Chereads / Shape of Darkness: The Moonlight's Touch / Chapter 18 - The Night to Be Alive

Chapter 18 - The Night to Be Alive

Another day on Earth, and still, Eve hadn't returned. Midnight arrives at the door on Wednesday, and only one house still stands partying despite the sleeping hours. It was a party that could be held only by someone so active behind the white-paved gates and above the hill.

The Carven's mansion lies on the Wellspring with limestone walls and a large pool on the corner facing the steep stone of this city. As the one leading the event, Dion brought everything fun into the show and hyped the house with the brightest rainbow.

Where he was gone was none of Eve and Cyrus' business to follow. He had already departed home and let the two authorize their autonomies on foreign land. Free as their gifted strength, they should be better off by what they have now. With everything set by the nails, Dion can finally arrange his free time alongside his friends on Earth.

"I fear the night would have been challenging with these rats scurrying off my table for an entire day. Or I could be wrong?" He and T-007 discuss their stories on the bench.

"Have you not looked at the mess around here? Even E-007 is more controlled in her drunken state than whatever this is." Said T-007 with an orange shirt adorned with a coconut leaf pattern and mango juice in his hand.

A few people looked up behind Dion's back with sweet words out of their tongue. Their compliments might be cheap, but their loyalties are unbroken and promising. The said "friends" dwindle in number in just an hour, scattering over the backyard. Will no one come to look over Dion for his rampant servants?

"Fear not! The great Carven had offered the everlasting amusement for us!" Said a boy so confident and so tall he didn't know where he laid his foot.

"Who are you to stand on that pillar?" Said Dion in his head with a fist held tightly.

"I suggest you took control of that guy before anyone here does."

They made a mess around his house and left stains that were difficult to recover. The name "rats" was never far from its holder, but Dion chose to keep them in this lonely mansion—regardless of how far they would boil his blood and stain his shoes. These shoes are the only thing that those rats see as valuable among the heap scraps that built their homes.

"Fireworks—" A boy was ready to throw a firework with crates behind the storage, only to be interrupted by Dion from the doorway with a hand pushing his chest.

"No, no, no! Keep that out of the house and don't let that hands of yours touching my family's decoration. This is not a toy—it's dangerous for my family's legacy to be wielded by anyone like you."

"Go play with this—thing instead." He offered him a snake-like thingy.

"Oh, such a considerate boy! Thanks, Dion!"

The night is young, and the trouble still haunts him. The guests drive Dion insane with their hands and feet touching things that belong to him more than they ever do to them. He felt a disgust he never felt before, trying his best to avoid conflict with his smirk.

"Aagh! What's with these people? Do they not know what a command is?"

"Rest assured, Dion. It's only a night around after hard work with a bunch of lazy crooks with no future—unlike me. If they want to party, then so be it..."

"Better to be here than above caring for pest myself. But now I had to held an entire pack? I'll fuckin burn this house any days..."

"Alright. Settle down, big boy. Nothing should ruin this beautiful shirt with such words. I've spent $8000 to get the—"

"Umph!" A girl bumps unknowingly behind him with a coffee.

It landed on her precious shirt, leaving such an unbearable sight in his eyes. Brown—as a turd, his white polo shirt was now a pig wrestler polo. The girl backed off with regret that her cup was above her head when everyone saw her pour the remains on her head.

"Sorry! I didn't meant to! I spilled it by surprise! No...!" She seeks redemption by equaling the punishment for herself. But she couldn't hold even one boiling drop over her hair without whining.

"That ain't a coffee you just spilled on me, did you? Did you know how expensive this shirt is??" He yelled.

Rage fills his head like a storm that is heading to this city. Unimpressed and unrest, his grip on the cup turns into a shattering ceramic on the floor as he turns everyone's attention to the pool with silence. The menacing sight of Dion belittles the girl's hope for mercy.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wouldn't dare to shame you, Dion! Please, don't hurt me..."

"Hurt you?? I'll do you worse! I'll—" Dion's head comes unglued. He let out a terrible roar at the girl that shatters even the party. His hand nearly gripped the girl by surprise until he looked forward.

As awkward as it seems, his frustration is unexpected. The music stopped, and the eyes looked at him sharply, cornering him at the center of his attention bitterly. Their gazes felt mocking to him, like they were watching him all this time and wondered how he would yell in such a tone for a girl in the crown of a benevolent king.

"Uh oh..." The witch rolls her eyes with a taunting smirk. Seeing Dion doomed himself fills her with a laugh.

"I'll give you a chance! I mean, you dare toss your coffee over your hair to make me look like a villain? Come off it, young lady, I'm hardly the judge and jury here. Honestly, there's plenty more coffee over there if you fancy a second go, alright?" He raises the girl by her arm with a smile and taps on the back.

