Helios decided to put on a black turtleneck sweater. The soft cashmere clung to his skin as if tailor-made. The scar on his neck was still there, and not enough time had passed since Belladonna had killed him. Since Thomas knew every single one of Helios' wounds, it was difficult to explain new ones without there having been an incident and a corresponding healing phase. Unfortunately, his wounds also healed too quickly for him to fake anything.
Except for the scars he had received before his death, of course. Those scars had healed, but like Dante's, they would remain visible forever. Even though Helios couldn't really explain logically why that was the case.
Either way, this strange power was both a curse and a blessing.
Helios grabbed a pair of dark jeans and put on his shoes. His gaze wandered to the sideboard where the gloves lay, along with the prosthesis he would wear for the time being. He would be wearing it for the first time that day. Although he was absolutely not thrilled that it would have no function whatsoever, it was at least a start.
At the very least, the glove would no longer be empty where his fingers once had been. He picked up the prosthesis and tried it on, only to realize he couldn't put it on by himself. He exhaled in frustration.
Before he could make another attempt, two muscular arms wrapped around his waist.
"Need some help?" Dante asked softly, resting his chin gently on Helios' shoulder.
Helios gave a slight nod and held out his hand. "It's impossible to put this damn thing on by myself," he muttered grimly.
Dante's large hands closed around Helios' hand and the prosthesis. He stroked Helios' hand soothingly with his thumb.
"That's what I'm here for," Dante said.
He fitted the prosthetic fingers onto Helios' stumps. They were a bit tight, but Helios didn't care in the least. Whatever sore spots he might get would heal later anyway. He just had to endure the constant pressure. At least they would stay in place.
Dante aligned the stiff prosthetic fingers so that they had at least a physiological position. Then he took the leather straps and buckled them around Helios' wrist. He tightened everything, checked the fit of each component, and finally took Helios' hand in his own.
Surprisingly, the length and thickness of the fingers roughly matched those of his real ones. Only the little finger was a bit shorter, due to the unevenly cut stump.
Most likely, it was Spider's work—the guy was constantly watching Helios, so it was no real miracle that he knew the approximate size of his hand and fingers. Even if everything was rather tightly measured.
"Squeeze as hard as you can," Dante challenged him.
Helios snorted in amusement. "So you can laugh at me for my lack of strength?"
"Maybe," Dante said, and Helios could hear the smile in his voice.
"You're getting cheekier by the day."
"And where do you think I got that from?" Dante asked innocently.
"Yeah, yeah, my bad influence again," Helios said, rolling his eyes in amusement as he squeezed his hand.
His gaze immediately shifted to the prosthesis. The stiff, artificial fingers moved awkwardly along with his grip but held their ground. For now, that was all he needed. Nothing would be more embarrassing—or more dangerous—than a prosthesis slipping off his arm while he held a glass full of substances in the lab. The very thought of spilling valuable fluids because of such a stupid mishap sent a chill down his spine.
When he released his grip, the pressure pain in his stumps slowly ebbed away, leaving behind only a dull, throbbing ache that flared stronger and weaker in waves.
"I didn't think Spider would get the job done so quickly despite his own troubles," Dante said, absentmindedly running his fingers over the prosthesis. "They look tight. Will you manage with them?"
Helios nodded. "There's no other option right now. At least this way I can pretend my hand is still whole," he said with an annoyed sigh. "This favor must mean a lot to Spider if, despite all his current stress, he managed to get the prosthesis maker here within a single day."
"He even thought to have the transitional prosthesis made for you."
"Sometimes he actually is useful for something," Helios muttered, raising a brow. "It would be practical if the prostheses could be connected to my bones. Do you think it would be possible to attach them to the nerves so I could control them at will?"
Dante frowned. "I don't know if Gustave could manage that. He can craft wooden prostheses, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's built a few mechanical ones by now."
Helios grimaced. "Please don't tell me by mechanical you mean steam-powered. That would be ridiculously over the top for just two little fingers."
"What else should he run them on? Not everything is as advanced as your cars yet," Dante said, amused.
"Dante, just imagine what kind of monstrous contraption I'd have to strap to my arm just to move my fingers. And even then, I wouldn't be able to control them as smoothly as I'd want," Helios complained. "Seriously, my arm would fall off before I even managed to move a single finger."
Dante chuckled softly. "And how exactly do you imagine a prosthesis that works the way you want it to?"
"Definitely more elegant," Helios snorted. "And it has to be light. That Gustave will surely manage it. After all, you praised him quite highly."
"I did. He really does excellent work. But I haven't seen him in ten years, and I honestly can't say how much his craft has improved since then. Also I think the kind of prothesis you want wasn't invented yet. Either way, he makes prosthetics with a dedication I've only ever seen from you in the lab," Dante said. He pressed a kiss to Helios' cheek.
