Emerald walked with meticulous care, the fog visible with every breath he took. His mind was a battlefield of self-doubt and confusion, feeling as if he were walking on a crystal bed of hope but lost on how to proceed. He was determined not to burden the First Emperor with his complaints.
Reaching the central garden, he stopped beneath the sandalwood tree, its outline shimmering in the moonlight. After a moment, a genuine, loud laugh escaped him, sounding like a man on the edge of losing his mind.
"Are you feeling guilty?" a young man's voice cut through the air.
Emerald turned to assess him. The man wore a formal, non-casual uniform, looking like a soldier bound by an eternal vow. His eyes held the calmness of grief, a powerful emotion that even Emerald could perceive. Must be a strong soul, he concluded.
Emerald simply asked, "Why?"
The young man offered a slight smile. "Sometimes life can be cruel, but you gotta accept it as it is."
"But, you seem to haven't accepted it," Emerald countered.
"I'm Patrick, Head of Castle Guards," he introduced himself, failing to force a pleasant smile.
"Nice," Emerald responded, his face dull.
"You're doubting your existence," Patrick stated.
"My existence…" Emerald chuckled.
"You think more about others than yourself. If you don't know how to be clear on yourself, then what's the meaning in helping others?" Emerald offered a warm smile in response.
Emerald idly shuffled the dirt with his toe. "So what makes you the Head of Guards? Being an upright person or your experience in life?"
"Nothing in particular," Patrick joked.
"Even though you're nothing in particular, there must be at least one thing that makes you who you are. What is it that makes you, Sir Patrick?"
"I'm not from a noble clan or a natural-born," Patrick answered politely, recognizing Emerald's underlying question.
"How old are you?" Emerald's curiosity pushed past the barrier of formality.
"When was the last time a pandemic hit?" Patrick played along.
"A hundred years, I guess."
"Well, I'm a hundred years old."
"What's your story then? Did you wander in or—did you volunteer yourself?"
"I was dying, young as I am. Then I met some people, and they turned me at my request. And here I am, high and epic."
"So you're not from any royal family?" Emerald asked. Patrick burst out laughing.
"Royal blood... no, I'm not. You think royal blood is such a high and mighty thing, but it's not. Being a royalty is great, but living a life of royalty is hard. There will be rules and regulations for you to follow to your grave." Patrick spoke with clarity, stating the contradictions of a royal life.
Q
"How do you know that I'm not myself?" Emerald returned to Patrick's initial observation.
"Why do you think I'm the Head of Castle Guards, a low-born like me?" Patrick's voice sharpened.
"Must be your technique."
"You could say that, but more like my intelligent brain is a solid foundation for it. My technique is a good-for-nothing hearing. Simply put, I can hear whatever the shit is going on in the castle grounds."
"Ain't that normal for your kind?"
"Nah, I'm too good than the average vampires." Patrick spoke of his ability without any sense of supremacy.
"What is your story, young man?" Patrick asked.
"I don't know," Emerald replied in disappointment.
"Why?"
"It's too complex for me to know, Patrick. Well, respectfully, I mean. I'm a man whose being tangled in between fates. I have my story already been written by someone," Emerald gave Patrick a warm smile. "Now I'm just living it for the happiness of others."
"We all have our tale written out by the god. We just live without knowing what's in front. If we knew, what's the fun in it, sir?" Patrick stated calmly.
A long silence settled between them. Patrick finally turned, shook his head, and began to slowly fade into the pitch darkness. Emerald was again left alone. He walked out of the castle grounds without leaving a trace and headed to the town, surprisingly lively. Emerald was frustrated to be walking in a street full of vampires, yet they didn't even look at him; they just kept to their business. He walked without a destination until he came across a cafe—Eva's cafe. He settled on it as his destination.
"We are closed... oh, it's you, Emerald. What's the matter? It's too scary to see a royal guest at this time," Eva said, rushing to clean up. Emerald took a seat and watched her work.
"Ain't you got any family business like..." Emerald asked.
"Like what?"
"Like, I don't know, something traditional."
"My family owns most of the fashion industry around the world. Is that good?" she stated with dominance.
"That's great, but I'm thinking about something cooler, like military or royal duties. You know, something like that," Emerald said with a childlike tone.
"Why would you want me to be running a royal duty? Are you thinking about marrying me?"
"Marrying you? Where did that come from?"
"I thought you were interested in me since you've been visiting me frequently." Emerald was cornered, as her argument matched the circumstances.
"That's totally different," he tried to correct himself.
"Then why are you here?" she pushed sarcastically.
"It's nothing," Emerald mumbled.
"Nothing, huh? I can clearly understand that you're lying, kid."
"It's just that I'm not a social guy and I don't like crowds. That's why I'm wandering around in the night, that's all." Eva watched as his words broke, then burst out laughing.
Eva brought him a cup of coffee and some cookies as she finished her cleaning. "You cook?" Emerald asked, intrigued.
"I do," Eva replied.
"Do all vampires cook?" he asked, then quickly hid his head, realizing his blunder.
"No, they don't. If I remember correctly, Genna doesn't know how to cook. Why do you ask?" Eva took the question seriously.
"Nothing, just curious," he dismissed it.
"Your curiosity might kill you someday, brat," she warned, though they both laughed it off. "Oh, boy, gotta head home. You should start getting going." Eva urged him to leave. Emerald quietly got up, said his thanks, and refused her offer for a ride, choosing to walk instead.
(To be continued)