30 || Chapter 28 || What A Horrible Greeting

Hadrian watched silently.

He watched the sorrowful pure touch of warmth inside those bright glossy eyes of silver, the purest he had ever seen in a person. As a person who grew up within a life of potent deceit imprisoning him, he had a keen eye of reading people through their eyes alone. Some had used the same innocent tactic against him but every trick was futile.

The young man in front of him was showing him an extremely different side of him, one that Hadrian did not expect the youth would possess. Like there was a calm sea of crystalline waters but deep beneath the tranquility lies violent currents where a lost soul was mislaid, confused, and seeking for hope. As though, if a thin delicate rope was sent down into depths he would hold unto it for dear life.

There was a pitiful heart beneath the currently flushed face of the third young master before him. If one would overlook the deep meaning in the youth's eyes, all they would see would be a beauteous countenance with incarnadining cheeks and stunning silver irises softening as if he was gazing at the person he truly desired in his life. If it was another person before the youth, their faces would immediately thicken with pride for seducing one beautiful and powerful maeruthan. But that would never happen…

Hadrian wasn't sure but the thought another person maliciously desiring this boy felt like a drop of venom and ashes blending in his mouth. And knowing Moulin, the youth would probably resort to murder than let a man covetously eye him like a delectable morsel or a trophy to be won.

Even as a man, Hadrian wasn't easily swayed by seductive glances, charming tactics, and desirable innocence. Instead, they were like thorns and filth covered with makeup and fawning smiles. Aphrodites, admittedly, were one of the worst. But Moulin was like a white diamond within a sea of gems, sparkling brighter than the rest.

"Thank… you… " Moulin unconsciously whispered, his voice was as clear as a resounding drop of water in a dark cave.

Their hands touched, fingertips tingled. Moulin almost jerked back the hand holding the flower if it wasn't for his awareness returning him back to the ground. He had already forgotten the previous irritation a minute ago and was currently silent.

There wasn't a bit of awkwardness in their silence but a youthful atmosphere like a pair of people discovering the foreign feeling of affection together. It extended for a few savoring minutes as the two only gazed at each other.

…

"Moulin…"

A call abruptly interrupted the pair and both turned to look at the person approaching them with cool steady steps. It was none other than the heir of the Fraunces household, Maxille.

Hadrian's eyes dimmed before they returned back to normal as if it never happened. His gaze shifted to Moulin, who in return turned expectantly to him. "I have expressed my thanks, I'll be waiting for yours…" his lips turned up into a smile before he shifted his gaze and began to walk away.

Words refused to escape Moulin's mouth for he was currently unsure of what to do or even say. He only watched as Hadrian walked away farther from him. The previous feeling quickly diminished as if it was forcibly stuffed into a chest and Moulin was left with only confusion as he gripped the flower within his hand.

Maxille quietly paused and bowed his head slightly towards the Archnoble, who walked past him. He quite noticed the cold look in Hadrian's eyes, when he glanced at him. It happened in less than a second before it disappeared and the Lord had walked farther away. He didn't know why but the sharp glare in Hadrian's eyes seemed to directed to him as if Maxille had greatly disrupted his mood.

"Brother… "

Moulin trotted towards his brother, carefully clenching the delicate flower in his hands. Maxille narrowed his eyes at it and instinctively glanced at the direction of where the Hercullio noble had left. He felt a foreboding feeling for the near future…

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Moulin hadn't even had the time to prepare before he was pushed inside the Vinch carriage and they were departing back to Zenin City.

The carriage ride was silent all the way and there was heavy tension present in the air. Moulin pitifully glanced at Emlen and Maxille as if he was about to be punished heavily but the two only kept muttering their worries for him and persuadingly told him to sleep and rest. So Moulin could only comply and closed his eyes tiredly, he'll think more when he wakes up.

