Interlude

For the first three days of his tenure living with Kuroro and his staff, Kurapika tried to spend as much time as possible in solitude. Somehow, that was easier said than done; which was surprising considering that Kuroro had not exaggerated his staff size. Those now living in the sprawling estate consisted of Kuroro, himself, Anri and three others.

The first one he met was Victoria, a young woman between him and Kuroro in age whom was in charge of taking care of the physical upkeep of the interior of the estate; his maid for lack of a better description. She had long raven hair that curled around her svelte frame and she had no problem tossing it over her shoulder in a practiced seduction; which amused Kurapika as Kuroro seemed oblivious to her flirting. Victoria was also as tall as Kuroro, putting him at a height disadvantage; though it could have been due to shoes he had previously heard Leorio refer to as 'fuck me heels' while visibly drooling.

She was pleasant enough during their first encounter, if you could call being basically ignored for the man standing next to him 'nice'. Victoria had all but thrown herself over Kuroro in greeting like she was marking her territory, the possessive 'hands off' look she gave him as she rubbed against their benefactor made her intentions quite clear to Kurapika.

He found himself repressing a knowing smirk as he wondered how she would handle knowing that they had already made out. Not to mention that he was probably acquainted with more parts of Kuroro's anatomy than she ever will if Kuroro's seemingly practiced reaction to his reception home was any indication; for he gave her a short platonic hug then spun her off of himself and went on his way when she attempted to leap into his unopened arms. But he was neither that petty nor interested in Kuroro like that.

Right?

Stephan was Kuroro's butler and essentially acted as his steward even when he was on the estate. He was a middle-aged Phranc man whom had aged gracefully with only a slight smattering of gray peppering otherwise sandy blond hair. At all times he stood tall and proper without giving off the feeling of overbearing; he was taller than Kuroro and lean, though neither as tall as Leorio nor as thin.

He seemed to be a silent man by nature, not speaking unless spoken to or if the situation called for it. Despite his quiet countenance, Kurapika was sure that Stephan was not so much aloof as observant, as if he had been born into his position. In this day and age it was a rare, but not unheard of practice, especially when it came to being the overseer of the household employees.

And while it was not obvious, Kurapika had learned that he was married to Kuroro's cook, whom everyone only called Mrs. Bellecourte, and doted on her in private. Overall he appeared to be inherently gentle and kind and full of patience and wisdom. But despite his gentle exterior Kurapika did not doubt that he was able to protect the estate as well as either Kuroro or himself; much like the Zoldyck butlers, except less fanatical and not prone to act with violence first.

Mrs. Bellecourte was Kuroro's chef and could often be found puttering about in the kitchen or the nearby conservatory that had been converted into a greenhouse where she grew herbs and hard to find ingredients. She was slightly taller than himself, though not quite as tall as Victoria in her 'fuck me heels', and while not 'plump', she had a solid frame and a soft curvature that hid otherwise obvious muscles garnered from dealing with kitchen affairs. Her strawberry blond hair had a single white lock that would frame the right side of her face if one was able to catch her with her hair not swept up into a casual, and almost sloppy, bun at the base of her neck.

She was a sweet woman but a pistol, just as likely to give you a cookie fresh out of her ovens as snap her ever-present dishtowel at would-be cookie thieves. The kitchen was her domain and had no problem putting whoever tried to say otherwise to rights, even if it was the man who employed her.

However, despite her sweet disposition, she had apparently appointed herself to mother-hen and make an excessive amount of fuss over him; almost to the point that he found himself suffocating under her care. It was like he was a child again and had not spent the past six years, give or take, roaming the world alone and without any sort of help.

It had been so long since he had been put into such a position that he quite frankly had no idea how to handle it.

The first two days had been the worst for him for he had spent most of his time unconscious from the medicine. When he would wake up he would find little things, pillows fluffed, a plate with a warm snack and/or beverage, a book he had left on his balcony placed on his nightstand. While what she was doing was appreciated, it was the fact that a veritable stranger was invading his personal space when he could not protest that was disconcerting.

