Chapter 2 - Eden Serviteurs
Eden Serviteurs
William closed the bathroom door and pressed his back against it, Adathan’s words echoing in his head. He stared blankly at a piece of lint on the immaculate white tiles, doing his best to swallow his rising panic and focus on the problem at hand.
There was always a solution to everything. He just needed to find it.
He took a few controlled breaths, the scent of peppermint cleaner stirring bittersweet memories of his grandma. It was her favorite herbal tea.
She used to say it improved memory and concentration, which William had firmly believed to be true back then. To him, she was the smartest person in the world. She would sit down with a warm cup and complete her crossword puzzle in the time it took for William to watch The Lion King.
In the end, it hadn’t changed a thing. Dementia had ravaged her brain all the same and stolen her from him.
Patience had never been William’s strong suit, but the year leading to her death had been a brutal, eye-opening lesson. As she started forgetting who he was, he realized: nobody chooses to be vulnerable.
Although he’d wanted nothing but to hide in a closet and scream at the universe, he’d kept on supporting her. Because despite his crushing discomfort and shattered heart, she was the victim.
William let out a long, calming breath, and focused back on the present. He could do this. He’d done it before.
First, he’d take care of Adathan’s basic needs. He’d order room service and make sure Adathan was comfortable. Then, he’d do everything in his power to make him feel safe.
William smoothed his hair and left the bathroom, hiding his discomfort behind a friendly smile.
He found Adathan standing in the same spot, except his box and its contents were now neatly spread across the dining table.
William glanced at them, relieved to find out that Adathan had a toothbrush and a few extra clothes.
He couldn’t help noticing how Adathan had angled the manual, though—like he wanted him to read it.
“Are you hungry?” William asked. He needed no fucking manual to take care of a human being.
Adathan cocked his head. “Do you want me to be?”
“The hell?” William blurted. “Sorry. Sorry. What I want,” he said in a gentler voice, “is for you to tell me if you’re hungry or not.”
Adathan nodded. “I am.”
“Okay.” He took out his phone and opened the hotel app. “I’ll order us something to eat. What do you like?”
“The same as you, William.”
William’s fingers tensed around his phone, but he kept his features neutral as he browsed the options.
He spotted a tasting menu for two, which was expensive as fuck, but it would give Adathan a variety to choose from.
It seemed like a safe bet. “All right. I ordered some food. The app says it should be here in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, William. I took my accessories out of the box in case you wanted to inspect them, but I can put them back in if you would rather do something else.”
William ignored the tight squeeze of apprehension in his stomach as he walked closer to the table. At a glance, Adathan’s accessories seemed to comprise basic hygiene products, a change of clothes, some kind of . . . collar?
“What’s this?” William thought aloud.
Adathan stepped closer. “It’s for you to tether me when you go out.”
“And this?” William asked, gesturing at what looked like a complete BDSM kit.
“It’s for you to discipline me when I’ve been bad,” Adathan said matter-of-factly.
“Okay,” William snapped, shaking his head in disbelief.
“We’re not gonna need this. We’re not gonna need any of this.
” He snatched every object that was designed with the sole purpose of harming or humiliating Adathan and shoved them into the first trash can in sight.
“This is bullshit. You’re a person, not a dog.
We’ll get you a job, and I’ll help you find an apartment. ”
“That won’t be possible, William.”
William gritted his teeth. “What do you mean it won’t be possible?”
“I mean that I can’t do those things.” Adathan rolled up his sleeve and presented his forearm, which was tattooed with a large barcode. “I can behave like a person if this is what you want, but I can’t be one. I’m sorry, William.”
William’s heart broke at the genuine sadness in Adathan’s voice.
A barcode tattoo wasn’t an issue on its own—they were all the rage a few decades ago.
Adathan had obviously been told otherwise, though, and William doubted he currently had the energy to muster enough tact to challenge his belief.
“Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. ”
“You’re very kind, William.”
William miraculously refrained from commenting. For all Adathan knew, he was a serial killer.
“So, these are your things,” William said, focusing his attention back on Adathan’s possessions.
“Yes,” Adathan said as he subtly, not-so-subtly, slid his fingers toward the instruction manual. Was it so obvious that William had no idea what the fuck he was doing?
