Julia may have taken me in out of a sense of duty, but there is no denying that she spent some five years imprisoning me at home, raising me like livestock. How I would take my revenge—that thought occupied me for the past year, until finally I arrived at this school.The school’s rule was normally one year of boarding life, then take college entrance exams and depart. But Julia cited the poor results of my homeschooling and arranged for me to study at this country school for two years. In other words, I was trapped at rural Bluebell for two solid years. So I arrived at Bluebell already brimming with hostility, yet life here proved far more peaceful than I’d imagined.Seeing peers my own age was something I hadn’t done in nearly five years. During my confinement in the mansion, the only people I met were a handful of servants, Julia’s family, and her secretary. Secretly I worried, but none of the students treated me as an outsider. They welcomed me as though I’d always belonged. Classes were ordinary—no rigorous Oxford or Grandes Écoles entrance prep, just standard secondary education.I studied English literature and for the first time felt the joy of learning. Reading became genuinely pleasurable. I often played football, strolled alone in the woods, and even enjoyed playing with the stable dogs.I didn’t exactly make “friends.” Simon, Hugh, and George all felt distant for friendship. Yet Simon brought me breakfast every morning; lunch I sometimes took with Hugh, sometimes with Simon; and dinner was always with Simon or George. So at some point they began to feel like an unfriendly sort of family.After dinner Simon always went for a walk, so I typically spent evenings with George. He was the one who explained the school’s odd atmosphere to me.George said, “So there isn’t a single kid here with normal parents. Not a one.”I nodded.George removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and asked, “You don’t have proper parents either, do you?”I didn’t answer.He stared at me with those pale blue eyes that looked almost transparent. “There’s no one around to protect you, is there?”I met his gaze, puzzled by his question. I looked out the window—dim beyond the frosted glass in the cold—and thought of my father’s grave. There was nowhere else for me to go. After a moment, I silently nodded.“None,” I said.George offered a faint smile. “Then you came to the right place.”It wasn’t until two weeks later that I grasped the full meaning of his words.By mid-May the weather had grown quite warm—no need for a coat over my uniform. It was the weekend, and most students had permission to visit the nearby town of Goron: Simon, Hugh, even George. Simon’s nursemaid was coming to meet him, and he planned to stay in a hotel there. Hugh left at dawn—I didn’t even see his face. George went out to buy supplies.I seemed the only one left in the dormitory. A few staff remained but stayed shut inside the buildings. Around noon I finally emerged, with hardly any money and no reason to travel to Goron, so I chose to wander the empty campus. I checked on the horses in the stables, borrowed the groom’s bicycle to ride through the woods, and returned around lunchtime.After a simple lunch in the dining hall, I sat in the courtyard, drinking in the open view. Having spent so long locked away in a grand mansion, I savored the freedom of the wide, uncluttered landscape. I returned to the dormitory around five. Unlocking the door, I saw a head of dark hair by the fireplace—it was Simon.I greeted him first. “You’re back early, Simon. Didn’t you say you’d stay in Goron this weekend?”The dark head turned to me. “I was going to, but—”It wasn’t Simon. It was Jerome. I fell silent, staring at him. Jerome had let himself into our empty room. As always, he must have come around four. An unpleasant, suspicious fellow.Jerome smiled gently and beckoned me over. I considered ignoring him and entering my room, but I couldn’t be that rude—after all, Jerome was friends with the three of us. Hiding my discomfort, I sat opposite him. He wore his riding clothes as usual, the riding crop I despised resting on his thigh.Jerome asked, “Out and about already?”“No. I haven’t been out.”Despite my curt reply, Jerome gave a small smile. He asked again, “Why didn’t you go to Goron?”I countered, “Why didn’t you go? How did you get in here? Do you have our room key?”Jerome narrowed his eyes but still grinned. “I didn’t go because I had riding practice. And yes—I do have the key.”I scowled. “Why do you have our key?”Jerome sat up straighter on the sofa. In that single movement, my throat went dry. He answered softly, “A kid who lived here before gave it to me.”His tone was gentle and friendly, yet something about it felt dangerous. Not concrete grounds for suspicion, but a sense of threat. I leaped from the sofa to speak, but before I could utter a word, Jerome flicked the riding crop at me with lightning speed.The crop lashed my thigh. At first I was ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) dazed, not knowing what had happened. In an instant I crumpled before I realized what struck me. Pain flooded my senses faster than any thought, sorrow I couldn’t voice filling my eyes with tears. Blood rushed to my face and neck. As I sank to the floor, Jerome struck my back with the crop. That’s when I finally screamed.