Chapter 577: Longest Day

Snow kept falling around them, each flake catching the pale light filtering through clouds overhead.

The sun hung somewhere behind that gray veil, illuminating the world in soft tones that made everything feel distant and dreamlike.

Damian sat in the offered chair, his hands resting on his thighs, his masked face pointed toward the man across from him.

’How am I supposed to enjoy this ’gift’?’

The thought came helpless and confused.

’How do I treasure this moment when all I can think about is what’s coming?’

His throat felt tight, his chest heavy with weight.

’What am I even supposed to say to him?’

Darius moved, his hand rising toward the bottles that had materialized moments before.

His fingers wrapped around one particular container.

"Here."

The whisper emerged casual but carrying undercurrents of genuine excitement.

He pulled the cork free with practiced ease, the sound cutting across the quiet terrace.

"You’re really lucky, you know."

The liquid poured into both glasses, thick and golden.

"This is the finest elvish alcohol in existence. The kind their nobility guards more carefully than they guard their World Tree’s roots."

His lips curved into something between a smile and a smirk, mischief bleeding through.

"I stol–"

He caught himself mid-word, clearing his throat.

"I mean, I bought this from a dear friend at great personal expense and after extensive negotiation."

The lie sat transparently between them, his expression making it clear he expected no one to believe the correction.

"Even the Divine Rulers only receive a bottle of this maybe once every millennia, if they’re particularly well-behaved and their subjects haven’t annoyed the elves too badly."

He lifted his glass, studying the way light moved through the liquid.

"So drink up, little friend, for this moment won’t come again."

Then he brought the rim to his lips and threw his head back.

Gulp

The alcohol disappeared in one smooth motion, his throat working as he swallowed without hesitation.

He lowered the glass, immediately pouring another serving.

Gulp

Gone again, just as quickly, his movements practiced.

He filled the glass once more, the bottle already noticeably lighter.

Gulp

His crimson eyes found Damian’s masked face, tracking across the white surface with something approaching challenge mixed with amusement.

"What are you waiting for, boy?"

His voice came out pointed despite remaining quiet.

"Any northerner who refuses a drink offered in good faith is no true northerner at all."

The words carried weight beyond their surface meaning, invoking something cultural.

Damian’s hand moved before his mind fully caught up, fingers wrapping around his own glass.

’Maybe...’

His thoughts came scattered and desperate.

’Maybe it would be better not to think so clearly right now.’

He lifted the glass, the rim settling against his lips underneath the mask.

The alcohol hit his tongue and his entire perception shifted.

’W-woah~’

Warmth spread through his chest immediately, making his head feel light and his thoughts less sharp at the edges.

’I’m... drunk? From one glass? What kind–’

Darius’s smile widened, genuine pleasure crossing his features.

"There we go."

He poured again, refilling both glasses without asking permission.

"Now we can talk properly."

His posture shifted, becoming more relaxed, his shoulders dropping slightly as he settled deeper into his chair.

"You probably don’t know this..."

His voice took on something contemplative, losing the playful edges.

"But today is the happiest day of my entire life."

He paused, his crimson eyes tracking away from Damian toward the estate below them.

"Today, I finally became... a father."

The words fell soft but carrying weight that pressed down on everything.

"Right at this very moment, my wife is downstairs holding our sons in her arms."

His hand rose unconsciously, fingers curving as if cradling something invisible.

"My whole family has gathered in this estate to celebrate their arrival. Siblings, nephews and nieces I haven’t seen in years, all of them crowded around the boys."

He lowered his hand, reaching for his glass again.

"And my father..."

Something shifted in his tone, becoming warmer.

"He’s finally gotten the time to come home from wherever he wanders off to."

He took another drink, smaller this time, savoring it rather than throwing it back.

"By all reasoning, by every social convention and familial obligation that exists, I should be downstairs as well."

His gaze found Damian again.

"I should be spending this time with all of them, holding my newborns, accepting congratulations and playing the role of a proud father and a dutiful family head."

His lips curved into something self-deprecating.

"And yet here I am, sitting on a cold terrace, drinking stolen elvish alcohol with a strange little guy whose name I don’t even know."

He paused, letting the statement hang between them.

"Do you want to know why?"

Damian’s throat worked but no sound emerged, his chest too tight for words to form properly.

