He says it in a tone that blends superiority and kindness, so I better keep quiet and sit at the table. It's a very spacious hall. Too much space just for Greg. At the back, there's a glass window that allows you to see the garden and, in the distance, the plantation. There's a giant light-colored oak wood cabinet with many family photographs. It's like a family mausoleum because I see some photos that are in black and white. There's the history of the Gordons. It's impossible not to notice the portrait of a brown—haired woman in the center of the cabinet, smiling. If I look closely, I think she's the same woman sculpted in the fountain at the entrance of the house. She has an intense gaze. When I look at the portrait, it seems like she's trying to tell me something.

I've been sitting at the table for a while, and no one accompanies me. I look at the sofas and the fireplace, the space Greg uses the most. I think the plantation matters little to him now; he's going to die richer than I can imagine. Age, I suppose, makes you want to live differently. I admire the silverware and the porcelain plates. They must be worth a fortune. Those objects, small and inert, are more than I am. Greg returns, takes off his hat, and sits at the head of the table. He's on my right. I'm nervous, but I try not to show it, so I don't look at him. I don't speak either. I look up and down. In the end, I decide to admire the brown-haired woman in the portrait that stands out above all on the cabinet in front of me.

—A very brave woman—, he says.

—What?—I gain time, he caught me looking at his family's intimacies.

—The girl in the painting, I mean. The one you can't stop looking at.

—She must be very important to you, right?

—You have no idea, Eric.

—A youthful love? —I ask, not sure if I'm doing the right thing.

—The love of my life. Sometimes, I feel like admiring that photograph, just like you're doing. It makes me think and reflect. Remember.

—It's strange, sir, but that girl... she has something. She has me... mesmerized. It's as if I've seen her before. It's weird to feel that an image can convey so much—I don't want to disrespect him. He's already told me that it was a love that, from what I deduce, could never be fulfilled and that, even today, he hasn't forgotten. Maybe that's why Greg has been sad and lonelier than he seems for some time.

—She used to spend a lot of time in this house. Maybe that's why you remember her. Despite everything, I understand you. She has a magical gaze. Strong. Powerful.

Sophie enters the living room, kisses her father on the cheek, and sits across from me. I don't know what Greg might be thinking; I just hope he doesn't entertain thoughts of the antics his daughter and I might have engaged in. Greg gestures, and the service slaves begin to bring the food. A soup for the first course, caramelized meat with sauce, boiled white rice, oddly shaped potatoes for the second course, and a small ice cream for dessert. While we eat, I avoid talking and interrupting the exotic urban adventures Sophie recounts to her father; I prefer to listen to what life is like for Leonard Montana, the best football player in the world today. Greg doesn't pay much attention either, just nodding along. Sometimes, he stares directly into my eyes as if trying to uncover my intentions or see something hidden from view. Sophie is talking nonstop to hide her embarrassment about what happened, not to seem guilty. It's evident. I, on the other hand, remain silent, savoring the delicious food without seeming like a desperate, hungry man. I have manners that were taught to me in this house, and I have to use them. Maybe that will lessen my punishment.

It seems like the grace period is up—Greg says when he sees his daughter finish her ice cream. —Please, both of you, accompany me—. He gestures as we rise from the table to sit on the sofas by the fireplace. —Three coffees—he orders the service.

The coffees arrive. I'm sitting next to Sophie. She's nervous; I know because she can't stop moving one of her feet. With that movement, she makes the sofa, and I tremble. What is Sophie afraid of? For her, it will only be a scolding, even if she has to swallow a bitter pill and blush. Greg Gordon takes a sip of his coffee and sits, looking at both of us. I hate this kind of silence as if looks don't speak.

—I suppose you both know what you did was wrong. Very wrong," he repeats.—He always speaks calmly and deliberately. I don't understand; he seems to have no emotions.

—Dad...

—However, it wouldn't have been so bad if Luke hadn't stuck his nose where it doesn't belong. It would have passed, end of story, right? —I'm not getting involved in the conversation. —You've both disappointed me. But it's not your fault, it's mine——. What is he talking about? Age must be affecting him.

