CHAPTER 62: CHAPTER 62: A TOUR

Ashwin set an easy pace as they moved down another polished corridor, the muted light catching on carved cornices and sleek sconces. Elias kept his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping over every detail—anything to keep his thoughts occupied and not circling back to the same questions he wasn’t ready to face.

"This entire floor is considered Victor’s private wing," Ashwin said quietly as they passed another pair of closed doors. "Not many are allowed here. You’re... an exception."

Elias huffed a dry laugh. "He does enjoy making exceptions for himself, doesn’t he?"

Ashwin’s mouth curved faintly, but he didn’t disagree. "Here," he added, pausing before another archway. "The dining area."

Elias stepped through and stopped.

Two rooms branched off from a wide foyer: to the left, a larger space with long tables and muted chatter, the faint clatter of dishes drifting through. Staff in dark uniforms moved with practiced efficiency, a hum of quiet routine in the air. To the right, a smaller room opened out, soft light spilling across a single long table of dark wood polished to a mirror sheen. The chairs were carved but not ornate, their cushions in deep charcoal velvet. A sideboard gleamed with silver, and the faint aroma of coffee lingered in the air.

Ashwin gestured lightly to the left. "That’s where the staff eats. Shifted hours, but always open."

Then to the right. "And that... is Victor’s dining room. It’s expected that anyone staying in this wing eats there, unless told otherwise."

Elias raised a brow, amused despite himself. "You mean he actually sits at that table? Eats? Drinks? Next you’ll tell me he sleeps like the rest of us."

Ashwin’s smile flickered wider, though his voice stayed level. "He does. More or less. He’s human enough in his habits... though I wouldn’t say that out loud."

Elias turned back to the table, the faint smirk lingering on his lips. He could almost see Victor there, sleeves rolled up, cutting into something with that precise elegance he carried into every movement. The image felt surreal, Victor, a god with power stitched into his very skin, eating eggs and toast like everyone else.

"Not what you expected?" Ashwin asked quietly, watching him.

"No," Elias admitted, voice thoughtful. "Honestly, I half‑expected him to survive on lightning and menace."

Ashwin chuckled under his breath, the sound brief but genuine. "He’ll appreciate the comparison."

Elias shook his head, turning back toward the hall, that faint smirk still tugging at his mouth. ’Victor, drinking coffee and eating like the rest of us. Somehow that’s the strangest thing I’ve seen all week.’

Ashwin stepped back into the corridor, falling into stride beside him. "There’s more to see. Come on."

Ashwin led him on, the soft rhythm of their steps echoing against polished stone. Elias let his gaze wander, catching glimpses of framed art and subtle sigils etched into the baseboards, details that hinted at a history older and deeper than the sleek modern furnishings suggested.

They passed through another set of doors and into a gallery‑like hallway, its walls lined with tall windows overlooking one of the inner courtyards. Sunlight slanted through in golden beams, illuminating motes of dust that floated like sparks. Somewhere in the distance, faint birdsong threaded through the muffled hum of the estate.

"You seem more at ease here than most," Ashwin observed after a stretch of quiet, his tone mild, conversational.

Elias slid him a sidelong glance, hands still deep in his pockets. "I doubt Victor surrounds himself with people who aren’t comfortable with... all of this."

Ashwin’s lips twitched. "Comfortable is a strong word."

"Then maybe I’m just too tired to flinch," Elias replied, the dryness in his tone softening the admission. He wasn’t sure when he’d started speaking so easily around Ashwin, maybe it was the way the man moved, unhurried, never crowding him. A presence that felt steady without pressing too close.

They turned down another hall, this one lined with tall double doors leading to private studies and salons. Ashwin paused briefly, his expression thoughtful, as if considering whether to speak. His jaw tightened a fraction, some quiet debate flickering behind his eyes.

Elias noticed immediately, but he didn’t press. He knew that look, someone holding words behind their teeth because speaking them would cost too much. He’d seen it in his own reflection often enough.

So instead, he let the silence stretch, only tilting his head slightly, a small, understanding smile playing at his lips as they moved on. I won’t make you say something that’ll put you in danger, he thought, surprising himself with how easily the thought came.

They stepped into another sitting room, a broad, elegant space with low couches, shelves of leather‑bound books, and the faint crackle of a hidden speaker playing something soft and instrumental. The morning light caught on the brushed brass fixtures, giving the whole room a warm, lived‑in glow.

Ashwin gestured toward it with a nod. "This is the waiting room to Victor’s in-house office. It’s almost never used."

Elias stepped a little farther in, letting his gaze sweep over the space. It was tasteful without trying to be, dark walnut shelves lined with books whose spines were worn but cared for, a pair of low couches angled toward each other over a marble‑topped table. A crystal decanter sat untouched beside a stack of neatly folded linens, and the faint, steady music hummed through the discreet speakers, mellow and soothing.

He trailed his fingers lightly along the edge of a shelf, eyes scanning titles in a mix of languages, politics, engineering, history, and texts so old their bindings looked fragile. It didn’t feel like a showpiece, like so many rooms in estates like this; it felt like someone had lived in here once, long enough to leave a presence that lingered.

Ashwin lingered by the doorframe, watching him with that measured, careful expression Elias had begun to recognize. A man who noticed too much, who thought twice before he spoke once.

"It doesn’t look like him," Elias said quietly, breaking the comfortable hush, though his tone held no real bite. "It’s... calm. Almost ordinary."

Ashwin’s mouth curved faintly. "Victor likes his spaces layered. Some are for display. Some... are only for him."

Elias gave a short hum of acknowledgment, stepping around one of the couches and glancing toward the door on the far side, the one that likely led into Victor’s private office. His pulse gave an odd, low thrum at the thought. He didn’t know what he’d expected this place to be, but the air carried a weight, an intimacy that surprised him.

"You’ve seen more than most," Ashwin added, softer now, as if testing the edge of a thought he wasn’t sure he should voice.

Elias glanced at him, head tilting slightly. Ashwin’s jaw flexed, words rising and falling in his expression, but in the end, he only shook his head faintly, as if deciding against it. Elias didn’t press; something in Ashwin’s look told him that pushing would be unkind or... dangerous.

Instead, Elias sank down onto one of the couches, letting his shoulders ease back into the soft upholstery, eyes lifting to the light filtering through high windows. For the first time since he’d stepped out of the guest room, some of the tension in his chest loosened.

The quiet didn’t last.

A ripple moved through the air, a shift Elias was starting to recognize before sound or sight gave it away. The door behind him opened with the barest whisper of hinges, and the atmosphere changed as if the room itself took a breath.

"Waiting for a meeting?" Victor’s voice carried across the room, low and faintly amused.