Chapter 31: Go Rest

The carriage finally slowed. The heavy rocking of the iron wheels on the gravel eased until it stopped before the gates of Wykes Manor. The family crest, a golden eagle with outspread wings on a dark blue background, gleamed in the torchlight.

Damon remained motionless in the front seat, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees. His mind had been in turmoil ever since Ester had blown the brothel into ice. The image of the trembling courtesans, the soldiers frozen like hideous sculptures, and Lin Yue’s withering gaze were still etched in his head.

He tried to find some thread of logic in that string of absurdities. “Celestial Demonic Cult,” “Demonic Phoenix,” “General of Eternal Ice”… It was too much information, too many concepts, for someone who, just a few weeks ago, had only worried about late rent and cold pizza.

“Focus, idiot,” he muttered to himself, barely audible.

The creak of wood and the slam of the carriage door made him blink.

“We’re here.” Garrick’s deep voice echoed as he disembarked first, adjusting his sword at his waist. The veteran soldier saluted the figure already waiting for them at the gate. “Miss Aria.”

Beside him, Caelan also disembarked, a little less formal, but equally respectful.

“Miss.”

Aria stood, as if she’d been part of the scene from the beginning. Her simple, elegant servant’s clothes contrasted with the austerity of the mansion, but there was a calm firmness about her. Her gaze swept over the two soldiers and then settled on the carriage, where Damon stood motionless.

“Everything went well?” she asked, raising an eyebrow with that serenity that seemed impossible to break.

Garrick stroked his short beard before replying:

“Yes… well, almost everything.”

Caelan finished, crossing his arms.

“The boy’s in trouble.”

Aria narrowed her eyes, her expression calm but filled with curiosity.

“Trouble?”

Both soldiers merely nodded, but didn’t elaborate. As if, out of respect or fear, it was best not to comment.

Her gaze then fell on the motionless figure inside the carriage. Damon sat at the control section, staring blankly into space, his face illuminated by the nearest torch. His expression wasn’t of someone who’d been in a fight, but of someone who’d seen something that had detached him from reality.

Aria frowned slightly. Damon wasn’t the type to stay silent. He always had a joke, a comment, or at least a complaint. Now, he seemed… distant.

The carriage door opened again. Ester appeared.

Her black kimono, still adorned with traces of frozen petals, swayed slightly. Her presence, cold and impassive, made even the air seem to hold its breath.

She looked at Aria, and for a moment there was only silence between them.

A short, formal nod. Respectful.

Ester spoke, her voice calm, almost as if she were reporting something trivial.

“All necessary supplies are in the luggage. The operation was conducted as requested.”

Aria gave a slight bow.

“Excellent work.”

Ester said nothing more. She simply turned, walking toward the mansion doors. The two maids accompanying her—silent shadows that seemed to exist only to follow her steps—lined up behind her, and together they disappeared through the great stone archway.

Garrick and Caelan also said goodbye, with brief greetings. Soon, they headed another way, probably toward the soldiers’ quarters.

The courtyard was then almost empty.

Only Aria and Damon remained.

The silence was broken by the soft sound of her footsteps toward the carriage. As she approached, she leaned in slightly, her clear eyes fixed on him. Damon still seemed lost in distant thoughts, as if he hadn’t noticed her presence.

Aria sighed softly. Then, with a simple gesture, she raised her hand and patted his leg.

“Hey.”

Damon blinked, almost startled. His eyes came back into focus, and the first thing he saw was Aria’s serene face before him.

“Ah…” He blinked several times, as if waking from a trance. “Sorry, I… zoned out a bit.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment.

“You look exhausted.”

He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a grumble.

“Exhausted is an understatement. I think my soul is trying to take a vacation without telling me.”

Aria, however, didn’t smile. Her tone remained firm, almost maternal.

“Go rest.” You look like you’re going to pass out from exhaustion at any moment.

Damon was silent for a moment, staring at her. There was something in the simple, direct way she said things that dismantled him. Unlike Ester, who treated him like dead weight, or Elizabeth, who saw him as a pawn on a board, Aria spoke like someone who truly cared.

He sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Aria…” he began, but his voice faltered.

The scene of the frozen brothel came back to him. The courtesans trembling, the guards trapped in ice, Lin Yue smiling as if nothing mattered. And Ester, always unwavering.

He didn’t know how to explain any of it. He didn’t even know if he could.

So he just nodded.

“Okay. I’ll rest.”

Aria held out her hand to him, helping him down from the carriage. Her touch was warm, contrasting with the chill that still felt clung to his skin after everything he’d experienced.

As his feet touched the courtyard floor, Damon realized how heavy his body truly was. His legs were wobbly, his shoulders tense, his mind throbbing.

Aria studied him silently once more. Then she pointed toward the mansion’s entrance.

“Go. A hot bath and a few hours of sleep will do wonders.”

He smiled wearily but gratefully.

“You sound like my mother.”

“Then listen as if you were.” Her tone left no room for jokes.

Damon sighed again and began walking toward the mansion’s stairs. With each step, he felt the weight of the day build, as if the memories threatened to suffocate him. But for some reason, Aria’s presence made everything a little more bearable.

Before entering, he glanced at her one last time. Aria stood in the courtyard, erect and serene, watching him with that gaze that seemed to see beyond the surface.

For a moment, Damon wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to pour out the confusion seething in his mind, the feeling that he was trapped in a chessboard of forces far greater than himself.

But no. Not now.

He simply raised his hand in a brief wave and disappeared into the mansion.

Hours later, in his quarters, Damon threw himself on the bed without even taking off his boots. His body gave in to exhaustion, but his mind remained restless.

Ester’s words echoed:

“You’re dead weight.”

“I’ll teach you how to wield that useless spear.”

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what training with the former general would be like. Being crushed, probably.

And yet, a spark of anticipation burned deep in his chest.

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