"At least those are reassuring arguments. Well, unfortunately for him, Gustave won't be leaving until I get what I want."
"Don't forget he came along voluntarily."
"I'm aware of that. But I can't hide my condition forever. Winter is setting in, so I can justify the gloves with the cold. But what excuse am I supposed to use when summer comes?"
"We'll think of something when the time comes. Until then, we'll just have to wait and see what Gustave can craft for you."
"I hate it when things get unnecessarily complicated and I can do little to change it."
"I'm sure you'll find something to distract yourself with," Dante murmured.
Helios turned his head, leaned it against Dante, and reached with his left hand for Dante's chin to turn his face toward him. "Oh, I can already think of a few things to keep me occupied," he whispered. With the faintest of smiles, he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from Dante's—
Then came a knock at the door.
Dante flinched as if struck by an electric shock, while Helios rolled his eyes in annoyance. With a barely suppressed sigh, he gave Dante a fleeting kiss on the lips. "We'll continue this later," he whispered, reaching for his gloves.
The leather stretched over the extra bulk that kept the prosthetics in place. Helios studied his hands critically. The straps showed through awkwardly, but for now, it would have to do.
Meanwhile, Dante stepped back, quickly pulled on his shirt, and then turned his attention to his shoes.
"Come in, Thomas," Helios called as he examined his suitcase and shut it with satisfaction.
"Your car is ready, young master," the old butler said politely. He frowned, stepped up to Helios, and straightened his hair until he looked content. "The family physician of the Cresents has prepared the documents on site. Mr. Cresent was most delighted to hear that you intend to visit."
"That was to be expected," Helios muttered. He grabbed his coat and slipped it on. If he wasn't careful, he'd have a marriage proposal tucked into his pocket by the end of the visit.
He heard Dante behind him, equipping himself with his weapons. The faint rustle of fabric gave way to heavy footsteps approaching until they finally stopped beside him.
"Have you heard anything from Theo?" Helios asked, directing the question to Thomas.
"He is recovering," the butler replied simply. "Theo will surely be pleased that you inquired after him."
"When will he return?"
"I'm afraid he'll be out for a longer time."
Helios clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. "Then please prepare me a list by tomorrow noon of the more promising candidates who have already been through the interviews. It's time to choose a new assistant. I can't wait on Theo forever."
"As you wish," Thomas said with a slight bow. "Your father will be returning this evening. He wishes you to be home for dinner."
"Thank you, Thomas. I'll be back in time." Helios gave a curt nod. "See you tonight."
With those words, he left his room and set out for the Cresent family.
So his father would be returning that evening. Helios felt his neck tense at the mere thought. Peace would be over once and for all, and he would be forced to deal again with matters he would much rather ignore. Such as the tiresome question of whom he should present as his companion at the upcoming evening gathering.
He exhaled slowly as he fastened his seatbelt. He could barely contain his joy at the prospect—so little did he look forward to having that conversation. Why couldn't his father just leave him alone? This damned bride hunt was driving him to the edge.
His gaze drifted sideways to where Dante sat with arms crossed, calm and silent, as though none of it concerned him. For a moment, Helios entertained the thought of simply putting Dante in an evening dress and taking him along as his official companion.
The ridiculous image that formed in his imagination made him smile despite himself. At least his thoughts were free.
___
Helios was led by the Cresent family's butler into the salon, where Mr. Cresent was already waiting. The man was just setting a teacup down on the low table when he caught sight of Helios. Immediately, a radiant smile spread across his face. He rose quickly, stepped forward, and grasped his hand.
"Mr. Vale! It is a great pleasure that you grant us the honor of your visit!" Mr. Cresent greeted him.
He shook Helios' hand with firm pressure, which Helios returned. There was nothing more contemptible than a limp, fleeting handshake. After all, it was a way of testing a man. Irritating, yes—but Helios knew all the norms a man of high society was expected to embody. His social mask was impenetrable for good reason.
"Mr. Cresent, it has been some time," he replied with smooth courtesy. "I hope you and your family are well?"
Mr. Cresent motioned for Helios to sit on the couch. Helios complied, though he had no intention of staying long. He still had plenty of work waiting in his laboratory. Dante, as usual, took up his position behind him.
"My family is doing splendidly!" Mr. Cresent said cheerfully. "Since you took Violet under your care and her condition improved, an unimaginable burden has been lifted from us."
Helios smiled his professional smile. "I'm glad to hear it. So I may assume the medicine is working?"
