"Why would you be here?" Emerald questioned, staring at the figure before him.
His tone was soft, carrying a warm composure so different from the guarded, heavy air he usually maintained in the presence of the Emperor. As expected, he was dreaming.
"Checking on a few things. Can't be bothered with a malfunction presently," Zinan said smoothly.
"Joke, huh?"
Zinan studied him, his dark gaze unreadable. "You exerted a lot of your human life on that sword mastery. Why would you do that, Emerald?"
"What was the question Greta asked, big boy?"
Zinan simply sat down in an invisible chair. Out of nowhere, a wooden table materialized between them, complete with a steaming teapot, a fine porcelain mug, and a small plate of sweets.
"Learn the way of the Final Sword," Zinan noted, taking a measured sip of the tea.
Emerald sat down opposite him, a small smirk playing on his lips. "She never asked a question about learning the way of the Final Sword. She asked to cure her loneliness. She was born surrounded by everyone, crazed by everyone, cared for by everyone, admired by everyone, loved by everyone... but in the end, what's there for her at the end of her time? Nothing. The real question she asked was to remember her. I accepted the offer by agreeing to be tutored in the only art of wielding the sword at its finest form. Being helpful to souls that need me isn't an everyday occurrence, but if the opportunity presents itself, I will gladly take it—with no doubt."
Zinan set his cup down, a faint, melancholic shadow passing over his features. "Your time as a valued person hasn't ruined your character or your decisions. Mine... was a different story." The words carried the unmistakable weight of past trauma.
"I never read about it—your history," Emerald admitted, curiosity creeping into his voice. "The book at the library was corrupted when I saw it. The words didn't match themselves."
"I was born a kid tasked with hunting," Zinan murmured, looking off into the foggy expanse of the dreamscape. "In my youthful days, I didn't even have a name to be called by. My duty eventually took me to the edge of a shrine I didn't know existed. There, I met a woman whose eyes exquisitely mirrored evil. I ran... but my tale was already meant to be tangled in it."
Zinan paused, letting out a short, sudden laugh. Emerald blinked in confusion, unable to fully decode the hidden meaning behind the fragments.
"Take it easy, kid," Zinan said, softening his stance. "Truth will prevail at the time of dire need. Knowing too much right now will only cause you harm, and I don't want to burden you with that."
Emerald offered a pleasant, understanding smile. "So what of Genna you wanted to probe me with?"
"Nothing about her," Zinan replied smoothly. "I'm here to tell you that Greta knows about us. That's all. Be wary of her decisions and her words from now on."
Emerald was still in awe. "But... how?"
"Our eyes glow in shades one desires—mostly blue, telling there's hope," Zinan explained.
"What about red?" Emerald asked quietly.
Zinan stilled. He locked his dark eyes dead onto Emerald's. "Where have you seen that?"
"In a dream."
A heavy silence descended over the table. Zinan slowly rose from his seat and took several steps back, placing distance between them. He turned his head back, muttering softly into the mist. "Red represents completion. You saw a future where your heart is full of what was written for you, and you accepted it as it is. That's great for anyone... even this me. Hope the God we praise gives us what we long for."
Before Emerald could answer, Zinan vanished.
Emerald snapped his eyes open. He was sitting on the couch in the main house, the quiet morning ambient light filling the room. He ran his eyes through the living areas, but couldn't spot a single person.
Seeking some movement, he wandered into the expansive garage, running his hands along the polished hoods of several supercars before stopping at the sleek lines of the Aston Martin. Feeling the sudden rumble of hunger in his stomach, he decided to pull it out for a quick outing. But before leaving, he pulled out his phone to call his only real friend in these lands—Isak.
He dialed a couple of times, but the calls went straight to voicemail. After a moment of thought, he shifted through his contacts and dialed Maria.
"Isn't it the little guy?" Maria's voice rang through the receiver. "What's the call for?"
"Oh, sorry to be a bother, but I just had a quick need, and all I got is you," Emerald said, resting his elbow on the Aston Martin's door frame.
"What about Eva and the butler?"
"Well, the butler is on leave, and I can't find Eva anywhere in the house."
"Huh. Guess she just went back to the country for some errand," Maria mused.
"Well... help?"
"Shoot it to me. What is it?"
