The morning sunlight entered gently through the window and the curtains, spreading golden light across the room. Lucian woke up with an ease such that he hadn't felt in years. He was in a very good mood. A smile started appearing across his lips, still carrying the warmth of yesterday's moments, the laughter he shared with others, the strange but comforting sense of normalcy. For once, he didn't feel pressured when he opens his eyes.
As he sat up, there was a familiar creek of door which revealed the presence of someone.
"Good morning, Young Master. Your breakfast is ready."
Mary entered along with few maids, her steps were light as always. She was a cheerful girl, her chestnut-brown hair tied neatly, her bright smile spreading warmth through the air. Though of humble origins, she had long since become part of the Oakheart household, and in the years of Lucian's illness, she had been a constantly taken care of him. She carried with her a kind of quiet strength that had comforted him when he was too weak to leave his bed.
Other maids put the food and his clothes for the day and left with a bow. Only remained their with him.
Lucian returned her smile. "Thank you, Mary. I'll eat after I finish getting ready."
"You mustn't push yourself," she said, her smile faltering slightly into concern. "You've not yet completely recovered. Please take good care of yourself."
"I will." he assured her softly.
But even as their words lingered between them, something caught Lucian's eye. On the small table by the window lay a handkerchief.Its cloth old and worn, yet freshly washed, its faded stitching carefully mended.
Lucian frowned and picked it up. "Mary... Do you know whose handkerchief is this? It looks quite old, and why is it here?"
Mary tilted her head in confusion, then her expression brightened with recognition. "Isn't it yours, Young Master? Before you fell ill four years ago, you used to take good care of it, as though it was something very important to you. Yesterday, while I was cleaning, I found it tucked away in the drawer under your study table. So, I washed it for you."
Lucian blinked, staring at the fabric in his hand. Something important to me? Then why can't I remember it...?
"Who gave it to me, do you know?" he asked, his voice low with uncertainty.
Mary pressed a finger to her lips, thinking carefully. "As far as I can remember, it was your first personal maid who gave it to you. At that time, you liked it very much."
"My... first maid?" Lucian's brows knit together. He searched his mind, but the memories were blank, as if that part of his life had been carved out and erased by someone. "I can't remember her name, or her face. Mary... can you tell me something about her? It might help me remember something about her."
"I never met her myself," Mary admitted, "but I heard stories from the others. Her name was Maria. She was a young girl of unknown origin, with black hair. She joined the household long before me, and only six months later she was assigned as your personal maid. They said she cared for you very deeply and adored you like her own family."
Lucian's breath caught. "Adored me like her own child...?"
"Yes," Mary nodded, her expression softening. "It was during the time when the dukedom suffered a massive drought. The mistress was burdened with responsibilities and couldn't be by your side often. Maria filled that empty spot, making sure you were never lonely. The mistress was very grateful to her for that."
Lucian stared at the handkerchief again. "Maria... why can't I recall even a single thing about her?"
"Where is she now?" he asked after a pause.
Mary's smile dimmed. "She suddenly left the household... and no one knows where she went."
"She left?" Lucian's eyes narrowed. "Why would she leave so suddenly if she cared so much about me?"
"No one knows," Mary repeated, her tone hushed. "Some say she fell gravely ill and, not wanting to hurt you, chose to leave quietly. Others say she had troubles in her hometown. Even the Duke, your father searched for her, but no trace of her was ever found."
Lucian murmured, "Strange..." His fingers tightened around the handkerchief. "Did anything else... unusual happen?"
Mary hesitated, then spoke. "I once heard from the maid who served before me that something peculiar did happen. Even though Maria left without a word, you... you didn't say anything. You shut yourself inside your room. Everyone believed you were devastated, and so they avoided bringing up her name. It became... a forbidden topic in the whole household."
Her voice softened further. "But a few days later, you came out holding this very handkerchief. When people asked, you said Maria gave it to you before she had left. Everyone thought then that it must have been her wish to go. So, they stopped searching. Later, a new maid was assigned to you, and she kept reporting your condition to the duke. Eventually, the matter was buried."
The room seemed to grow colder. Lucian's gaze fell upon the old fabric once more. A week in seclusion. A handkerchief I cannot remember receiving. And a girl... erased from my mind.
He whispered, almost to himself, "Why don't I remember any of it...?"
The handkerchief felt oddly heavy on his palm. And in that stillness fabric, as his hand closed around it, something happened. A faint sound brushed against his ear a whisper, fragile and fleeting, as though carried on a wind that didn't exist.
"...Lucian..."
He froze, his breath catching. His gaze darted to Mary. But she stood there clueless, her bright smile unchanged, as if she had heard nothing at all.
The whisper lingered in his mind, hollow and cold. The only thing that came to my mind was her name.
Maria... the forgotten maid.