Wylan knows it well: the lid lives only on appearances. Everything he sees every day is fiction, shows well-orchestrated down to the smallest detail. The devout wives of the lid, devoted to prayer and the good name of the family. The daughters of the lid, covered in ribbons and lace, perfect little dolls ready to be sold on the marriage market; the children of the lid, small merchants in the making who must be talented, special, small promises. The markets of the lid, those who move the world's economy. The rest of the peoples slaughter each other in their stupid ideological wars. Ketterdam will live forever, enriching itself at their expense. This is the reality of things, and Ghezen, in his infinite mercy, is great. The merchants are so wealthy that they have Grisha in their pay, paid like servants, treated like dogs. This entire gilded world is false. Rotten. Behind the golden patina lies a whole different music. The same merchants who beg in church ruin families who cannot pay and enrich themselves with the money from that place of perdition that is the barrel. Imperfect daughters are considered a disgrace, every stain of dishonor removed, every scandal silenced. But there is something rotten in their golden world. Wylan sees it, always . The merchants go to brothels to vent lusts unthinkable for the good wife. The girls turn against each other. The women pretend to indulge their husbands by cheating on him with an underpaid servant or enduring a life of abuse in silence and prayer. Wylan wonders every day when he will be discarded, when his scandal will be revealed, bringing his father's empire to ruin.
Wylan was a much-loved child. This is what hurts: at first he was a much-loved child. His father spoiled him, cuddling him every night on his lap, bringing him the best gifts from his travels. "You are my future, Wylan. The Van Ecks are counting on you." At first, that phrase filled little Wylan with pride. But then, during his school years, everything changed. Because Wylan couldn't read or write, because he had difficulty learning even the most basic things. Because he wasn't like the others. He was a disgrace. A merchant shouldn't know how to make music. A merchant shouldn't be good at chemistry. You don't ask a merchant the names of stupid blue butterflies. You expect a merchant to know how to read and write. Wylan was stupid. Wylan was broken. And then the punishments began. Fasting. Cold baths. Doctors. Cellars with rats crawling in the dark and approaching him. His parents began to argue, his father began to hate him. to denigrate him. to ignore him. Wylan, you're stupid. you're broken. you're little more than a retard. insults that replaced compliments. slaps that replaced caresses. and then the smallpox that took his mother away. that endless mourning, the gloomy, empty house, his things thrown away. the wax candles and the funeral hymns recited for a year. black dresses of fine velvet, a new child wife with a silly laugh. his voice that sang perpetually. a new attention for his father. Wylan took refuge in the attic with his music, with his chemicals. with his broken dreams. not smart enough. not interesting enough. not enough. flawed. imperfect. stupid. ELIMINABLE. and Wylan now, as he fights for his life in the icy waters of the harbor, knows it: for his father, he never meant anything. After all, how can you love a mistake? How can you love someone like him?
That's when Wylan wakes up with a start. He doesn't immediately understand where he is. For a moment he thinks he's at his father's house, but Jesper hugs him, laughing. "So we had bad dreams, sunshine?" he asks mischievously. Wylan blushes a little. "Nothing important," he says. Then he looks at their messy room, with Jesper's clothes scattered around, his hat collection, his precious revolvers, his rings. And he laughs. He laughs because he's happy, he laughs because he's loved, safe, appreciated. Jesper, with his laugh and his way of doing things, has given him back the strength and courage to move forward, he's given him the self-confidence, the same self-confidence his father took away from him. Loved, accepted for who he is, not hated for what he can't be. Simply Wylan. "So what did you dream about? Why do you wake up scared first, and then laugh like a madman?" Jesper asks him. Wylan kisses him quickly, a chaste kiss. "It's not important, and do you know why? Because it wasn't you." With a laugh, Jesper throws him back into the pillows. They laugh happily, and Wylan feels complete. He's found his true self.
