Lysander bit down on his lower lip at that. “We don’t have to resort to such extreme measures…as long as you can keep its existence a secret.”

Xidriel smiled. “Of course. You know that I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Silence befell them as soon as Xidriel stopped talking, with Lysander looking like he wanted to interrogate him about what happened to him and how he managed to get away alive, but held himself back as he’s sure his friend still has some unresolved trauma from the ordeal he went through.

Soon enough, they arrived in the Seymour mansion within the noble’s district, and Lysander quickly ordered for a bath to be drawn up in the guest room frequently used by Xidriel whenever he visited over the years.

Xidriel ignored the ruckus as he gazed at the front garden.

The well maintained red prince and the pink princess weigelas don't seem to have many blooms compared to their peak season in early spring.

It’s hard to believe that he really was gone for six months…

He must sort out his memories further and give some information to Lysander to help him root out those cultists to prevent further victims.

Lysander accompanied him to the guest room located on the third floor of the mansion, his demeanor much more relaxed now compared to earlier at the abbey.

The guest room is a large space adorned with simple furnishings yet boasts exquisite craftsmanship.

The walls were painted in beige instead of being plastered with wallpapers, the pale green carpet soft and thick enough to muffle their footsteps, the double layers of curtain on the large windows drawn open to let ample natural light into the room; the balcony door is also open to let in the cool breeze, with its sheer curtain tied up neatly with a rope adorned with hand woven snowdrops.

A thick queen sized mattress rests on top of a hand carved antique bedframe, with more than enough pillows a person could use; a silken-upholstered settee sits at the foot of the bed, with smaller cushions for comfort. Two small side tables with lamps on them flanked the bed.

The walk-in closet to his right is also generous in terms of size, where he could stretch both of his arms outwards and his fingers wouldn’t even touch the clothes hanging there; next to it is the en suite.

An unlit fireplace sits at the corner of the room, with the mantel decorated with a ceramic vase and a few cuttings of the weigelas.

It’s hard to believe this is a guest room, albeit customized to the original Xidriel’s taste, as it’s something out of those five-star hotels Xidriel used to dream of staying in.

He briefly wondered what kind of bedroom the members of the Seymour family had if they put guests in such opulent quarters.

“I’ll have the kitchen prepare some of your favorite food.” Lysander said as he turned around to face Xidriel. “Take your time cleaning up and checking if you need further medical attention.”

Xidriel hummed at that as he unclasped the cloak and removed it from his shoulders. “I’d appreciate it if you could send for some blueberries for me to munch on after my bath.”

“...”

“...sliced pears could work too, if you don’t want to share your precious blueberries…” Xidriel quickly backpedalled the moment he saw Lysander’s expression stiffen.

Right, this guy doesn’t like sharing his favorite fruit for some reason.

“...”

“San, please say something. I didn’t mean to blatantly rob you of your blueberry stash…”

Xidriel frowned at his friend, who’s staring at him intensely in silence.

“...why…are you dressed like that?” Lysander finally managed to squeeze out, as he forced his eyes to focus on Xidriel’s face instead of his torso.

The low v-neck shirt hugs his body too well, as if it was made to tease the other person of the body it’s barely hiding under.

“Oh…um…” Xidriel grimaced as he looked down at himself. “My old clothes were tattered and bloodstained…Amon assumed I didn't want to temporarily wear his used shirt, so he got me this thing…I have a feeling that this shirt was meant for a woman but he still made me wear it.”

Lysander’s brow twitched once again at the mention of Amon’s name but Xidriel failed to notice it.

He gently folded the cloak onto the settee. “Can I ask for the cloak and the pants to be cleaned? I want to return them to their respective owners.”

“What about the rest?”

“Throw them out? Burn them?” Xidriel shrugged as he walked towards the en suite, calmly stripping down as he went. “Do what you think is best.”

“You’re not going to wait for the servants who’ll help you clean up?” Lysander said, confused, as he kept his eyes on the back of Xidriel’s head.

“After what I’ve been through? I don’t want other people to touch me.” Xidriel vaguely replied.

It was a complete lie of course.

He wanted some alone time and this is the only chance he has right now to sort out his memories without being disturbed.

It’s also a good time for him to do a ‘psych reset’ after the rollercoaster of events he went through, now that he’s in a safe and familiar place. He doesn’t want to be coddled for too long after all.

However, his response sets off a myriad of questions in Lysander’s mind and his imagination went wild on what his friend must have gone through.

“I’ll see to it that the two items you mentioned are cleaned up as soon as possible.” Xidriel heard his friend call out after him tersely and he only raised his left hand for a thank you wave.

Once he locked the door to the bathroom, Xidriel relieved his bowels before stepping into the shower, meticulously scrubbing himself clean in every nook and cranny.

As the shower washed off the soap and relaxed his tensed shoulders, he exhaled a small sigh of relief.

Being clean is the best.

He turned off the shower and stepped towards the bathtub filled with hot water, only to glance at the full body mirror at one side.

The original Xidriel had requested this one to be put in here because he wanted to see if he had gained unwanted fats that may ruin his overall physical appeal.

Xidriel shuddered at the memory.

What kind of closeted narcissist was the old Xidriel, who had to check himself out in the mirror every time he took a bath?

He walked up to it with a grimace, his eyes flicking around quickly to check his new body.

It was lithe, with supple muscles and curiously narrow hips.

His legs were long, with well toned calves commonly seen on people who love to run.

He continued to inspect himself before squinting at his side, pressing two fingers below his ribcage.

He clearly remembers this part still healing up when he woke up on that altar, escaped with that thing he thought was a boy, and collapsed in Amon’s arms.

Surely, Amon must’ve seen it regenerating when he tended to him while he was knocked out?

Why hasn't he said anything?

Is he going to use it for blackmail later?

Sighing, he turned towards the bathtub and submerged himself in it.

He’s not sure if the dried lavender flowers mixed into the water, along with some fragrant oil he couldn’t name, helped him relax in a matter of minutes, but it did boost his mood, allowing him to recall and rifle through his memories.