A Gorgeous White

Chapter 409: || || Dark Changes

Even if the world was at its worst, even when he's taken from everything he owned and loved, and even when he's lost in an endless loop of misery in complete darkness, Fridal would think there is nothing as frightening and as merciless as the hateful indifferent gaze of Lord Hadrian Hercullio of Helios. True were his old friends' and enemies' words, "He would look at you with nothing but cold soulless eyes as if you are meaningless. By his gaze alone, one would desire to flee and hide. This is the Golden Lord."

When these same eyes were settled upon Fridal's head, not one part of his body shuddered. Ah, he doesn't look like the conqueror of lighting and land, but the king of every darn freezing snowy mountain there is in Aurona. That sheepish king of Aurona doesn't hold a candle against this lord. But his silence meant all his suspicions were true. Fridal revealed a wistful smile to Hadrian's puncturing gaze before deciding to change the subject.

"Ahem, that demon heart you've enlightened me about. Where did you get it?"

"..." Golden eyes narrowed sharply which made the big merchant swallow hard, fearing that he'd touched a nerve once more. However, Hadrian turned away and spoke calmly.

"An elite demon of Arakiel's followers." His voice is low and sneering.

Fridal abruptly straightened in his seat with wide shocked eyes. His heart drummed violently. "You're joking. Those things are absolutely difficult to defeat. Even if it's you, which I meant no offense, you should have lost an arm or a leg."

Hadrian silently turned to him and Fridal stared in anticipation. An arm or a leg. But it wasn't me who paid the price. The lord's gaze deepened before shifting his gaze away.

"This heart... If it's truly one of Arakiel's demons. Then it wouldn't be long to find Gohtel Island and gut that son of a whore Arakiel." The shock in the merchant's eyes transformed into solemnness. "When can it be disclosed to the other shelter bases?"

"Soon..." Hadrian answered, "The men from Ferphano will arrive in a week. We wait for them."

"Tsk... Those women again."

However, he'd be lying if he said they don't need them. Honestly, just thinking about those viper-like girls made his skin crawl.

Fridal sighed loudly and poured himself some wine. "It seems we'll be here for a while."

For a moment, the man thought of his men and hesitantly raised his glass to his lips. "So... are there opening brothels in the city?"

................

The big dark wood doors shut close and a certain silver-eyed maeruthan gazed at the doors for a few seconds before heaving a sigh. Moulin caressed the beautifully carved wood, internally praying for his parents' recovery. Ignoring the ache in his chest, the youth turned and walked away. His steps clicked as he traveled the long corridor.

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Warm light from the crystal lights dappled on his glistening figure. His pure-white hair is braided on his scalp while the rest fell like a waterfall of curls. A single strand is like a string of starlight. No matter where he walked, gazes would follow him. But Moulin doesn't pay them even an ounce of his attention.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps closed on the departing youth. They sound heavy and urgent but then slowed in a languid pace when it was near enough behind him. Moulin's eyes slowly narrowed. This presence... It's him again.

"Why do look so sad, young master?" Sarion's amused voice entered the youth's ears. "You look sophisticated and elegant enough to rival our lovely noble ladies here in this city. A frown doesn't suit you at all. Where's your smile?"

Moulin's frown deepened but he chose to ignore the man's nonsense. Why is he even talking to me? Surely, there were more interesting things to entertain this elite successor. And rival who?

Sarion's brow rose when all he received was cold silence, he gave a questionable glance at his followers behind him. They only shrugged in response. A corner of the man's lips lifted. Hmm, was he acting shy?

"Young master Fraunces. Your brothers are too busy to entertain you, perhaps, you need someone to enlighten you? Well, since you have so much time on your hands. How about you go and attend to your beloved forest and prove the people's beliefs? Isn't that worth it?"

He raised his gaze and rambled on, "I must thank you for your generosity during our first meeting..."

Do you mean when you were trespassing in my chambers?

"... I was quite shameless wasn't I?" He chuckled.

Moulin scoffed. So you admit it?

For Moulin, the walk seemed long and arduous as a certain someone was keen on talking until his eardrums bursts bloody. Moulin's face slowly morphed into one with fierce coldness and indifference. The strings of his patience were at the brink of snapping. Temperature within the corridor began to lower by several degrees. The annoying beastman behind him failed to notice the abnormality. A few people who passed shivered briefly in confusion.

"Ah, I found this fascinating bar. I'm sure you've heard of it from your female friend, the captain-"

Silver eyes flashed. A giant spear of pure flesh-biting ice pointed at Sarion's vulnerable throat. The sharp tip gleamed dangerously. The beastman was frozen still, hurriedly raising a hand to stop his two followers who were about to attack. A stray chilling breeze surrounded them.

Moulin's gaze was cold and irritated. He pushed the spear closer to the man's skin and whispered, "Shut up and don't follow me."

A flurry of snowflakes filled the corridor.

Moulin narrowed his eyes before withdrawing. He turned around and left the haughty successor to silently watch his departing back. The man's smile grew wider in interest. Ah, so cold. I only wanted to be acquainted with him. How come he only befriended weird people, mostly with poor backgrounds?