Mr. Cresent nodded with satisfaction. "You have more than lived up to your reputation, Mr. Vale. My daughter would have died if not for you. Thank you for saving her!" he said respectfully, his voice trembling slightly. He truly seemed to love his daughter above all else.
It must be nice when parents gave their child unconditional love.
"That is my job. Besides, it gave me a certain pleasure to render another disease harmless," Helios said with a calm smile.
Mr. Cresent laughed heartily. "It is truly a joy to know such an ambitious young man as you within our circles."
"I only do what gives me joy," Helios replied. His smile remained polite, but inwardly he felt the corners of his mouth growing tired. "If you don't mind, I would like to examine Lady Violet now. Unfortunately, my time is short today."
"Oh! Of course! I'll take you to her," Mr. Cresent said eagerly. "Won't you have something to drink first? We recently acquired a most delightful tea."
Helios raised a hand in polite refusal. "Thank you, Mr. Cresent, but I must decline." He rose again, relieved to end the little charade.
All these pleasantries and formalities were exhausting. He hadn't even wanted to sit down for this brief moment. He couldn't understand why he hadn't been taken straight to Violet so he could finish his work and leave again. There was still so much he needed to take care of.
Mr. Cresent smiled kindly at him. "That's truly a pity, but I won't keep you any longer. Please, follow me."
He opened the door and went ahead. Helios followed in silence, with Dante close behind like a shadow.
They walked through the tidy corridors, where nothing unnecessary was left lying around. Everything was so clean that Helios was certain not a single speck of dust could be found, even if he tried. The air carried the fragrance of flowers.
It was different from his own home.
Perhaps it was because women lived in this manor. He remembered well that Penelope's family home had always been filled with fresh cut flowers too. But unlike the light, pleasant floral scent there, the roses here made him nauseous.
The rose fragrance didn't just hang heavily in the air—it prickled unpleasantly in his nose.
"Violet will be glad to see you," Mr. Cresent continued. "She has so often wished that you would visit again. Until now, she has been too weak on her feet to come and see you herself. She is truly making an effort to live well with her newfound life."
"That is very good to hear," Helios said absently.
In truth, he cared little. His work seemed to have paid off. He would quickly confirm it with his own eyes and then consider how he ought to face his father.
He did not know how long he could keep his finger stumps hidden, or how to proceed with the matter his father demanded of him. When he thought about it carefully, the Soley experiments might still exist. The formulas for Ambrosia and that unknown drug might still exist…
Which meant nothing less than that he might, after all, be able to fulfill Dante's wish. With the formulas, he could make Dante normal again—and himself as well.
But did he want that?
The thought of deliberately giving up his newfound eternity didn't quite sit right with him. After a week of adjusting to his new situation, he suddenly wanted to do so many things. He wanted to learn, to see, to discover. He wanted more time with Dante; he wanted to outlive his father and enjoy his life. He wanted to break free from the last chains that bound him to the manor…
Truthfully, he wanted nothing to do with the Soley experiments. If he accepted, nothing good could come of it. He would be forced to deliver results. He would obey his father's wish and develop the immortality drug. And then his father would make a few soldiers immortal.
He would control the war. More and more people would become immortal.
More soldiers—who, under the already immense psychological strain of war, would likely go completely insane.
Either they would lose their minds entirely, or they would turn into uncontrollable berserkers that no one could restrain.
The drug would inevitably fall into the wrong hands, and what would follow Helios didn't even want to imagine. Especially when he didn't even know if it was possible to develop an antidote. Altering DNA once was one thing. Altering it a second time? Without a backup? Without a real plan?
Better not.
There were remedies one could safely develop for the wider masses. Diseases could be fought, and yet there were boundaries. An immortality drug was a boundary that should not be crossed lightly.
Especially not if it could not be controlled.
Besides, it was enough that there were already two of their kind. More truly should not exist.
He would refuse. Even though he feared his answer would not please his father. At least he still had a few hours to come up with a logical explanation for why he could not take on this project.
They reached a door that did not lead to Violet's room. Helios did not know his way around the manor, but it didn't matter where Violet was. In fact, it was probably better not to examine her in her own room.
He had already been in her bedroom so often that soon people might start whispering that he was utterly infatuated with her. A rumor he absolutely could not afford.
Mr. Cresent knocked briefly and entered without waiting for a reply.
It was a cozy, sunlit room containing a small library. On a couch by the window sat Violet, absorbed in her reading. She seemed so engrossed in her book that she startled when her father addressed her again.
She snapped her book shut with a loud clap and jumped to her feet so quickly she nearly stumbled. Flustered, she ran her hand through her long hair. She looked at Helios shyly, her cheeks burning red.