He had asked Kuroro about it the night before while they were discussing actual business before their supper, and he had not seen her so active. Then again, it was the first time he had ever brought anybody home with him so he really did not have anything to compare it to. Of course Kuroro found his frustration amusing but at least had the decency to not rub it in.

But, throughout all of her fussing, there was something underlying all her token gestures that was somehow familiar; yet he was unable to place his finger on it. That is, until that morning when he got up from his medicated nap and found a steaming cup of tea waiting for him. His brain finally recognized that the tea was made with lavender infused water, a technique he had not seen used since he left his village.

Even though he was still a bit sleep addled, he was at least awake enough to make sure that his clothes were put on properly and not skewed from his nap before heading down to the kitchen where he figured he would be able to find Mrs. Bellecourte. He was not quite sure how he was going to broach the subject, but he had to ask.

As he approached the kitchen the smell wafting through the door tugged on a distant memory. He paid no mind to it for Mrs. Bellecourte had been classically trained to be a master chef of all major ethnicities so he presumed that it was from a place he had spent time in shortly after leaving his village.

When he entered the brightly lit kitchen Mrs. Bellecourte turned around as she was pulling a dish out of the oven. Seeing who it was she smiled enthusiastically, "Good, it's you! I need you to taste this and tell me if I got it right. It has been such a long time since I made this particular dish that I may be more rusty than acceptable."

Kurapika opened his mouth to protest but before any sound could come out a fork loaded with herbed meat and vegetables was shoved in. The meat melted on his tongue and the flavors burst in his mouth in a way that only a master chef could accomplish. Reflexively his hands clasped over his mouth, as if to dam anything from coming out.

For the flavors did not just please his palate, but brought forth a rush of memories he had long ago repressed. He was no longer in the kitchen of an estate in Phranc but back in the forests of his homeland amongst the friends and family he had buried years ago.

The dish was one that should have been known only to those of the Kurta clan.

Unrealized, tears streamed down his face and he looked at Mrs. Bellecourte with eyes wide in shock. She had a sad smile as she reached out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, "Vaela had much the same expression the first time she had me cook it for her; and she knew what was coming. She said it was the first time she had truly felt homesick in all the time she had spent away from the village."

His eyes somehow managed to grow wider in disbelief as she continued, "Yes, your aunt was a dear friend of mine from a time before you were born. You look so much like her that I would have known you anywhere."

She motioned for him to take a seat on one of the stools situated in front of a counter as she took one herself. "I guess I should start at the beginning, it was so long ago that it seems like it should be a fairy tale; one that starts with 'once upon a time in a place far from here', hmm?

"It was about thirty years ago now when we met. I was working at a little flower shop while trying to put myself through culinary school and she… well, she tried to work there. That woman had the worst affinity for caring for plants I had ever seen, only her skill at flower arrangement saved her from being fired.

"But she had this spark, this inner fire that burned so brightly you could not help but to be drawn to her. Vaela may have been horrible at gardening, and was only decent at cooking the most basic of meals; but the spark she carried with her translated into the unfettered soul of an artist. Whether she was working with clay or watercolor she could breathe life into her creations.

"We quickly became fast friends and eventually she entrusted me with the secret she kept of her heritage. Vaela, bless her soul, confessed that she had gotten permission to leave the village to search for a mate to bring back; but she never had any intention of doing that instead using her time to explore the artists and techniques of the 'outside world'."

Mrs. Bellecourte laughed, lost in the memories she had kept close to her heart for so long, "Any time the subject of marriage or even dating ever came up she would go on this rant about how she should not be expected to conform to a practice that may as well make them cattle for how similar it was to the practice of animal husbandry. She did not feel like she should be forced into a role of procreation just because the village needed to maintain a steady population with," she then air quoted with her fingers, "everyone doing their part for the future of the clan."

