There's No Love In the Deathzone (BL)
Chapter 170 - 165. His Own Knight

Chapter 170: Chapter 165. His Own Knight

As Zein walked out in fast strides, the rest of them was too stunned to react. And when they finally stirred, more precisely as Bassena and the middle-aged man stood up to chase the guide, a voice stopped them.

[No, stay put. Leave him alone for now] It came from the commlink in Bassena’s wrist. The esper himself had almost forgotten that there was someone else listening to this whole conversation from the start. [He just heard a lot of new things that probably contradict the ones existing inside his head, so give him time to process it]

"But..." Bassena looked to the door, the stiff back of the guide still stamped in his mind. But he knew Radia was right, so he decided to stay put, however much he wanted to go out and be with Zein right now.

That wasn’t the case with the Elder and Senan, however, who looked in Bassena’s direction--or rather, at the commlink--with deep frowns and suspicion. "Who are you?"

[Ah, pardon me]

A buzzing sound could be heard from the commlink, and the next thing they knew, a holographic screen hovered in front of Bassena, giving them a view of a man with dark red hair and crimson eyes sitting behind a desk filled with old books, giving them a smile that only present in the lips.

[The name’s Radia Mallarc. As of now, I am acting as Luzein’s guardian]

He didn’t introduce himself further, but of course, everyone there knew who Radia Mallarc was. Even then, what startled them the most wasn’t the fact that Mortix Group Chairman and Trinity’s guildmaster had been present in the conversation all this while, but the last thing he said instead.

"What is that nonsense?! Young Master Luzein belonged to House Ishtera! We are his guardians!" the old man shouted angrily.

[Is that so?] the smile did not change, as well the calm tone. [But as far as we know, Luzein had never registered any last name]

"That’s--"

[Of course, Luzein is an adult, and does not need a guardian. And should he feel like he wants to embrace his paternal legacy, that is in his right] Radia continued, in that calm and soothing tone that only made people feel defeated if they responded in anger. [But he’s yet to make that decision. And until he does, as my employee, he is under my protection]

The last sentence, while still being uttered with a smile, had a firm and slightly cold tone to it. Even the old man couldn’t help but back down, sitting back on the couch as Bassena did the same. But it hadn’t been a second since Bassena touched the couch when the old man suddenly asked, in a slightly shaken voice.

"What...how did...Young Master lived all this while?" he looked at Bassena, gaze full of pleading. "Could you...could you tell us?"

* * *

The air was slightly chilly, but that wasn’t what made his heart and body feel cold. It took Zein a few attempts before he could work the lighter to light a Golden Needle with his trembling hand.

The mana entering his body warmed him up a little bit, but his nape still felt cold, and his stomach felt like that time when he didn’t eat anything for three days because the heater broke and he had to spend money on fixing it. Bitter.

He felt bitter.

What exactly did he expect when he came here today? Zein tried to remember, and vaguely recalled that probably, he wished for a straightforward story of a simple member of a cult that ended up imprinting his mother and made it up by protecting her.

In that way, he would be free to feel angry with the man, then forgave him for that redemption, and called it close. He wouldn’t think of that man again, and Roan would just be a man who give him half his gene. That was it. Just like how Bassena saw his father. It wasn’t like they ever met anyway.

Perhaps, he just wanted closure. And this wasn’t it.

Perhaps he had been too long living with an understanding that his father was a scum. No--thanks to that man who sold him, his concept of a father was utter garbage. Seed donor, more like. That view had been living inside him for too long that when he got valid evidence that his father was someone else he didn’t know, he thought the man must have been garbage too.

Imprinting a timid young girl? Utter trash! Zein even had this thought that perhaps, the man had manipulated his mother so much that she even convinced herself to love him, hence the happy photograph.

But his view, his concept, his understanding, everything was getting shattered today.

What was this...gentle, loved, honorable, beautiful man? What about the hatred and the anger he’d been harboring toward this man all this time?

He felt like he wanted to puke. Seeing that lovely photograph, that bright smile, a frozen time where everything looked so perfect.

It should have been perfect. The Saintess and her Knight. The Esper and his Guide. It was a fairy tale.

Why...did it have to get shattered?

Zein had no idea what to feel today. There was just so much...so many emotions boiling inside, and he had no idea how to express it. He wasn’t used to expressing it, and now he was lost. So he just did what he did best--repressing it.

Staring at the odorless smoke dispersing into the air, he suddenly filled with an immense desire to go home. But where was home? Zein wasn’t sure if he had one, but for now, he wanted to go to the closest place he could call one.

"Bas," he called, as if the esper was beside him rather than inside the house.