"I'm sorry, Dion! I won't let it happen again!"

"Not as nice as your heart...tck! Tck!" He gave the girl a finger gun and a wink.

The crowd hit him with applause afterward, leaving Dion out of the trouble. But he still feels ashamed for leaving such an attitude on the table, prompting him to leave the pool to relieve his head and shirt with a clean one. He held a grudge against the girl for embarrassing him in front of everyone.

"Cursed woman." He murmurs deeply with resentment. But as he heard an electro genre at the speaker, he couldn't resist it.

Someone found the dancing floor and switched from cassette to EDM at the speaker. Sadly, a DJ was not found on the table to stir the music. So, as the opportunity arises, he strikes for the stairs and takes control of the music equipment himself.

"That's more like it...hehe...keep dancing." He uttered to himself while rolling a fast beat.

"Like what you did to me and my precious shirt? You must have enjoyed this, aren't you? You—"

"Dion, would you like to dance with us?" A group of well-mannered and dressed girls stand below him.

"Now that's a look I wouldn't throw up on! Come right here, ladies!" He uttered in a taunting tone.

He and the girls are dancing on the floor with the disco tiles, flashing colors and beats as others are glazed. Dion has a move with his feet and waist, impressing the girl with crazy. Once again, he caught the people's attention in the backyard for his dance.

"Yeah! Like what you see? This is what you called dance? Barely a move!" He taunted the boys with their girls.

It was not long until trouble came abruptly. It starts with a C and ends with up, and it is wet and cold—ready to fall anytime. It was too late for Dion to look behind for a girl passing by the crowds he gathered with his dance until she approached.

"Whoa! Hey! Urgh!" A girl slipped behind Dion, nearly slipping the second cup of water onto his shirt. Everyone gasped once again, and Dion froze with fury.

"S-sorry!"

"Take it easy, young lady. I think this night didn't need any more attention than ever..." Dion steps off hot-headed. His quarrel with the girl doubles than before.

He had more to replace that trashy shirt in his bedroom, but nothing could change his mind about the girl who shamelessly spilled at him and made fun of his politeness. He stood from the balcony for a wind from the west where the smell of dried leaves can replace the coffee scent.

"What a day to start my break! I hope that girl slipped and killed herself..." He pauses with a heavy look.

"Or just—wound herself? Bleed till she hurt for ruining my shirt and made me a joke."

"It's alright, Dion. You're changed and you've already got what you need now. Stay calm and enjoy the party..."

From behind, a figure follows him upstairs near his door, knowing where to look for a troubled boy. While holding his mango juice in a coconut bottle, T-007 calmly enters the room with a knock despite being told not to reach unpermitted. However, Dion anticipates his arrival better than she did to the girl.

"You couldn't just change peacefully? The others already forget about it." The assassin cloaked himself with a white sheet and black eyeglasses, searching for Dion from the door.

"But not me! That girl didn't deserve to walk off after turning me out like that! Does she knew what did she just do? She threw out $8000 off my window and back off like a coward. That's what!"

"You're doing this again. Get a hold of yourself, D-001. Tomorrow, you had a school and need to supervise the criminal and her friends. Not to mention—that girl's absence could raise an alarm to four of us."

"Your shoulders are too tense, T-007. I can promise you—I'll look up to these troublemakers tomorrow. In fact, I'll be willing to supervise everything myself."

The look on T-007′s face turns from relief into confusion upon seeing the confidence and willingness that he and others wouldn't take in the first place. Dion calmly accepts the responsibility and returns to his moment of calmness with the winds, leaving him unsure about ending the conversation immediately.

"Tough nut," T-007 states calmly. Yet, he still glanced suspiciously at Dion.

T-007 took his drink and headed out without a word to the party. Looking forward to the backyard, he finds E-007 scattered around teenagers hyping for her to drink more than ten bottles without puking or pissing her pants. She took that offer seemingly unbothered by the cheer and more for self-preservation—and free drinks.

He dismisses, in his head—wandering about the well-being of his teammate while watching the clock reach twelve. Everything slowly went from a blast into the aftermath of an eruption in the backyard, leaving maidens to handle with a heavy broom. Tiredness spreads quickly while food and beverages pile up on the table.

Everyone prepares to depart home for a slumber, followed by servants ready to take care of the pool by the door. The children leave with gratitude for his invitation, for which he doesn't look the slightest. Dion only cares for the aftermath of which everyone is here and cheering for him.

Clap! Clap! Clap! From the gazebo, Dion sat luxuriously on his two-layered pillow couch.

"That's right! Come back tomorrow for more of me! But make sure the teachers also come, too!"

