Milo returned to the guest room. On the edge of the bed, he found a fresh pile of folded, clean clothes. They were simple cotton shirts and loose-fitting pants. He assumed Teo had left them there while he was out with Salvatore.

He went into the bathroom. He was very careful as he washed his skin. He moved slowly around the gold rings in his nipples, making sure not to pull on the raw tissue.

The skin was still red, but the swelling had subsided slightly. After drying off, he put on the fresh clothes. He took his old, dirty clothes to the sink and washed them by hand, hanging them over the edge of the tub.

He stood in front of the mirror to check his face. As his eyes moved down, he noticed the faint, dark stubble starting to grow on his lower body. He immediately felt a surge of anxiety.

Nero hated body hair. Milo began searching the cabinets and drawers for a razor. He felt a desperate need to be smooth. If he wasn’t perfectly hairless, he expected punishment.

He searched under the sink and behind the mirror, but the shelves were empty. He realized he would have to ask Teo or one of the maids for a razor later. His heart was pounding uncomfortably.

Then he stopped.

He looked at his reflection. Nero wasn’t there. A strange, heavy sensation settled in his chest.

It wasn’t quite relief, but it was a quiet realization of distance. That man couldn’t reach him now or punish him.

He gulped. Why was he so relieved?

He walked back into the bedroom and saw a small pile of pills on the nightstand next to a bottle of water, the medicine from Dr. Edward. He took it immediately.

Milo was determined to get better. He knew Salvatore expected him to be on the training field in perfect condition. He didn’t want to be the weak one who fainted or tripped.

He wanted to be a good "guard," even if he didn’t know what that meant yet.

He tried to lie down and sleep, but the room was too bright. The morning sun hit the white walls, making his eyes ache. His mind was racing, thinking about everything.

He decided to go outside and find Teo. Maybe the boy could help him find a razor, or maybe he could help with something.

However, he didn’t make it to the kitchen. As he walked down the side corridor, a loud, booming voice stopped him.

"Hey, new guy! Come, come! I need you!"

It was Bernard. The old man was walking toward him, waving his thick, calloused hand. Before Milo could say a word, Bernard grabbed his arm and pulled him outside. They walked across the grass toward the old bakery.

"Are we cleaning the chimney again?" Milo asked, trying to keep up with the man’s long strides.

"No, no! I need to fix the wall. Everyone is so lazy. Nobody can do it!" Bernard complained. "They all have muscles, and not one of them can lay a brick in a straight line!"

"Are you building something?"

"Fixing it," Bernard grunted. "The wall is falling apart. Salvatore insists on restoring this old building. I don’t understand why he needs it. Luke can bake bread for him."

They entered the bakery. The floor was covered in gray dust, bags of cement, and piles of sand. Bernard pointed to a stack of white bricks sitting outside the doorway.

"Help me bring the bricks inside," the old man ordered.

Bernard picked up a shovel and began mixing sand and cement in a heavy bucket. Milo picked up a small metal bucket. He filled it with bricks, but he put too many inside. When he tried to lift it, his arms shook, and the metal handle dug into his palms. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

The weight pulled on his chest, making the piercings sting.

Bernard looked over and sighed. "You’re just like them. Why are men so weak these days? Don’t fill it to the top. Bring them little by little."

Milo felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. He nodded and emptied half the bucket.

For the next two hours, he walked back and forth. He brought bricks to the wall where Bernard was working. The old man moved with surprising speed, spreading the gray mortar and tapping the bricks into place.

By noon, Milo’s shirt was soaked with sweat. The physical exertion made his head throb, and he could feel the fever trying to return.

Bernard stopped to take a drink from a water bottle. He handed it to Milo, who drank the whole thing in seconds.

Bernard wiped his brow and looked at Milo. His eyes landed on the shapes of the rings visible through Milo’s damp shirt.

"Why did you put rings there?" Bernard asked, his voice blunt and uncaring. "It looks gay. So fucking lame."

Milo swallowed. He looked at the floor. He didn’t want to explain that he hadn’t chosen them. He didn’t want to talk about Nero.

The way Bernard looked at him felt judgmental, as if he assumed Milo was just someone who liked to be a showpiece. He felt a wave of shame, but he remained silent.

Bernard left a few minutes later to go into the main mansion for more supplies. Milo stayed behind to rest. He leaned against the cool stone wall of the bakery. His body was exhausted, and his skin felt hot again.

He stood up and looked at the chimney he had cleaned. It looked much better now. The black soot was gone, and the stone looked clean. His eyes drifted to the large stone oven next to the chimney. It was an old model, built deep into the wall.

He noticed a small shadow in the corner of the oven’s interior. There was a gap between two stones. He reached inside, his fingers brushing against something hard and wooden.

He pulled it out.

It was a small wooden box. It was old, covered in a thick layer of dust, and about the size of a jewelry box. It looked like a child’s toy. Milo wiped the dust away with his sleeve and carefully lifted the lid.

Inside, there was a single, faded photograph.

Milo took it out and held it up to the light streaming through the window. It showed a man and a woman. They were standing in a garden, wearing simple work clothes covered in dirt. They were both smiling broadly at the camera. They looked happy and full of life.

The edges of the photo were yellowed and brittle. It had clearly been hidden there for a very long time.

Who are they? Milo stared at the man in the photo. There was something familiar about the shape of his jaw and the way he stood.

He looked like Salvatore.

Milo looked back at the main mansion through the window. Why did they put the box here?