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A Night at Lawrence's Palace

It was the summer of 1886, heavy like a long, unending dream.

Under a pale sky covered with a thin veil of mist, the streets of the coastal town looked like an old page from a worn-out book, with the yellow glow of street lamps trembling over cracked sidewalks.

Time itself seemed to move slowly, as if even the minutes were groaning under the weight of the heat, as if the entire world was waiting for something that would never come.

Arthur Harper stood at the corner of the street, his hands buried in the pockets of his faded cotton trousers.

He was sixteen years old, relatively tall for his age, about one hundred and seventy-five centimeters.

His pale skin reflected the fading sunset light, and his messy brown hair fell loosely over his forehead.

As for his gray eyes, they carried a strange sharpness—a mix of defiance and exhaustion—as if they had already seen enough of the world despite his young age.

Arthur was not the type to fear. He knew how to live.

His gaze stopped at the grand mansion in front of him.

Towering walls, wide windows, and a garden that looked like part of a carefully painted artwork.

He exhaled softly, unable to stop himself from thinking about the youngest member of that family… and that incident that happened two years ago.

An incident that hadn’t completely changed his life, but had stirred something inside him that never calmed since.

He closed his eyes for a moment… and everything came back.

I was heading, as usual, on a Monday morning to visit my father’s grave.

The cold air seeped into my body, passing through my cheap winter clothes that could barely even be called that. In truth, they were nothing more than worn-out pieces of fabric, but they were all I had.

Snow was falling gently, covering the streets in a silent white layer.

The place was almost empty; who in their right mind would go out in such weather?

I smiled bitterly. I guess I was the one they’d call insane.

I walked slowly down the road, my footsteps leaving clear marks in the snow.

As I approached the cemetery, I heard faint voices coming from a dark alley.

It was the kind of alley that only brought trouble—perfect for theft, fights, or worse.

For a moment I thought of ignoring it, but curiosity had always been one of my worst flaws.

I tried to keep walking, pretending I didn’t care… until I clearly heard: “Come on, give us your money… or we’ll make you. You clearly come from a rich family.”

I stopped.

“Damn my curiosity…” I muttered as I slowly changed direction toward the alley.

When I got closer, I saw the scene clearly.

Boys around my age, one of them holding a knife pressed against the neck of a younger child, maybe ten years old.

The kid wore a dark green coat, and by the quality of the fabric and its tailoring, it was obvious he wasn’t from an ordinary family.

“I told you… I won’t give you anything.” The boy spoke calmly, his expression steady despite the situation.

The boys laughed. “You’re an i***t… is that what they teach you in those mansions?”

“Fine… I’ll just take that coat.” The other reached out to pull it off him.

“This is a violation of personal property.” The kid said calmly… before biting the boy’s hand hard.

A scream. Blood. A violent hit against the wall.

“Damn you!” The injured boy shouted, raising the knife. “I don’t care about the money anymore… I’ll kill you!”

I spoke with a smile. “Alright… I think you should stop.”

They both turned toward me. “And who are you?” one of them asked sharply.

“Just a passerby… I think.” I replied casually.

The one with the knife stepped toward me. He didn’t look strong, but fear makes anyone dangerous.

When he lunged at me, I didn’t have time to think. In a split second, I grabbed his hand… gripping the blade itself.

I felt the cut instantly. But I didn’t let go.

They both froze, their confidence breaking.

I pushed the knife away, then punched one and kicked the other.

They didn’t last long and quickly ran away, leaving behind silence, snow, and scattered footprints.

I looked at the child.

He approached me, grabbed my injured hand, and examined it calmly. “You need to disinfect this wound.”

I pulled my hand back. “Maybe… later.”

“Do you know the Lawrence mansion?” I nodded.

“I’ll wait for you tonight. First window from the left… second floor… west side.”

I stared at him. He didn’t speak like a child.

I smiled bitterly. “I appreciate your concern… but I’m not interested in spending the rest of my life in prison for breaking into a noble house.”

He sighed in boredom. “I didn’t ask… I’m ordering you.” Then he turned away.

I followed him. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know what a prodigy is?” “No.”

“People who have extraordinary talent in something and excel at it. I am one of them. I have a talent for drawing. I can draw anyone I’ve seen once.”

He paused. Then said in a chilling tone: “If you don’t come… I’ll draw you, and tell my father you tried to assault me.”

I stopped walking. …He wasn’t joking.

“That’s painful… for someone you just saved.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved. Besides, the knife was rusty… you might lose your hand if you don’t disinfect it. This is for your benefit.”

Then he looked directly at me. “Either way, you’re at risk of prison. So choose the better option.”

I laughed softly. “And what if I choose a third option?”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what is it?”

“Simply… I kidnap you.”

For the first time, he looked surprised. “Not a bad idea… can you handle the consequences?”

“I’m already facing prison either way, remember?”

He smiled calmly. “Then choose the better option.”

I smiled. “I’ll see you tonight.” I turned away.

I knew I had just gotten myself into trouble… but for some reason, I felt this trouble would be fun.

The day passed painfully slowly.

After visiting my father’s grave, I returned to my small room, cleaned the wound as best as I could, and wrapped it in a relatively clean piece of cloth.

