The Weight Of Disappointment

"What the hell did you just say!!?" a voice reverberated so loud that it seemed as if lightning had struck right in the middle of the room.

The man's expression was sour, as though he had tasted something terribly unpleasant.

His eyes blazed like molten lava as if he wished the person before him would disintegrate into ashes.

Despite his apparent age, possibly in his early fifties, his neatly trimmed beard showed patches of grey, adding to his air of authority.

His medium-length black hair was groomed in a disciplined manner, suggesting a meticulous nature.

Surprisingly, his attire was modest, yet elegant. He wore a silk shirt and trousers, paired with a well-tailored overcoat of matching material.

Contrary to his outward appearance, his face lacked any elegance or sophistication.

The cold night enveloped the room, illuminated by the silver glow of the half-moon streaming through the windows.

Flickering candles placed around the room mingled with the moonlight, casting a serene radiance across the space.

Yet, neither of the occupants paid heed to the natural beauty surrounding them, as a more pressing matter unfolded.

John Gray, the lord of the Red Hawk Town, stood in his personal study, meticulously decorated with an array of ornaments and shelves filled with books.

"Don't just stand there in silence. Answer my question!!!" the man demanded as his irritation grew since the person opposite him remained silent.

The figure facing John bore a striking resemblance, yet he was much younger, devoid of any facial hair. He appeared to be in his late teens, his clenched fists betraying a sense of fear and uncertainty.

Despite the man before him being his father, the boy was very well aware of his father prioritizing ambitions over paternal emotions.

The boy hesitated before stammering out,

"Father... I... I'm not certain how I lost it. I could have sworn I had it with me, but when I got home, it was nowhere to be found."

"Useless... Absolutely useless. You had one job... just one job, damn it... How could you mess that up?" his father's words cut through the air like a sharp blade.

The boy remained silent, knowing any attempt to defend himself would be futile against his father's anger.

Deep down, he recognized that this mistake was his own, adding to the long list of shortcomings he felt within his family.

Unlike his elder brother Damian, who excelled in swordsmanship, or his academically successful sister Clarice, the boy had always felt like the odd one out.

He lacked the confidence to become an Aura user like his brother, and his memory was notoriously poor to become an academician like his sister.

The youngest child is often showered with love and attention in every household. However, in his family, this was not the case.

His mother's tragic death during childbirth cast a shadow over his life, leading his elder brother and sister to harbor deep resentment towards him.

They saw him as the harbinger of the death of their loving mother, a notion that tainted their interactions with him.

While they didn't directly bully him, their coldness was very clear, and they spoke to him only when absolutely necessary.

He keenly observed the intense aversion in his siblings' eyes whenever they glanced his way, a constant reminder of his role in their lives.

Even his father, who initially cared for him, gradually distanced himself upon realizing the youngest's lack of talent in both swordsmanship and academics.

For years, he existed in the shadows, feeling invisible and insignificant.

However, today brought an unexpected change. With his brother Damian and sister Clarice away, his father called upon him and entrusted him with a task.

This sudden acknowledgment filled him with elation, as it was the first time in years that his father had shown any interest in him.

Despite his poor memory, he managed to recall the entire conversation he had with his father earlier that day.

"Dorian, listen closely, my son. Remember, don't speak about your actions or this meeting to anyone. If Damian were here, I'd have tasked him. But he's off to Hilston Castle for the knight selection. Your sister's still at the academy. So, you're my only choice. Be cautious and bring whatever the person gives you."

Dorian, brimming with excitement, responded eagerly,

"Yes, Father! What's my task?"

"Good to see your enthusiasm, but be discreet. This town is small, and people have very keen eyes. I don't want anyone catching wind of this. Pay close attention to my instructions," his father cautioned.

With those words, Dorian focused intently, determined not to miss a single detail from his father's guidance.

"Go to the temple of Firaa. Exactly two blocks later, you'll find a person covered in a green cloak waiting for someone. Approach him and say these exact words, 'It is a good day with a beautiful red sky.' He will respond with 'Yes, it is indeed,' and then give you an item. Bring it back here. Do you understand?"

Confused about why his father chose him for this mysterious task instead of using retainers or workers, Dorian didn't question it.

He simply replied,

"Yes, Father."

"Now, repeat the words you'll say to the person," his father prompted.

Dorian stumbled at first, mumbling,

"Um... The sky is red... no, no... It's a good day with a beautiful red sky,"

Knowing his son's tendency to be forgetful, his father warned him again,

"Remember, son, even a single misplaced word could ruin everything. Be careful not to make any mistakes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father," Dorian hesitated," If I may I inquire, what might the person entrust me with?" he cautiously asked, his tone laced with curiosity and apprehension.

John looked at him deeply with a penetrating gaze, leaving Dorian uncertain about his father's thoughts.

He hoped he hadn't overstepped any boundaries, sensing the gravity of his question.

After a tense silence that felt like an eternity, his father finally responded.

"I'm as clueless as you are, son. Someone tasked me with securing an item until they came for it. The specifics remain a mystery even to me. All I know is that I must not go myself or involve anyone untrustworthy. Hence, I'm entrusting you. Despite having many capable workers, you're my blood. I trust you won't betray me. Be discreet and dress modestly to avoid attention," his father explained with instructions, the weight of their conversation visible in his tone of speech.

This lengthy exchange marked a rare moment of communication between them in recent years.

Moreover, when his father acknowledged their blood connection, Dorian was overwhelmed with mixed emotions. Despite past neglect, he cherished this glimpse of his father's lingering affection.

