Chapter 11 (Part 2)

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     Jean, alongside his friends and brothers, hopped onto a carriage, closing the door shut with a loud slam. Then, with a slash of the reins, the carriage's brown horse neighed, standing on its hind legs before pulling the vehicle forward. Soon, the vehicle blended with the other carts and wagons traversing the labyrinthine roads.


     In the meantime, in the Alcadee Residence, the grand mansion where Jean resided, peace abounded as no intrusive noise permeated the air. Tranquillity ruled the space within the walls of the lavish estate, reaching every nook and cranny. From the outdoor lawn to the interior, silence reigned and sang a silent song.


     Inside the grand estate, Oliver, Jean's adoptive father, lounged on a wooden chair around the dining table. On his hands, a broad newspaper rested, his eyes darting from left to right as he scanned the headline. Grasping a glass of red wine, Oliver took a quick, light sip, and the alcoholic taste buzzed on his tongue and throat.


     As Oliver sits peacefully on the chair, perusing the newspaper with his sharp, amber eyes, the sunlight behind him bestows his skin a wheat-like colour. As the sun travels higher into the sky, the wind blows serenely, and Oliver takes the opportunity to embrace the quiet moment. Reading the text imprinted across the expansive sheet, Oliver flips the page and takes another light, delicate sip from the wineglass.


     Unexpectedly, Oliver senses something reaching his ears, causing him to pause from reading. He stares at the wall, concentrating on the noise as his golden eyes gleam like the heavenly stars. Then, as he expects, a sequence of five firm yet soft knocks echoes across the air.


     Oliver sets the newspaper aside, placing it down on the dining table beside his glass of red wine. Pushing his chair, he rises from his warm, comfortable seat and leaves the dining room, turning towards the elegant lobby. As he reaches the entrance, Oliver cautiously opens the door, peeking through the crack. To his surprise, he sees his three sons—Jean, Bertie, and George—and two boys standing on the other side.


Widening the gap on the door, Oliver uttered, "Jean?"


     Later, Jean, Kevin, Gabriel, Bertie, George, and Oliver gather around the dining table, claiming their seats around it. As they settle into the warm cushions of the wooden chairs, maids appear from the kitchen, carrying plates of tea sandwiches filled with jam. Placing the plates of tea sandwiches on the dining table, the maids depart and return to the kitchen, where aromatic steams waft into the air.


     Meanwhile, Gabriel, Bertie, and George snack on the warm tea sandwiches, savouring the sweet jam filling as they chew the bread. As the others chow down some bread, Jean and his adoptive father, Oliver, engage in a conversation while Kevin listens in the background. Taking a bite of a tea sandwich and swallowing it, Oliver glances at Jean and addresses him with a deep, concerned voice.


"Alright, son. Tell me. What suddenly brings you here?" Oliver asked.

Jean gripped his hands and lowered his bashful gaze. "Dad... I..."

"I'll listen," Oliver said, placing a hand above Jean's palm.

Jean's worry crumbled as he made eye contact with his adoptive father. "Dad, about my mother..." he began.

"Oh? Your mother?" Oliver reiterated, seeking clarification.

"Yeah... do you... at least, know something about her?" Jean questioned him politely, keeping his voice low and faint.

Oliver thought for a quick moment, his gaze falling. "...My... I never thought about this. I'm afraid I don't know that much about her," he said.

"Oh..." Jean sighed.

"But I do know her name," Oliver informed.

"Truly? May I know her name?" Jean asked, his eyes sparkling with hope as he inclined his face towards Oliver's direction.

"Oh, my son, your mother. She has such a beautiful and sophisticated name. Her name dictates that our god shall be exalted. Her name is none other than Josephine," Oliver stated with a deep, steady voice.

Jean nodded as he took in Oliver's words. "Oh..." he lowered his eyes.

Oliver placed a hand on Jean's shoulder. "Son. What's wrong?" he asked worryingly.

"...I just want to see my mother," said Jean.

With a heavy heart, Oliver took a deep, heavy breath. "It's alright, Jean... it's alright," he reassured him calmly. "I'm sure the day you two will meet will come eventually."

"Hopefully..." Jean released another heavy sigh.

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