The next morning, the stables stank of mold and wet fur.
I'd barely slept. Not because of the stone floor or the occasional rat tail brushing my arm — those I was starting to tolerate. It was the image that wouldn't leave my mind: the girl in chains, gagged and half-conscious, hauled away through a side gate like a sack of grain.
I didn't know her. Never seen her before. Might never see her again.
But now I knew something else. Something worse than beatings and scraps of bread.
This place didn't just break people.
It sold them.
I stared at the morning bread in my hand — stale, half-molded, harder than the cot I slept on — and felt the knot of cold burn heavier behind my ribs.
Maela's voice rang through the courtyard, sharp as ever.
"Reed! Potatoes again. Don't slice your fingers, golden boy."
Right. Back to work.
I moved slower than usual, eyes half-drifting across the stone corridors and passing servants. Everyone avoided eye contact. Everyone walked like they were on a leash.
And they were.
But they didn't know how deep the chain went.
I set the basket of potatoes on the prep table and forced my hands to move.
Slice. Peel. Rotate. Toss.
[Passive Bonus: Fast Learner I – Task Speed Slightly Increased]
It wasn't the kind of skill boost I wanted anymore.
"Lost your rhythm today?" Maela asked, eyeing me from the soup cauldron.
"Thinking about philosophy," I muttered.
She snorted. "In a kitchen like this?"
"Mostly about knives."
That earned a curious glance, but she let it go.
Kyle was back too — hanging around like a shadow with wide eyes and nervous fingers. He tried to help with the crates, but kept fumbling them. Eventually, I handed him a broom and told him to make the floor shine like a noble's ego.
That seemed to cheer him up.
By noon, I'd made up my mind.
If this house was selling people — children — then someone had to notice.
And if not?
Then I'd make them notice.
The first test of the day came during midday break, when the kitchen staff thinned out and the overseers vanished for their daily "inspection."
I slipped into the back corridor and climbed the narrow stairs toward the unused guest wing.
Scamperton followed me. Quiet little traitor-turned-ally.
I'd spotted a pantry near the west hall the day before — half-hidden, door warped from moisture. But more importantly, the pantry connected to the long corridor where Sera and the noble brats held their private meals.
No one checked the pantry.
I pushed the door open slowly. Empty shelves. Broken baskets. A perfect hiding spot.
I scratched a faint mark near the door frame. Nothing that would draw attention. Just a line. Then another. Two parallel slashes.
[New Sub-Task Created: Hidden Routes Catalogued – 1/10]
Good. I needed to know the bones of this place better than the rats.
When I turned, I found Scamperton chewing on what looked like a coin pouch string.
"Where did you—?"
He dropped it at my feet.
Small. Red. Velvet. With a faint golden crest stitched into the edge.
I opened it.
Copper coins. Five of them. Nothing fancy. But the design—three birds crossing a sun—wasn't standard house currency.
Not from this estate.
Not from this kingdom.
I froze.
Then I remembered what Tarn had said: Things shift quick in this house.
Smuggling. Foreign coin. Secret passages. Slaves disappearing.
This wasn't just corruption. It was treason.
Which meant my little rat friend had just handed me my first weapon.
I didn't act that night. Or the night after.
Instead, I watched.
I memorized routes, tracked Bran's movements, watched Sera's schedule. I made up reasons to visit the well, the stable, the storage room near the western wall.
I waited.
Until I saw it again — not the same girl, but another servant, maybe fifteen, hooded and limp, being led through the gate by two armed guards who weren't house staff.
They didn't use the main door. They used the cellar stairwell.
That was the crack.
That's where I'd wedge myself in.
Two days later, I made my move.
It started simple. At dawn, while Bran shouted about spoiled cheese and Kyle fumbled a pot lid, I "accidentally" knocked over the spice rack. It bought me a solid ten minutes alone in the prep room.
Ten minutes to slip into the back pantry again and leave something behind.
A note.
Just a small piece of flour sack paper. Ink made from boiled onion skin and soot. Words written with a chicken bone.
I didn't sign it.
Just one sentence.
I saw what you're doing. Others will too.
Then I placed it behind the old crate near the cellar stair rail. Where only someone searching for secrets would find it.
Message sent.
"Reed," Tarn said later, watching me clean the counters. "You're stirring things."
I didn't look up. "What makes you say that?"
"Fewer beatings. Less yelling. And someone's been following you. Quiet-like."
"Maybe I'm just handsome."
He didn't smile.
"You need to be careful," he said quietly. "They don't like cracks in the stonework."
"I'm not a crack. I'm a crowbar."
That finally earned a grunt.
But I knew what he meant.
This house didn't deal with rebels. It erased them.
That night, something changed.
When I returned to my cot, there was a scrap of red velvet tucked under the straw mat.
A piece torn from the coin pouch.
Scamperton wasn't around.
No note. No name. Just the fabric.
And that was louder than a scream.
Someone had found the note.
Someone who understood what it meant.
Maybe they were warning me.
Maybe they were answering.
But either way... I wasn't the only one awake in this house anymore.
I opened my system menu under the flickering torchlight.
[Status Update – Reed / Jeong Dae-Hyun]
Strength: 4
Dexterity: 5
Willpower: 6
Stamina: 4
Endurance: 3
Intelligence: 6
Favor (Maela): 4
Favor (Bran): 0
Favor (Livia): 3
Perks: Fast Learner I
Hidden Traits: 3% Unlocked
Familiar Bond (Scamperton): 6% – Mild Trust
Tasks weren't just about stats now.
They were about leverage.
And I was going to use every single one.
The next morning, Kyle brought me a new broom with the bristles tied too tight. I loosened it gently and handed it back.
He looked at me like I'd just given him gold.
"You ever think about leaving?" I asked.
He blinked. "Leaving?"
"Yeah. The house. The life."
His eyes dimmed a little. "Don't think about stuff like that."
"You should start."
Then I walked off.
Not because I was cold. But because I couldn't afford to look like I cared too much.
Not yet.
But the seed was planted.
And that's how revolutions start — not with fire.
But with whispers.
[New Task Unlocked: Undermine the Chain]
Objective: Gather 3 Secrets / Build 2 Alliances / Gain 1 Forbidden Item
Reward: +1 Intelligence / +1 Hidden Trait / Unlock: Saboteur Tree (Passive)
Let's see what tomorrow gives me.