She was the epitome of what a rich girl should be. She was very blonde, with porcelain skin and two very pale blue eyes that, unlike Charles', did not radiate any warmth. She was dressed all in white, and leaning on one elbow on the balcony, she looked at him mischievously, without any fear, and met his eyes.

Behind her was a boy. If they were siblings, no one would have guessed it. The boy was as dark as she was blonde, with a mass of jet-black hair tied back in a low ponytail that covered his shoulders. Erik couldn't see him very well, but his wrists were wrapped in white cloth that was immaculate and clearly identified him as the servant's son.

The two had a great time mocking the state of Erik's clothes and weren't even ashamed to hide it.

Erik was soaked. It had been a busy day. He was tired. All his belongings, including the clothes he was wearing, were wet and sticky, just like his hair.

The laughter of the two only fueled his anger.

Everything seemed unfair. The days he spent alone in an inn. His lonely walk to that damn castle, like a common beggar. And finally, that freezing shower that had ruined everything.

"You did that on purpose!"

The boys' laughter froze. They were obviously not used to being treated like that by anyone, but good manners were not exactly one of Erik's virtues, despite the best efforts of his two governesses to teach him.

The blonde girl batted her eyes with the most feigned surprise Erik had ever seen.

"Oh, sorry... We smelled something terrible coming from down here and thought a horse had escaped from the stables... right, Janos?"

The boy let out an amused chuckle that gave Erik some truly horrible thoughts.

"That's right. But I can still smell it, little sister. I think we need another bucket of water."

The boy leaned over again, holding a large wooden bucket that was clearly overflowing with water. Erik was sure he would get soaked again if he stood still, and he was far too tired to be a target for two spoiled children.

Janos leaned over the balcony again, almost stumbling. He was such an idiot that he would have been perfectly capable of getting wet.

Erik looked down and saw a large, smooth stone. He didn't think twice.

In one fluid motion, Erik bent down and swung his hand over his head like a whip, sending the stone flying at such a speed that the two boys, too busy laughing at each other, didn't see it coming.

The stone hit the bucket right in the middle with such force that it literally exploded into a thousand splinters of wood and water, completely soaking the two boys.

There were screams, as if he had just slaughtered two goats for Easter.

Erik started to laugh. Maybe it wasn't the most elegant move he knew, but he couldn't help himself.

He laughed when he saw them running into the house crying.

He laughed when he heard the two idiots complaining and whoever was listening to them inside.

He was still laughing, his hands on his stomach from the pain in his abs, when a fist hit him right in the back of the head, knocking him into the mud in front of him and completely submerging his face.

When he managed to clear the mud from his eyes, he saw the angry figure of Sebastian Shaw.

Perhaps Miss Edie hadn't been entirely wrong in advising him to control his instincts. But it was too late to regret it.

"I heard that someone thought my buckets were useless and outdated and saw fit to smash them with rocks."

Erik pressed his lips together. His face was dirty. His clothes were wet. His suitcase was destroyed.

And this man, who had left him in an inn for days, was now looking at him as if he were the sole cause of all this disaster.

He might even have found the words, even though the part of his brain that had long been chastised by the two women who had raised him was currently telling him to keep his mouth shut, but he didn't have time, because Mr. Shaw lifted him up, grabbed him brutally by the shoulder and began to drag him towards what Erik later discovered were the stables of the estate.

"I don't think it's appropriate for you to further soil the carpets of my house in this pitiful state, boy.-  Mr. Shaw threw him forcibly into an empty stall filled only with hay. - You will sleep here tonight. Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, I'll come and remind you of your duties. Until then, I don't want to see your face. Is that clear?"

Erik was furious. He was cold and hungry and had to spend the whole night in that stable.

It wasn't fair.

Nothing that had happened to him since he left the only home he had ever known had been fair.

The man was sure that his words would be easily obeyed.

Erik wanted to be home, swinging from the tree until Sister Castalia's soup filled the air with its aroma and the children's cries announced that dinner was ready.

He buried his face in the hay, trying to clean it roughly of the mud that still covered it, until exhaustion overcame the hunger pangs that tormented him and he fell asleep.

Adoption was not what Erik had imagined.

