Deliberate silence surrounded Cassie as she worked, each motion calculated, every step precise. Her focus anchored her, a fragile shield that kept the world—and the weight of her reality—at bay. Efficiency was her armor. As long as her hands moved, her mind couldn’t linger on the gaps in her memory or the chasm between herself and this world.
But not everyone respected her need for quiet.
Alan, a fellow servant with his easy smile and relentless curiosity, had begun appearing wherever her duties brought her. He lingered at the edges of her vision, carrying trays or polishing silverware. His fleeting glances became small comments, his comments turned into offers of help.
Cassie kept her guard up. In her experience, no one gave without expecting something in return.
The hallway echoed with the soft clink of porcelain as Cassie carefully placed a polished tea set on the serving cart. Alan stood at the other end, his presence as constant now as the tick of the nearby clock.
“Tea for the east wing nobles,” he said lightly, his tone at odds with the dim corridor. “Dull, but we’ve had worse, haven’t we?”
Cassie straightened, brushing her hands on her apron. “I don’t mind dull,” she said flatly, inspecting the arrangement to ensure it was perfect.
“Not the talkative type, are you?” Alan leaned casually against the cart, his grin unfazed by her cold tone.
She didn’t answer, her attention fixed on the neatly folded linens beneath the tray.
“Fine, I’ll talk enough for both of us,” he continued. “I wasn’t always a footman, you know. My father’s a blacksmith. Good at his work, too—made horseshoes for the royal stables once.”
Cassie paused briefly, her gaze flicking to him before returning to her task.
Alan didn’t falter. “But pounding metal wasn’t for me, so I came here. Figured I’d try for something better. Still trying to figure out if I’ve found it.”
His words lingered, a quiet invitation she refused to take.
“And you?” he asked after a beat. “What brought you here?”
Cassie’s hands stilled. For a moment, she considered the truth—the machines, the ruins of Earth, the battle that had ripped her from everything she knew. But that truth was dangerous. Exposing it wouldn’t bring her closer to surviving.
“Work,” she said simply, her voice clipped.
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Alan tilted his head, his cheer softening as though he sensed the barrier she had drawn between them. He didn’t press further, but his persistence remained.
During her late shifts, Alan brought her tea in chipped porcelain cups, his smile unyielding. When her schedule grew grueling—scrubbing stone floors for hours or hauling trays up endless stairs—he was there to lighten her load. A door opened when her arms were full. A shift swapped without explanation.
Cassie tried to ignore the gestures, but their quiet sincerity burrowed under her skin.
One evening, she was outside, tasked with lighting lanterns in the garden. The cool air wrapped around her like a second skin, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows across the hedges.
“I’ll help,” Alan said, his voice breaking the stillness as he appeared at her side.
Cassie turned, her fingers tightening on the lantern’s iron handle. “I don’t need help.”
“Maybe not,” he replied with a shrug, “but it’ll go faster with two.”
Reluctantly, she handed him a lantern. They moved along the path in silence, the scent of damp earth and the distant trickle of fountains filling the spaces between them.
After a while, Alan spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “I’ve been watching you.”
Cassie froze mid-step, her grip tightening.
“At work,” he clarified quickly, though the words still hung heavy in the air. “You don’t complain like the others. You don’t waste time. You’re... different.”
“Everyone here is different,” she replied curtly, resuming her pace.
“Not like you.”
His words landed like a stone in her chest, their weight undeniable. She didn’t respond, but the silence that followed felt charged, heavy with unsaid things.
That night, Alan approached her again as her shift ended.
“Walk with me,” he said softly.
Cassie hesitated, her instincts flaring. But exhaustion dulled her resistance, and after a moment, she gave a short nod.
They walked the winding garden paths under the moonlight, the hedges casting intricate shadows on the cobblestones. Alan was quiet at first, his usual chatter absent as they moved through the stillness.
When he finally stopped and turned to face her, the seriousness in his expression gave her pause.
“I admire you,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion.
Cassie tensed. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” Alan replied, his gaze unwavering. “You’re strong. You don’t let anyone drag you down. You don’t let anyone in.”
Her chest tightened. “And what do you want from me?”
Alan flinched, but he didn’t look away. “Nothing,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want anything. I just... I care about you, Cassie. More than I should.”
The air between them thickened, his words hanging there, fragile and exposed.
Cassie’s expression didn’t waver. When she finally spoke, her voice was cold and precise, every word carefully chosen to cut clean.
“I don’t have time for distractions.”
Alan blinked, his face paling as though her words had struck him physically. “Distractions?”
“That’s what this is,” she said evenly. “Whatever you think this is—it won’t work. I can’t afford it.”
“Can’t afford what?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “Letting someone care about you? Letting yourself care back?”
Cassie stepped back, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of her face. “You’re wasting your time.”
Alan’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening as he nodded stiffly. “I see.”
Cassie turned sharply, her steps quick and deliberate as she walked away. The sound of her boots against the stone echoed through the stillness, but she didn’t look back.
Alan remained in the garden, his figure swallowed by the flickering shadows of the lanterns. The weight of her rejection settled over him like a shroud, leaving the quiet to consume what neither of them could say.