Chapter 183: Chapter 183: Starlit Regrets

“Alright, enough.”

Dahlia Thorne’s voice dripped with palpable impatience, cutting through the heavy atmosphere of the room. Her manicured fingers drummed a sharp, rhythmic staccato against the hard, unyielding surface of the wooden table, emphasizing her agitation.

“We have all laid our cards on the table, haven’t we? The game is open. So, let us be brutally honest with one another. Even without your assistance, I possess the means to accomplish my own objectives and finish what I started. Conversely, without my involvement, you two still intend to move against Gabriel Cole regardless of the difficulty. Since our paths align so perfectly, why shouldn’t we collaborate to expedite the process and save us all some time?”

“What exactly are your terms?”

It was Ethan Caldwell who broke the silence this time. His voice was deep and steady, his gaze composed and calculating as he assessed the woman sitting across from them. His question served as a tacit acknowledgment that cooperation was indeed on the table. However, it remained entirely contingent upon the specific risks and benefits embedded within whatever proposal Dahlia was about to put forward. He was not a man to agree with anything, especially not to someone as volatile as Dahlia.

The woman proved to be just as decisive in action as she was in speech. Abandoning any further circumlocution or diplomatic dancing, she leaned forward. Reaching down to the designer leather handbag resting near the leg of her chair, she extracted a document file, one that had been meticulously sealed with red wax. Though the folder appeared physically thin, it seemed to carry an indescribable, heavy weight, as if it contained a gravity of its own.

With a swift, fluid motion, Dahlia slid the file across the polished, gleaming surface of the table until it came to rest directly in front of the two men: “I suggest both of you examine these contents first.” She said coolly, leaning back: “Then, we can discuss the finer details of our alliance.”

Her demeanor, so confident it bordered on sheer arrogance, piqued Julian Sterling’s curiosity. He cast a sideways glance at Ethan, seeking a silent counsel, and upon seeing the slight, affirming nod from the other man, Julian finally reached out to take the file. His long, slender fingers grazed the rough texture of the paper as he broke the wax seal.

It was not until he began to read the stark black-and-white text and examined the photographs clipped inside that his reaction shifted violently. His pupils contracted sharply, and his eyes widened in unmasked shock. The information contained within these pages far exceeded his initial grim predictions regarding the cruelty of the truth. It was a darkness he had not anticipated.

…

The tense, high-stakes meeting with Dahlia Thorne did not conclude until the hour was quite late.

By the time they finally stepped out of the venue, darkness had completely swallowed the world. The moon hung high directly overhead, casting a cold, silvery luminescence over the landscape below. A profound wave of exhaustion washed over Julian. He leaned his body heavily against Ethan’s flashy orange sports car, seeking support. The chill radiating from the metal exterior seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt, penetrating his skin and jolting his tired spirit into a slightly more wakeful state.

He tilted his head back, buried both hands deep into his trouser pockets, and silently gazed up at the profound, bottomless depths of the night sky.

In that fleeting moment, Julian beheld a night scene unlike anything he had truly seen or paid attention to before. This area was situated in the outskirts, far removed from the clamorous noise and bustling activity of the city center. They had even traversed a short stretch of winding mountain road to get here, which meant the surrounding space still retained a primal, desolate tranquility.

Here, the night sky was not obscured by the blinding glare of neon lights or the suffocating smog of the metropolis. The heavens were as clear as a gigantic curtain of black velvet stretched across the universe. Not only did the moon shine with a brilliant, unwavering clarity, but tens of thousands of twinkling stars shimmered like myriad diamond eyes, gazing down upon the mortal realm with ancient indifference.

As someone who had spent two lifetimes spinning relentlessly in the endless cycle of work, embroiled in fierce struggles for power, Julian’s existence had always been submerged in the strobe lights of towering skyscrapers and the artificial glow of extravagant banquets. It was a rare, almost alien luxury for Julian to find a moment to simply observe such a vast, peaceful, and majestic silence.

The night wind, carrying the distinct, crisp scent of vegetation and mountain mist, brushed past his cheeks. Suddenly, Julian recalled the simple dream he had held in his previous life, the very same goal he had aimed for when he first transmigrated into this body.

He had wanted to find a place of true peace, to live the life of an ordinary person, unknown to the world. He had wanted to disregard the murky, calculating vortex of the elite circle, to turn his back on the schemes of the wealthy. He wanted to ignore the frantic pace of those forever swept up in the pursuit of illusory fame and fortune.

He longed simply for a small wooden house somewhere, perhaps in the quiet countryside or by the rhythmic sea, where the air was fresh and pure. He would watch the sunrise in the morning and the sunset at dusk. In that place, there would be no rivalry, no fighting, no deception. Just simple meals, three times a day, plain but warm. A life of safety and peace until he closed his eyes for the final time.

“What a pity…”

Julian could not hold back a murmured whisper. His breath condensed into a fragile plume of white mist in the cold night air, dissipating almost instantly. His voice was incredibly soft, seemingly loud enough only for himself to hear, yet the regret and grievance welling up inside him could not be concealed. It was merely a casual murmur, a slip of the tongue, yet it seemed to carry the heavy weight of a lament for a destiny that constantly played tricks on him.

“A pity? What is?”

The man who had been standing beside him, leaning his back against the side of the car and smoking in silence, suddenly spoke up. Upon hearing the heavy sigh, Ethan extinguished his cigarette. Unable to resist the urge, he reached out, draping his arm over Julian’s shoulders and pulling him into a half-embrace against his broad, solid chest.

The warmth from Ethan’s body immediately enveloped Julian, chasing away the biting chill of the late night. Ethan’s large, warm hand gently stroked Julian’s slender shoulder, a movement imbued with silent comfort and protection. Perhaps, in Ethan’s eyes, no matter how sharp or intelligent this young man was, Julian truly remained someone too small, too fragile, and deeply in need of shielding from the harsh winds of their world.

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