—With all due respect, I'm the only one to blame. I should have been working, and we shouldn't have been left alone—I had to say it; I don't want Sophie to have problems with her marriage and her future. She's my best friend and has every opportunity to grow as a person and be happy. I... I'm just a slave.

—Humility becomes you, Eric, but it's not an excuse. Two don't fight if one doesn't want to. So, I'll have to do something about you both... —Greg gets up and paces around the room, thinking. He doesn't say anything. He stops in front of the portrait of that mysterious woman.

Alright. I know I'm not going to die. Greg is angry, but not that much. I don't know why he feels guilty; perhaps it's for allowing his daughter to come to the plantation during harvest season or for not having the slaves who work here more under control. Sophie keeps trembling, but I don't care anymore. I'm not going to be condemned to the gallows, and, likely, I won't leave the plantation either. I'll return to normalcy as soon as I leave this house.

—Sophie..., you will go for a check-up at the gynecologist. A thorough check-up. Nothing unusual should arise from this adventure. You will return to the city with your fiancé, understood?

—Yes.

—Eric, as you can understand, you will also have a punishment. To be honest, I think the beating Luke gave you is sufficient. But no—Oh no, I'm not so optimistic anymore. —Come here, Eric.

Greg continues to admire the mysterious girl. I stand up and position myself at his level, once again admiring those honey-colored eyes that are etched in a photograph. I take slow steps. I don't know what to think or what I should feel.

—Do you want to be free? —He says. I think I'm going to faint. I've dreamed of it so many times that I can't believe what he's saying could be real. Besides, I don't know what this is about. I frolic with his daughter, and he wants to set me free. He's lying. It's a trap. —Do you want to taste freedom? Do you want to stop being a slave?

I bow my head and start to think. I don't know what's going to happen to me, but certainly nothing good. Greg is disguising what he wants to do with me, and that bothers me. Maybe it's because Sophie is present, and he doesn't want her to find out about my fatal fate.

—Sir, forgive me, but I don't believe you're serious. Tell me my punishment, and I'll accept it as responsible for my actions.

—Why do you get so serious when you talk to me, Eric? I understand that you're cheerful and happy, and certainly don't use that tone of voice with the other slaves. I know a lot about you, even if you don't believe it—Sometimes he speaks to me formally, other times informally. I don't understand either. I'm his slave, and I belong to him, what difference does it make in how he treats me?

—You are my master. I owe you loyalty and respect.

—Eric, I am much more than that. And precisely because of this, I felt a lot of disgust when I found out what my daughter and you... It's time for you to leave, Eric. It's time for you to know what freedom tastes like and to discover the world outside for yourself. I haven't forgotten that today is your birthday, so consider this meal and your destiny as my gift.

Is he going to set me free? And what will I do? I have nothing. I don't know anything or anyone outside of this plantation and these lands. How will I survive?

—Tonight, one of my air vehicles will take you to the city of New America. There, you will serve the Administration of the United Provinces if they deem your worth necessary in any area.

—Am I going to be free?

—No, of course not. But... it's as if you were... Eric, I need you to educate yourself and return when you are a real man. It's impossible to do without you. However, I make you the promise today and here that when you come back, I will make you free and give you work on this plantation. You will never be a slave again.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

At this moment, I'm jelly. I have to sit down on one of the chairs to assimilate what Greg has communicated to me. I'm going to the capital. I'm going to see the city. My slavery has an expiration date. It could be the happiest day of my life. Sophie comes and hugs me. Then she hugs her father.

—Well...? What do you say, Eric?

—I'm looking forward to admiring with my own eyes the most beautiful city in the Provinces.

—Pack your things and say goodbye to your friends— He smiles at me.

I guess it's fine. Greg has always treated me differently from the rest of the slaves, and he still does. The punishment he has imposed on me for defiling his daughter's honor on his property is exile. I'm leaving the plantation. I'll learn a trade that may serve me in the future. But I won't stop being a slave until he wants me to. Better than death, better than staying here forever. I'll have time to come back, as Greg said. I'll come back, so I leave behind some of the sadness I previously felt because I thought I would never set foot on this plantation again.

