"How long has this been going on?" Julius’s voice rose. "How long have you been dealing with this alone?" Harrison’s expression shifted. Something broke behind his eyes. The control he’d been clinging to finally shattered.

"Since the beginning," Harrison whispered. His eyes rolled back. He collapsed.

Julius barely caught him before he hit the floor. "Harrison!" The door burst open. Harrison’s assistant rushed in, with a medical kit already in his hands.

Behind him, two staff members stood in the doorway.

"What’s happening?" Julius’s voice was hard. "What’s wrong with him?" The assistant dropped to his knees beside them, pulling out a syringe.

"He collapsed. This happens when the episode peaks. I need to give him the injection now."

Julius watched as the assistant prepared the needle with practiced efficiency. His hands were steady. He’d clearly done this before. Many times before.

"How long?" Julius asked quietly as the assistant gave the injection. "How long has this been going on?"

The assistant’s hands paused for just a second. Then he finished the injection and looked up at him.

His eyes were filled with something that looked like relief mixed with pain.

"I’m sorry, sir," the assistant said carefully. "I can’t say anything. You know I can’t. My loyalty is to him. I’m bound by duty to keep his secrets."

Julius stared at him. "I can see it in your eyes. You want to tell me. You want me to know."

The assistant looked away. "What I want doesn’t matter."

"You want him to be safe," Julius continued. "I can see that. You’ve been protecting him for years, haven’t you? Keeping this secret. Watching him suffer through these episodes alone."

The assistant’s hands tightened. He didn’t respond. "I’m not asking you to betray him," Julius said quietly.

"I’m asking you to help him. And I think you know that me being here—me knowing the truth—that’s what’s best for him."

The assistant’s shoulders dropped. He nodded once, then stood up and left the room without another word. But Julius saw it. That small nod. That acknowledgment.

The staff members who had been standing in the doorway quietly left as well, closing the door behind them.

Julius looked down at Harrison. His face was peaceful now. The tension had left his body.

He looked younger somehow. Vulnerable.

Nothing like the controlled, dangerous Enigma who had grabbed him and kissed him just minutes ago. He carefully shifted Harrison’s weight, settling him comfortably. Harrison’s head rested in his lap. His breathing was slow and even.

"When you’re sleeping, you look peaceful," Julius said quietly. He brushed a strand of hair from Harrison’s face. "But when you’re awake... you look like a beast who’s lost everything."

He sat watching Harrison sleep for a long time. Everything went quiet except for their breathing.

The mess around them—the overturned furniture, the scattered papers—all of it seemed less important now.

Finally, he carefully moved Harrison to the bed, making sure he was comfortable. Then he stood up and walked to the door.

The moment he stepped out into the hallway, everything changed.

Every staff member he passed immediately stopped what they were doing and bowed. Deep, respectful bows.

Like he was royalty. Like he was the master of this house.

He stopped, confused. "What are you—"

"Sir," one of the male servants said, still bowing. "Is there anything you need? Anything at all?"

Julius looked around. Everyone was looking at him with the same expression. Respect. Acceptance. Like they’d been waiting for this moment.

The woman who had opened the door earlier—the one who had let him into Harrison’s room when he heard the voice—approached him.

She was older than the other staff members. She looked kind, but her eyes showed years of keeping secrets.

"Sir," she said softly. "May I speak with you?"

He nodded, still trying to process what was happening. She led him to a sitting area away from the others.

When they were alone, she turned to him with tears in her eyes.

"Thank goodness," she whispered. "Thank goodness you finally know." He stared at her. "You’ve known about this the whole time?"

"I’ve been with Master Harrison since he was five years old," she said quietly. "I was there when it started. I’ve watched him suffer through this for twenty-five years."

Twenty-five years of hiding. Of pretending. Of carrying this burden alone. Twenty-five years. Harrison was thirty now.

That meant this had been happening since he was a child.

He felt something cold inside. "Five years old?"

The woman nodded, wiping her eyes.

"We’ve all been sworn to secrecy. We can’t tell you the details. He has to be the one to share that with you."

"But I can tell you this—seeing you here, seeing him finally let someone in... it’s a relief. For all of us."

Julius didn’t know what to say. "You’re his chosen one," the woman continued.

"We all know it. We’ve known it from the moment he brought you into this house. The way he looks at you. The way he acts around you."

"You’re the first person he’s ever let get this close."

"I don’t understand," he said. "Why me?"

The woman smiled sadly. "That’s something you’ll have to ask him when he wakes up."

He took a breath. "What’s his favorite food?"

The question seemed to surprise her. "His favorite food?"

"Yes. I want to make something for him. For when he wakes up."