I tried to distract myself, but the image of that child… his calmness… his confidence… never left my mind.

As sunset approached, the sky shifted into dark shades of orange and purple.

Coldness crept in slowly, and with it came one thought: Should I go… or not?

He might be lying about his talent. And if he wasn’t, the consequences would be serious.

I looked at my injured hand. “Alright… it seems I’ve already chosen.”

I left the house and headed toward the mansion… as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, marking the beginning of a night I didn’t know would change many things.

I felt slightly uneasy the moment I first looked at the mansion.

I had seen it many times before, but the idea of infiltrating it had never crossed my mind. Now, after moments of thought, I realized it wouldn’t be easy.

The outer wall was towering, about five meters high, topped with sharp iron spikes adding another half meter of difficulty.

The main gate was clearly guarded, and I couldn’t see another entrance, which was strange for a mansion of this size.

Still, security seemed lighter than expected. I decided to circle the mansion, searching for a weak point.

I walked along the wall carefully, trying to keep my steps light.

After a few minutes, I found a spot away from the guards’ line of sight. The area was dim, lit only by a faint streetlight.

I stopped there and began thinking.

I took out the rope I had brought as a precaution and formed a quick plan in my head.

Instead of climbing and jumping, I decided to use the rope directly. I wrapped one end around my wrist and held the other in my hand, swinging it slowly to measure distance.

I had to throw it precisely so it would catch one of the iron spikes.

I took a deep breath and threw it.

The rope hit the spikes and fell. I failed.

I gritted my teeth and tried again. The second attempt wrapped around a spike but didn’t hold properly. I pulled it back.

The third attempt was the decisive one; it wrapped tightly. When I pulled, I felt solid resistance. It held.

I tested it carefully, pulling several times.

Once I was sure, I began climbing. My fingers dug into the rope, my feet pressed against the rough wall.

Silence covered the street, but my heartbeat was loud.

I finally reached the top. I carefully avoided the sharp spikes and lifted myself onto the narrow edge.

I looked inside. A wide garden stretched before me. No movement nearby.

I lowered the rope inside and began descending slowly.

When my feet touched the ground, I released the rope and kept it. I crouched in the shadows and observed the surroundings.

Everything felt still… waiting.

I moved toward the building, staying in the dark areas.

Near the wall, I paused to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

The window he described—the first from the left, second floor, west side—was high, but nearby ivy and a low stone ledge could help.

Before I moved, I heard footsteps behind me.

I froze.

I quickly hid behind a tree, gripping the rope tightly.

A guard passed by, his flashlight sweeping slowly. He paused briefly, as if sensing something, then continued walking.

I waited until the sound disappeared completely. That was close.

I stood again and hurried toward the wall.

I climbed using the ivy and stone ledge, reached the window, and pushed it gently.

It wasn’t locked.

I slipped inside and landed silently in a dark room. My heart stopped for a moment.

Then I heard his voice. “You’re late.”

He said it calmly, as if he had been waiting all along.

I sat on the windowsill, wiping sweat from my forehead. My injured hand hurt, and the rope had left a red mark on my wrist.

“Maybe because I’m not used to infiltrating noble mansions at midnight.” I whispered sarcastically.

“You’ll get used to it.” the boy said as he approached.

He was holding a small medical kit. He sat in front of me without asking and began treating my hand.

“I told you… the knife was rusty.” he said while disinfecting the wound.

I watched him work with precise movements. “What’s your name?” I asked.

He looked at me briefly. “Adrian. Adrian Lawrence.”

“Arthur.” I replied simply.

He finished bandaging my hand and closed the kit.

“Since you’re satisfied I’m fine… can I leave?” I said, watching him tidy up.

He hesitated. “Can you stay a bit longer?” He played with his bangs, looking away.

“Why would someone like you care about someone like me?” I asked.

He looked at me and said: “What makes you different from me?”

I sighed. “You’re a noble’s son. I’m just a commoner living quietly away from your world.”

He sat beside me. “I don’t care much about class differences. Rich people are boring.”

He glanced at me. “Did you really plan to draw me and accuse me?”

He stood up and brought a paper.

I froze. It was an exact drawing of me.

“Is that a yes?” He smiled faintly. “I would have… but I would’ve set a condition first.”

I understood. “You’re treating me like a game.”

“Maybe… but an interesting one.”

I smiled inwardly. Like I was talking to a child… no, he really was one.

“I think this is enough playing. I’ll take my leave, young prince.”

A boy who looked almost identical to Adrian entered.

Arthur froze. “I… uh…”

“This is someone who helped me today.” Adrian said calmly.

The older brother looked at Arthur with disgust. “How dare you let a commoner into your room?”

He left quickly.

“Is he going to call guards?” Arthur asked.

“No. He’ll handle it himself.” Adrian replied.

“I thought your name was Adrian.” Arthur said sarcastically.

“If you want the truth… come tomorrow.”

The brother returned and threw a pouch at Arthur. “Take this and leave.”

“Name?” “Victor Lawrence.”

Arthur bowed sarcastically. “Pleasure meeting you, sir Lawrence.”

He left through the window.

And as he left… he had already decided. This wouldn’t be the last visit.

To be continued…