𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝟎𝟒𝟏

a/n; the next few updates will he thankfully very quick! I cut down the number of chapters to the end (this fic ends at 45 chapters!) as I realised some parts were a tad unnecessary (and too long drawn) so we have three chapters left! don't fret, personally i do find the pacing to the epilogue pretty decent, and not too rushed. forgive me if i am rusty for I have not touched this work in ages - life has been so incredibly fulfilling and yet terribly busy

hope everyone likes it! sorry for the long wait - do vote and comment for my motivation! thank you all for the support so far!

—

Your parents are gone.

It was a tough pill for anyone to swallow. In your case, your mother was dead — and you had no clue on who your father was. You had no plan to search for him, either: you decided that you had enough of being greedy for the love you so often thought you deserved. In the end, after your twenty two years of living: you did not have the noble aspiration of changing — you instead had the cowardice mindset to give up. Even now, you complained to Silas, who could only lend you a listening ear.

"I just wanted a happy family —please," you said bitterly, "why couldn't I be given that? I should be happy that the curse is supposedly broken, and yet..."

"Y/n," Silas said worriedly, "what is it?"

You had reached out to him in a daze after the conversation with your father, your head racing and your words souring from your lips in a jumbled heap and your heart pumping. But at least, you thought, it shows that despite everything — despite the hardships I have somehow faced and survived — I am alive.

This feeling of opening and carving your heart out for Silas oddly reminded you of the time you told Silas of your parents divorcing — and then your mother dying. Each time, after a significant milestone (somehow always negative), you would confide in Silas, and he would comfort you.

"I am not my father's son," you said softly, very softly, "I am not."

Silas looked at you — like you were a madman — and said, "What?"

You almost smiled at his disbelief. But soon the mirth evaporated and you replied a little more seriously; even quieter still: like you were ashamed to share the news. "I am not my father's son," you repeated, "I am not meant to serve you."

"Y/n," Silas murmured. "What are you talking about? You — this —"

This is not a preordained fate, you wanted to tell him. It wasn't some destiny that allowed us to meet...it wasn't the collision of stars...the weaving of fate...it was a plain fluke.

It was clear that Silas was barely processing your words, and so you decided that the only option was to be blunt: completely blunt with him.

"Silas," you swallowed. "I am a child from a missing father and a dead mother. I do not have the bloodline nor birthright to serve you. I was not meant to meet you. I am not meant to be your butler. And — maybe I shouldn't have returned," you said brokenly, "maybe I shouldn't have —"