قناع خلف العاصفه

A letter to Victor

Arthur POV

On the next day, I woke up relatively late for school because I had stayed up late last night… for a reason you already know.

And yes, I do go to school.

I quickly got dressed, trying to make it before classes started. I finished my morning routine in about ten minutes, then rushed out of my apartment, closing the door behind me without looking back.

"You're late today."

I heard the old man’s voice from the first floor.

"I overslept… anyway, goodbye!"

I said that while running toward the street.

---

For some reason, I decided to take the road that passes by the Lawrence family’s mansion. I didn’t know why I chose that path specifically… but my feet moved toward it without thinking.

As I walked, I suppose it’s a good time to explain my social situation.

It’s true that my parents passed away, but they left me a small building—enough to live a modest life. The building has two floors; I live in an apartment on the second floor, while the first floor is rented by an old man who runs a small restaurant. It doesn’t make much money, but it covers my basic needs… barely. The old man’s name is Kevin, by the way.

I continued walking at a fast pace, passing through the usual alleys. The air was slightly cold, and the sky was covered with light clouds, suggesting that rain might visit the city later. As I approached the road overlooking the mansion, my steps slowed unconsciously.

The mansion appeared in the distance, as imposing as ever, its tall walls reflecting the pale morning light. I stopped for a moment, staring at it, then shook my head as if dismissing a foolish thought.

"What are you doing… it’s just a mansion."

I muttered to myself before continuing on my way to school.

---

The school day passed painfully slowly. I couldn’t focus on any of the lessons; thoughts kept overlapping in my head without order. Every now and then, I found myself recalling Adrian’s features, his strange calmness, and the way he spoke—nothing like a child his age.

The final bell rang at last, and I let out a breath of relief. I left the school with the rest of the students, but I didn’t stop to talk to anyone. I returned straight to my apartment and tossed my bag aside.

I spent the rest of the day trying to distract myself with trivial things; I tidied the room, read a few pages from an old book, then sat by the window watching the street. Time moved annoyingly slowly, as if the clock itself was resisting me.

As evening approached, the sky turned a dark orange, then gradually shifted to gray. Street lamps lit up one after another, and the city slowly began to quiet down.

I looked at the clock…

I exhaled softly.

"I still have time."

I sat for a while, but the anxiety wouldn’t let me stay still. I stood up, put on my coat, and tightly wrapped my injured hand with a piece of cloth. I paused in front of the door for a moment, hesitating.

Then I smiled faintly.

"Alright… looks like I’m really going."

I opened the door and stepped into the street… as the evening lights swallowed the last threads of daylight, announcing the beginning of a new night. 🌙

I headed to the nearest paint shop; I hadn’t forgotten my desire to get revenge on that spoiled brat. I bought some hard-to-remove paint, paid with the money he had thrown at me the night before, then made my way toward the mansion under the cover of darkness.

The mansion was as quiet as it had been the previous night, and security hadn’t been tightened—making it a good opportunity to carry out what I came for. I repeated yesterday’s scenario, and within moments, I had slipped inside the mansion, a can of paint in hand. I glanced at the wall behind me; this would be a tough job.

I began creating a rather… unique piece of art directed specifically at Victor. I figured he’d be happy to know I remembered his name.

I finished my work after about an hour. I nearly got caught several times by the guards, but luck was on my side. After that, I headed inside, climbed up to the room whose path I had memorized, and entered quietly… only to hear that calm voice:

"I thought you got scared after last night and wouldn’t dare come again."

He was sitting on the bed, beside an oil lamp, holding a black book engraved with the words "Path of Hell" in golden letters.

"Well, I wanted to return the favor to your brother… and I was also a bit curious about your name," I replied simply.

"And how exactly will you take revenge on him?" he asked, curiosity clearly visible.

"You’ll find out tomorrow." I smiled confidently.

"Come." he said, placing his hand on the edge of the bed, gesturing for me to sit.

I approached slowly and hesitantly. I never thought I’d use a rich person’s bed someday—even if just to sit.