The woman then got up and puttered about the kitchen, making two cups of tea while she continued to talk. "Right after that rant she would always say, 'Besides, my twin found her mate when we were kids. Polar opposite personalities that just fit together so perfectly it was like they were originally one soul. She can make a brood if it makes her happy; I will gladly give her any of my rights to children. Besides, you have seen how well I can care for potted greenery; can you imagine how horrible I would do with living things that can move freely being dependent on me for their survival?'

"She said that she never did have the patience for the courtship rituals of any culture and would often tell stories of some of the oddest examples. Apparently," she placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Kurapika before reseating herself to indulge in her own, "your mother would beat up your father on an almost daily basis until one day your father made a preemptive strike but traded fists for lips. It was Vaela's favorite story of bizarre courtship and at one point she let slip that the villagers had a running bet on how long it would take for them to get married."

Kurapika had not heard that story since before his aunt had died suddenly and he could hear her laughing as she would tell him the story much to his mother's consternation and protests. Then he remembered that he had basically beat the crap out of Kuroro the first time they met only to have his first kiss stolen by the same man. Deciding it was better to keep that bit of information to himself so Mrs. Bellecourte did not get the wrong idea about their relationship, he halfway wondered if he took after his mother in more ways than he would care to admit. Realizing that would mean that more than his body was attracted to that man, he did his best to banish that thought from his mind.

"Then one morning I found myself woken up in the oddest of ways. The little shit broke into my apartment and pounced on me before the ass crack of dawn. She was so excited that she did not even bother to try and repress her heritage.

"Well, being woken up from a sound sleep to a dark room with just glowing red eyes you can probably guess that I damn near pissed my sheets."

Kurapika could not help but laugh a bit for he had seen his aunt pull that exact stunt on his mother on more than one occasion. Though he was fairly certain that Mrs. Bellecourte did not try to launch the offending body out the window immediately afterwards.

"Once I finally realized that it was her, she 'graciously' let me get up and dressed while she made some tea for us. Though to this day I have never tasted something so gawdawfully disgusting that I was surprised a hazmat team did not show up to contain a toxic spill."

Mrs. Bellecourte gave a soft chuckle, "Needless to say. That was the last time I have ever let anyone touch something in my kitchen.

"When I was finally able to string a sentence together she shared that she had just heard from your mother and that she was going to be getting a nephew." She shook her head at the memory, "'Vaela,' I asked her, 'I thought you came from a forest village with no real technology! How can you possibly know if you are getting a nephew or a niece?'

"She just laughed in her way that could just light up a room before telling me that your mother had always wanted a son and had such a stubborn determination that even if they conceived a girl she would be getting a nephew." She nudged his leg with her knee, "And here you are. She never once doubted your gender, you know."

The redhead sighed and leaned heavily on her elbows, "Then came the bad news, at least for me. She was going to return to your village; said that if you turned out anything like your mother then the entire clan was going to need an extra pair of hands to keep you contained.

"And then she confessed that because she did not succeed in finding a potential mate that she would never be allowed to leave the village again. But she was okay with that; it showed in how she said that 'nothing can call someone home quite like family'.

"The only thing she said she would regret would be that she would be forbidden to tell you about her experiences with the outside. And in order to keep you from asking about it and having to deny you she would have to act like she never left."

After a moment of silence she stood up and motioned Kurapika to follow her, "Come with me, I want to show you something."

She led him to the nearby conservatory turned greenhouse and closed the glass doors behind them. The room was filled with lush plants, mostly herbs and vegetables but Kurapika saw some decorative flowers mixed in. An automated watering system and hothouse controls kept the room humid and several of the waxy leafed plants had condensation constantly beading and rolling off onto the floor. The once marble floor had been ripped out and a refined concrete had been poured, the floor gently sloped towards neatly hidden drains to keep the water from pooling and causing mold.

Partway in he stopped in surprise as he saw herbs and plants that could only be found deep in the forests of the Lusko Provence. And displayed proudly on a mounted shelf on the wall behind was a series of pots that his aunt had made, though he had been coerced into helping paint the glaze on, when he was five.

