Chapter Text
Whispers -囁き-
-Prelude-
A slightly battered sedan rumbled up the winding road that climbed the hillside, two young men sitting inside the car, one driving and one looking out of the window absent-mindedly.
From a distance, it might have looked like two young men enjoying a leisurely drive through the countryside. The rolling green hills, the quiet woods, and the fresh afternoon air painted a peaceful picture.
The truth, however, was anything but peaceful.
"I can't believe this place is this far out," the driver, Shirase, grumbled as he steered around another bend.
"Quit complaining. We're almost there," Chuuya—the one sitting next to Shirase on the passenger seat--replied, his patience already wearing thin. 20 or so minutes ago they had driven past a small town, but it was more or less the last human habitation they had seen ever since.
He had little interest in the forest scenery. Every mile brought him closer to the estate of a certain wealthy household—and to the opportunity he had been waiting for.
If everything went according to plan, he would walk away with enough money to stop worrying about rent, food, or where he would sleep next. It would be the fresh start he needed.
At last, the manor emerged from behind the trees. Chuuya's breath caught in his throat, the manor, it was really here, the address he read from the instruction letter was correct.
An imposing old estate stood atop the hill, half hidden among towering cedars and ancient oaks. Time had weathered its stone walls, while dark ivy crept across parts of the façade as though the forest itself had begun to reclaim it. Tall stone walls surrounded the grounds, giving the place the appearance of a fortress rather than a home.
"...This place is enormous," Shirase muttered, letting out a low whistle.
"It certainly is."
Chuuya answered almost absently, studying the estate more closely through narrowed eyes.
For Shirase, this was the end of the trip. He would turn the car around and head back to the city.
For Chuuya, the real work was only about to begin.
He had been hired as a servant, and today was the first day he reported to work.
With barely any work experience that worth mentioning and no shinning academic qualification, Nakahara Chuuya had become many things since leaving the orphanage that had raised him.
A porter.
A dishwasher.
A courier.
A waiter.
A cleaner.
A pickpocket.
A burglar.
And many more such small-time crook roles.
None of those occupations had been chosen out of ambition. Survival had simply demanded flexibility. Whatever work kept him fed for another week was work worth doing. He wasn't proud of the life he lived, but he had stopped feeling ashamed of it years ago. Life had a way of sanding away guilt until only practicality remained.
Shirase brought the car to a stop in front of the manor's towering wrought-iron gates.
"Good luck," He said with a grin. "Let me know if you find anything worthy, don't forget who's gonna drive the getaway car for you."
Chuuya laughed under his breath. "I'll keep you posted."
Shirase had been trying to convince Chuuya to play their old game again. According to him, Chuuya could act from the inside. First, he would play the role of the diligent, obedient servant, earning the household's trust while quietly learning every hallway, every locked room, every hidden passage if there were any. Secondly, he would note where valuables were kept, discover which rooms were watched most closely, and eventually find the perfect opportunity to make them disappear. Together the two of them could rob the household blind.
They had done similar things like this together in the past, but this time Chuuya turned his friend down, telling him in no uncertain terms that he intended to walk the straight and narrow, turning his life around for a bit. They were lucky that they had never been caught red-handed so far, but Chuuya knew how easily luck could run out.
At his refusal, Shirase only shrugged. He didn't press the matter, merely saying that sooner or later Chuuya—his friend since the orphanage—would come around, see things his way, and agree to help.
Chuuya swore that this time, he would prove his friend wrong.
Stepping out, Chuuya slung his worn duffel bag over one shoulder before giving Shire an exaggerated blown kiss.
"Don't miss me too much."
"Oh, get lost," Shirase replied, waving him away with a laugh.
Chuckling to himself, Chuuya walked toward the gatehouse and pressed the brass doorbell.
A moment later, somewhere beyond the walls, an old bell echoed across the silent grounds.
With a heavy metallic groan, the iron gates slowly swung inward.
Without a backward glance, Chuuya stepped across the threshold.
Behind him, Shirase's car turned around and disappeared down the lonely road, leaving Chuuya alone to walk into the vast, silent manor.
-to be continued-