150 His Purpose Unfulfilled Pt.2

"You are fortunate, cousin. It is just a sprain."

Seokjin winced as Namjoon delicately propped his leg on top of a stool. "Are you sure? It feels like I broke it."

Namjoon chuckled. "I am positive. You will have to avoid putting pressure on it for a while if you want it to heal faster."

Seokjin followed his cousin's profile as he walked to the other side of the room. There was something eerily nostalgic about being within the household walls. A musty scent travelled up his nostrils as he shifted on the upholstered chair he was perched on, the soft sensation almost foreign to him. Seokjin's ears tuned in to the faint drumming of the rain while he took in the grand décor. To the rest of the Kims, carved doors and silk-covered beds were just trivial details, but for Seokjin, it was the opposite. Years of living with almost next to nothing made him see everything in a different light.

He couldn't believe he was back.

"I think it will be best if you are assigned a personal maid," Namjoon mentioned as he returned with a dry towel.

Seokjin hesitantly accepted it. "A maid? What for?"

"To help you, of course. It will be difficult for you to move around without one in your current state."

Before Seokjin could protest, there was a quick rap on the door. "Master Namjoon?" he heard a feminine voice ask. "Are you here?"

"Come in," Namjoon called.

From his peripheral view, Seokjin watched as an elderly woman appeared. She was dressed in a plain but pristine robe with her greying hair wound tightly in a bun. The woman bowed politely before entering, her posture stiff yet elegant. Seokjin turned his full attention to her and blinked.

"Tien?"

Upon being addressed by an unfamiliar voice, the head maid turned to Seokjin. As she did so, memories from Seokjin's past fleeted before his eyes as his brain tried to consolidate the image of the young maternal figure in his memory to the aged woman standing before him. Instead of grey locks, the woman in his memories had long, black hair that was neatly bound in a plait. Her youthful countenance, while plain and worn, was kind-looking and not plagued by wrinkles like the elder before him now. Seokjin had many fond memories of the young woman in his youth, memories which coincided with those of his birth mother before she passed.

It was jarring to see time imprinted on her face.

A spark of recognition ignited within Madam Zhou at the sound of her given name being spoken. Since succeeding the last head maid, she assumed the title of Madam despite being unmarried. Such were the customs of head maids: once promoted, they were bound to a life of service. She almost forgot her given name existed. Madam Zhou studied the stranger in wonder and bafflement. Despite his appearance, there was something familiar about the lilt in his voice that stirred her instincts, reminding her of the beloved young master she used to care for. The young master that her cherished lady gave birth to.

"Master Seokjin?"

Namjoon glanced from Seokjin to Madam Zhou. "Oh, that is right. You were not here when Madam Zhou was promoted to head maid." He turned to Madam Zhou, who was still stunned by Seokjin's presence. "Madam Zhou, do we have any maids that are not currently in personal service? Cousin is injured so will need assistance."

"Certainly," Madam Zhou answered, remembering her duty. "I can procure a list of available candidates as early as tomorrow morning—"

"No, that will not be necessary."

Namjoon and Madam Zhou peered at Seokjin quizzically.

"I don't think I'll need one as I won't be here for long."

"Cousin? What do you mean?"

Seokjin's features hardened. "I returned because of Brother Minseok but I know that Father would not want my stay to be lengthy." His voice was icy. "How is that old man? I should probably see him as soon as possible so that we can finally settle our differences and get out of each other's way."

Namjoon and Madam Zhou exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"Cousin... I do not know how to tell you but..."

Seokjin stared at Namjoon and only then noticed his red-rimmed eyes. "Tell me what?"

"I am afraid you are too late," Namjoon mournfully uttered, "Uncle... has already passed."

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