Sol watched as Kaisen dipped his head to the side, his face showing no clear emotion and merely distant in that way unique to him.
Fidgeting his body forward, Sol finally gave a small nod of assurance before straightening up. "I'm alright, Brother. Thank you."
A dry scoff could be heard from Inou, followed by loud, deliberate footsteps climbing up the staircase.
"Better be careful on the stairs," Kaisen advised with half-lidded eyes, giving a light pat on Sol's shoulder before turning away.
"I will, Brother."
Sol smiled, watching the eldest ascend. The dark fabric of his attire flowed cleanly over his long limbs, every movement elegant yet distant, like a figure in a painted scroll.
'Brother Kaisen is always soft-spoken and polite. It would be good if Inou could learn a lesson or two in etiquette from him.'
He sighed. If only that were possible–but alas, it was a far-fetched dream.
Just as he was lost in lamenting, Sol flinched as something slid around his waist. He could feel a sudden presence behind him, pulling him close as firm hands enveloped him.
"When did you arrive?" A familiar whisper passed his ear, and he immediately knew who it was. It was a warmth he was most used to–but his heart was beating faster instead of settling down.
"Brother Julius," he sputtered, twisting to look back with a wry smile, "don't frighten me like that."
"Oh… I apologize."
Julius stood tall before him, not looking apologetic at all with his sly smile. But Sol was fine either way.
As the two continued to exchange greetings, Loren looked at the scene with idle curiosity. His body was reclined comfortably on the velvet sofa, one arm slung over the backrest as he watched the two men going up the stairs together, their chatter ringing through the air.
"Tsk, tsk. He's going to regret getting close to the psychopath." Loren muttered, a lopsided smirk playing on his lips as he closed the magazine with a snap.
- - - - - -
Knock~ knock~
Sol stood before an imposing door of carved mahogany, staring at the delicate engravings as he waited for the summons to enter in.
He kept his posture straight, as if watchful of his every action. The guards stood meters away, minding their own duties and not even looking at him. But he was still paranoid.
"Come in."
An authoritative voice came from inside, making Sol gulp in nervousness.
He adjusted his posture once more, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open without a sound.
The room inside was a portrait of controlled grandeur.
Chillingly beautiful.
Everything seemed curated to perfection, an aesthetic of order so absolute it felt unnatural. In the center of it all sat a massive desk, polished to a sheen, each item atop it meticulously aligned.
Behind it, an elegant-looking middle-aged man sat with poise, reviewing documents with quiet focus. His golden hair was combed immaculately, and a pair of silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, caught the light with a cool shimmer each time he turned a page.
He was Draken, the head of Melvire–and Sol's adoptive father.
"Have you called for me, Father?" Sol asked politely, standing upright, hands clasped behind his back with almost ceremonial discipline.
The silence stretched between them like a taut string, ridden with unspoken tension, before the old man finally glanced up from the paper in his hands.
"It's good to see you back at the manor."
"Good to see you too, Father."
The old man offered a veiled smile, as if observing the tremble that clung invisibly to the surface of the youth's frame.
"The reason I called you," he began, setting the documents neatly on the desk , "is to confirm the invitation list for your birthday ball."
"I've already handed them out to my friends and subordinates."
"Wonderful." Draken steepled his fingers, forming a spire with the same control he wielded in every conversation. "All that's left is to summon a few acquaintances of mine. Then we're all set."
"I believe so, Father," Sol answered with a dip of his head, trying to look as composed as possible. He didn't want to make any mistake in his manners in front of the austere man.
Draken gave a single nod, already lowering his gaze back to the desk.
"All right. I'll see you at dinner. I've got a lot of work to catch up on."
Giving a polite bow, Sol took the cue to leave. He turned on his heels and made his way out, closing the door slowly behind him.
As he walked through the corridor, passing by the guard station outside, he couldn't help but wonder why his father was making the ball so extravagant. Of course, it had always been so, but this time, there seemed to be even more effort going into it.
His thoughts trailed behind him as he walked–only breaking when a familiar figure caught his eye farther down the corridor. Julius, wearing his usual charm, could be seen talking to his personal butler, Mr. Olsen.
But as if sensing Sol's presence, Julius glanced up and offered a wave, lips curving into a smile. The butler gave a deep, respectful bow and withdrew himself quietly.
"Brother Julius," Sol greeted, quickening his stride in spite of himself. The excitement in his steps betrayed the formal restraint he tried to maintain.
Julius stood where he was, waiting with an ever-present calm air. His gaze roamed over the happy lad with a fondness that was almost unnerving in its intensity.
"What were you doing here?" he asked, reaching out to brush his fingers against the smooth cheek, the touch gentle but sure.
"I…" Sol timidly avoided the deep gaze, one that looked like it could easily see through him. "Father summoned me regarding the birthday ball."
"Is that so?" Julius mused with an excited glint, subtly squeezing the face beneath his palm. "I also can't wait for your birthday to come."
Sol let out a dry laugh. "It's nothing to look forward to. I'm just turning a year older."
At that, a veiled shadow passed over Julius's face, like a shadow across the moon.. "This year is special."
Sol blinked, a little confused. "Really? Will something else be happening?"
He was indeed at a loss. All his past birthdays had always been extravagant, bordering on surreal. What more could there be?
Then, in stunned silence, he watched as Julius leaned in with sudden intimacy, landing a kiss on his forehead.
"You'll get to know on that day, silly."
The baritone voice rang above, making Sol flinch and shut his eyes on reflex.
He felt warmth spread from the firm lips hovering over his skin... like ink blooming across parchment, irreversible, and slowly staining something he could never take back.