Mr. Shaw made that very clear when he brought him a piece of bread the next morning.

He had adopted Erik with the specific intention of giving his son, the bad boy Erik had met the day he arrived, a page to keep him company.

Erik couldn't understand why Mr. Shaw had chosen him out of all the children in the orphanage. Erik wouldn't have chosen himself for the job, and if he was honest, there wasn't a human being in the world who could appreciate his company: that insipid creature with a broom for hair and the IQ of a gibbon.

The only person worse than him was his sister. The little princess who blinked at her father's every word, whom she had wrapped around her little finger, could turn into the worst viper when left alone.

The stable bed lasted a few months, allowing Erik to get to know all the horses on the estate. Then, however, Azazel, the black stallion that Shaw insisted belonged to Janos even though he showed no inclination to ride him, began to show affection for Erik. This led to a  boy's hard fall that unfortunately only resulted in a badly bruised ankle, which Erik was very sorry about.

However, this had consequences that Erik's naive mind had not foreseen.

"Go faster!"

Erik felt his legs shake.

It was already the third lap around the villa grounds with Janos on his shoulders, and the heat of the scorching July day was not helping.

The idiot kept losing his balance, putting on Erik too much weight, which was already considerable.

"Don't you dare stop! I'll tell dad if you do, and he'll send you back to the slum you came from!"

Erik thought it was impossible for a male voice to reach that level of annoyance. Janos had made a terrible first impression when they met, and then he had only managed to make it worse, a feat that would have been extraordinary for anyone.

Erik would have paid his weight in gold to be back in what Janos called a "slum". In nearly fifteen years with Sister Castalia and Miss Edie, he hadn't suffered half the humiliation he'd endured with the Shaws in four months.

It didn't matter that his room was a hole in the basement. Erik didn't have high standards when it came to sleeping, and being away from Janos and Emma was a plus.

It didn't even matter that his meals were leftovers from his employers' table. The Shaws wasted so much food that Erik had never felt so full in his life.

But being that idiot's horse was definitely too much.

Erik tried hard not to slow down, but his body decided otherwise and his legs gave way, causing them both to roll on the gravel of the park.

Janos let out a faint squeal like a wounded rabbit, but Erik could not worry about his condition because, having to support him under his knees, he had not been able to use his hands to break the fall and now his face was covered in pebbles and dirt.

"You did this on purpose, you useless idiot. Now I'm going to tell Dad and he's going to punish you for it!"

"You are standing."

Janos stood motionless on both feet. Even the leg that was supposed to be dislocated so that he needed help even to go to the bathroom. That ugly little idiot!

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

It took Janos a few seconds to realize that he had gone too far, then his face broke into an extremely uncomfortable smile that Erik wanted to wipe away with a slap.

His growl must have frightened Janos, who had long since realized that this wild boy would not hesitate to use violence if necessary, and he ran as fast as he could, leaving him on the ground, bruised and furious.

Now the bastard would go back to his father, who would not question his son's words, and Erik would have to suffer yet another punishment.

Erik wanted to scream.

Why had he agreed to the adoption?

This wasn't his place and never would be.

He had been wrong to think that he could change his life, because he wasn't Charles. He wasn't capable of keeping his mouth shut or his hands to himself. He had none of his friend's grace or kindness. He wasn't made for this life.

The gates of the mansion were closed. The decision was already made.

Erik stood up unsteadily, his legs wobbling, and walked toward the gate with faltering steps.

It had been too long.

The road was long and he couldn't take the beaten path for fear that someone might be looking for him.

Mr. Shaw might have been a terrible adoptive father, but his thirst for revenge would prevent him from letting Erik go, for that would damage his reputation.

Erik wasn't sure what to do. Of course he wanted to go home, but Mr. Shaw had repeatedly threatened to harm the orphanage if Erik misbehaved, thus preventing the many remaining children from finding good adoptive homes in the future. Mr. Shaw had never been a stepfather worthy of the name and never would be; he could come looking for him there, and Erik didn't want to hurt the only mothers he'd ever known.

So he had to go somewhere else. But where?

Erik didn't know the world. All he had ever seen in his life was the orphanage and Mr. Shaw's house.