But the man might as well be, because it only needed a second delay for the low, husky voice to answer him. "Yes?" and the esper was there, beside him, with dissipating darkness trailing behind.

"Let’s go back," Zein said, crushing the leftover cigarette with his palm.

Bassena looked at the dimmed blue eyes and the stiff lips, and knew that whatever plaguing Zein’s mind hadn’t been completely resolved. But he also didn’t think it was something that could be digested in a span of thirty minutes, and perhaps, it would be better to be mulled over in a different environment.

So he nodded readily, "Okay," and was about to grab Zein’s shoulder so they could teleport back to the helipad, before someone shouted from the house.

"Wait! Young Master, wait!"

Zein, who had his back against the house, paused. But it took him a few second before he turned back--a few seconds he used to manage his expression and put the mask back up.

"What now?" he asked, and while his tone was nonchalant, his eyes were cold, enough to make the people coming out of the house flinched.

For some reason that Zein couldn’t guess, they seemed to be a lot meeker. The Elder and the middle-aged man, especially, had red eyes, as if they had just poured out a huge amount of tears.

"Are you...are you just going to leave?"

"Yes."

The firm, brief answer sounded like the fall of a final hammer shattering the old man’s heart. "But...but Young Master, this place is yours. This factory, this land, this house...everything belonged to Master Roan. It is rightfully yours..."

"Young Master, could we at least--"

"I’m not your Young Master," Zein said, without an ounce of change in his cold eyes. The fierce blue eyes that piercing them between the darkness of his hair and his mask. "I am a guide, my name is Zein. I’m not anyone Master, I’m not anyone’s God."

The old man opened his lips in tremble, but there was nothing coming out of there. He staggered back, and Zein used the silence to continue.

"I’m just here to find out about my parents, and now that I had recieve it, I’ll be taking my leave," Zein looked at the Elder and the middle-aged man with piercing gaze. "So stop treating me like I’m a reincarnation of someone who’s already dead."

The older men flinched, and they couldn’t help but lowering his head. They knew they had been looking at Zein as if they were looking at Roan, and they knew it made the guide feel uncomfortable. But it wasn’t something they could control, and now they could only regret it.

But then, a young voice grunted from the side. "Excuse me, I know you’re important person and whatnot, but don’t you think that’s a bit rude?"

"Arlo, shut up!"

Zein chuckled, a low sound that didn’t reflect his usual melodious voice, as his eyes swept the rest of the people there. "And stop doing this. This Templar of Arm Masters thing, just stop."

"What--"

Zein knew he sounded like a jerk right now. He said such things in front of people who had been dedicating their life for him, even though they didn’t know who he was. All just because of a past sentiment, a legacy of a faraway time.

But that was exactly why.

Because they shouldn’t. They should have just ignore that legacy, and live their life for themselves. Maybe then, Zein wouldn’t think that it was so ridiculous.

"Your duty is to protect the seed," Zein said, staring at those faces one by one. Did he feel grateful that they were such loyal people to his father? To what was supposed to be his family? Zein didn’t think so. He respected them for it, but he also felt a frustrating pity. "But that line is over with me, so you don’t have to hang into your duty anymore."

"Young Master..."

"I no longer need your protection, so," Zein looked straight into the Elder’s eyes, as if he wanted to make sure the old man carved his words deeply. "Just live for your life from now on. Your own life. Stop using it for someone else."

Zein took a deep breath and sighed, and Bassena took it as a signal to move. So he put his hand on the guide’s waist and a wisp of darkness started to rise from his shadow.

"May...may we see you again?" the Elder shouted, both his face and voice filled with desperation.

But Zein just stared at him briefly, and without any answer, closed his eyes, before the darkness enveloped them fully, and the two unexpected guests finally left the premise.

"No!" the Elder cried in lament as Zein vanished from his sight.

"Elder..."

"No--what did he mean our duty is over?" the old man grabbed Senan, shaking the younger man in agony. He recalled the brief story that the Serpent Lord had told them, about how Zein had to live alone in the red-zone and being sold to work as a guide from such a young age. Oh, how much had they failed their Master! "We still need to protect him!"

"I know!" Senan grabbed the Elder’s arms to steady the old man, even though he felt the same agony. After all, it was his failure, it was because of him that Young Master Luzein had to live such terrible life.

"I know, but...It’s fine," the middle-aged man swallowed his bitterness, as his eyes trailed to the place where the darkness scattered into the air a moment ago. "He already has his knight," he let out a sigh.

Yes, a knight that was far better than all of them combined. "Even if he’s a Vaski."