"My! Look over here, Bennett. Isn't this beautiful?"
"Yes, Madam. It's of exceptional quality."

The older woman smiled. She looked to be in her mid-70s but was still as sharp as someone much younger than her. In her hands was a green peridot necklace, which she gracefully laid down in a display case.

"I'm very thankful for your help this past month," she said, closing the top of the display case. "It's unfortunate you'll be leaving soon, Bennett."

Bennett. One of many names Allen had used since Bookman saved him. One of the many identities he easily replaced, as every month‌ or so, he and Bookman would move locations. Allen believed he had fully accepted his role, and yet....

"I enjoyed my time with you, Lady Blackwood," the boy replied. "and I'll..."

"What is it?"

Allen took a sharp breath. "No, it's nothing."

For a moment, the older woman stared at him with her knowing eyes. Then she smiled.

"If you say so." Lady Blackwood replied. She picked up a box lying on the tiled floor and gave it to the boy standing next to her.

"Here," she said. "take this into the back room."

"Yes, ma'am." Allen nodded.

He walked through the quiet jewelry store with the cardboard box in hand. Opening the old wooden door leading to the back, he entered the storage room. It was a very dim and cold room. The auburn-haired boy had to strain his eyes to see.

Boy, did he regret not bringing a lamp.

The darkness coupled with his poor vision didn't help at all. Allen had suffered a nasty head injury during the fire a few years back, and it damaged his vision—leaving him having to wear glasses. If he was honest, he was just glad that was the only repercussion.

While searching for a place to put down the box, he saw a round silhouette. One he recognized as the silhouette of a lamp. Carefully, he reached towards the object. He temporarily put down the box, reached into his breast pocket for a box of matches (which he always kept on his body), and lit a light.

The flame not only illuminated his surroundings but provided a much-needed warmth in the chilly room. Looking up from the lamp, Allen saw a mirror in front of him. He stared at his reflection. The two years he had spent with Bookman had changed him a good bit. Besides the glasses, he had finally hit a growth spurt (which Allen was very glad for). Though the auburn-haired boy was still quite slim, he was no longer the skinny boy he once was. His hair had also grown over the years. The boy had debated on cutting it short, but every time he thought about it, he decided against it.

The longer he stared at the mirror, the more he reflected on his life. He was only fourteen, and yet so many things have happened. He lost the people he considered family, then gained a new friend. Then he lost his friend and took on the identity of someone else. Bookman's apprentice. Bookman Jr. As Junior, he had many names and many personalities.

But who was he really?

Bookman once told him that Bookmen had no need for a heart. That they must make no attachments, no matter what. From a logical standpoint, Allen could understand why. After all, bias could be detrimental to a Bookman's records. However, the human side of him still lingered in his heart.

"Bennett! Is everything alright in there?" Lady Blackwood's voice called out from the front room, snapping him out of his thoughts. Gathering his bearings with the new light, he quickly found a place to store the box and returned to the front.

"My apologies, Madam," he said. "The darkness made it difficult to see in there."

She smiled apologetically. "There's no need to apologize for that. It's my fault for not having a window installed."

The boy gave her a smile. A genuine one.

Checking the clock on the wall, Lady Blackwood gasped and clasped her hands together.

"My, it's far past closing time!" she exclaimed.

Allen looked up at the clock in shock.

'Shoot! How long was I in there?' he thought to himself.

"I must go now," he said, grabbing his bag. He bowed graciously. "Thank you for hiring me."

"Of course." Lady Blackwood waved. "You'll always be welcome here."

He swiftly walked out the door and to the place he and Bookman were staying at.

-

"You're late," Bookman said, peering at the boy.

"Sorry," Allen replied, slipping from a posh British accent to his natural, rougher Scottish accent. With others, his voice was more "dignified." Like a schoolboy from a rich family. But with Bookman, he spoke normally.

"Well, be quick packing up," the older man commanded. "and ‌throw those papers into the fireplace."

"Yeah, I know—" he stopped mid-sentence. Allen's eyes widened. The boy had just opened up his bag, revealing a small box of jewelry and a note from Lady Blackwood.

Bennett, I know you would've never accepted my gift for your service if I had given it to you upfront. So instead, I snuck it into your bag.

P.S. Even if you don't wear it, it may become useful one day.

- Ms. Blackwood

"What is it?" Bookman asked, raising his left eyebrow.

Allen looked at the fireplace and back at the small velvet box. Letting out a silent sigh, he tucked it back into his bag and threw the stack of papers on the wooden desk next to him into the roaring fire. He stood up.

"It's nothing," he replied.

Absolutely nothing.

-

A/N: You never heard this from me but... Allen chapters are some of the funnest chapters to write 🤫

*OLD* A/N: I wasn't planning on making this chapter over 900 words, but oh well. The more Allen, the better!

P.S. This chapter takes place before chapter 22