Edward decided to say goodbye on Friday morning. He spent the entire Thursday shopping around the town. He ended with five presents for Rose and one apology gift for Cassian. When both he and Sebastian went back, accompanied by a few Florents’ soldiers – Ophelia insisted on it, saying that embarking on a journey alone, with only two butlers, meant disregarding one's life – Faye breathed out a sigh of relief. She had told Dante that asking Sebastian for training was the worst choice she had ever made. He was like a monster.

  She understood why Ron was so supportive of her in that regard. She told him that she’ll endure anything, but he must never leave her with Sebastian. She made the old man pinky promise to her.

  It was early evening, and the ghosts still hadn’t returned. Veyra poked up yesterday to report that they had found them, but they couldn't return, so they are staying with them until they find a solution. Dante wished them luck and went about his day. Veyra was happy that the young lord wasn’t worried.

  Only now Dante realised how quiet the house was. Ron took Faye somewhere for a lesson, and he stayed alone, planning to read, but now he was unable to do so.

  At first, he was happy to relax, because there was nothing to do. Alicia’s plan was put in motion by both Edward and Thane. Until Thane found the identities or locations of previous victims, there was nothing left for Dante to do. Especially that Peter started cursing Kelit each time the man approached him and kept his distance from everyone.

  The thing that was meant to be relaxing became a blank stare at the wall. He didn’t know what to do, where to put his hands. It was like an old scar that never fully healed got scratched over those past few days so hard it started bleeding again.

  Now that he was completely alone, he had realised how badly it stung. He opened the bottom drawer in his desk. Then took out a dark oak box, sat on his bed, and again stared blankly at the wall for another five minutes.

  “Why did you think I would be okay?” His voice came out too quiet and weak. He felt his eyes start to itch. Tears were forming, but not falling down yet. “First, you Anya…” He remembered the night after his mother's funeral and how her ghost kissed his head goodnight, saying her last goodbye, and how he woke up to an empty space in the morning, his only protector gone for a second time. The tears started falling down his face. He could still clearly remember her face.

  “And you too, Iza…” He took one of the pillows and burrowed his face into it. He himself thought he would be okay. He made himself look perfectly fine when, in truth, he felt her absence greatly. He had hoped that she wouldn't leave him, but she was gone. How could he mourn someone already dead? Apparently, he could; the slowly drenched in tears pillow was a sign of that.

  He wasn’t angry at either Anya or Iza. He was angry at himself for hoping they would have stayed and for trying to prove that he would be fine without them. He wasn’t fine, and he was finally ready to admit it. Even if it meant ugly crying into that poor pillow.

  Only did he raise his head when his shoulders stopped shaking. He wasn’t sure how to feel in that moment. He could cry more, after so many years of not doing it; his eyes itched more than they were supposed to. He could stare blankly at the wall once again and just wait for someone to return home so he could find distraction again. He didn’t know what he should think about. Everything sounded too important and not important all at once.

  His grandparents said that the best remedy for grief was just living. He never actually tried that. Trying to prove yourself that you can is not the same as actually doing it.

  “If living means ugly crying, I don’t know if it’s for me…” He managed a small smile, reaching for the box. “I blame it all on you, Edward, you damn old sentimental idiot.”

  The box opened with a click. He opened it not so long ago, to fish up a present for Alicia, but only now did he really look at its contents. There were hairpins, some old accessories that needed cleaning, and some old photo frames. He took out one and, looking at his mother's happy face, blinked a few times to stop the tears.

  He put the frame on the nightstand and again reached for the box. He will have Ron clean everything when the butler returns. This time, in his hand was a memorial with a folded photo inside, exactly the same as Edward’s. He put it around his throat, and it hung proudly next to the necklace from Kelit.

  “I’m so dumb.” He mumbled, taking out more photos to put them around the room. Even if it stung to look at them, it was better than burying it so deep.

  When he was finally done putting photos around the entire house, he sat on the couch in the living room and stared at the photo of him, Edward, Cassian, and pregnant Anya, when she was still in condition to walk. He started to wonder if taking the frames out was a good idea and not just an impulse. He rarely did things on impulse. In the end, he made up his mind that he took those photos here for a reason. He didn’t look at them for almost ten years, so it was finally time for that.

  Then he looked at the photo next to it, with Rose, hugging the divine beast, which desperately didn’t want to be touched. The two-tailed cat looked like it wanted to bite her, but it couldn't because of the contract. He smiled. Rose was a treasure of the family. She herself proposed to celebrate her birthday on a different day, the date was moving according to her whims, and both brothers entertained her. Every time Dante visited home, it was suddenly her birthday. It didn’t matter if it was for the third or tenth time in the same year.

  He already sent her a letter with Edward, but he suddenly felt an urge to write another. She will be delighted when it reaches her.

  His thoughts were brought to an abrupt stop when a doorbell rang, and the sound died halfway through. It must have been that time of the year when all of the mana stones in the house needed recharging. He stood up, wondering who could have visited him.

  When he remembered Kelit was supposed to come by for tutoring, he moved quicker. He shouldn’t leave the man hanging. He didn’t even look in the mirror before opening the front door.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Kelit was slightly hunched over to take a better look at the doorbell. The small mana stone was inside the mechanism in the wall. To reach it, one needed a key. A lot of thieves tried to steal the stones. But the blond man somehow managed to take the entire coating apart, and the stone was in his right hand. Soon, the golden stone glowed slightly green and then returned to normal, at least for Dante’s eyes.

  “You’re stealing or repairing?” For a second, Kelit looked startled; he mustn’t have realised that Dante had already opened the door. The young lord did it only slightly – it was freezing cold outside.

