Seth sat in his chamber, the flickering light of a single candle casting dancing shadows across his crimson eyes. The room was quiet, the stillness occasionally broken by the soft rustle of the evening breeze.
Dinner had gone smoothly, yet his thoughts lingered on the earlier conversation with Claire. Her dedication to the estate and its affairs was commendable, but her disregard for their agreement not to overwork herself troubled him.
She does so much for my sake, but her disregard for rest is a habit that needs correcting, he mused. Three days of rest after the charity event during the Mourning Sun Festival should be enough for her to realize how wonderful it feels to step back and breathe.
His gaze drifted to the towering stack of documents on his desk, untouched and ignored. Instead, his mind churned with Zasha's warnings, the mysterious threat of Them, the looming danger of the Red Gate, and the One-Eyed Alliance. Each concern felt like a thread in a vast, tangled web.
Seth exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. Attract attention? Flaunt Master's power? It feels reckless, but maybe.. it is the right way?
The quiet of his thoughts was interrupted by the sound of light rain against the balcony doors, followed by a familiar presence stepping into the room.
Killian.
The guild leader entered through the unlocked balcony—his usual route. A long black fur coat draped over his broad shoulders, water droplets clinging to the fabric. His damp hair hung loosely, framing his sharp features. Piercing blue eyes locked onto Seth with an intensity that seemed to fill the chamber.
His presence was heavy, commanding the room with an unspoken authority. Yet, beneath the weight of his gaze was something else—a flicker of unease, a shadow of something unresolved.
Seth turned to meet his gaze, tilting his head slightly. He noted Killian's grim expression, the weight in his eyes. For a brief moment, Seth's curiosity piqued.
But brushing the thought aside, he greeted him with casual ease. "It's been a while, Guild Leader," he said with a faint smile.
Killian stepped closer, his boots making barely a sound on the polished floor. Then, without warning, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around Seth's slender frame, pulling him into a warm embrace.
The sudden gesture caught Seth off guard, but he didn't resist. Instead, he laughed softly, his arms returning the embrace. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.
"I don't know," Killian murmured, his voice low, almost uncertain. He buried his face into Seth's shoulder, inhaling deeply. The familiar scent was soothing, calming the storm of emotions raging within him.
The idea of Lord Arlecia's death had once brought him satisfaction. But now, standing here, the thought of losing him felt unbearable.
Finally, Killian released him, though a lingering tenderness remained in his gaze. His eyes swept over Seth, narrowing slightly as he noticed something amiss. "Where's that ridiculous blindfold of yours? I almost didn't recognize you without it."
Seth chuckled softly, tilting his head. Some things never change. Even now, he finds a way to pick a fight with me.
"Well," Seth said lightly, "it's not gone. I just lost it." He stepped closer, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. Rising on his toes to close the distance between them, Seth leaned in.
Killian froze. His body tensed as Seth's face drew closer, his breath hitching. What is he doing? Is he… going to kiss me?
Unwilling to meet Seth's intense gaze, Killian squeezed his eyes shut.
Then, a soft chuckle broke the tension.
"Ahaha… You really thought I'd kiss you?" Seth teased, stepping back, his expression filled with amusement. "That's adorable."
Killian's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the heat spreading to his ears. His expression darkened, mortification etched into every line of his face. "I'm going to kill you," he growled, his tone low and threatening.
"You've said that before," Seth replied with a grin. "Yet here I am, still very much alive."
Killian's fists clenched at his sides, though the embarrassment in his expression betrayed him. Seth found the reaction endearing. The novel painted him as cold, unyielding, and ambitious. But right now, he's more like a teenager experiencing his first crush.
Deciding to ease the tension, Seth reached for a dry towel from a nearby table. He stepped behind Killian, gently drying his damp hair with deliberate movements.
"You don't have to keep coming here," Seth said softly. "I'm sure you've realized that."
Killian's shoulders relaxed under Seth's touch, his eyes softening. "How did you break the contract made by the Scroll of Death?" he finally asked. "Does it have something to do with what happened to you?"
Seth finished drying his hair and returned to his chair. He sat down with a sigh, crossing one leg over the other. "Things didn't go according to plan. The contract was broken long before my… death-like experience."
He paused, his expression turning serious. "I made a pact with a higher being. The bond from that contract is stronger than anything the Scroll of Death could forge. That's why it broke so easily."
Higher being?
Killian's eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face. Then, disappointment followed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You're right. I should have told you," Seth admitted. "But the situation was dire, and I didn't have the time."
Killian turned away, his frustration evident. "Fine. Do as you wish, then. I'll do the same—I'll keep coming here whenever I want."
Seth smirked. "You're always welcome, on one condition."
Killian glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. "And what's that?"
"You behave," Seth replied, his tone playful.
Killian chuckled, the tension easing from his expression. "You think you can teach me how to behave, Lord Arlecia?"
"Of course," Seth said smoothly, leaning forward. "This is my house, after all."
For a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift between them. Killian's smirk softened, his gaze lingering on Seth with an emotion he couldn't quite place.
There's something about him… Something I don't understand. Are you even the real Lord Arlecia?
Killian kept the thought to himself, his questions swirling unanswered. Instead, he remained by Seth's side, the quiet companionship stretching into the night.
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As the Mourning Sun Festival approached, the streets of Arlecia buzzed with activity. Although the festival wasn't extravagant, candles adorned windows and doorsteps, their gentle light guiding souls back to their homes. The tradition, rooted in the town's belief in wandering spirits, was one of quiet reverence rather than celebration.
Morning light spilled into the bustling streets. Children ran through the market, selling flowers, fruits, and newspapers, their laughter bright against the murmur of townsfolk.
Arlecia's quality of life had improved under Seth's rule, thanks in part to Claire's clever management. She had wisely allocated excess funds from the estate treasury to subsidize the town's economy, aiming to shift the perception of Lord Arlecia from tyrant to benefactor.
Among the crowds, however, three hooded figures moved with purpose. Dressed in black cloaks, they slipped through the streets unnoticed and entered a modest inn.
"One month. Three rooms," the leader said curtly, dropping a trio of gold coins onto the counter.
The innkeeper's eyes gleamed at the sight of the gold, and she quickly handed over the keys, leading them to their rooms without question.
Once inside, the three figures spoke in hushed tones.
"This town is disgusting," one muttered, his voice laced with disdain. "I doubt this is the place."
"We just need to wait," another replied. "The diviner said it would appear here."
"Tch. I've never trusted that fraud," the third said, his tone casual, almost bored. "I'm only here because I had nothing better to do."
Their words carried an ominous weight, their presence a silent threat. Whatever they sought in Arlecia, it was not something the town—or its lord—could afford to ignore.