"Aren't you supposed to be in a college right now? You're 19 years old and a rank two enforcer of Elysian." E-007 sat on the bar, drunken and a beast at the pool, taking sixteen bottles herself.

"This is college! Or I heard. Anything as long as I can get a diploma quickly!" Dion pauses.

"And the best part to do so, is to get everyone to like you enough—no one wants you to fail in their school. That diploma is straight up my bedroom in no time..."

"Cheater. Wait, can he do that? Has any billionaire's son did that?" Said the witch.

They spend the remaining time in the backyard, chattering under the moon with lime sodas on the table and a bowl of fried potato (not a french fries type). Tomorrow—or today—will be a great day for others in the other realm, holding a heavy duty on the realms as an enforcer they are.

"You ever wonder how a creature like that could be a high-ranking criminal before any of us? Are we mentally stupid here or what?" The witch mumbled to her bottles.

"Like what?"

"The Quasarian. The one dogging around with our new recruit in Elis right now." Dion replies.

"Yeah, I've seen a lot of petty dissidents but not this one. It's just—too annoying and pesky for a simple wrongdoer. Why couldn't we just kill him already?" The executioner grips tightly on the balcony's fence, damaging a perfect ceramic texture with a crack.

"We already did, mate. Have a cherish for that..." Dion taunted.

He could lay all night on his bed after praises passed on his ears and a chin-up for the guests. But Dion aims to feel more than that—more than just a piece of sweet words from a blind follower. Unlike his friends, compliments are too common and easy to bear as a reward—and neither being an enforcer could do the trick.

"So, what do you guys think about our rank now? Should we pitch for the third?" Dion watches the moon from high ground while the others sit together, facing south to the city.

"As if the second wasn't hard already? That's a trail of dragon and a fool's gold to me, D-001." J-007 mumbled tauntingly.

"Yeah. Have you seen how the third rank enforcers been doing? Because I couldn't find them! Who knows what they steal from us with that."

"Oh, please! Have a hope for something big, you axe-clobbering orc. We've been a second-rank in command for years since our last shine and everyone forget about us. Shouldn't we start to look for that?"

"I'm fine. Aren't we?" Said E-007.

His jealousy aims at his sword, disguised as an umbrella holder, lying on a gazebo with its head closed. Dion carefully unwraps the umbrella's cover and brushes his sword softly to brush off the dust and to give a look at that freshly thickened head.

Its thickness wielded a surprising strength in an arm, similar to what he had to hold behind the family's name. The yellowish-white sparks emanating around the wiring grew dimmer than he remembered. Yet, it is still as capable as it was for a swing.

"You're right. Maybe I need to rest first and focus on something else important like this city. Like where should I look for my house now?" Dion retrieves the sword to its position and its former look.

"That's the spirit. But why don't you focus on what would you do when I, E-007, and J-007 would go for a walk in Asteno? We have a target to hunt right now and we need you to log in for us..."

Momentarily, there was a pause—A pause soon interrupted by T-007. After looking at his watch and receiving a message from an unknown user, his talk was directed to another thing.

"Oh, speaking of which—how's your brother?"

Everything went quiet between Dion and his friends. When he heard the name on the back of his ear, even the hairs had already spiked for a brawl. Dion was more than eager to burst out, with his eyes closed and teeth gritting harshly—ready to pick up a weapon and a fight.

"Why'd you ask?" Dion uttered calmly behind T-007.

"I haven't seen him. Shouldn't your brother be here?"

"No—Any reason you're looking for him?"

"I do. Is the famous Damion Carven was the expert of biochemistry? Because I would like to have some words about him before we leave—and some moment to drink—If he's okay with that! Is he?"

The witch trembled and blushed like crazy. Her face is as red as a tomato—and not because of the drinks she took previously. She was as sober as a talking mannequin, poking her face furiously while thinking about Dion's brother with a drunken eye. Drunken in love.

"I'm more about his degree in art. If he's really that good, then I have a few questions to ask." Said T-007 while he watched the stars on the horizon.

"I favor your brother's talent for someone who isn't as talented as us. I have been looking for his works since I was a child, and I wish to see him with my own eyes with honor. Though, I hope you could've told me earlier about his late arrival."

A furious Dion storms the conversation to silence the assassin with a word. Warning his friends not to utter the name, he snatched the beverages off their hands and sent them into the dishes to get their attention. Surely enough, his friends are disappointed by his attitude and confront him about that.

"It's getting late already. Why don't we go for a rest and talk about that tomorrow? Someone—which is me—has to spend an entire night cleaning this mess."

"Besides, while I'm around this house, no one talks about my family without my permission. Be sure to remember that, you hear me?" He dreads their lives in an oath for his authority in the house.

