At first, I was a little overwhelmed. So I finally decided to go to my room—or rather, find it. Easier said than done. I got lost several times in the endless hallways, all of which looked frighteningly similar. The longer I wandered around, the more I realized how huge this building actually was. And somehow... spooky.

But after a while, I finally recognized a familiar corridor and knew where to turn. As I passed Eryon's door, my gaze lingered on it for a moment. How often should I check on him? I resolved to spend plenty of time with him. But since he had been asleep earlier, I didn't want to wake him now. Instead, I continued on my way—this time with the certainty of where I was going.

Just because they said he couldn't speak didn't mean he was stupid. But did he really understand that his uncle and aunt were gone for a while? And where were his parents? I had so many questions, but I also knew they were none of my business. I wasn't here to look for answers—just to take care of him and the house.

Still, the whole situation still seemed strange to me. Who would just leave their nephew, who needed care, in the care of a complete stranger?

With a quiet sigh, I finally entered the room next to his. It was a large guest room—plain but cozy. In the middle stood a wide bed with a simple nightstand next to it. Along one wall was a large closet, and the opposite wall was almost entirely covered in windows. Through the large panes, I could see the last rays of sun creeping over the horizon. Luckily, I even had a small private bathroom.

I started unpacking my things, finally sinking down on the bed and treating myself to a quiet hour. But when I realized it was already pitch black outside, I pulled myself together. It was time to make dinner—and check on Erypn.

So I wandered through the halls for a while until I finally found a staircase down to the ground floor. From there, I knew how to get to the large kitchen. As I walked through the hallway, I noticed that some doors were marked with a prohibition sign. What were they hiding from me?

I felt my fingers tingling—the curiosity was almost overwhelming. But I had to remind myself. I was here to do a job, not to uncover secrets. My mom needed the money, and that alone should be my priority.

Arriving in the kitchen, I discovered a stack of papers—presumably the ones Rebecca had mentioned. I leafed through the papers until I came across a list of things Eryon wasn't allowed to eat. And there were quite a few: no garlic, no sweets, no ready meals... Apparently, they just didn't want him to enjoy eating.

But one thing stood out in particular—garlic was underlined in red. Why garlic, of all things? I loved garlic! But apparently, this was an absolute no-go.

Just as I was about to get some noodles from the pantry, I suddenly felt movement on my leg. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Panic shot through me, and I let out a terrified scream as I reflexively jumped to the side. My heart was racing, my breathing was shallow.

Was someone there? Or something?

My gaze flew frantically downwards – and froze.

"Meow."

An orange ball of fur sat serenely, blinking at me with innocent black eyes. I let out a nervous breath, then couldn't suppress a laugh. My adrenaline dissipated in a sigh of relief.

The woman had mentioned that two cats lived here, but I still hadn't expected that one of them would almost cause me to have cardiac arrest.

I squatted down and ran my fingers over the cat's soft, thick fur. She pressed herself against my hand with pleasure, as if she had been just waiting to be petted.

"Well, you must be hungry, huh?" I murmured, looking at her amused.

I'd never had pets myself—we lacked the money and space. But I liked cats. And this one seemed to trust me after just a few seconds.

After petting them for a while, I stood up and glanced at the folder I'd been reading earlier. Sure enough, there was something about the two tomcats. Shortly afterward, I took out a can of cat food, opened it, and poured some into the bowls. Even though the second cat hadn't appeared yet, I wanted to make sure there was enough for both of them.

After that, I set about preparing something to eat—pasta with tomato sauce. The paperwork didn't say anything about what Eryon liked, just an endless list of things he wasn't allowed to eat. So I decided on something simple that everyone should like. Besides, almost everything I cooked tasted pretty good—at least that's what my mom always said.

I took a portion and sat down in the dining room. But after just a few bites, I realized how bleak it was to eat alone. Even the music on my phone couldn't dispel the silence.

I was a very social person and always loved doing things and talking with others. But now I was sitting at a dining table that was probably meant for 20 people, eating my noodles in the almost dark.

I slowly made my way upstairs, feeling myself getting nervous. This would be the first real interaction I would have with Eryon. I went into his small hallway and then into his bathroom. Should I give him the injection before dinner or afterward?