"I see you found one of the things I wanted to show you. It seems that you remember them." Mrs. Bellecourte had a kindly smile at his surprise, "Vaela said that she wanted to send me these plants before you became old enough to require bribing. The note she included with those transplants assured me that even though she had a 'black thumb', the forest loved you so much that it would do whatever you asked it to; even if it was just to survive and thrive outside of bounds of your territory."

Kurapika barely remembered that his aunt had told him to encourage the plants to grow strong while potting them. He had just thought that it was a way to get a child to talk to plants in order to encourage the exchange of carbon to help the roots establish themselves. Whether it was the science behind it or if the forest responded to his request as his aunt said, the plants did indeed survive and had thrived so much in the artificial environment that they would rival their cousins back in the forest if not for their containers stunting their growth.

He reached out and picked up one of the small pots and brushed his fingers over the design with a small smile. "She wanted me to help her glaze these but would get so mad at me when I would try to 'force' the design. Every time I would spend too long focusing on a line she would crack me over the head with her brush and give me a lecture on how things cannot be forced but allowed to flow freely. She was so adamant that the most beautiful things were never meant to conform to someone else's views but allowed to 'just happen'. Whether it was art, music, even relationships, nothing should be forced into a 'must' and 'must not', for something made through force is not its true nature."

Kurapika blinked at his own admission as he realized that he was doing just that with his relationship with Kuroro. He believed that he 'must not' allow himself to have a particular relationship with the man who caused so much destruction. His body wanted Kuroro and, even though he tried to deny it, he longed for that sense of warmth and protection that he had felt when waking up in Kuroro's arms at the lakeshore.

And yet, he could never be with someone he could not trust. On top of that he was certain that Kuroro did not know the true meaning of love let alone how to love someone other than himself; and a loveless relationship was hollow and unfulfilling.

He put the piece of pottery back and found his resolve. He would not force that he 'must' remain completely untrusting of Kuroro if he proved worthy. Nor would he force the fact that he 'must not' let Kuroro through his walls; though he would not open them willingly for the man. Thanks to the wisdom of his late aunt he became determined to allow what will happen to happen without encouragement or denial; at least as well as he could for old habits died hard.

Mrs. Bellecourte broke his musing with a laugh, "That definitely sounds like our Vaela.

"Over the years she sent me many things, though usually just letters and stories about all the trouble you got in to; sometimes she would include photographs and every once in a while a painting, drawing or other artwork. She even made sure to send me a copy of every recipe she could get her hands on, though held me to a promise that I would never use those recipes unless I found someone worthy or deserving; and of course, never tell anyone where the recipe came from. Even though she was unable to send the items herself she had made a secret deal with one of the men who would go in to town for supplies in order to keep in contact with me even though I would never be able to reply.

"Her letters never failed to find me, even after I graduated as a culinary master and was hired to work here by the previous master of the estate."

She then handed a yellowing photograph to Kurapika, "This was one of the last things I got from her."

The blond looked at a much younger version of himself covered in what looked like a type of batter and wearing a look that clearly stated 'that was not supposed to happen'. He laughed in embarrassment as he relived the memory. "That looks like the incident that got me permanently banned from the kitchen without supervision."

Mrs. Bellecourte just watched him amusedly, lips pressed together to keep from laughing, "Mhmm."

"She told you didn't she."

"Mhmm."

"What? I was not yet able to multitask efficiently and got distracted partway through which caused me to lose my place."

"Mhmm."

"It was an honest mistake!"

"Vaela mentioned something about you mixing up saltpeter with salt. And. Pepper."

"I was seven!"

Giggles could no longer be contained, "And just how does a seven year old gain access to saltpeter?"

Kurapika huffed slightly in indignation, "By being overly curious, observant and able to get through a window that was supposed to be too small for a cat to pass through.

"A better question would be why a sequestered and peaceful village in the middle of nowhere would even have saltpeter stockpiled."

"Had you not… how did you put it… 'gotten distracted and lost your place', what had you intended to accomplish?"