  “Repairing?” Only then did the man look at Dante, and when their eyes met, Kelit stopped doing everything, even breathing. Dante raised his brow in question. “Is it a bad time?” The man finally asked, after looking at Dante’s face some more. His tone was gentle and unsure, like he didn’t know what to do.

  “What?”

  The young lord couldn't decipher what made Kelit act this way, especially since the man started touching his cheek and avoided looking at Dante when he asked that question.

  Unsure if he was getting the signals correctly, Dante touched his cheek lightly. He wanted to curse when his fingers touched the dried tears. His eyes were probably puffy and red. He really should look in the mirror before opening the doors. He had forgotten he was crying not so long ago.

  He opened the door for Kelit further. The man quickly attached all the parts of the doorbell with magic. Something that again only people with a lot of mana could do. Then he walked inside.

  “I’ll be back in a second.” Dante declared and literally ran upstairs, leaving still dumbfounded Kelit to take off his worn-down coat.

  Dante splashed his face with cold water and sighed deeply. Looking in the mirror, he decided he couldn't look more miserable, so there was no point in coming back down with still slightly red under-eyes.

  He was expecting Kelit to wait in a hall, eventually in the living room, but he was in neither. The blond man was in the kitchen. He apparently looked through all the cupboards for tea and was successful.

  “You can brew tea.” Dante was surprised by that more than by Kelit’s invasion of privacy in his kitchen.

  “Yeah, that…teacher of mine made me brew him a cup every evening.” The blond man clearly swallowed an insult. “Do you want to talk about...?”

  He didn’t have to end the question, and Dante was thankful he didn’t. He shook his head.

  “I’m...well, not fine, but I’m getting there.” He said, then added, realising that he yet again tried to bypass the topic. “Edward reminded me that I should actually grieve after Anya, and it just exploded.”

  “Oh…” That was all Kelit said. He probably wasn’t ready for honesty, or maybe he didn’t know how to reassure people. For a moment, he was silent, then changed the topic to what Dante was thankful for. He only just accepted his wrongdoings, and he would rather take one step at a time. “Tell me, how do you like the tea?”

  He gave Dante a mug with it. The young lord’s guess was correct; Kelit didn’t know that utensils had their own social hierarchy. Dante wasn’t bothered by it; Ron would be, but what he didn’t see can’t harm him.

  He tasted the tea, and it tasted better than usual. He looked suspiciously at the blond man. Was it just Dante, or did it really taste better? No different, but better. It must have been in his mind.

  “It’s great…” He mumbled as an answer.

  “Ha, the only good thing out of that man’s teaching.” Kelit snorted. Dante wondered what kind of horrible man Kelit’s teacher was.

  “So, that teacher of yours, where did he teach?” Kelit looked at him, his smile twisted a little.

  “I was homeschooled.” Dante wanted to groan. That wasn’t what he asked about, and the blond man definitely knew that too.

  Curious...an orphan being homeschooled. – The middle part of that story had disappeared somewhere, and the young lord felt the urge to dig for it, but as evasive as always, Kelit would never answer.

  They moved to the living room. Kelit was talking about a book for Bernadette’s project as if it were his first time reading a romance novel. Screw romance, his first time reading a novel. He took out the volume from his bag, which was full of colourful paper corner marks. Thanks to them, Dante could have guessed that the blond man was already near the end, while he only got through the first chapter. It was good that Kelit was meticulous; they wouldn't be able to start. Bernadette was nice enough to let her new student pair up with Dante. At this point, it was much more profitable for the young lord than for Kelit.

  “Kelit, have you ever read for fun?” Dante asked, trying not to show how badly he doesn’t know what the man is talking about. He will have to speed-read through it.

  “Of course I did. I love reading.” The frown on his face was too funny not to chuckle.

  “I mean a novel, not monographs or academic books.” The blond man’s face reddened slightly.

  “yesidid.” He said so quickly that the words blurred together. Dante outright laughed, which made Kelit stare at him and the frown disappear from his handsome face.

  “This doesn’t count.” He pointed at the book. “If you enjoy it so much, I’ll lend you some. There are many better novels. I read similar ones.”

  For a second, Kelit looked grateful, then he finally looked somewhere other than Dante’s face. Straight on the cover of the book, boldly signed as adult content. That was when the young lord realised his mistake. That one was on him.

  “Oh, really?” The blond man teased. “Tell me more, this one was so spicy I had to...”

  “Oh, shut up, you rask.” Kelit laughed at the insult he understood and learned a week ago. “Stop laughing and better start thinking how to rewrite the laws from the book.”

  The frown returned, which made him look both kind and resigned and determined. For a few seconds he was weighing something, then he spoke:

  “I may need help with that.” He admitted that what happened nearly never happens. “I completely don’t know what is wrong with them. And I really tried.” He pulled out a different notebook. So he owns more than one! – And this one was full of noes, written in the same neat style, Dante saw him use on lectures that interested him.

  Kelit handed him the notes without looking him in the eyes, and Dante sighed, seeing the ridiculous laws being rewritten to be only more ridiculous. He sighed. He learned that this brilliant man, who probably learned magic theory by heart, had absolutely no talent in this field when he started tutoring him about international law.

  “Let’s start by looking at the current laws of the Kingdom of So’La first.” Kelit furrowed his brows. “That’s the kingdom from the book. It’s a historical romance; most of it really happened. The author is the main character.” He grasped that after reading through the first few pages, but the blond man wasn’t convinced. Dante will have to dig out another set of history books for him.