William startled as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, immense relief washing over him as he saw his best friend’s name on the screen.
? Oliver: I just saw the news, congratulations! What was the grand prize mister big shot? :D
? William: I need help
William’s phone immediately rang. He threw an apologetic glance at Adathan and rushed out of the room, answering the call as he went.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Oliver asked.
“They gave me a person,” William whispered as he leaned against the corridor wall and slid into a crouch.
“Huh?”
“The prize,” he hissed. “Remember the ridiculous rumor about people being trained all their lives to serve rich dudes? It wasn’t a rumor.”
“Are you drunk?”
“I’m not drunk!” William said a little too loud. He wished he were. Drinking sounded perfect right now. He’d raid the mini-bar as soon as he set foot back into his room. “I swear I’m telling the truth, man. I don’t know what to do.”
“They gave you a person? For real?”
“Yes!”
“And you accepted?”
William’s hair stood on end as a surge of shame hit him. “Dude. If I refused, they were going to give him to Richard.”
“Leclerc?” Oliver asked with audible disdain.
“Yeah. You should have seen the way he was looking at him. His name is Adathan, by the way. He’s a whole damn person, but he thinks he isn’t.
He’s so brainwashed. He keeps trying to make me read his fucking instruction manual.
He has an instruction manual! This is so fucked up. Surely I’m dreaming.”
“Okay, calm down. We’ll find a solution. I’ll do some research—what’s the company called again?”
“I don’t know, but they call him a Serviteur. It’s French for servant.”
“Right, I remember now. It might be difficult for me to find anything with just that one word, though. You said he has an instruction manual? Can you find the company name and send it to me?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”
“We’ll figure this out, all right?”
“It’s so fucked up, man,” William whispered, his throat tightening at the thought of going back.
“He has a box with . . . with . . . things. They call them deluxe accessories. There was a collar for me to tether him, he said. Like he’s a fucking dog.
And a torture kit, too. He said it was to discipline him when he’s bad. ”
“Shit. That’s sick.”
“You should have seen his face when I asked him . . . when . . . when—”
“Hey. William. It’s okay. You won’t be using them, right? They can’t hurt him anymore.”
“I put it all in the trash.”
“Good. See? He’s safe with you.”
“B-but I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“You can. It’ll be okay. Just treat him like you’d treat a friend until we figure this out.”
William huffed a humorless laugh. “We both know I’m a shitty friend.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah. Whatever,” William muttered.
“We’ll find a solution, I promise. Just stay calm. He’s safe with you. It’s the only thing that matters right now.”
William sighed. “Yeah. I’ll . . . go back. Thanks, man.” He hung up and dragged his hand across his face.
Safe. Adathan was safe with him. William just had to treat him like a friend.
No. He’d treat him like Oliver would.
Yes. That might just work.
William headed back to his room with a faint spark of optimism, only to realize he’d forgotten to take the keycard. “Shit,” he hissed at the door. Would it be weird to knock? Would Adathan answer? Was he even allowed to?
He sighed and knocked on the door, nearly jumping out of his skin as it immediately opened. “Hey, sorry about that, buddy,” William said, dying a little inside. He was so bad at this. “My friend needed urgent advice about something.”
Adathan smiled as he held the door for him.
His accessories were no longer on the table—and neither was the box—which made the instruction manual stand out against the polished surface.
It felt unbearably wrong to read it, but with how insistent Adathan had been, it would be a real asshole move not to.
Or would it?
What would Oliver do?
Oliver had always shown an interest in the new people he met.
He’d ask them a bunch of questions to get them to talk about themselves and would listen to every word they said with a smile.
The crazy part was that he genuinely cared.
William had never understood it, but he was grateful for having witnessed it so many times before; now all he had to do was replicate Oliver’s behavior.
“So, Adathan,” William said as he sat down at the table, motioning for Adathan to take a seat across from him.
Adathan sat, his back straight and his hands on his knees, holding William’s gaze with an unwavering smile.
“Do you . . .” William began, taking a few seconds to sort through his thoughts. How was he supposed to make small talk with a brainwashed slave? “Is this, uh . . . your first time?” Fuck. That sounded so wrong.