"Mother and Aunt Vaela's birthday was coming up so I wanted to make a cake and I had found a recipe for fireworks in one of father's books that I was not supposed to read. Since I was still deemed 'too young' to do any baking by myself I decided to try and do it all at once while my parents slept. You can see how well that went."

"And just why were you not supposed to read such a book?"

Kurapika muttered, "Because I might get 'ideas'" out of the side of his mouth and could not look Mrs. Bellecourte in the eye. As he handed the photograph back to her he added, "Never could get all of the batter off of the ceiling," under his breath.

The redhead just laughed freely. She was pleased that there were signs that the mischievous little boy she had read so much about was still there, just hidden under layers in order to protect himself. She had made a promise to her dear departed friend to watch over him the moment she saw him enter the estate and quietly reaffirmed it for her own benefit.

Deep grief passed over his features as he relinquished his grasp of the photograph. Before she could ask he quietly whispered, "We… we had to bury her a week after that was taken."

Even though she had already mourned her dear friend the news shook Mrs. Bellecourte to her core. Kurapika stared at the floor as he continued quietly, "They found her in a river past the outskirts of the village and it was deemed an accident. Aunt Vaela may have been many things, but reckless was not one of them. Carefree, yes; careless, no. But it does not matter now, the only ones who can say for certain what happened that day are long dead and buried."

He had not meant to speak so freely about something so close to him, even if it was someone who knew his aunt well. However, once the words started he found himself unable to staunch the flow.

"Mum took it hard, but showed it in a different way. She refused to internalize her grief and instead chose to focus it outwards, 'burn brighter' she called it. Some of the older villagers took her attitude that she was glad her twin was dead and made no effort to be quiet about it in front of me, as if they wanted me to find her abhorrent.

"When I asked her about the things they would say she laughed and told me to ignore the old farts who did not know anything about things they did not understand. Mum then got quiet and said that since Aunt Vaela was unable to live her life like she was supposed to, she would just have to live well enough for the both of them."

Unable, and unwilling, to see such a sad expression coming from the teen she pulled him into a comforting hug. He tensed but did not resist for even though it was different from his memories of his mother, she still exuded a mother's comfort. Something he had spent the past six years refusing to admit that he missed.

"Oh dearie," Mrs. Bellecourte exhaled as she held him; "I can never replace your family, nor will I try; but you are not alone here. If ever you want to talk about your past, or get lost in the good memories you can come to me. I, for one, would love to share stories and memories I have of your aunt.

"And of course maybe get a first person explanation for some of the photographs she sent my way."

Eventually she released him with a deep sigh. "Well, it seems that while it does not excuse his actions, I have unjustly held Him accountable for two deaths he was not responsible for."

"There is something I do not understand about that whole situation," Kurapika asked hesitantly, as if he was embarrassed or unsure he wanted to know the answer. "When Kuroro told me that he had a small staff that knew about his… other position and kept his secret, I did not know what to expect. But whatever it was I believed I was going to encounter, it was not… this.

"The four of you seem so normal, and kind. Knowing what he has done, how can you stay with him?"

She tucked an errant lock behind her ear while she figured out how best to put it. "I guess the simplest answer is that he keeps that part of his life separate from this one. The whole truth is, of course, much more complex.

"The life of a servant, indentured or otherwise, is never an easy one. The prior master of this estate was cruel and abusive, someone who had been born into an affluent situation and did not believe that people who were of a lower social class should actually be considered humans. My Stephan took most of the physical abuse to protect those who could not handle it, for he did not care whether or not his servants died.

"Then one day the old master came back to the estate with Master Levi and told us that he had lost the rights to the estate and everyone and everything inside of it and that Master Levi now owned us. The old master was basically kicked out onto the street with just the clothes on his back and most of the staff rejoiced.

"Bastard got served a righteous dose of poetic justice if you ask me.

