At half past ten, when the house had finally settled into silence and sleep, Valerian stood alone on the balcony, a cigarette resting between his fingers.
Everything was almost prepared for his engagement tomorrow.
He rarely smoked. Eiran disliked the burnt, bitter smell. He had never explicitly forbidden it, but Valerian had always avoided doing anything Eiran wouldn't like.
There were exceptions, of course.
But never when it came to others getting too close to Eiran. That, he could not tolerate.
In the past, he had felt guilty about it. Pathetic, even. He had once considered keeping his distance.
But that idea never lasted long.
He couldn't live without Eiran.
And he couldn't imagine a life where Eiran no longer remained within his reach.
From the moment he allowed Eiran into his world, something irreversible had already taken root inside him.
Valerian didn't believe in gods or ghosts. Not even his father's words could change that.
The only thing he had ever truly believed in...
...was the boy he met when he was six years old.
And right now, that belief was the only thing holding his thoughts together.
His biggest concern wasn't the engagement.
It was Eiran.
How would he react when he found out?
Or had he already heard about it from Aunt Mila?
Would he confront him?
Or would he simply remain silent and endure everything on his own?
Valerian didn't even know which reaction he feared more.
His chest tightened at the thought of Eiran's expression if he had already learned the truth.
But he would fix it.
He would make sure Eiran didn't have to carry any of this alone again.
Just this once, Ran...
Wait for me.
He took a slow drag from his cigarette and exhaled into the night air.
Then he heard the sound of the front gate opening.
His gaze shifted downward.
Who would come at this hour?
Before he could make sense of it, his phone rang.
The butler.
Valerian answered and put the call on speaker without even bothering to bring the phone to his ear.
"My apologies for disturbing you at this hour, Young Master," came the butler's polite voice. "A parcel has just arrived. Should we send it to your room, or wait until morning?"
"Wait until morning."
"Youth Master, actually—"
Valerian was already about to end the call when the butler hesitated.
"What is it now? Do I need to repeat myself?"
His tone had turned noticeably colder.
Lately, his temper had been like this ever since he returned.
The entire household had learned to tread carefully around him, afraid of upsetting the fragile balance he maintained.
They didn't know the reason.
But he did.
And that was exactly why he was more cautious than anyone else when it came to certain people.
"No, Young Master. It's just that the delivery man said the parcel is from Master Eiran."
For the briefest moment, something flickered across Valerian's eyes.
Sharp.
Unexpected.
Then it disappeared.
"...Send it up."
What could Eiran possibly be sending him at this hour?
And on the night before his engagement?
Valerian frowned as countless possibilities crossed his mind.
Yet none of them seemed convincing.
A few moments later, the butler entered carrying a large box, accompanied by a guard who helped support its weight.
"The delivery man said he delivered it early due to personal circumstances," the butler explained as they carefully set the package down. "He apologised for the inconvenience and said he would inform the sender as well."
Valerian merely hummed in response.
"Young Master, if there are no further instructions, shall we take our leave?"
The butler lowered his head respectfully.
Valerian gave a slight nod, his gaze never leaving the box.
He was curious.
But more than that—
He was uneasy.
The balcony door closed quietly behind them.
Valerian waited until the sound of their footsteps faded completely before approaching the package.
His expression remained calm as he began unwrapping it.
His fingers, however, moved noticeably faster than usual.
Inside the larger box was another one.
This one had been prepared with far greater care.
It was wrapped in deep green paper—the same shade as his eyes—and tied neatly with a gold ribbon.
A gift?
Tomorrow was his birthday, after all.
Valerian glanced at the clock on the wall.
There was still more than an hour left before midnight.
Looks like Eiran really put a lot of thought into this.
His heartbeat quickened.
And, annoyingly enough, he had absolutely no control over it.
Should he open it now?
Or wait until tomorrow?
Though curiosity tempted him, he didn't want to ruin whatever surprise Eiran had prepared.
Valerian himself didn't care much about birthdays.
But Eiran did.
And that alone was enough reason to wait.
Alright.
One hour wasn't that long.
He tried reviewing a few documents to pass the time, but he couldn't focus.
Every few minutes, his eyes drifted back to the box.
Eventually, he gave up.
He would rest for a while and continue later.
He carried the gift to the bedside table and placed it there carefully before sitting on the edge of the bed.
Leaning back against the headboard, he closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
Unfortunately, what was meant to be a brief rest soon turned into a deep, dreamless sleep.
~
"Young Master, we've arrived."
The car came to a stop in front of a large yet low-key apartment complex.
Most of the windows were dark, which was hardly surprising given how late it was.
"Thank you, Mr. Peter," Saelior said as he slipped his tablet into his bag. "And sorry for keeping you out so late."
Peter laughed and waved a hand dismissively.
"No trouble at all. You were just helping someone in need, young man."
"Still..."
Saelior couldn't help feeling guilty. After all, his own actions had forced the old man to work until this hour.
The distance between the factory and the apartment complex was more than two hours by car.
Their estate was even farther away.
Initially, he had planned to rest at the hotel for a while before heading back to visit his father, report on the situation at the factory, and spend the night there.
Unfortunately, his conscience had gotten in the way.
Or perhaps fortunately.
Even Saelior wasn't sure anymore.
In the end, he decided to return to his apartment instead of disturbing his father's rest.
Besides, he had classes tomorrow.
He had already taken a day off because of work, which meant there would be lectures and assignments waiting for him to catch up on.
His apartment was only a short distance from the university, making it far more convenient than returning to the estate.
"Don't look so guilty, Young Master. If kindness were a crime, you'd have been sentenced long ago. And a good deed is like a boomerang. Throw enough of them around, and one eventually comes back when you need it."
Peter spoke jokingly, an amused smile clearly visible on his face.
Saelior's eyes lost their usual guardedness, carrying a gentleness that made him seem years younger.
"Alright, Grandpa Peter. You should head home now. Staying up this late isn't good for your health."
With that, Saelior stepped out of the car.
"At my age, staying up a little late won't kill me. Though my wife might disagree."
Those were the last words Saelior heard before the car pulled away.
The old man sounded genuinely troubled.
After all, he was terrified of his wife.
Tonight was going to be a long night for him.
A sigh escaped Saelior's lips, hidden beneath the mask covering his face.
Could this day be considered... adventurous?
Saelior wasn't entirely sure.
In fact, he felt more embarrassed than anything else.
He had never expected that helping a stranger would somehow end with him playing the role of a philosophy teacher.
He didn't want to dwell on it.
Yet now that he was alone, his thoughts kept drifting back to that young man.
Thankfully, the other party didn't know who he was.
Nor did he recognize him.
That fact eased Saelior's embarrassment considerably.
Although he wore a mask whenever he went out, it wasn't because he deliberately wanted to hide his identity.
He simply disliked unnecessary attention.
If Eiran had asked, he probably would have told him his name.
His phone number, however, was a different matter.
Saelior had never been fond of sharing personal information with people he barely knew.
He wondered if they would ever meet again.
If they did...
Would he even recognize him?
The thought surfaced briefly before disappearing just as quickly.
After all, the chances were slim.
Their encounter had been nothing more than an accident.
Or so he told himself.
By now, they had already crossed paths three times.
Once could be chance.
Twice could be luck.
Three times was already becoming suspicious.
If there was a fourth...
Saelior would reluctantly admit that fate might be involved.
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