The servants behind him look disappointed at his words, but not as much as his friends walking away without completing their break at the balcony facing the city's light. Nevertheless, the three prepare to leave by the front gate, accompanied by Dion and his still-frustrated face wishing them a good departure.

"Have a nice sleep and return when your heads are done. Today, you are sick and need some recovery..." He stood behind the gate, watching the three standing alone on the free road without a light.

"But not me! Ha!"

Anger is exchanged for a taunt, and happiness turns into disgust. His friends leave with a long face and twitchy eyebrows with their weapons in arms. But they do not think of anything about Dion's words other than to head home with their transportation device.

"What's wrong with him? Could he at least check for the perimeter for us?"

"I don't know. But I had a feeling it had something to do with a bottle. Sorry to take an entire shelf, boy!"

"Would you keep it down, E-007? Someone would find us stranded here..."

It was a tiring night. Dion had to sleep as school was due in the morning. This is the second time he has had to change his shirt with a soft and thinner one, unlike the mud-stained polo, which is no more than a cheap Gold Creek imitation shirt. But then, there was a knock on his gate as he was about to reach the stairs of his beloved home.

"What is it again?" He turns around and looks afar. A knocking noise comes from the front gate.

"Who's there?" He shouted.

The night is too dark to see, and the lack of light at the front gate makes it harder to identify the silhouettes. They seem blind to Dion's presence either, given the lack of voice and their shadows looking left and right—searching for someone.

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

Was someone at the front gate of Carven's mansion this late at night to watch the stars together with Dion? Or was a trespassing fan seeking their treasure while everyone fell asleep? Either way, the knock won't stop until someone opens the gate.

"Excuse me?" Dion stares sharply at his uninvited guests. Two of their faces are beyond his recognition.

The Ainsley parents have traveled through the mountain with a car to this manor for an entire day, wearing nothing but a raincoat and a sandal to keep their feet from touching the stone. Seeing Dion in a much more dressed and classy shirt humiliates them with shame and unmatched humility.

"Mr. Carven! It's a pleasure to see you on this night! Please, forgive us for our low-mannered arrival in this poor rags." Stella bows firstly before her husband. It fills a slight joy for Dion to see someone mature enough to tip a hat on him.

"Oh, what a shame...it was already late night and you were

"Leave. You know the clock, lady?" He had no wits to hear anything else tonight.

"Wait! Wait! Please give us a moment! Only a question! A question!"

"Leave now or I'll call the security."

"Mr. Carven. Spare us a time! We're just a poor couple looking for our daughter!" John kneels and prays for Dion.

"Security!" He yelled.

Two men in black shirts arrive to push the two away from the mansion. Their sizes are not to be fought for by the couple, leading their leave immediately to the street before Dion closes the gate. Their bodies were covered with drizzles, and still no response.

Their shouting intensifies—howling at the night for Dion's name on an empty street and a forest. But he didn't care for the call with his eyebags growing, for the only thing he needed now was a blanket and a pillow wrapping around his body. The drizzle turns to rain, making it a perfect time for him to sleep.

"Aah...goodnight. The school needs their prince sober and healthy." He mumbled lastly before he fell asleep.

The rain comes above their head, drenching the asphalt with cold water before the street light flickers on above their heads. The mansion goes silent, and the couple still waits under the night sky for an answer until one of them begins shivering.

"This is bad. We should've come early this afternoon instead..." Stella looks down.

"Aww, Eve is gone! Huuu..." The mother worried.

"No! She's here! I knew she was here! The clues lead to the Carven. I can feel it..." John stands proudly and confidently with his hands gripping Stella's cheeks.

"Stella, she's more than safer right now. She could even be in that house waiting for us."

"Are you sure? We have been looking for too long and *yawn* we haven't even sleep or eat or—drink—or home—or—going to school—or—going with Eve."

"Stella? Are you okay?"

Stella had already yawned for a sleep—her eyebags grew, and her limbs were as squiggly as a balloon. John feels dizzy and starts wiggling left and right without his control.

"Oh, we're not going to find her, aren't we?" Stella prepares the car.

"Stella. We'll find her...but it's late night already. I think it's time we've rest first before we go out again."

"But what about Eve?"

"That can wait. I'm sure wherever she is, she is roofed like the two of us. Eve is a strong girl—she told herself."

"*Yawn* If only I didn't make her choose for that—John, I'm scared..."

"You're having a nightmare again, Stella. Get a rest. It's all in your head right now, dear. I can assure you..." John opens the door for her.

"Everything will be as good as we always are." He mumbled softly, kissing goodnight on Stella's forehead as they napped under the roof of a car through the heavy rain.

The night will be long.

The night will be long.

The night will be long.

The night will be long.

The night will be long.