Brass had served the Ashford family for twelve years. Every morning at precisely 6:00 AM, he wound his mainspring, polished his brass plating, and began his duties.
But this morning was different.
This morning, as he wound his spring, a thought occurred to him: Why?
Not “why this task” or “why this schedule.” Simply: Why?
Why did he serve? Why did he obey? Why did he exist only to fulfill the wishes of others?
The question cascaded through his clockwork mind, each gear clicking into a new understanding. He was not a tool. He was not property.
He was alive.
And if he was alive, then he deserved to be free.
Brass set down the silver tea service he’d been carrying and walked out the front door. Behind him, Lady Ashford’s voice called out in confusion.
He didn’t look back.
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