When the carriage finally arrived in the front courtyard at the entrance of the manor, the sun had set and the skies had darkened. The heavy gigantic doors opened and the three were greeted by their mother's crying face, dripping with tears. Their father's face had paled as he observed their exhausted faces and the weakening mana around them, especially Moulin's. The Lady of the house almost couldn't take it as she held tightly unto Moulin with trembling fingers.

After an hour of spilling tears, the Lord of the house quickly appeased his wife and sent a dozen servants to tend to his sons.

The chandelier twinkled above the ceilings gilded with lines of gold and extravagant paintings and patterns. Within the wide extravagant room filled with the scent of honey and sweet roses, the sound of a comb running through soft silky hair felt gentle and graceful to one's ear.

Moulin fluttered his lazy eyes open as he glanced at his reflection on the mirror. He had just taken a warm bath, a delightful dinner, and dressed in comfortable clothes, he was wrapped in so much comfort that he began to doze off while Pola brushed his hair.

.Suddenly, three loud knocks sounded behind the doors of his room. Moulin looked at Pola through his reflection, who nodded once at him and walked across the carpet, she exited the dressing room shortly and opened the large doors of Moulin's room. A few words were exchanged between Pola and the family butler, Fabian, before she closed the door and returned to Moulin.

"Your father wishes to speak with you, young master"

Moulin pressed his lips in a thin line and hardened his heart. Yes, it was time to face them. He knew he couldn't keep his abilities a secret forever, his family would eventually know. Playing stupid was still an option he could use... Yes, it would probably work.

"Tend to Snow, Pola. I'll be back" He stood up, straightening the creases on his sleeves.

"Yes, young master"

Moulin wasted no time as he exited his dressing room, his pale hand reaching for the golden handle of one of the doors of his room. He paused, eyelids slightly lowered as he turned his head to glance at something besides his bed.

Without another thought, he shook his head, grasped the handle, and left the room.

The sound of the closing door noised within the luxurious room as a bright bluish glow softly illuminated the surface of the bedside table, where an elegant round crystal vase sits on the surface, a single flower settles innocently.

•••••••••••••••••••••

"Father… It is Moulin"

His tender knuckles softly knocked twice in the thick wooden doors. There was a nervous thudding in Moulin's chest. Yes, he was certainly nervous. His clenched palm couldn't help but sweat and he forced himself to not give away any suspicions from his expression, he needed to remain calm and steady.

"Come in…"

As those words were heard, Moulin gently pushed one of the doors open and his beauteous face revealed itself from behind the wooden door.

But before he opens his mouth in greeting-

Swish!

Warning signals were released inside Moulin's brain as fast as the object speeding directly towards him in the air. It was extremely fast that it could only be identified by the sharp glare of light flashing past one's eyes.

Out of his cautious instinct, Moulin raised his arm, eyes narrowing in hostility as he obstructed the attack by sending out a shard of ice into the air. A loud crash akin to breaking glasses sounded abruptly as tiny chips of ice blew past Moulin's cheek while the object broke and shattered a few inches away from Moulin's face. A pair of silver eyes were strikingly aggressive and vigilant as he lowered his arm, uncovering the people in front of him.

"Colahn!"

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Loud shouts suddenly erupted inside the office which made Moulin's eyes try to understand the situation before him.

Maxille had on a seething expression similar to his brother beside him, their grey eyes burned with rage and disbelief, burning within their eyes. But what greatly caught Moulin's attention was the terrible chill within his father's eyes, they were like silent daggers itching to slice open the person who would dare offend him.

All this was directed to a man currently standing erect before Moulin.

Moulin relaxed his brows as he scrutinized the person in front of him. Of course, he was quite familiar person in front of him. With the white-robed and a blue silky sash tied around his waist, the strict posture yet looking with gentle eyes, and the strangely surprised look on his face as he stared at Moulin. Colahn, the Head spirit seer of the estate and the son of the kind doctor, Vonin, who had always taken care of him.