"Sarion..." A familiar voice called for him from behind.

Sarion turned around and showed a giant grin. "My friend, Varick. Back so soon?"

"What are you doing?" Varick's eyes are cautious as he glanced at the falling snowflakes around them. This work could only belong to one person in the Three Towers.

"Making friends?"

"With Moulin Fraunces, I presume."

Sarion nods, "Yes, he pointed a spear at me. It seems like I annoyed him too much. Does he and the High Lord share the same temper?"

Varick glared at him, "I forbid you to do anything foolish again. High Lord Hercullio isn't in a better mood these days. I beg you to stop catching his attention. Last time, your father had to deal with the blow for your reckless actions. Have you learned nothing?"

At the mention of his father, Sarion frowned deeply. His eyes are laced with fury. "How could I forget how my father kneeled before his feet? Although that man saved our lives, he had no right to treat us as he wished."

"Then don't provoke him." Varick sighed, "Moulin is the only one keeping him passive. If you try anything stupid. Who knows might be sacrificed for your deeds again? Do you understand?"

Sarion shifted his gaze away. "... I do."

Varick sighed and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. "The Lord isn't as bad as you think. You've looked up to him before. You know what he was like. He's... a good person inside. Perhaps, something happened..."

Sarion shrugged, "Or he was just feigning kindness to use us."

After he said this, he didn't wait for Varick to open his mouth before walking away with his loyal attendants. Varick stood helplessly as he watched his friend's departing back. His hands at his sides clenched tightly. We've lost many friends, and loved ones, before and the only one who kept us together was none other than my lord. Even when he too was suffering inside.

Varick knew Lord Hadrian was still the good man he was before...

.............

Moulin huffed after sending a message to Hadrian that he was going out to visit Jagra's house. It seems Jagra has finally made himself busy, resuming to receive orders. It seems his health improved significantly. He's even doing better than before now and Moulin wanted to see it for himself. Pola had already gone ahead to help Jagra.

Moulin arrived at the doorstep of the house and was about to open the door when he felt the strange feeling of being watched. He turned his head and searched only to find nothing that seemed amiss. However, he wanted to be sure and was about to spread his awareness. But a loud clattering noise from inside the house interrupted him.

Moulin instantly withdrew his gaze and hastily burst through the door. His eyes stopped on a young woman, crouching down to collect the scattered bottles on the floor, rolling away from her feet.

Pola paused, noticing a familiar presence. When she lifted her gaze, she froze. "Y-Young master! You're already here!"

"Yes..." Moulin helplessly smiled, "Do you need help?"

"Wha- Oh, no. No, no, no, no. I-Uh I can do this myself, haha." She hurriedly spoke and quickly chased down the rolling bottles. She cursed when another bottle fell from her arms and hastily lifted her head to give Moulin a quick smile. Afterwards, she continued to hunt down the empty bottle on the floor.

"I-Uh... I do this all the time so it's not a big problem at all. Well, I mostly list down the potions to concoct and other things. However, collecting these slippery stubborn bottles is easier than the rest of my job so it's not that hard really-"

She stood up when she finally collected the bottle but then stopped when she saw that Moulin had already collected the rest of the fallen bottle on the floor. The youth gave her a warm smile before putting the bottles in a basket and handing it to her.

"You're always working hard, Pola. So take a break sometimes..." Moulin softly spoke, patting her shoulder and leading her upstairs.

Pola nodded while heat filled her cheeks. Ah, her young master is as handsome as ever. Truly, no one can match his beauty and kindness.

Pola reluctantly separated from Moulin for she still has many tasks to accomplish but with Moulin's presence in the house, she was ignited like a firework. Her actions are quicker and more precise than before.

"Moulin, you've arrived. Come take a seat." Jagra spoke gesturing to the chair near the table. The maeruthan mage wore silver-rimmed glasses and looked more exquisite and mature than he looked before. Honestly, seeing him like this made Moulin want to tease him. But Jagra's sudden strict stare made him think otherwise.

"Are you feeling alright nowadays? You don't overwork yourself often right?" Moulin asked in concern. Jagra had just recovered from those nightmares, Moulin didn't want his health to deteriorate.

"I'm alright..." Jagra took off his glasses and put down his pen. His expression is calm and his eyes are bright and warm. "Thank you for worrying."

Moulin chuckled and shook his head, "Why should I not worry about you? I'm here to see if you're really in a state to work."

"I'm alright," Jagra went to pick up the teapot of newly brewed tea and poured Moulin a cup. "Ghana came here to visit this morning. She slept for a few hours in the other room before waking up to ransack my kitchen for food."

Moulin laughed as he took the tea. "What a brave soul. Let me guess she escaped unscathed?"

"Fortunately, for her." Jagra sighed.

Moulin chuckled, "I can't believe you let her go."

"Well, she was quite in a hurry."

Moulin chuckled. He complimented the tea as he imagined Ghana's impatient look while she raced out of the house. A chuckle escaped him.

Moulin and Jagra continued to converse in the bright room. The window beside them was clear and wide enough for one to peek.