I leave Greg admiring the cabinet with family photographs and leave the mansion. I hear Sophie running after me.

—If you need help, I can accompany you—she says at the doorstep.

—Don't worry, Sophie. Besides, I have nothing to pack. I have very few belongings. —I tell her when I'm near the fountain at the entrance. I don't want Sophie to come. First, because of what the slaves would think. They'll have enough to see me dressed like this and know that I'm leaving. They won't consider me one of theirs anymore. On the other hand, I don't want speculation. By this time, the entire plantation must know what happened between her and me. I'm leaving, and I'll leave the doubt about where I'm going.

—As you wish—I see her lower her head and disappear.

I'm not in the mood for nonsense now. I don't know what Sophie wants from me, but she's had it. I've crossed a very high barrier, and I won't do it again. She's engaged, and Greg is giving me a second chance after all. I'm not going to risk it again.

I run towards the plantation village. It's mid-afternoon, and there are still a few hours left until the slaves return from their twelve-hour shift. If I want, I can leave without saying goodbye. To those slaves I once knew and now only greet in the mornings, to the guys who frequent the tavern and sometimes do business with me. I can leave without saying goodbye to Miss Green or even Luke, but I can't leave without seeing the Halls.

It looks like a ghost town. I've never seen it so empty. Without the women in the doorways of their houses doing all sorts of tasks. Without the children roaming the streets, running as usual, throwing worn—out balls back and forth. There's no one. A chill runs down my spine, and I enter my house. Since I've decided to wait, I lie down on the bed to think. I think about how small my world is now and how big it's going to become as soon as I set foot in New America. I think I can fulfill the dream that I'm going to meet people that I'm going to work for a real salary. I think I'm scared. Very scared. Everything is going to change, and I don't know if I'm ready for what's to come. I don't know if I'm going to be enough in the city. Here, I have everything under control. I know all the tricks to survive. But the city is different. Very different.

Time flies by, and I start gathering my things. Unfortunately, what I told Sophie is entirely true. I don't own anything. A couple of shirts worn out by sweat and time, a couple of pants, some bottles of different liquors, and seven or eight old books hanging from the shelf alongside the dust they've acquired over the years. They're gifts from when I lived in the Gordon mansion, and since then, I haven't opened them. It's difficult for me to read so many words in a row now. I also have several soccer balls. One is deflated, and I don't even know why I keep it. I use the other one occasionally when I play with the kids or when I want to be alone and think. The only thing I have left from my mother is an old reddish handkerchief embroidered with stars, worn out. I think it still carries her scent, but I know it's just my imagination. I put the clothes in an old backpack I have and tie my mother's handkerchief around my wrist. It's all I have and all I need to start over.

While my fellow slaves return from their duties, I tidy up the house a bit. I know it will be occupied by another slave tomorrow, or who knows, by a whole family. I clean up a bit and pick up what's lying around. I empty the drawers filled with batteries, odd toys, and bracelets. I've used those things for years to trade or to seduce some slave girl. I think the Halls should have them as a keepsake or in case things get uglier here. If there's one thing I've learned from them, it's that everything is valuable. The liquors can still be sold. It's the least I can do with everything they've done for me. It's the closest thing to a family I've had.

I go out into the street and see the crowd coming back. Many laugh despite the fatigue. They do it every day, including me. We spend more than half a day working with no chance of prospering, but we love life above all else. After twelve hours of picking cotton, we still have the strength to smile and make a miserable life more enjoyable. It's a feeling only slaves know.

I grab the soccer ball that has relieved so much stress for me and head towards the Greens, husband and wife, who come back tired and sweaty. They intend to go into their house to take a shower and rest, but they stop when they see me. Perplexed, they seem to have to open and close their eyes several times to observe me. I'm clean, well-groomed, and well-dressed. They know something strange is happening. I don't say anything, what's the point? I might even get a punch from Mr. Green, who I don't think will forget about the adventure I had with his wife.

—Please forgive me for the mistakes I've made. I ask you to give this to your son or daughter when they're born. Consider it a gift. — I hand Mr. Green the ball. I've spoken to them in the most polite and educated manner I know. Perhaps that's why they don't know what to say.