"Master Levi then told us that he was a very private person who would only keep those he could trust absolutely with his secrets. Those who did not want to stay in his employ or could not keep secrets would be released from his service and he would arrange for them to find work elsewhere if they required it. Most of the staff left that day, unwilling to stay in a place that held such horrid memories.

"My Stephan loves this estate and refused to leave it, just as I refuse to leave his side, so at that point our decision was easy to make. Anri felt that he had nowhere else to go since he was already past his prime. Victoria was young enough that she gained something of an idol-complex towards Master Levi and would do anything he asked of her without hesitation.

"The poor girl. She is so infatuated with the man that she cannot see that he holds no interest in her past her ability to do her job well. Master Levi is an intelligent and sophisticated man and needs someone who can keep pace with him; not a star struck child whose head is filled with fluff from fashion magazines and gossip columns. Still, she keeps trying; like she expects her life to take on a Cinderella ending."

Mrs. Bellecourte fussed with the shoulder seams of his shirt for a moment as she continued, "There were two others who stayed on. They were both gossiping layabouts and I got the feeling that Master Levi had expected them to leave but was not surprised they stayed.

"When everything had been sorted out and it was just him and the remaining staff on the estate he called us together and laid everything out as simple and as straightforward as possible. He told us what he expected from us as well as what we could expect from him.

"The other two turned hysterical, one tried to run away while the other thought he had let his guard down since he seemed to be reading a book while talking to us and tried to attack him. The shadows in the room came alive and…" she looked nauseated as she remembered, "…and ate them.

"Master Levi then closed his book and both it and the shadow monsters disappeared. He told us that he had expected something similar from them but did not believe that he would have to do such things to us. So long as we followed his simple and minimal rules and did not blab his secrets or get nosy about how or where he acquired some of the items he would be bringing back to the estate then we would have nothing to worry about. For we did not work for Kuroro Lucifer but Levi Kristo, a solitary and eccentric businessman who tended to spend long intervals traveling abroad.

"And somehow he has managed to keep his word about keeping those two worlds separate. For our part Master Levi is a lenient master who lets us do pretty much as we please so long as it does not go against the few rules he has.

"And that's that. Though I do not know if that helps you since you seem to be straddling both of his worlds."

Kurapika shrugged, "It at least gives me something to think about."

A beeping sound then came from Mrs. Bellecourte's pocket. "Ah, that would be my cue to return to the kitchen to finish preparing lunch. You, of course, are free to do what you want. And that includes coming down to the kitchen whenever you wish for some conversation or reminiscing."

She squeezed his shoulder in a kindly way before leaving the room. As she closed the glass doors behind her an amused baritone broke into her thoughts, "Is there anything in particular that you said for him to have such a distant look?"

The redhead jumped then swatted the offender, not caring that it was her employer. "Don't do that to an old woman Master Levi. You're liable to have to find a new cook sooner than later if you keep scaring years off of me!"

She turned to look through the glass doors and saw Kurapika carefully bruising a leaf, his expression one of someone lost in fond memories.

"You know the home that you took away from him?" She did not wait to see if he would reply, "I just gave him a piece of it back."

Mrs. Bellecourte then gave him a look that reminded Kuroro of a cat that had turned into a ball of hissing fluff in order to appear more threatening than it actually was as she poked a finger into his sternum. "I swear on everything holy in this world that if you ever do anything to hurt that boy any more than you already have, a year's worth of incinerated meals will be the least of your concerns."

Kuroro just raised his hands in mock surrender, "I would not dream of it, madam."

He then silently watched his pet and felt a strange warmth growing in his chest as his blond continued to run his fingers of various plants with a gentle smile. Kuroro wondered if the strange feeling meant that he was getting sick.

He decided to avoid asking Mrs. Bellecourte about it just in case she had that 'mother's sixth sense' that would let her know he was ill before he asked. He did not think that he would do well to be on the receiving end of her fussing like she did to his pet.

Kuroro was so busy watching his pet that he failed to see the knowing smile Mrs. Bellecourte wore as she slipped away to the kitchen; confident that she would not need to follow through on her threat.