In early winter, the room was extremely cold, but I lay in the snow-white warm bedding, feeling exhausted and not wanting to get up. But I knew I had to, as the wake-up bell had just rung. It was 5 o'clock in the morning, and I had to get dressed within 20 minutes and go downstairs to have breakfast with the other servants.

I was a lower-level male servant in the Mormont Manor.

Quickly putting on my shirt and vest, I washed my face with cold water and put on the silver-white wig. On the hanger was a black and white striped male servant's coat that I had ironed straight before going to bed last night. I carefully put it on, wearing white gloves and sheepskin high-heeled shoes. Looking at myself in the mirror, I appeared refreshed and energetic.

When leaving the room, I met Simon, who lived next door. We didn't even have time to say hello before we hurried to the servants' dining room.

The lobby downstairs was bustling with people. A lower-level maid with coal ash on her white apron was lighting the fireplace, and a choking smell permeated the air. It was the smoke produced when damp firewood was ignited. The maid was obviously new and inexperienced in lighting a high-end fireplace.

The housekeeper Selena hurried over in disbelief and exclaimed, "Oh my God! Why are you so stupid? You're driving me crazy. How did you make all this smoke? Do you want the masters to be unable to have breakfast because of it? Open the window for ventilation, and you guys come over to light the fireplace for her." She directed a few maids to help.

Selena was the housekeeper of the entire Mormont Manor. She was over 40 years old, with neatly combed brown hair in a bun, and always wore a plain black dress with no pattern. She had a serious personality and rarely smiled. Sometimes, she was very strict. Under her stern gaze, many people were even afraid to speak, like the lower-level maid who had just made a mistake, shaking with fear in front of Selena.

When I stepped into the servants' dining room, it was already full of people. On both sides of the long table, there were three or four male servants dressed like me, as well as more than ten maids wearing light pink cotton skirts. I sat in my seat and waited quietly for the arrival of the head housekeeper of Mormont Manor.

As a lower-level male servant, my seat was at the end, and Simon, also a lower-level male servant, sat next to me. At this moment, he whispered to me that a new maid across from us was very pretty. The buzz on the dining table disappeared instantly when the head housekeeper, Aaron, walked in. Everyone stood up and waited for him to sit in the main seat at the long table.

Aaron had been serving in the Mormont Manor for nearly forty years, from a young man with black hair to an elderly man with white hair. It was said that his family had been the head housekeepers of the Mormont Manor since his grandfather's time. Now.

At this moment, suddenly a bell rang. Two rows of bells hung on the snow-white walls, with fine wires connecting them. One of the bells was shaking.

The housekeeper Selena stood up and said, "Madam has woken up. Now bring up the coffee."

The two personal maids of the lady immediately put down the utensils and hurriedly ran to the kitchen.

The servants in front of the dining table left one by one. Simon and I went to the main dining room, folded the white printed tablecloth on the long table neatly, put it in a basket, and then took out a newly dried tablecloth and carefully covered it on the table.

There were some wrinkles on the white tablecloth, so I quickly ironed it with a kettle of boiling water until it was completely flat.

"You're too slow. Haven't you finished yet?" Two senior footmen came in carrying a small table for placing silverware.

"It's done," I said, taking away the kettle.

The two senior footmen arranged the silverware in an orderly manner.

"What are you still doing here? Go do what you should be doing!" One of the senior footmen looked at me and Simon coldly and said.

Simon stood aside, wanting to learn how they placed the tableware, but unfortunately, the senior footmen did not want us to learn anything we shouldn't know, so they drove us away indifferently.

Simon and I had to go to the kitchen. The kitchen was very lively. The head chef was a tall man with a big belly. He gave orders like a king, letting the kitchen maids assist him. The freshly cooked food had already been placed on silver plates, steaming with fragrance and covered with shiny silver lids.

I took the tray and walked out of the kitchen, standing straight at the entrance of the main dining room, waiting to hand over the food after the hosts sat down.

Simon also stood by my side with a silver tray, whispering complaints about the two senior footmen just now.

"What's so great about them? They are too arrogant."

"Shh, speak quietly, we might be overheard," I said.

"Someday I will become the personal footman of a viscount," Simon said.

"When you become a personal footman, you need to know how to read," I whispered."I am learning how to spell. Uncle John helped me buy a book a while ago," Simon said, looking out the grey window. "The weather doesn't look good. Are you going home today?"

"I asked Aaron, the butler, for half a day off three months ago. Rain or shine, I have to go back," I replied.

"What for? To give all your hard-earned money to your alcoholic mother?" Simon sneered. "You'd be better off buying a new pair of shoes."

I looked down at my worn leather high heels. Despite my careful cleaning, the shoes had visible wear and tear at the edges. This was not respectable, and if the head butler Aaron found out, he might kick me out of Mammon Manor, embarrassed by my shabby appearance.

"I'll have a craftsman fix them," I said, looking at the shoes. My socks were also worn out and needed to be replaced.

With my old shoes, patched shirt, and worn-out socks, I looked much more pathetic than in my past life, when I had just become a junior male servant at Mammon Manor, proud and ambitious. I had spent all my wages on decent clothes, books to learn spelling and arithmetic, and bribes for senior servants to teach me etiquette.

Finally, the rushed day came to an end, and I walked down a country road with a basket of bread baked by the cook.

Yorkshire in early winter was desolate. Tall weeds covered the ground, and one or two shepherds drove their sheep along the path. Black-furred sheep grazed leisurely on grass, and a mongrel dog chased them around.

I took a deep breath and exhaled a lot of white mist. My nose was probably red from the cold, and I was having trouble breathing. This feeling made me uncomfortable and reminded me of a similar pain in my memories. "

A man who had contracted severe typhoid fever lay on a dilapidated bed, breathing laboriously.

A priest stood by the bed and asked, "Are you Owen?"

The man gasped for air, his face pale and filled with fear as he looked at the priest and said with difficulty, "Father... why are you here? Are you here to administer the sacrament to me?"

The priest replied, "No, I'm not here to administer the sacrament to you. You will recover. I'm here just in case you want to make a confession or something. As a pastor, I always seize every opportunity to bring back my lost sheep."

There was a long silence as the man struggled to breathe and then nodded slightly.

The priest said, "God's mercy is boundless, my child. Please follow me and say, 'I confess to almighty God... and to the virgin Mary...'"

The priest paused from time to time to let the dying man catch up. Finally, he said, "Okay, now you can confess..."

The man murmured something, seemingly using all his strength.

"I deceived him, I betrayed him..."

The priest repeated, "You're guilty of deceiving others..."

The man's breathing became more and more urgent, and his body began to convulse. Large tears rolled down his face, and he kept repeating, "Deceived him, betrayed him..."

After a spasm, the man's breathing gradually stopped.

The priest placed a cross on the man's body and asked his neighbor, "Does he have any relatives?"

The neighbor replied, "I don't know. He always lived alone..."

...

A gust of cold wind blew, and I shivered, shaking off memories from my mind.

The icy grip of death still felt like yesterday.

I was not clear-headed, unsure if I was still dreaming.

I was a lost sheep, and I had committed a sin.

I didn't know if the Lord had forgiven me.

If He had, why did yesterday's events replay themselves?

If He hadn't, why let me come back with these memories...