The note didn't say much, just that I should inject it into his stomach, always at the same time. It also explained how to draw up the syringe and use it. So I decided to do it after dinner. When I was finished, I cleaned up and poured a second portion onto a plate. My gaze lingered briefly on the steaming food.

Now things got serious.

I slowly made my way upstairs, and the closer I got to Eryon's room, the more nervous I became. This would be my first real interaction with him.

I entered the small hallway, then his bathroom. My eyes fell on the syringe lying on the counter. Should I give it to him before dinner or afterward?

The instructions were sparse: Inject into the abdomen. Always at the same time . A brief explanation of how to draw up and use the syringe was included. Nothing else.

After a moment's consideration, I decided to do it after dinner. First, I had to find out how Eryon reacted to me.

Nervously, I stood in front of his door and knocked once with my free hand. But as soon as I did, I felt stupid. He couldn't talk—how could he say "Come in"?

So I took a deep breath and slowly pushed open the door.

It was pitch black inside. I groped for the light switch, but just before I turned it on, for a split second, I thought I saw two red dots glowing in the darkness.

My heart skipped a beat.

But when the light came on, there was nothing there—only Eryon, already awake and looking straight at me.

"Hey, I'm Leora," I said with a smile to cover the tension in my chest. "Earlier, when your uncle and aunt were checking me in, you were still asleep."

But of course, he said nothing. Instead, his gaze was on me—calm, but surprisingly intense.

Now that I could really see him in the bright light, I noticed that he possessed a unique, almost uncanny beauty. His skin was porcelain-pale, his cheekbones sharp, and his lips seemed almost preternaturally red.

I know it was wrong to think that way. I was here to take care of him. He was sick. And yet... when someone was pretty, I just noticed.

I pulled up a chair and placed it next to his bed. On the desk, I discovered a remote control, which I curiously picked up. A few buttons later, the bed raised a bit, so that he was no longer lying completely flat, but was sitting up slightly.

"How cool is this bed?" I muttered, fiddling with the knobs. A few more attempts later, I realized I couldn't just keep screwing around; after all, he was lying here, and I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. 

I looked up from the remote again and noticed that he was still staring directly at me. His dark brown eyes were so intense, I almost felt like they were boring right through me. What was he thinking? Surely that I was completely overwhelmed and enjoying such a simple remote control.

I quickly put on the gloves as I'd been instructed. I didn't want anything to go wrong.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like to eat," I began, trying to calm myself. "Since I was a bit tired from the drive myself, I thought pasta with tomato sauce would be just perfect." I wasn't sure if he was listening to me or just continuing to wonder why I was still so nervous. But then I thought maybe he actually looked interested.

But maybe I was just imagining it.

I pushed the small table over him so he could eat comfortably over the bed and placed the steaming food in front of him. Could he manage it on his own? But he looked like he could barely move.

"Can you eat alone?" I asked cautiously, though I wasn't really expecting an answer. My gaze fell on his right hand, which lay limply beside him. I watched it intently as he tried to lift it—but it was a minimal, barely noticeable attempt. A finger twitched, but that was all he could achieve. I gave him more time, hoping it would eventually work.

But after several minutes, he had barely managed to lift his finger a little bit from the bed, only for it to sink back down again, heavy and powerless. When I looked at his face, I noticed the anger reflected there—frustration that it wasn't working. It was obvious he was angry with himself. At least now I knew he understood.

"No problem, we'll just try again later," I said quietly, trying to reassure him with an encouraging smile. "But now I'll help you before the food gets cold."

I put a napkin on it so that if something fell, it wouldn't get dirty.

I took the spoon in my hand and shoved the first meal onto him. I was already used to this from the nursing home, so it wasn't new to me, and sure enough, he opened his mouth. His Stehland white and amazingly pointed teeth appeared. Apparently, they had placed great importance on his dental health.

At some point, the silence while I was feeding him became too uncomfortable, so I simply started telling him things. I don't know why, but the awkward and cold atmosphere in the room slowly dissipated as I told him how I got here and how beautiful I found the island so far. Secretly, I hoped I wasn't annoying him, since he couldn't tell me to shut up.