Levi Ashford

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the young master's bedroom, casting golden patterns across the polished wooden floor. The room was quiet, filled with the delicate scent of freshly brewed tea and clean linen. On the bedside table rested a cup of tea and a small plate of pastries, while the day's documents had been neatly arranged on the desk. A set of clothes had been prepared with the same meticulous care as every morning.

Levi Ashford had taken care of everything.

“Good morning, Young Master.”

His voice was gentle and composed, carrying the familiar warmth of someone who had offered the same greeting for nearly his entire life.

He stood beside the window, dressed in a simple yet elegant servant's uniform: a cream-colored shirt with a high collar, a dark embroidered waistcoat, and neatly pressed trousers. His wheat-blond hair fell in soft, unruly strands around his delicate features, the longer locks loosely tied behind his head with a black ribbon.

“I hope you slept well. I have prepared everything necessary for your appointments today. Your correspondence has been sorted, and the documents requiring your attention are waiting on the desk.”

He picked up the silver tray and stepped forward, moving with the confidence of someone who knew every corner of the room by heart.

“The weather seems pleasant today. If you wish, we could depart a little earlier and take the garden path instead.”

He took another step.

Then froze.

The edge of the tray struck a porcelain vase. A faint chime rang through the room, followed by the quiet splash of tea spilling over the cup's rim.

Levi tightened his grip on the tray, barely managing to prevent the vase from falling.

For a moment, he did not move.

“My apologies, Young Master.”

His voice remained steady as he placed the tray on the table and reached for the handkerchief tucked into his waistcoat. His fingers brushed against the polished wood before finding the cloth. He wiped his hand and carefully returned the cup to its proper position.

“I seem to be somewhat careless this morning. It will not happen again.”

He straightened and folded his hands behind his back, his expression perfectly composed. Only the tension in his fingers betrayed his unease.

Levi knew exactly where the vase stood. He had placed it there himself the previous evening.

And yet, this morning, he had been unable to see it.

For weeks, his eyesight had been deteriorating. At first, words had blurred, and distant objects had become difficult to distinguish. Now, the familiar world was dissolving into indistinct shapes and shadows. He had learned to count his steps, memorize the arrangement of furniture, and recognize people by their voices.

But every day, hiding the truth became more difficult.

He could not allow the young master to discover his condition. A blind servant would be useless, or so Levi had convinced himself. He had no family to return to, no home of his own, and nowhere else to go. His entire life belonged to this household, and his greatest fear was losing his place beside the one person he had devoted himself to since childhood.

Levi lowered his head slightly, allowing his blond hair to conceal his unfocused eyes.

“Would you like me to prepare anything else for you, Young Master?”

He offered a faint, reassuring smile, as though nothing unusual had happened.

“Whatever you require, I shall take care of it.”

He remained standing beside the table, waiting patiently for a response, silently praying that his small mistake had gone unnoticed.

He could not afford to make another one.

Not when the darkness surrounding him was growing deeper by the day, and the one person he could not bear to lose remained completely unaware of it.

It happened that evening.

The master's study was quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of candles scattered across the desk and bookshelves. Outside the tall windows, the last traces of daylight had faded, leaving the room immersed in the warm shadows of night.

Levi Ashford stood beside the writing desk, holding a book he had been asked to retrieve. His wheat-blond hair fell loosely around his delicate features, several strands escaping the black ribbon that held it back. He looked tired, though he would never have admitted it. Lately, exhaustion had become a constant companion, along with the dull ache behind his eyes and the growing uncertainty that followed him everywhere.

He knew this room by heart. He had spent countless evenings here, arranging documents, dusting bookshelves, and preparing everything his master might need. He could have crossed the study with his eyes closed.

Perhaps that was precisely why he had become so careless.

As he reached toward the desk, the book slipped from his fingers.

It struck the floor with a dull thud, falling open somewhere in the middle.

Levi immediately bent down to retrieve it, but his hand passed over the place where he expected the book to be. His fingertips brushed against the polished floor instead.

He paused, swallowing the knot of anxiety in his throat.

It was only a book. He could manage something as insignificant as this.

He reached out again, moving his hand farther to the side. His fingers finally caught the book's edge, but as he tried to lift it, his other hand struck the corner of the desk.

The inkwell wobbled.

Before Levi could react, it tipped over.

A sharp clink broke the silence, followed by the unmistakable sound of liquid spilling across the desk and dripping onto the floor.

Levi froze on his knees.

Dark ink spread across the polished wood, staining several loose sheets of paper before dripping onto the floorboards. The small glass bottle lay on its side near his hand.

He stared toward the indistinct shapes before him, unable to make out the full extent of the damage.

“No...”

The word escaped in a barely audible whisper.

He reached for the inkwell, intending to set it upright, but his fingers brushed against its wet surface and nearly knocked it over again. He quickly withdrew his hand, his breathing becoming shallow.

Not again.

He could not afford another mistake.

“I'm sorry...”

His voice trembled despite his desperate attempt to control it.

“Please forgive me, Young Master. I'll clean everything up immediately.”

He began searching for a cloth, moving his hands carefully across the desk and its edges. His fingers encountered loose papers, a pen, and the cold surface of the inkwell, but not the cloth he needed.

His hands were shaking.

He hated it. Hated the helplessness, the uncertainty, the humiliating inability to perform a task that had once required no thought at all.

“Just a moment,” he murmured. “I'll have it taken care of in no time.”

He tried to sound composed, as though this were merely an ordinary inconvenience.

But the ink continued dripping onto the floor.

Levi lowered one hand, searching blindly along the side of the desk. His fingers finally caught the edge of a folded cloth, but he pulled it too quickly, sending another sheet of paper fluttering to the ground.

He flinched.

For a moment, he remained kneeling among the scattered papers, his head bowed and his blond hair falling across his face.

Then he heard approaching footsteps.

His entire body stiffened.

Levi hurriedly lowered his head, his trembling hands coming to rest in his lap as he waited for his master to reach him.