Darius continued without waiting for an answer, his voice dropping lower.

"Because the more I look at you, the more my heart insists with absolute certainty that this..."

He gestured vaguely at the space between them.

"This is exactly where I need to be right now."

His crimson eyes tracked across Damian’s masked face with intensity that made looking away impossible.

"It’s a strange feeling, almost indescribable. Like something deep inside me recognized something deep inside you."

He took another drink, his gaze never wavering.

"Almost like... fate."

The word landed between them like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples outward through implications neither could fully grasp.

And suddenly, something inside Damian cracked.

Sound escaped his throat before he could stop it, unexpected and rough.

A chuckle, dark and carrying bitter recognition of cosmic irony that refused to release its grip.

"Fate, huh..."

The words came out quiet, almost lost in the wind.

His hand moved, fingers wrapping around his refilled glass, lifting it without looking.

He drank, the liquid burning less this time, warmth spreading faster through his system.

The glass lowered, empty again.

His gaze tracked upward, finding the sky beyond the clouds.

"A long time ago, I used to think Fate was an illusory thing."

His whisper carried across the terrace, measured and controlled.

"Something that worked the same for everyone in the world, touching all lives with equal indifference, neither blessing nor cursing but simply... existing."

His fingers tightened on the empty glass, knuckles going white.

"But maybe I was wrong about that."

A pause, his jaw working slightly.

"Maybe Fate really does have favorites after all."

His hand gestured vaguely at nothing and everything.

"Some people are given without asking what others spend entire lifetimes learning to live without."

His voice dropped lower, becoming almost inaudible.

"Some inherit the very things I have only ever known as wishes, as prayers whispered into darkness, as almosts that never quite became reality."

His breathing stayed controlled but something shifted in his posture, shoulders curling inward fractionally.

"And perhaps the cruelest part..."

He paused, his gaze dropping from the sky.

"Is not that Fate refuses to give me what I want."

His eyes found Darius’s face, locking onto crimson that blazed with life and warmth.

"But that it keeps placing it within my sight anyway."

His voice cracked fractionally, the only break in his careful control.

"Just close enough to feel it, to experience it, to know exactly what I’m missing..."

His hand trembled where it gripped the glass.

"Only for it to be snatched away the very next moment."

Silence crashed down between them like something physical, suffocating in its completeness.

Darius remained perfectly still, his expression becoming complex, his crimson eyes tracking across Damian’s masked face with focus that suggested he was seeing beyond the surface.

Damian’s hand rose suddenly, pressing against his masked face, fingers spreading across the white surface.

He let out a long breath that emerged shaky despite his attempts at control.

’What the hell am I doing?’

The thought came sharp and accusatory, cutting through the alcohol’s haze.

’Sitting here feeling sorry for myself, dumping my misery over him... This isn’t... I shouldn’t be saying these things.’

His jaw clenched beneath the mask.

’This alcohol... It’s stronger than I expected. My control is slipping–’

"Forgive me, umm..."

The words came out rough and uncertain, his throat tight.

"Mr. Darius, I shouldn’t have–"

"Just Darius is fine. No need for titles between people sharing alcohol."

The interruption came soft but absolute, cutting through Damian’s scattered apology.

Darius’s posture shifted, his elbows settling against the table, leaning forward with movements that brought him closer.

"And you seem... very tired."

His voice carried something approaching sympathy wrapped in understanding.

"I can see it in your eyes, even through that broken mask you’re wearing."

His head tilted, studying Damian with focus that made hiding impossible.

"The kind of exhaustion that goes deeper than just being physical."

Damian’s hand lowered from his mask, settling back on his thigh.

His gaze found the table between them, unable to meet his father’s eyes directly.

Silence stretched for several heartbeats before his whisper emerged, honest in a way he hadn’t intended.

"I’ve had the longest day of my life."

His fingers pressed harder against his leg, the only outward sign of tension.

"And somehow it just keeps getting longer, piling one impossible thing on top of another until I can barely remember what normal felt like."

His breathing stayed controlled but something bled through anyway, exhaustion making his careful composure crack.

"I have been through so much in the past few hours that I don’t even recognize myself anymore."

The confession hung in the cold air between them, weighted with truth he couldn’t take back.