Chapter 25: Lonely and Pitiable
Whether Veles was willing or not, at least the fairies had achieved their goal.
After the embrace ended, Veles could only bid Alan good night with a strong sense of reluctance.
Of course, in a way, he truly couldn’t bear to let the poor human mage keep forcing himself to stay awake. Although Alan tried his best to hide it, Veles still clearly saw the young mage covering his mouth as he stifled several yawns, his eyes already a little unfocused and hazy.
“…Then, good night.”
Standing beneath the porch, Veles looked up at Alan and said softly.
“Good night, Mr. Veles.”
Alan waved at him. His drowsy murmur sounded gentle and soft.
At the thought that he would soon have to leave the friend before him because of the red moon and the curse, the hollow in Veles’s chest—only just barely filled—suddenly widened again.
“Sweet dreams.”
Veles turned away and once more left Alan’s little cottage.
But this time, before he had taken more than a few steps, a voice he had longed for sounded behind him.
Alan had actually called out to him.
“Mr. Veles!”
Veles stopped abruptly. He turned back and stared straight at Alan.
Even with the dim night softening it, that gaze was still so intense that Alan’s heartbeat sped up in a subtle, almost inexplicable way.
In truth, Alan didn’t know why he had called out after seeing Veles’s retreating figure. He should have been so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, yawning his way back inside to collapse into bed and welcome the god of dreams. Yet Veles’s back made Alan feel inexplicably unsettled.
Perhaps the night was simply too deep, and the forest path leading toward the ranger’s route cast shadows that were far too dark.
For a fleeting moment, Alan even felt as though that immensely powerful, silver-eyed man looked as if he might be swallowed whole by the heavy darkness.
And by the time Alan realized it, he had already called out Veles’s name.
“Mr. Alan… what is it?”
He heard Veles asking.
It must have been because he was too sleepy—Mr. Veles’s voice tonight sounded unusually rich and resonant, so much so that it made Alan feel a faint itch in his ears.
“Um, the honey wine.”
When his mind went blank, even his words came out disjointed. Alan stammered as he spoke to Veles.
“I mean, the honey wine I’m brewing will be ready soon. This batch uses precious green lemon leaves—it’s definitely going to taste wonderful. Mr. Veles, when the honey wine has matured, would you be willing to come to my place for dinner? I can make roasted beef marrow, or almond pigeon to go with the wine. Late-summer pigeon is especially delicious—it’s in season right now…” Alan’s voice gradually trailed off.
He had been staring at Veles the whole time, so there was no way he could miss the subtle changes in Veles’s expression. To others, Veles always seemed to wear an icy, impassive mask, but at some point—Alan couldn’t say when—he had begun to clearly sense the emotions Veles kept so carefully restrained.
He noticed that Veles’s expression stiffened noticeably when he extended the invitation.
“I’m sorry.”
Sure enough, the next moment he heard Veles refuse in a dry voice.
“But if it’s inconvenient, that’s all right. After all, matters of the deep forest are the most important, and Mr. Veles, you must be very busy—” Alan added awkwardly, forcing himself to continue.
By the goddess of magic—being turned down for nothing more than a dinner invitation should not have been such a big deal, yet Alan felt as though his mood had suddenly sunk to the bottom of a frozen lake.
Before tonight, he hadn’t known he could be so delicate and sensitive. Veles’s refusal made him feel so miserable he was almost at a loss for words.
And strangely enough, Veles—who had somehow returned to stand before him again without Alan noticing—looked as pale as a plaster statue. The look he cast at Alan was so heavy with melancholy that Alan almost felt as though Veles were even more heartbroken than he was himself.
“I’m sorry. I have no choice,” Veles said as he gazed at Alan. “The Blood Moon is about to rise. For a being like me, the Blood Moon is an extremely dangerous time. I must return to the royal city—there are archmages there, and there is also the Mage Tower used to suppress me.”
Alan’s face went pale at once.
Veles did not miss the deep concern in Alan’s eyes.
Letting one’s friend worry for them was certainly not a good thing—but strangely enough, at this very moment, when Veles caught sight of Alan’s anxiety and fear, it felt as though a faint electric current ran through his body.
A secret, illicit pleasure burst open deep within his soul.
Veles almost deliberately made himself seem even more lonely and pitiable, though he was completely unaware of it himself.
“It’s all right, Mr. Alan. Although the magic arrays beneath the Mage Tower will be somewhat difficult for me to endure, as long as I’m confined there, many people will feel reassured. And of course, my seal will be far more stable as well. For everyone, this is a good thing.”
“But—”
Alan frowned, conflicted.
Veles greedily traced Alan’s silhouette with his gaze. The wicked dragon savored Alan’s worry with near-satisfaction—and it was at this very moment that he made a decision.
A decision that would make many people deeply uneasy, yet fill him himself with boundless delight.
“I will come back,” he said, enunciating each word clearly.
“Even if I miss the very best season for young pigeon, the honey wine you brew will still be sweet, won’t it, Alan?” So Veles said.
