The room was unfamiliar. Extremely so.
It was ornate to say the least. A heavy canopy hung overhead. Fine gold embroidery ran in curves down the lush material. The bedspread was pure red silk filled with down feathers. Even the pillows beneath Darius’s head screamed wealth.
Panic was the first thing to set in. This was now the second time in only a day that Darius had awakened in an unfamiliar place. The only thing saving him from a complete meltdown was that the clock on the nightstand read 10:27 P.M.
If things hadn’t gone horribly awry, that time stamp meant it was still the same evening. He hadn’t lost yet another day.
Darius glanced up when the door clicked open.
“Your snack was melting, so I took the liberty of redressing it.” Kallum appeared, having redressed. Surprisingly, it was the most casual he had ever seen the Ringleader. It wasn’t saying very much though. His shirt was pure silk, hanging loose over soft black trousers.
He carried a silver tray with a parfait atop it. It was as whimsical as Delirium. Vanilla and chocolate swirled together with rolled wafers and curled chocolate flowers adorning it. Whipped cream and glossy black sprinkles topped the treat with white chocolate discs lining the lip.
It took Darius much longer than he liked to admit, but when things started clicking into place, his stomach growled.
“Thanks,” he stuttered, flushing.
Kallum merely smiled, setting the treat on a coffee table. “Are you strong enough to eat? Or should I feed you?” His eyes were a cloudy maroon, cheeks and lips pale pink.
Pointedly, Darius climbed off the bed, stalking over to him. His head swam slightly, but he blamed it on the grogginess. The parfait stared back at him, temptation getting the better of his rational senses.
He shouldn’t have been casually eating dessert with a leech.
He shouldn’t have spent the entire day growing fond of a man-beast.
He shouldn’t have had anything to do with these so-called trials.
Yet there he stood, staring down a delectable sweet while mulling over how he would play a part in the trial of the good-hearted Lan.
This was surely not what study abroad was supposed to be like, right?
“Can I borrow your shower?” Darius finally asked, unable to stand the state of himself anymore. The hunger could wait until after he had some semblance of pride again. Besides, the water might help clear his head.
“Through that door,” Kallum pointed across the room while settling down on the couch. “There are guest robes in the closet.”
Darius nodded, but then his brows furrowed. “Why did you take me here with you? Where are we?”
“My accommodations,” he replied, amused, “you’ve been here before. Rather recently.” Kallum slowly picked up a book on the table, flipping it open to a bookmark. “I planned to take you to your apartment, but your condition seemed difficult to explain.” His eyes traveled over Darius’s disheveled form. “I thought you would like to clean up a bit so as not to worry your flatmate.”
“You’re lying.” Darius blinked, eyes widening in shock at his own accusation. The flat tone full of confidence didn’t feel like him. Or maybe it did. He didn’t know anymore.
Kallum didn’t look alarmed at all. In fact, a smile crept onto his face, gaze warming affectionately. “Is that so?”
“Sorry,” he blurted. “I don’t know where that came from.” Darius fumbled around as if there was something he could say or do to convince both of them that the accusation was something alien.
“You’re right.” Kallum hummed, crossing his legs and leaning forward casually. “Those were lies.” He tilted his head softly, locking their eyes. “I have no power to keep you here. But I’d be hard pressed to willingly part ways with you.”
Darius wasn’t sure if the chills running through his body were fear or joy. Tearing his gaze away, he hurried off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
He wasn’t sure when he would stop running away. All he knew was the last time he had faced off against Kallum, he’d fallen completely under his spell.
It was empowering to be acknowledged—served, but terrifying to be overwhelmed.
Whether or not he had the courage to submit like that again was yet to be determined. For the time being, he locked the door, stripped out of his shredded clothing, and started the water.
One thing at a time. One thing at a time. One thing…
When Darius exited the bathroom some forty minutes later, his muscles felt like jelly and his mind was pleasantly fuzzy. Steam rushed out with him, curling around his fluffy robe. He thought Kallum would be waiting on the couch, but no one was there.
Confused but not looking for trouble, Darius lowered himself to the cushions and eyed the parfait. It was still perfectly pristine, if not a bit melted at the bottom. He happily dug in.
The book Kallum had been holding earlier caught his eye. Curiously, he reached for it while popping the last half of a rolled wafer into his mouth.
The cover was scraped away from years of use, bearing only traces of the title. Even the spine failed to give a name. Turning it open to the first page, Darius warily eyed the publication date and copyright. He knew these Night Children were old and wealthy. Now the question was if the book was recently purchased at an exorbitant price or if it had been purchased circa 1887.
Darius’s first instinct was to bury the questions, but every moment spent among their kind felt like another web being spun. Another thing to enrapture him.
Shaking off the feelings, he scarfed down the rest of the dessert. The chill of ice cream was pleasant as it slid down his throat and cooled his belly.
Knock knock
He fought the urge to jump and hesitantly called out. The door creaked open to reveal a handsome man. Weren’t they all handsome though? Staring back warily, he noted the stranger’s tall stature, dimpled grin, and bright red eyes.
“Darius?” he prompted.
“Yeah. Who are you?” The question sounded ruder than he meant it to, but it was too late to reword.
“Gabriel.”
He didn’t reply, continuing to eye the stranger skeptically.
Unruffled, Gabriel entered the room carrying a pile of folded garments. “Kallum prepared these for you. The size should be right. I’m supposed to make myself available should you desire to return to your apartment.”
An absurd pang of annoyance rippled through him. A servant? Was he really sent to take care of him? Where was the Ringleader? For all his grand gestures and sweet words, did he find it annoying to send Darius home personally? These thoughts ran circles in his mind at lightning speed.
Before any could form into words, Gabriel spoke again.
“The preparations for the trial will take all evening in order for it to begin tomorrow night,” he explained, brows drawing down sympathetically—almost as if he could read Darius’s furious distress. “Kallum said he didn’t want to rush you during your bath.” Gabriel chuckled. “Our Ringleader can be a little clumsy with emotions when you’re involved, Little Prince.”
Little Prince. That man, Yua, called me that too. Darius blinked away the thought.
He set the clothes down on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be in the foyer when you’re ready. Take your time.” And with that, he departed, quietly shutting the door.
Darius stared at the dark wood for a long time. It felt strange. The entire interaction felt both familiar and unfamiliar. Did he ever have someone like that in his life? No matter how he tried to conjure up an image of a person like Gabriel, he only saw a blank void.
Dressing slowly, Darius tried in vain to think through the nostalgic feeling. He slid into the fresh trousers, vaguely noting how expensive the material felt. Each seam was lovingly threaded. It rested on his narrow hips as if tailored. The red cashmere sweater was richer and softer than anything he had ever touched. Even the socks were luxurious.
He snorted as he shrugged on the sweeping trench coat. One pocket was heavy with the glass egg.
I’m his “treasure.” Does that make me a sugar baby?
The term felt strange. Not quite accurate even with the fine clothes and personal driver. And yet, when he dug deeper into that mess of feelings packaged in their even stranger relationship, he knew none of it was so simple.
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