The only thing he had was what he had learned during his apprenticeship as a blacksmith, but he had no idea how to use it.

Erik was quite confused, so the only thing he could do was to follow the river that ran through the forest. He didn't know where it would lead him, but it was the only clue he had at the moment.

Despite his hunger and cold, he managed to fall asleep on the riverbank.

When he awoke, however, he noticed that a rough but warm blanket was draped over his shoulders and that a fire was burning in front of him, on which some fish, skewered on sharp sticks, were cooking.

He might have fallen asleep before he saw the man if he hadn't moved to fan the flames.

He was a stocky man, dressed in ragged clothes, with a thick brown beard covering his face and part of his bare chest.

"Who are you?"

The man continued to stir the fire with his stick. His confidence and calmness momentarily silenced all of Erik's alarm bells.

He didn't look like one of Shaw's men, and Erik realized that the smell of fish wafting through the air awakened his stomach, which growled loudly.

The man smiled, but instead of answering the question, he took one of the fish sticks and handed it to him. Erik decided that his hunger took precedence over his curiosity and began to eat more eagerly than he would have liked.

The man watched him eat without saying a word, and soon Erik felt pleasantly numb again, now that he had managed to fill his stomach.

"Where are you going?"

The man's voice was deep and guttural, but Erik didn't detect any threat in it.

"I don't know. I know where I come from, but I don't know where I'm going."

The man nodded.

"Then you can tell me where you're from, although judging by your clothes, there's only one place you could be from."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Logan. Who are you?"

Erik decided it was time to return the favor.

"My name is Erik. I was adopted by Mr. Shaw, but I don't think I'm cut out for this life. Is this how you live?"

Next to the man was a bulky backpack. It probably contained all of Logan's belongings.

"I like being alone."

Erik considered the idea. Maybe he could live alone as well. He wouldn't have to deal with spoiled brats or suffer cruel punishments. Logan seemed peaceful and quiet. Maybe this life could be right for him, too. He knew how to hunt. He knew how to use his hands to make tools and weapons. He could be self-sufficient.

"I like being alone too."

"Knowing where you come from, it's no surprise, but not everyone is cut out for this life. It doesn't take much. Just one thing, really. Just one thing."

"What?"

"To live as a wanderer, you have to be self-sufficient and have no ties to the world of other people. That's all it takes."

Erik stared at him thoughtfully as a face appeared in his mind.

Charles, lying beside him on a branch of the oak tree, pointing to the stars in the sky. Charles crying because he wanted a family. Charles trying to make Erik forgive him for wanting a family that wasn't his.

That was his connection, something he could never erase from his heart.

"I can't give up my connections. I can't be like that."

Logan smiled, almost as if he wasn't surprised by his answer.

"Then maybe you should try again. You're still young. This is a path you can return to."

Erik took the blanket off his shoulders and handed it to Logan. If he had to go back to that hell, he'd better not waste too much time, otherwise he might change his mind.

So he waved goodbye to Logan and started walking back to the Shaws and whatever punishment they had in store for him.

"Look who's back!"

Janos' joy was so obvious that Erik found it even more annoying than the punishment he might receive.

The boy had popped out of the front door like a wicked mushroom, as if he had been hiding there all the time, just waiting for the moment to take his revenge.

Erik was able to remain serious only because he had thought long and hard about what awaited him during the hours he had spent walking alone in the woods. His return would be interpreted as surrender, and his opponents were not the kind of people who appreciated an honorable surrender.

But Erik had discovered that he was not afraid of punishment. The Shaws were the price he had to pay for trying to see Charles again. Erik simply had to accept that fact and live with it.

It would be humiliating. It might even hurt. But if Erik could accept that, maybe he could let it go.

"Father! He's back! Father!"

Janos' look was full of anger. Erik took the backpack off his shoulders and began to massage them, as if preparing himself for the punishment to come. Mr. Shaw had never used physical punishment before, limiting himself to locking him up or withholding food. But Erik had noticed that the man enjoyed the use of riding crops, and he suspected that an escape would require something more than normal imprisonment.

Mr. Shaw and Emma appeared together. He looked angry, his lips thin and cruelly pressed together, his eyes flashing with cruelty. She stood just behind her father, capable of shifting from offended to subtly amused depending on whether his eyes were on her or not.

