Birthright

Chapter 3: Blood Runs Thicker Than Water (Dripping Down My Skin)

Amongst the citizens of Rain City, Mother was well-known and well-liked by the vast majority. She had established multiple charities for various causes such as donations for the local orphanages, housing projects for immigrants and the poor, and providing more employment opportunities for those who are in need of a steady income.

She had also been planning on starting a charity for another housing project, this time for the people living in the slums, but she ended up scrapping it as the day of her death approached. Perhaps Mother wanted to fulfill this last task before she died but was unable to since the day of her death approached much quicker than she expected.

Cale sighs as he places her unfinished paperwork aside in a neat pile. He was currently in her study, going through the documents she left for him in her Will. He had already separated the papers related to the Thames and the ones that were Mother's personally. He had yet to fully look into the Thames' files as it would probably be quite the lengthy read and he currently didn't have the time to fully focus on them.

A knock came from the other side of the office's door. "Pardon for the intrusion, Young Master-nim, but the execution shall be starting soon." Ron's voice informed him. Cale sighed, absently straightening any unsightly wrinkles from his clothing. He had been wearing black since this morning. It is the color of mourning, true. But Cale finds that it is also the color that best hides bloodstains.

Executions can be quite messy.

Striding over to the door, Cale looked over his shoulder to take in the sight of Mother's study, gloomy and lifeless without its Mistress to brighten all four walls and bring the colors to life. Opening the door, Cale gazes sullenly into the space between Ron's eyes, unable to look directly into them lest he witness anymore visions of dreadful things yet to come.

"Lead the way."

~°~

"How horrible!"

"How could this have happened?"

"The poor Countess!"

"Hey, did you know—"

Cale drew the curtains of the carriage door shut with a violent tug. He did not wish to hear what the people were talking about, for it was most likely related to Mother's death, the execution of her servants and guards, or both. He knew that he should, for knowing the public opinion would solidify his decision on the matter, but he finds he didn't want to yet.

It has only been a mere few hours since Mother was buried, the soil freshly dug up and replaced above her casket, the tombstone newly commissioned and yet to mould. Even fewer had passed since the will reading, yet Cale felt that hearing everyone else talk about Mother's death would only cement the fact that she will never return. It was too much too soon.

He wanted to be selfish.

(Why can't he be selfish?)

A grounding weight pressed against the tense muscles in his back. "Breathe, Young Master-nim." Ron murmurs as his gloved hand slowly passes up and down the length of his spine. Cale claws at his knees to prevent a shiver of fear. He knew the strength, the skill, hidden behind that grounding touch and comforting motion. He knew Ron could slice him open and pull out his spine in a blink of an eye.

He swallowed the knot in his throat with difficulty, trying to convince himself to act normal, to lock away the fear and unease that being in Ron's presence elicited. Now was not the time to be cowering in fear of actions the butler has yet to take. Now, he had an execution to supervise and he will not show the public a weak showing, lest he want others to think they would be free to make the same mistakes.