"Won’t your brother come today?" I asked. I was certain I wouldn’t get out easily this time.

"I locked the door." he replied calmly.

"Alright… I’m ready." I said after sitting down.

He took a deep breath, then said:

"When I was born, my father’s father passed away—his name was Nathaniel. There had been a prior agreement between my parents about naming me; my father had named my older brother, and my mother was supposed to name me. But my father insisted on naming me after his father, which caused a conflict. My mother said she would only call me Adrian, and my father told her to do as she pleased—so he named me Nathaniel. That’s why everyone calls me Nathaniel… except my mother. I wanted her to call me Adrian too. To be honest, I hate the name Nathaniel; it was the reason I was looked down upon among the nobles. They think my grandfather died because of me… I don’t know what nonsense filled their heads."

I never thought that nobles, despite all their wealth, could suffer. But it seems I have a living example right in front of me.

"I believe you’ve suffered in your life as well." he said.

"Maybe." I replied briefly.

"Would you like to tell me?"

At that moment, a quick idea crossed my mind—to return what he had done to me.

"Do you know the eastern food restaurant near your mansion?" I said.

"No." Naturally, he wouldn’t.

"Look for it if you want to know… you’ll find me in the apartment above it." I said as I stood up, heading toward the window.

I took off my hat and bowed slightly.

"I believe it was an honor to meet you, Sir Adrian."

"Is this our last meeting?" he asked, a hint of tension in his voice.

"You know where I am. I won’t come again." I said before jumping.

I left the mansion the same way I had entered.

And I returned quietly to my home, completely satisfied with what I had accomplished that day.

---

The next day

Author POV

The first rays of daylight began to slip through the curtains, shining onto the face of the sleeping little angel, announcing the sunrise and the beginning of a new day.

He opened his blue eyes tiredly to the sound of a scream he knew well… his older brother’s voice.

He rose quietly, changed his clothes, then headed toward the source of the noise. As expected, his brother was sitting on the ground in front of the balcony, shouting in anger. He quite liked the sight, but he wanted to know the reason. He approached, and at the end of the hallway, their parents appeared—likely awakened by the same noise.

"What is going on here?" Adrian said calmly, after casting a quick glance through the balcony… a glance that was enough to understand everything.

The mansion’s walls were covered in paint, with clear words written across them:

"Damn you, Victor. Do you think you’re above everyone else just because you were born into a rich family? Go to hell. You call it an honor that I met you? I was about to throw up just from seeing your face. Your death would be better for humanity, Victor Lawrence."

The words seemed simple, but for someone as vile as Victor, they were a catastrophic insult.

"What is happening here?" the head of the Lawrence family said, addressing his sons.

"I believe someone insulted Victor." Adrian said slowly, provoking his brother even more.

"Someone?! Do you really not know who it is? Draw him immediately or else—" Victor stepped forward and grabbed his brother by the collar, fury blazing in his eyes.

"What are you saying, Victor? Admitting that you know who wrote these words proves they are true—and that you did look down on someone. And that is a crime under the family’s law. Are you sure you know him?" Adrian said calmly. To his parents, he looked like an innocent child, but in truth, he was silently threatening his brother.

The old head servant stepped forward and said:

"The problem is that the words were written on the outer walls… and all over the mansion. What are your orders, Sir Lawrence?"

"Repaint the walls immediately, and hide all the words." the father said calmly before heading to his office.

"And what about the person who wrote them?" Victor asked, still burning with anger.

"Unfortunately, we have no suspects… do we, Nathaniel?" the father said, glancing at his son suspiciously.

"Yes, father." he replied calmly—unlike the storm of laughter raging inside him.

"May I oversee the restoration of the mansion?" Victor said, masking his anger.

"Very well, but don’t change too many things." the father replied.

"As you wish, father." Victor said with a sly smile.

The father continued on his way, while Adrian returned to his room. And the moment he closed the door…

He burst into silent laughter.

He had never enjoyed himself this much before.

He had made a decision now—he would make that boy his friend…

And for that, he was willing to do anything.