Yet, his failure to fulfill his father's trust weighed heavily on him, a painful betrayal of their temporary bond.

Later that day, following his father's instructions meticulously, Dorian went through each step with precision.

He committed the code words to memory, dressed inconspicuously like a commoner to avoid drawing attention, and arrived at the designated location.

Spotting the man his father had described, Dorian nervously repeated the exact words.

Throughout this tense encounter, his heart pounded relentlessly, as if trying to jump out of his mouth.

Gratefully, he executed everything flawlessly, and as predicted, the man reciprocated with the agreed-upon response, handing Dorian a folded parchment before swiftly disappearing into the shadows.

Dorian, caught up in the moment and the gravity of the situation, didn't linger to inspect the man further, whose face was hidden beneath a cloak.

Stowing the parchment away in his inner pocket without a second thought, Dorian hurried back home, his mind preoccupied with the successful completion of his mission.

However, upon reaching home and attempting to retrieve the parchment, panic set in as he realized it was nowhere to be found.

A wave of devastation washed over him, the weight of disappointment crushing him like a colossal mountain.

Desperate, he stripped down to his bare body, searching every inch of his clothing, but the parchment was never found.

Now, as his father returned and inquired about the outcome, Dorian could only respond with a heavy silence, fear gripping him and tears threatening to spill, his sense of failure and fear noticeable in the air.

"Dorian.. Dorian!!!"

The thunderous call of his father jolted Dorian from his self-reproach, snapping him back to reality.

"What the hell are you daydreaming about, boy? Do you have any idea of the consequences of your failure? Good grief... I never should have trusted a worthless fool like you from the start. I should have sent someone else, or better yet, gone myself. Trusting you with such a significant task, knowing how useless you are... I might as well smack my head with a slipper for my stupidity."

No parent should ever deem their child worthless, but John Gray was doing just that.

Dorian, hearing his father utter words he had never heard before, stood in shock and sorrow, tears streaming down his face.

"Fat...ther?" Dorian managed to choke out.

"Don't call me that, you fool. And stop crying like a weakling. Your sister Clarice has never shed a tear in her life as a lady, yet here you are bawling like a bitch. Damn it... What bad karma did I build up in my past life to be burdened with trash like you?"

Unable to find his voice, Dorian felt a profound sense of betrayal.

Despite lacking talent, he had never been idle, always working diligently like his siblings. All his efforts were in pursuit of his father's approval, yet now, faced with his father's harsh words, he felt a dagger pierce his heart.

"Now... stop shedding tears and think. Reflect on everything that happened between receiving the package and arriving home. Even the slightest detail could be crucial. Don't leave anything out," his father commanded, the weight of disappointment heavy in his voice.

After hearing his father's harsh words, Dorian summoned the strength to focus on helping his father, pushing aside his personal distress.

He retraced his steps mentally, back to the moment he received the parchment, trying to recall every detail.

However, his hurried journey to his home had left him with little memory due to the importance of the task.

Then, a flicker of realization ignited in his eyes as he remembered a seemingly insignificant incident that now stood out as peculiar.

"I was sprinting home to deliver the parchment to you. As I turned a corner, I accidentally bumped into someone, but it was brief, just a slight nudge. I didn't even stop to apologize, following your instructions not to engage with anyone,"

Dorian explained, wanting to convey the importance he placed on his father's task, especially regarding avoiding interactions with strangers.

His father's expression shifted abruptly.

"Did that person touch you?" John demanded with a note of urgency in his voice.

"No, I didn't stay long enough for any contact," Dorian replied, puzzled by his father's line of questioning.

"Let me rephrase the question. When you bumped into him, did you make physical contact?" John pressed on.

"Yes, our shoulders brushed briefly," Dorian replied, growing anxious as he sensed his father's growing concern.

"Describe the person. Now!" John demanded urgently.

"I... I didn't get a good look at him. I wasn't focused on him," Dorian admitted, feeling the weight of his father's pressure.

"Are you really that daft? Someone intentionally tried to slam into you, and you didn't even glance at him."

John's voice rose in frustration, scolding his son.

"Tell me something, anything, that could help identify him. His attire, skin color, anything," John urged, his tone softer but still stern.

After a moment of reflection, Dorian offered,

"He wore a sleeveless shirt, and he was shorter than me but appeared to be much more muscular than an average person. He had a slight dark skin I think. That's all I remember."

"How much shorter was he than you?"

"Up to my chest level, I think, but I can't be certain," Dorian admitted, feeling a mix of anxiety and guilt for not paying more attention.

Fine, leave the room. I need to rectify the mess you've made," he dismissed Dorian, his disappointment evident.

Dorian wrestled with the urge to speak to his father, his reluctance battling against a growing sense that now was the moment to voice his feelings.

After a few hesitant seconds, he resolved to address the situation later and stepped out.

Before he could reach the door, he heard his father's voice calling out,

"Wait."

Turning back with a glimmer of hope, Dorian anticipated a softened demeanor from his father, perhaps an apology for the harsh words earlier.

However, his hopes crumbled as he listened to his father's words.

"Tell Hendrik to come inside when you go out,"

John instructed before returning to his study desk, immersing himself in documents and disregarding his son completely.

Dorian's heart sank further as he exited the room, the weight of his unspoken words and his father's actions adding to his deepening sense of despair.

As the door closed behind him, John paused his work, his mind shifting to recollecting the appearance of the man who had stolen from his son.

A chilling smile curved John's lips as he murmured to himself,

"I don't know who you are, but once I find you, you are dead."

But he didn't know that the person he was dreaming of killing had already been digested inside the stomach of a beast.