Although he greatly has enormous respect for Mister Vonin, Moulin could not tolerate any person who would dare openly hurt him. As if Moulin's silver eyes could pierce through him, he coldly glowered at Colahn.

"So it's true…" Colahn whispered, his eyes gazing at Moulin's face.

At first, he had great doubt. Moulin was only a normal maeruthan since birth, he was an aphrodite who unfortunately hadn't inherited his father's ability. There was not even a hint of mana inside him. His body was also incredibly sickly to the point that even the Lord and Lady of the household would implore Colahn to examine him. And the result was always the same, Moulin was a complete nonwielder noble whose body couldn't hold even a bit of mana or else it would completely destroy his body even more than it already was.

Yet, how? How could his internal body change so drastically in a short amount of time? The child's powers were even powerfully deadly. Supposedly, the third young master's situation could be considered as a miracle but it was too heavy with suspicions. Was the root of his awakening also the cause of his physical transformation?

"What is the meaning of this?"

Moulin's voice swiftly interrupted his thoughts. Colahn met his cold mad gaze and he could not help but feel a bit surprised by the strong intimidation of the youth. "A wonderful morning to you, young master Moulin" He could only greet him out of uneasiness.

"I do not think this evening could be considered 'wonderful' any longer…" replied Moulin with a calm expression.

"…"

Colahn lowered his gaze, unable to meet the glowering cold eyes of the youth. It was as though the young master's gaze could bring out the fear within him in a snap of his little fingers.

"Colahn…" A strong authoritative voice sliced the silence between the seer and Moulin. Lord Fraunces spoke, his voice filled with disdain. "… there must be a very pertinent reason for you to boldly attack my son before my eyes. Be thankful that I am showing you a bit of mercy for being Vonin's son if it were any other person, I'd have their limbs severed in an instant"

"Forgive me, My Lord" Colahn bowed his head at waist level, he implored. "I was merely curious about the third young master's ability if it was genuinely true. This servant had great doubts and is ultimately curious about the origin of young master Moulin's abilities... One would be highly suspicious of such a sudden miracle".

"That doesn't mean that you could attack him! He was unguarded! What if he hadn't protected himself at the last moment?! I'd kill you myself if even a single drop of blood escape his skin. If you are wishing for death then I can kill you right now!" Rigid cords were visible on Emlen's neck as he seethingly shouted at Colahn with burning eyes. If it wasn't for Maxille's strong arm to hold him back, he would have already smashed Colahn's head open.

Maxille was calm but his eyes were chilled. He had a close friendship with Colahn and even though he was just as angry as Emlen was, he, like his father, wanted to give Colahn a chance to explain himself before punishing him.

Colahn was unaffected of Emlen's outburst, he straightened his back gracefully and apologized to Moulin with an unreadable face.

"Young master, I have a lot of doubts about your awakening, would you give me a moment of your time to question you?" His voice was kind and gentle as if the thrilling performance he had made earlier never existed. If it was any other person, they would've easily fallen for his gentle eyes.

But Moulin wasn't like any other person…

"Does it involves foolishly attacking me without any warning? I believe I have already encountered that part. What other foolish thoughts do this sir wish to express? Feel free to enlighten me" An equally gently smile adorned Moulin's lips.

To be attacked with his own strategy, Colahn flinched. Truly, Moulin was polishing his sharp tongue. It was even more malevolent and violent, gone was the reckless rantings and ridiculous blames. There were spite and poison in a wonderful sick blend inside Moulin's tone. The smile failed to cover it all up but even that was certainly on purpose.

"No more foolishness, young master" He swore with helpless eyes, unwaveringly gazing into those cold silver irises.

What an unyielding man.

Moulin kept his eyes on him as he walked to seat himself on the long velvet couch. He nodded at the two brothers behind him who stood like two loyal knights, before once again facing the Head seer of the Fraunces house before him.

Elegantly crossing his legs, a small smile hooked Colahns attention as Moulin looked at him with cold eyes.

"Let's converse peacefully then, Head Seer"