The woman looked at him gently. "Sir... your favorite food is his favorite food."

He froze. "What?"

"Whatever you love to eat, he loves it too," she explained gently. "It’s always been that way. From the beginning."

The words hit him hard. He didn’t know how to respond.

"But sir," the woman added carefully, "do you know how to cook?"

He looked away. "No. I never learned."

"Let me teach you." She stood up. "Come. The kitchen is this way." He followed her through the massive house.

She led him to a professional kitchen that looked like it belonged in a restaurant.

Everything was spotless. Organized. Perfect. "What would you like to make?" she asked.

"Soup," he said. "Something simple. Something warm."

The woman smiled. "A good choice. Master Harrison always feels cold after an episode. Warm soup will help."

She walked him through every step. How to prepare the vegetables. How to season the broth.

How to layer the flavors. He had never cooked anything in his life, but he followed her instructions carefully.

This was important.

They worked together for hours. The woman taught him patiently, fixing his mistakes and encouraging him when he got something right.

They finished around 9 PM. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

He looked down at the pot of soup they’d made together. It smelled good. He hoped it tasted good too.

"He’ll love it," the woman said, as if reading his thoughts. "Because you made it."

He carefully carried the soup back to Harrison’s room. The assistant was there, checking Harrison’s vital signs.

"How is he?" Julius asked. "Stable," the assistant replied.

"He should wake up soon." He set the soup down on the nightstand and sat in the chair beside the bed.

"You can leave if you need to, sir. We’ll take care of him," the assistant said.

Julius looked at Harrison’s sleeping face. "Maybe later. But I’m staying." The assistant studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Understood, sir."

Julius sat back down in the chair.

"Can you bring me a laptop? I need to check on some things." The assistant left and returned a few minutes later with a laptop.

Julius opened it and started working.

Emails. Stock reports. Messages from his office. The business didn’t stop just because he was here.

An hour passed. Julius finally closed the laptop and stood up.

He looked at Harrison one more time, then turned to the assistant. "I’m leaving now. Take care of him."

The assistant bowed. "Of course, sir." Julius walked out without another word.

Hours later, around one in the morning, Harrison’s eyes opened. The room was dark except for a small lamp in the corner.

He blinked slowly, disoriented.

The assistant was sitting in a chair nearby, waiting. "You’re awake, sir," the assistant said quietly. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Harrison muttered. His voice was rough from sleep.

The assistant stood and grabbed the bowl of soup from the nightstand. "Let me warm this for you."

"I’m not eating," Harrison said.

The assistant paused. "Sir... it took him hours to prepare this."

Harrison looked at him. "Who? Hours to prepare what?"

"Julius, sir," the assistant said carefully. "He spent two hours in the kitchen making this soup for you."

Harrison stared at him. "Julius... prepared the soup?"

"Yes, sir." His expression changed.

"Did he get hurt—I mean burned?"

The assistant looked confused. "Sir?"

"In the kitchen," Harrison said, his voice turning cold. "Did he get burned? He doesn’t know how to cook. What happened?"

The assistant hesitated. "I... I don’t know the details, sir. The kitchen staff helped him."

Harrison’s eyes turned cold. "Go bring her. The old woman from the kitchen. Now."

The assistant bowed and left immediately. A few minutes later, he returned with the elderly woman.

She entered the room with her head bowed respectfully.

This woman had been with Harrison’s family for decades. She deserved respect, and everyone in the house knew it.

"You called for me, sir?" she said quietly.

Harrison looked at her. "Did Julius get burned in the kitchen?"

The woman’s face showed surprise.

"Burned, sir? What do you mean?"

"When he was cooking," Harrison said. "Did he hurt himself? Did the oil splash? Did he cut his hands?"

Fear crossed the woman’s face. "Sir," she said carefully, "it’s nothing serious. Just a small burn. Very minor. He didn’t even notice it."

Harrison’s hands curled into fists on the bedsheet. "You let him get burned."

"Sir, it was his choice to cook," the woman said quickly. "I tried to help him, but—"

"Leave," Harrison said quietly. "Both of you."

The assistant and the woman bowed and turned to leave. The assistant was carrying the bowl of soup with him.

"Where are you taking that?" Harrison asked.

The assistant stopped. "You said you weren’t eating, sir."

Harrison stared at the bowl for a long moment. "Did I say that?"

The assistant quickly brought the soup back. He set it on the nightstand and left with the old woman, closing the door behind them.

Harrison picked up the bowl.

He ate slowly, his mind filled with images of Julius in an unfamiliar kitchen, burning his hands, trying to make something for him.

When he finished, he set the empty bowl down. His expression changed.

"Now that you know something about me," Harrison said quietly, "what am I going to do with you?"