—Are you implying that the child my wife carries inside is yours, and you want to give them a gift?

—Not at all! It's just that... I'm leaving far away, and I don't think this will be of any use to me anymore.

—Where are you going? —She asks, concerned.

—I can't say, but I'm going far away. Very far away. —The wounds and bruises on my face probably don't help much.

—Go and don't come back, Eric. You've done enough harm, not just to this house. Still, we don't want your charity.

—It's not charity, just a farewell gift. —I bow my head to Mr. Green because I haven't been more sincere in my life.

—Thank you—Miss Green takes the ball and smiles at me. Her husband has already entered the house, and she is forced to do the same. —Good luck, Eric.

She enters and closes the door. She's not happy, and I saw it reflected in the smile she gave me. It can't be that such a young couple is already so old. I hope things go well for them, although it's well-known that they don't have much of a future. If they weren't slaves, destiny would never have united them.

—What happened, Eric?—Mrs. Hall, followed by her husband. They're coming back from work.

—It's better if we go inside—I tell them. The crowd of returning slaves echoes, and with each passing second, more of them notice my attire and manners. They whisper.

I pay my respects to the Hall family, who bombard me with questions as soon as I close the door to what is still my house.

—Why did you pack everything? Where are you going?

—Luke has told everyone what you did with Sophie. I hope what that heartless guy is saying isn't true...

—Calm down, calm down. Give me a second, and I'll tell you. Sophie and I succumbed to our senses and carnal passions. This time, I promise, it wasn't me who initiated it. Luke beat me up, and Greg saved me. I don't know if it's a punishment, but he kindly asked me to leave the plantation and go to New America to work for the Administration. I'll come back and work here, not as a slave, but as a free person. He promised me that.

—But Eric! It's Sophie! I don't know how...

—I know, Mrs. Hall, it's Sophie, but we couldn't help it.

—You're lucky. Very lucky—Mr. Hall grabs his wife's arm tightly—If it weren't for Greg, you'd be dead by now.

—I'm aware of that. So I'm leaving. Those books, those liquors, and what's in the drawers are all yours. Thank you for taking care of me like a son all these years. I'll never forget it.

—I knew this day would come—Mrs. Hall says, looking down— Bring that, dear—She addresses her husband, who nods and leaves—We also have something for you. Well, not us, your mother.

—My mother? What...?

—I knew this day would come because of her. She said the same thing as you the day she left. She thanked me for taking care of her like a sister.

—But didn't she die on the plantation due to tuberculosis?—Mrs. Hall starts shaking her head and crying softly. Her wrinkled face, despite her youth, turns red.

—She left.

—She abandoned me? —My legs feel like jelly. I think I'm getting dizzy. If she left me here alone, she doesn't deserve a single thought I've had towards her for so long. Not one. Anger courses through my body.

—No, Eric, she didn't abandon you. She had to leave. She had to leave to die far from here. Far from you.

—She died? Why? How?

—She died, Eric. She died. She was condemned to death. I think you'll find more answers in the city than I have since I don't know much more. But Greg shouldn't know that I've told you anything about this...

I start to cry when Mr. Hall enters with a book in hand. He gives it to Mrs. Hall, and she hands it to me. I see the cover and try to read very slowly: The sinking of the runes. It looks very old, and its pages are yellowed. I'm afraid to turn any page as if it might break at any moment. Could this be the book my mother used to read to me every night?

—A very old novel, isn't it?

—No, son, no. It's just a cover. Open it and read.

I open the book to the third page and read: The Bible.

—The Bible?

—Shh. It's a forbidden book with religious content—Mrs. Hall whispers—. I don't know where your mother got it, but it was important to her, to the slaves. It speaks of the Goddess, of our Priestess. Keep it safe because you could get into serious trouble.

—Is this my mother's handwriting? —I say as I try to read.

“Dear Eric,

I wish I could have given you much more than these simple words and this book. When you read it, you'll discover me because the book made me myself. I'll never forget you. Forgive me for not being there with you. Someday, you'll understand. Don't forget me. Don't forget me, and I won't die.

Your mother, Lunetta, forever".