“Ahhhh!”“Quiet.”Jerome’s stern voice cut through me like a command to a horse. But I couldn’t hear anything. My thigh burned, my back felt torn. Never had I experienced such agony! I trembled uncontrollably, tears soaking the carpet and my cheeks. I could barely breathe, my body convulsing in pain.Jerome hooked the leather loop of the crop under my chin and lifted my face from the carpet. I trembled as I forced my head up. Still seated, Jerome smiled kindly at me. I looked up at him, trembling.“Does it hurt?”I had no strength to answer—only pain populated my mind, the hot tears burning my cheeks.Jerome said, “Then don’t get up until I say so. Understood?”That bastard! Rage welled in me, but shock and pain froze my tongue. My body locked in place. If I could, I’d have ripped his head off—but not a finger would move.Jerome removed the crop and, with gloved hands, wiped my tears from my cheek. Then he spoke gently, “Go wash your face and come back.”At those words, my tense muscles relaxed. I rose like a puppet and, legs shaking, left for the bathroom. As soon as I entered I locked the door and sank to the floor, trembling as if stripped naked in midwinter. But it wasn’t the cold—it was fear.Hands shaking, I lowered my trousers to my knees and saw the crimson welt on my thigh. It would bruise badly. I pulled my trousers up and removed my sweater—bright red marks lined my back too.I steeled myself, straightened my clothes, splashed my face with cold water, and glared into the mirror. Jerome had been lying in wait, biding his time while I endured his silent contempt—then struck when he had the chance, during the weekend when no one was around. But to think that a couple of lashes from his riding crop had beaten me would be a mistake.I dried my face with a towel, rolled the sweater sleeves to my elbows, and crouched under the sink. The pain in my back and thigh throbbed hotly, but I ignored it and began loosening the pipes beneath the basin. Growing up without a father, I’d done most household chores—removing these metal pipes by hand was no problem. Once I’d freed the sturdy pipe, I gripped it firmly and left the bathroom.Jerome still sat before the unlit fireplace, the riding crop across his thigh, fingers steepled as he stared out the window. I strode toward him.Without turning, he asked, “Why did cleaning your face take so long?”No reply was needed. I swung the pipe with all my might at his shoulder, intending to break his collarbone. Yet Jerome dropped to the floor at the last moment, evading the pipe. How? I stared at him in shock—and suddenly noticed my own reflection in the window across from us.Jerome lay on the floor for a moment, then scrambled to his feet. I raised the pipe again and slashed at him, but he leaned back off the sofa, grabbed his cropped whip from the floor, and struck. I leapt back, avoiding the lash. In that instant he rose fully.Unexpectedly, Jerome burst into loud laughter. “Ha, hahahaha! Hahaha!”I glared at him, gripping the pipe.“You crazy bastard.”Jerome looked back at me, still smiling. In a cheerful tone he said, “I like you, Raymond.”I cursed him. “Fuck off, you son of a bitch. If you don’t get out of this room right now, I’ll smash your fucking head in.”Jerome raised his hands palm-out, then slowly walked to the door. I called after him, “The key. Leave the key.”Jerome grinned, pulled the key from his pocket, and—for all to see—dropped it on the floor before exiting. As soon as the door shut, my strength vanished and I collapsed to the floor. Just as George had said: no matter how ordinary someone looked, there was no one truly ordinary in this school.I skipped dinner and stayed in my room all night. Only around Sunday lunchtime did I feel able to leave again.Jerome never appeared. The first person back was, surprisingly, Simon. He returned while I sat on my bed, unable to lie down or curl up because of the whip marks.Simon entered in a spotless suit and greeted me. “Hello.”“Hello. How was it?”“Smooth. How about you?”Simon hung his jacket on a hanger and asked. For a moment I considered telling him about Jerome, but I didn’t—I still didn’t understand their relationship.“I was fine. Quiet and nice.”Ding. The clock in the lounge chimed. I checked my watch—4:00 p.m. As expected, moments later someone knocked. Simon unbuttoned his cuffs and left the room; the door opened soon after.Simon said, “It was raining—did you ride?”Jerome replied, “Just took a light walk. Nursemaid was fine, Simon?”Simon answered Jerome as they returned to our room. “Everything was perfect.”Jerome did not follow them in; I listened to the soft thud of his boots on the carpet. I tensed up without realizing it, then finally relaxed.Simon sighed and, having stowed his cufflinks, turned to look at me. I averted my gaze and sprawled across the bed. He said nothing, quietly changed clothes, then the rustle of fabric ceased. Soon his computer whirred to life. I opened my eyes to see Simon sitting upright in his chair, looking at me.Simon asked, “Shall I mute it?”

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