Lucien had stayed in his room the entire day. He hadn’t stepped outside once, not even to peek through the door. What surprised him most was that, unlike the usual routine, lunch and dinner had both been brought to him. He didn’t have to walk to the kitchen or deal with the rude glares and whispers from the maids. Just like that, his meals arrived on a tray, as if he were someone important.
He sat quietly on the bed, staring at the empty plate on the table. "Was this a dream?" he mumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the tray like it might disappear if he blinked.
With a tired sigh, he leaned to the small pile of books on the shelf beside his bed and pulled out a worn comic book. He had read it more times than he could count—sometimes out of boredom, sometimes for comfort. But