"P-please forgive me, Mr. Vale. I knew you were coming today. I-I just expected you later…" she stammered in embarrassment.
Helios put on his professional smile once more. "One should never apologize when a good book demands all your attention," he said. He observed her posture, which now appeared as it should for a young woman her age. "As I see, the medicine seems to be working well."
She nodded, still nervously adjusting her hair.
"I always take the medicine exactly at the times you prescribed."
"Very good," Helios said. He stepped closer, placed his case on the small side table next to the couch, and came to stand before Violet.
She looked up at him with wide eyes, her gaze both expectant and yet so bashful that it was almost amusing to watch her.
"The exercises I assigned you… do you practice them regularly?"
Violet nodded. "I can eat my meals by myself again, I don't need help drinking anymore, I can walk, and I can even squat or jump again!" she said cheerfully. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. She grasped Helios' hands and squeezed them tightly. "Thanks to you, I didn't have to die a horrible death!"
Of course, he could hardly tell her that he had only accepted the case because it had sounded interesting enough. But what should he say that wouldn't make him sound too invested? He didn't want to give the girl hope—and her father even less so.
"I'm glad the remedy helped so well. After all, it was a complete shot in the dark. It could just as easily have failed, with the result that you would have died anyway," Helios said. "Still, it is always uplifting when my medicine works exactly as I designed it. You truly look healthy, Lady Violet."
His words were chosen carefully, deliberately limited to her physical recovery—unmistakable in meaning. Yet before he could react, Violet suddenly threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. A quiet sob reached his ear.
"I never once doubted your medicine!" she whispered through her tears. "Without you… I couldn't live at all! I would have died without ever accomplishing anything!"
Helios stood rigid, completely caught off guard. His arms hung awkwardly at his sides while the girl's tears slowly soaked through the fabric of his sweater. This… was not going according to plan at all.
"Oh, Violet…" Mr. Cresent sniffled softly.
Helios cleared his throat and gave her a hesitant pat on the back before gently pushing her away.
"Then you should use your newfound time wisely. You can accomplish anything you set your mind to."
He pulled an unused handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to her. She accepted it gratefully and blew her nose heartily. Seeing her tear-streaked face did not move Helios in the slightest. Some men might falter at such a sight, but in his life there had only ever been two women whose tears had touched him.
Both were dead.
And Violet was not someone Helios would ever allow close enough to truly care for her.
The young woman before him wiped away her tears and now smiled at him with reddened eyes and cheeks. If he were interested in women in a romantic sense, he might have called her cute.
Still, he was, in some strange way, pleased by her gratitude.
Once more, she grasped his hands.
"I will make the best use of my life that I possibly can!" she promised. Then she looked up at him again, shyly. "Do you remember your promise?"
Try as he might, he couldn't recall any promise. So much had happened in the past weeks that even his normally reliable memory failed him. What on earth could he have promised Violet? It had to be related to her illness—had he promised to take a walk with her? To play a game? Or something absurd like horseback riding? No, that was all highly unlikely. Besides, he couldn't handle horses.
"You promised to dance with me once I was healthy again," she said shyly.
When had he…?
Oh damn. Yes, he had actually promised her that.
He had nearly sighed in exasperation when suddenly an idea struck him.
Although he had told his father that he would not take on patients as companions, Violet was still preferable to him over any other woman his father might arrange. With Violet, at least, he knew which buttons to press to ensure the evening went smoothly.
He nodded slowly.
"That's right. I did promise you that. Very well then, let's test how good your motor skills truly are," he said, extending his hand to her.
"You want to dance now?!" she exclaimed, almost choking on the words.
"Of course. After all, I am here to see how well you've recovered," Helios said with a smile.
The events were aligning in his favor. How much he loved it when things worked out exactly as he wanted—even when it was the result of a spontaneous idea—was hard to put into words.
They moved into the Cresent family's ballroom. The space was bright and spacious, with gleaming parquet floors and tall windows through which soft light streamed. A record was placed on the player, its music carrying a calm, measured rhythm—ideal for a slow dance.
Helios led, as was proper. Violet's steps were still a little uncertain, her coordination not perfect, but she made a visible effort. He adjusted the tempo, guided her gently, and supported her subtly whenever she faltered.
It was Helios' duty as a man to lead the dance and look after his partner. It was another thing he could control. He hated dancing, and yet he had trained himself to perfection in it, so he could manage when necessary. After all, it was practical to possess certain social skills.
It had been a long time since he had last danced, but his movements were smooth, controlled—straight out of the textbook.
And so he asked Violet to accompany him to the evening gathering. She was a thousand times preferable to some unfamiliar woman who might irritate him.
At least in this one matter, he could keep his father off his back.