25 Years to Redemption

As the first frost of winter began to frost the air, the scenery took on a melancholy hue, seemingly devoid of vitality. Despite this, the public's proclivity for idle gossip continued unabated. The city was buzzing with the news that Henry Scott, the second son of the illustrious Scott family, had gone missing. Whispers of familial sabotage circulated, as did other rumors of abduction, and the young man vanished without a trace.

With each passing day, the story became more elaborate, to the point where Matthew, Henry's father, became enraged and slammed his hand on the desk, berating his nearby secretary, "A bunch of incompetents, can't even find him after all this time?" If Henry cannot be located, the project is doomed."

"I fear Master Henry's situation might have something to do with Mr. Wilson," the secretary speculated, knowing his volatile temperament, “It's impossible for us to find any leads unless he gets involved."

"Do you think I need you to tell me that?" raged Matthew.

"I'd like to know where he is. Jason, my damn son, is to blame for everything. He foolishly collaborated with James Beaumont just as the project was about to be completed, endangering Henry."

"If we manage to find him," the secretary cautioned, "I suspect Mr. Wilson won't let Master Jason off the hook."

"If William Wilson can hide Henry away, so can we," Matthew reflected with a perceptive gaze. If we have Henry, we can utilize William for the project."

Someone else mentioned in the conversation that they were dealing with a similarly tense situation.

Henry was depleted after yet another failed escape attempt from the mountain mansion. When he was apprehended by William that night, he was shackled to the bed and watched over without a moment's rest. He cursed a lot and struggled a lot, but nothing worked.

In the end, both his spirit and body were exhausted. He lay there, a lifeless husk staring at the ceiling, unconcerned about William, who sat nearby watching him.

William remained silent, minimizing his presence so as not to disturb Henry. He sat by Henry's side in silence for two days, occasionally leaving to attend a call only to return and continue his silent vigil. Henry didn't pay him any mind, didn't give him a glance, and didn't say anything, but the feeling of being constantly watched was anything but pleasant.

Henry awoke on the third day to an empty room. By noon, William had arrived, carrying a small cake. He recalled the delicate animal decorations on the cake, but there were no words written on them. He gave it a dismissive look, not paying it much attention.

Unfazed, William sat down and silently sliced the cake, his eyes filled with hopeful anticipation as he waited for Henry to accept the offering. That hopeful expression, so prevalent in the early days of his pursuit, had faded over time as a result of repeated disappointments. He hadn't seen it in a long time.

The offered slice triggered troubling memories. It reminded him of William's previous birthday, when he had unceremoniously thrown a similar cake into the trash, only to return to find it reassembled haphazardly on the table, a small piece missing. The staff had told him that William had eaten the discarded cake alone.

Henry was disturbed by the image and turned away, not wanting to revisit the past. He owed nothing to William, who had forced him to stay.

William remained calm after several minutes of fruitless offerings, as if expecting this.

"Aren't you curious to know what we're celebrating?" he asked softly.

"It's my death. Don't forget to eat it, my dear "Heny". You are not required to attend my funeral. Let me call you "Heny" just once; I've been meaning to do so for a long time."

He smiled gently and reached out to touch Henry's head, saying, "Goodbye, my dear Henry." This time, Henry was too shocked to avoid his hand.

Henry was startled and jumped up to confront William, but he was already gone. Panic welled up within him, a sensation he didn't recognize.

"William, what do you mean...?" he asked for the first time in three days. Is there anyone here? Anyone? I need you to explain, William Wilson." The only response was silence, his limbs chained, preventing him from fleeing, and no one to answer him.

As night fell, a small part of Henry hoped that William would return with dinner, as he always did. If he did come, Henry might think about eating his food just once. He convinced himself that William would return. Henry's gaze had been fixed on the door since his departure, waiting for the familiar figure to reappear.

Sure enough, by dinnertime, the door had swung open. Henry scoffed at himself; clearly, William had only pretended to leave to see how Henry reacted. But before he could finish mocking his own gullibility, another figure entered. It took him a while, and it wasn't until the newcomer spoke that Henry realized it was Liam Miller.

Liam's voice jolted him back to reality: "Henry, I've come to save you." He then took a key from his pocket, intending to free Henry from his shackles. An unnamed fear grew within Henry as he watched the movements. Liam, what was the reason? Where had William gone?

"How did you get in here?" he asked, snatching Liam's hand from fumbling with the lock. William would never let you in here."

"You don't need to worry; it was difficult, but I found a way in." His only response was an evasive murmur, and the hand didn't stop. Damn, William is a jerk; how dare he confine you like an animal?"

His heart was already pounding, and not receiving the desired response only added to his agitation. "I'll ask you again, Liam, how did you get in here? "Where has William gone?"

Liam refused to look him in the eyes and responded, "Can we talk about this later, after we get out of here?" "Are you in any pain?"