"After coming here, I made a friend named Isak, and we've been on good terms," Emerald explained carefully. "Since I'm under suspension, he should be in class, and I thought maybe we both could use a little chat. But I just couldn't reach him no matter how much I tried. I need your help to track him down. Can you?"
When Maria didn't answer immediately, Emerald added softly, "Please..."
After a few tense moments of silence, Maria finally spoke. "He's at a nearby hospital seeing his sister. And don't you ever tell Eva that I helped you stalk someone."
"Thanks, Maria. I'll repay you somehow."
"Ah, and one more thing," Maria added, her tone turning unusually quiet. "He's with his one and only sister, who has cancer. So be mindful of your words and actions. Bye."
Emerald took a sharp gasp, holding the phone against his chest. The revelation hit him hard. Isak's sister was undergoing cancer treatment, and throughout all their conversations, Isak had carried that massive weight without saying a single word.
Without a second thought, Emerald set his destination for the hospital.
Emerald arrived at the medical facility, stepping through the sliding glass doors. He spotted Isak near the ward corridors, but instead of approaching directly, he carefully hid himself nearby. Watching from a distance, he observed Isak speaking softly with the doctors. The language barrier was no longer a problem for Emerald; he could understand the gravity of every sentence.
Rather than interrupting the family, Emerald slipped outside to wait at a quiet cafe across the street. As he was finishing his breakfast, the cafe doors opened, and Isak walked in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Emerald.
Isak walked over, sat down across from him, and slid a piece of paper onto the table—a fully cleared medical billing statement covering his sister's entire long-term care.
"What's this?" Isak asked, his voice shaking slightly.
"Well... what's a friend for, man?" Emerald replied easily.
"How did you know?"
Emerald met his gaze with a warm, pleasant smile. Isak stared at the paper, then looked back at Emerald. "Let's talk outside."
They walked in silence to a nearby public park, taking a seat on a quiet wooden bench beneath the shade of the trees.
"It's a lot of money," Isak said, staring at his shoes. "I can't take that much."
"It's not worth the trouble, Isak," Emerald said gently. "Both you and I know that you need the money, and I'm not taking it back."
Isak let out a dry, helpless laugh. "A lot of money flowing into my sister's needs... but you can't comprehend the impossible."
"Why?"
"People can't cure cancer, Emerald. It's impossible. And in my sister's case, it's far past the worst."
"Hope is the greatest ally one could ever have," Emerald said softly, looking at the skyline. "You should trust that guy."
Isak offered a weary smile, resting his hands on his knees. "I might sound a little off the charts about this, but... is it true?"
Emerald looked over, surprised. "What?"
"The vampire thing," Isak whispered, staring straight ahead. "There have been too many local rumors about the family of your mistress being creatures of the night."
Emerald chuckled smoothly, waving his hand. "Huh. That's just some old fairytale meant for mocking and conspiring against old money people. I don't think it's true, Isak."
"Wish it were true," Isak said, turning his head to look Emerald dead in the eye. "I could have cured my sister with the help of one."
Emerald shortened his eye contact, taking a subtle breath to keep his composure entirely level. "You're taking too much to your head. Ease up a little bit, buddy. Take your time."
Sitting on that bench, Emerald could feel the sheer chaos bottling up inside his friend's chest. The internal war raged within Emerald's own mind—Should I help him? What happens if I try, and the consequences tear everything apart?
As the weight of his own secrets pressed down on him, Emerald remembered something vital.
"What's her name?" Emerald asked softly. "Your sister's?"
Isak swallowed hard, looking toward the hospital entrance. "Lenya. Lenya Lind."
Emerald's breath caught in his throat. He physically clamped his hand over his mouth and pressed his other hand against his chest, forcing his heart to stop from doing the unthinkable right then and there. The name—the absolute echo of his past, his dreams, and Greta's warning—shattered his composure.
Isak didn't notice the sudden shift. He stood up, gave a faint nod, and began walking back toward the hospital doors.
Emerald sat alone on the bench, letting out a long, shuddering gasp of relief as Isak disappeared from view. The doubts in his mind were screaming, but he forced himself to wait for Eva's return. He needed to hear her words first, resolving not to bring chaos upon those around him purely for his own desperate beliefs and values.
(To be continued)