Ambrosia Kyros did not sleep well that night.
She sat quietly on the edge of her bed, small hands resting on her lap, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of her nightdress. The room was large. Too large.
“You may visit my room.”
His voice echoed again in her mind. Like a statement, not a suggestion. a command that can't be refused.
Her fingers tightened. Why… would he say that? Ambrosia lowered her gaze. She had heard things.
Not just about him—
But about noble households. Children talked. Servants whispered. Stories traveled. Sometimes exaggerated. Sometimes not.
“If the heir dislikes you, your life becomes difficult. Even if the lord protects you, he won’t always be there. Some things… happen quietly.”
Ambrosia hugged her arms slightly. Her shoulders trembled faintly. Is that what this is? A summons. In private. Her breathing grew shallow. No, I’m thinking too much. She shook her head quickly, its simply too early for him to start bullying her. But the thought didn’t leave.
Because she remembered his eyes. That sharp, observing gaze. The way he spoke. The way he felt. He didn’t feel like a child. He felt like someone who understood their power and how to use it. Her fingers curled tighter.
If I refuse…
That thought alone made her chest tighten.
Refusing wasn’t an option. It was never an option. Not in places like this. Not for someone like her.
“I have to go,” she whispered softly. Because that was the safest choice. To obey. To not resist. To not give a reason. Her lips pressed together. If I go… maybe it will end quickly. A small, fragile hope. The kind that people held onto when they had no control. Ambrosia slowly stood up. Her steps were quiet as she moved toward the door. The hallway outside was dimly lit. Servants passed occasionally, bowing slightly as she walked by.
No one stopped her. No one questioned her. That made it worse. They know?
Her steps slowed. Then quickened. No. Don’t think. Don’t think. Just go. Just get it over with.
She stopped in front of a door. It was large and imposing. The young master’s room. Amos E. Kyros. Her hand hesitated in the air.
Just for a moment.
Then, she knocked.
“Come in,” a voice replied from inside.
Ambrosia opened the door slowly.
The room was neat. Bookshelves. A desk. Large windows. Him.
Amos sat on a chair, one leg crossed over the other, a book in hand.
He looked up. Their eyes met. Ambrosia immediately lowered her gaze.
“…Lord Brother,” she said softly.
“You came.” He sounded surprised?
Ambrosia stepped inside.
The door closed behind her with a quiet click.
Her shoulders tensed. Her hands clenched.
“…You said… I could come,” she said. Carefully choosing her words.
Amos blinked.
“I did.”
A pause.
“So I came.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
Amos stared at her. Ambrosia stood there. Waiting. Like someone awaiting judgment.
“…Elena,” Amos said slowly.
“Yes.”
“There is definitely a misinput right?”
“What is misinput?.”
“Pay it no minds.”
“You invited her, did you not?.”
“Yes.”
“And she came.”
“It was a suggestion? offering a helping hand?”
A beat.
“Sometimes, you need to consider your reputations, rumors, faces, and actions.”
“What do you mean by that?.”
Amos’s eyes snapped back to Ambrosia. She was standing rigidly. Head lowered. Hands clenched. Not moving. Not speaking. Not even breathing properly.
“Hey,” he said.
She flinched.
“I’m sorry!” she blurted out immediately.
“…What?”
“I-I came without permission—I mean, you said—but I—if this is wrong I can leave—!”
“Stop.” She froze.
Silence.
Amos stared at her. He put his book down.
“Come here,” he said.
Ambrosia’s heart dropped. Her steps felt heavy. But she obeyed. Of course she did.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Until she stood in front of him.
“Look at me.” She hesitated.
Then slowly raised her head. Her eyes trembling, bracing for his next actions to come but it never did.
Amos looked at her. Really looked this time.
Then—
“Who told you that?” he asked.
Too unfamiliar.
“…Huh?”
“That coming here means something bad.”
Silence.
Ambrosia’s lips trembled slightly.
“…No one,” she said.
“You’re lying.”
“…I—”
“You are a terrible liar.”
“…I…” Her voice faltered. Her gaze dropped again. “…I just thought…” She couldn’t finish. Didn’t know what to say. Didn’t dare to.
Amos exhaled.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“Prepare some teas for us.”
“Right away.”
Ambrosia flinched again.
“Relax,” he said.
She didn’t.
“I’m not going to do anything.”
That did not help.
“Since, you are already here, let spend some time together.”
“…Of—Of course, Lord Brother.”
“No need to be so tense, we are just going to talk about mundane things”
“...”
“You are scaring her, Young Master”
“I did not.”
“Not with your face.”
He rubbed his temple.
“Sit,” he said, pointing to a chair.
Ambrosia obeyed instantly.
“Wait here.”
He turned, walked to the shelf, picked something up and came back.
Placed it in front of her.
Ambrosia blinked.
“…This is…”
“A book,” Amos said.
“…A book?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“I said you could come to my room if you were bored,” he continued. “This is what I meant.”
Another silence. Longer. Ambrosia stared at the book. Then slowly looked up at him.
“…That’s… all?”
“That’s all.”
“…You didn’t… call me for anything else?”
“Like what?”
“…I…”
She stopped.
“Like hurting me.”
Amos narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Why would I want to do such things?”
“...”
“I really do have a face of a villain...”
“It's not just your face, Young Master.”
“Tell me.”
“Perhaps consider your previous actions, wind brings many things to people, especially rumors.”
“I never did anything terrible.”
“I guess you never caused trouble for some servants... a really good person in and out”
“Your sarcasm is so obvious, I could see it that you are targeting me, and I think what I did was pretty harmless pranks.”
Ambrosia lowered her gaze again. Her shoulders relaxed. Just a little.
“…I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Stop apologizing.”
“Yes.”
“And stop saying yes like that, I already had enough with this maid of mine already.”
“Yes—” “
“You did it again.”
“Sorry.”
“Unbelievable.”
A pause.
“…If you’re bored,” Amos said, more slowly this time, “you can come here. Read. Sit. Drink some teas and eat some snacks here. That’s all.”
Ambrosia nodded.
“…Okay.”
And for the first time, her voice didn’t tremble as much. Across from her, Amos crossed his arms.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“Send her back to her room.”
“Right away, Young Master.”
Amos thought to himself. 'Peace truly do only come after turmoil"