Erik felt unexpectedly calm.

On his way back to the house, he had thought a lot about his life and knew himself well enough to know that no punishment could really hurt him. Fear had the power he allowed it to have, and there was nothing these people could do to make him feel more pain than a few hours of detention.

Mr. Shaw's hands were soon around his neck.

The man shook him off like a kitten that had broken its mother's rules.

"You ungrateful little brat! What were you thinking?"

Erik pressed his lips together, determined not to contribute to anything the man might do, and this increased his frustration.

So the man began to drag him into the house, while the two idiots finally stopped holding back their satisfied giggles. It took Erik a few seconds to decide whether to resist and further annoy his supposed stepfather, or to let it go. Either way, the end result would be the same.

The second option prevailed.

So he found himself thrown into a dark, damp room with no windows or furniture, the bare earth for a floor.

"You're going to stay here until I'm done being angry at you for what you've done! And I think that's going to take a while, so make yourself at home!"

The door slammed behind him. Erik brushed off his pants and slowly sat down on the floor.

He was pretty sure that Shaw's anger would wear off in a few days, and if his predictions came true, he would skip a few meals, sleep standing up, and soon wet his pants.

Maybe he should reconsider going back to the forest with Logan.

Erik wasn't sure how much time had passed since the place had no windows and he couldn't see the sun rising or setting, but his stomach didn't hurt enough to say he'd been in there for more than a day.

Mr. Shaw had a strange look on his face when he opened the cell door.

It wasn't the subtly amused look he had when he thought of a new method of torture. Nor was it the look he had when he decided that Erik deserved some extra physical punishment. He had nothing in his hands and was so nervous that he couldn't stop staring at Erik as if he were a cockroach and his shoes were itching to crush him.

"Get up and come with me."

Erik decided that there was no point in resisting. Whatever the man had in mind, there was nothing he could do to stop him, so he might as well put on his armor and prepare to take the hit.

Strangely, the man did not lead him to the stables, but to the elegant dining room where Erik had never been before and where the count's two adorable children were having breakfast.

Erik would have smiled at Janos' disgusted look, had he not been equally astonished when Shaw motioned for a maid to set a place for him as well.

Was this a trick?

Was the food poisoned?

Since everyone else was seated, Erik sat down as well and let the maid serve him pancakes and milk, but he made no move to eat. The situation was too strange. He still wasn't sure if someone had put cyanide in his milk.

"I thought you were a peasant with no qualities or attractions. - Shaw ate, but he didn't seem to appreciate what he was eating very much. - Instead, you're full of surprises. Someone seems willing to spend a lot of money on you.

Erik still didn't understand.

"A letter arrived this morning. Do you know the Howlett family?"

Erik shook his head, but Shaw wasn't interested in his answer and continued without giving him time to answer.

"The head of the family is interested in you. He wrote to me this morning and offered me a ridiculous sum of money to adopt you, and I really wanted to deny you this opportunity because, I assure you, you don't deserve it at all. But it really is a huge sum, and your face doesn't make me or my children happy, so... I've agreed to adopt you. Tomorrow you will move in with them, and God willing, I won't have to see you again for the rest of my life."

Erik looked so stunned that the count decided it wasn't worth rubbing in.

His children, however, did not share his opinion.

"Dad, but the Howletts are much richer than we are. Does that mean we have to treat him like a superior? Because I'm not going to!"

Erik smiled at Janos. He hadn't considered this possibility, but it didn't bother him at all.

"Don't worry, Janos. If I know him, he'll be sent away within a week. Maybe two, if he's lucky."

Erik got up, his breakfast untouched on his plate, and went to pack his suitcase. He had never met the Howletts and had no idea what to expect. But they could hardly be worse than the Shaws.

Erik would always wonder how and when he had managed to attract the attention of someone he was sure he had never met before.

The next trip was made in the same car that had brought him from the orphanage.

Mr. Shaw wasted no time in pleasantries and left him at the gate, throwing his suitcase on the ground and driving off without even bothering to explain how he could be recognized by his new family.

Erik just hoped that his new family would be a little better than the one he had just left.