Chapter 60: What Was I Even Here For?

Kane rubbed his temples, wincing at the dull throb behind his eyes.

The dream’s echo lingered like a half-forgotten melody, just beyond his grasp.

His gaze sharpened on the chalice in Cyrus’s hands, its metallic surface catching the dim light.

"Where did you get that?" Kane asked, confusion evident.

Cyrus turned the object slowly, examining its craftsmanship. "It’s a fake."

"That doesn’t answer my question." Kane swung his legs over the side of the bed, fighting a wave of dizziness.

"Did you... did you go after it yourself while I was out?"

The silence that followed was enough answer. Kane felt a flash of irritation cutting through his grogginess.

"So that’s it? You did the whole thing without me." Kane’s voice was deceptively light, but his tail bristled behind him.

"You were incapacitated." Cyrus set the fake chalice down on the nightstand with deliberate care.

"No. You made me incapacitated." Kane’s laugh held no humor. He stood, ignoring the lingering dizziness.

"That’s a distinction worth noting, don’t you think?"

Cyrus remained impassive, his crimson eyes giving nothing away.

"What, was I just slowing you down?" Kane’s words dripped with sarcasm, but underneath lay something rawer.

"Or maybe I’m just the comic relief on this little adventure. The sidekick who gets knocked out when the real hero needs to save the day."

"I had to act swiftly and minimize risk." Cyrus turned to face the window, his profile sharp against the moonlight.

"Bernard bought our cover story, but only barely. One wrong move and we’d have lost everything."

Kane crossed his arms. "And knocking me unconscious was the solution?"

"It was efficient."

"Efficient," Kane echoed, the word bitter on his tongue.

His ears flattened against his head as he stared at the dragon’s back, wounded pride burning in his chest.

"Maybe I am just getting in your way," he said quietly, the anger replaced by something worse—doubt.

"I’m not much of an agent. Not much of an assistant either, apparently."

Cyrus turned, his expression shifting from stoic to something unreadable.

This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected—not the outrage or indignation he’d prepared for. Kane’s dejection caught him completely off guard.

"That’s not..." Cyrus started, then stopped.

The words felt foreign in his mouth. Comfort wasn’t something he offered often—or ever.

He picked up the fake chalice, turning it in his hands as if it might contain the right words.

It didn’t.

Not knowing what to do, Cyrus set the chalice down on the table beside Kane.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again before turning and walking towards the door.

Cyrus paused at the threshold, glanced back once, then left without another word.

Morning light streamed through the windows of the Poseidon Suite as Kane methodically packed his bag.

His movements were slow and precise, the opposite of his usual upbeat energy.

He folded each item with uncharacteristic care, keeping his eyes fixed on his task.

Cyrus observed from across the room, noting the stiff set of Kane’s shoulders, the way his tail hung limp instead of swishing with its usual animation.

The fox spirit hadn’t met his gaze once since they’d risen.

"The helicopter arrives in forty minutes," Cyrus said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Kane nodded once, still not looking up. "I’ll be ready."

Cyrus opened his mouth to say something more, then closed it.

Words had never been his strength—action was his domain.

But what action could bridge this particular gap? He reached for his phone, scrolling through messages that didn’t need his attention.

When Kane disappeared into the bathroom, Cyrus found himself standing before the fake chalice.

He turned it over in his hands, remembering Bernard’s face when confronted with a dragon’s wrath. The victory felt hollow now.

Kane emerged, gathering the last of his belongings. A bellhop knocked, ready to collect their luggage.

As they walked toward the elevator, Cyrus slowed his pace, allowing Kane extra space.

The fox spirit moved ahead, shoulders hunched slightly inward. Something twisted in Cyrus’s chest—an unfamiliar ache he couldn’t name.

He wanted to reach out, to fix whatever had broken.

But dragons hoarded treasures, not words of comfort.

So he followed in silence, watching Kane’s back and wondering why winning felt so much like losing.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, but before Kane could step inside, a familiar voice called out across the corridor.

"Wait! Kane, Mr. Drakhal, I’m glad I caught you!"

Bob Holloway jogged toward them, his honey-blond hair slightly tousled, a warm smile brightening his face. In his hands, he carried a small, elegantly wrapped package.

Kane’s ears perked up despite his sour mood. Cyrus stiffened beside him.

"I wanted to catch you before you left," Bob said, slightly breathless.

"It’s been such a pleasure having you aboard." His blue eyes lingered on Kane a moment longer than necessary.

"That’s... thoughtful of you," Kane replied, accepting the small gift Bob pressed into his hands.

"Just a little something to remember the Silver Mermaid by," Bob explained, his smile never wavering.

"I truly enjoyed our time together, Kane. I hope our paths cross again soon."

Cyrus made a noncommittal sound in his throat.

"Perhaps at your father’s next auction?" Cyrus asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Bob’s smile flickered for just a moment—so brief Kane almost missed it.

"Oh, Father’s auctions are dreadfully boring affairs," Bob said with a dismissive wave.

"All those old relics and dusty artifacts... I never understood the appeal of empty vessels."

Kane’s ears twitched. Something about Bob’s phrasing caught his attention.

"Empty vessels?" Kane repeated.

Bob’s eyes gleamed with something sharper than his usual affable charm.

"Well, what good is a chalice without the right contents? Father never understood that part."

Kane felt a sudden chill. The words seemed casual, but there was weight behind them.

"I thought you weren’t interested in these artifacts and relics?" Kane ventured carefully.

Bob laughed, the sound light and musical.

"Maybe I’ve picked up a thing or two, hanging around Father’s collection all these years."

He stepped back, his smile intact but his eyes calculating.

"Safe travels, gentlemen. Do enjoy the gift. It’s just a trinket, but... well, sometimes the most overlooked items hold the greatest value, don’t they?"

With a final wink at Kane, Bob turned and walked away—his smile still charming, but suddenly Kane wasn’t sure if it had ever been real.