Chapter 262: I'm Scared

"Brothers..."

Moulin eyes wore a wistful gleam. One that made the two men before him flustered. The young man stood before his brothers with a questionable expression, layering with curiosity. The silence of the hallways was broken by the faint whoosh of the wind that crossed through the high pillars of the hallways. Emlen frowned as he took in the sight of Moulin's depressed expression. 

'Did the High Lord do something to him?' Was his first thought. This made his blood seethe.

"Moulin, what happened?" Maxille stepped forward and gently grasped his little brother's shoulder. His gray eyes were overwhelmed with worry. "Did something happen?"

"Eldest brother..." Moulin began. His gaze lifted as he met Maxille's eyes. With a soft voice, he spoke. "Please... let me see father. I want to see him..."

"..." 

Maxille stopped. The words clogged his throat. His pupils faintly quivered as he turned his gaze and his eyes met Emlen's. The second brother clenched his fists. There were looking forward to having Moulin meet their father. However, they felt it wasn't the right time yet. 

"What is it that you refuse to tell me?" Moulin asked. He grew anxious. Leaning forward, he held Maxille's hand in a tight grip hoping for answers. 

"Moulin..." Maxille started. His voice was low, and his gaze was warm. However, Moulin could sense the hesitation in his brother's eyes. Sighing, Maxille shook his head. 

"You must listen to me carefully... Our father is..." He paused briefly before he continued. 

"... He is unwell."

....................

Moulin held back his sorrow. His silver eyes threatened to shed tears. The ache in his heart was painful, filling him with grief. If he had known how much his death would make his loved ones suffer so much, he wouldn't have carelessly accepted it. It was a foolish decision. Stupid! Senseless!

A few inches separate his feet from the bottom of the door. He was standing mindlessly, achingly hesitating. Beyond this door was his father's room. His sick father.

'Losing both you and mother broke him.' Moulin recalled Maxille's words.

'He couldn't bear it. Every day... he grieved and grieved. For years... he was lost. Until two years ago, he finally stopped.' 

'He stopped thinking, stopped grieving, stopped talking. He's like... an empty shell.'

Moulin recalled Maxille's broken voice. The trembling sorrow in them as he spoke. Hearing it was heart-wrenching, painfully twisting Moulin's heart inside his chest. Moulin pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and leaned his forehead on the door. A stuttering sigh escaped his lips. He feared what has become of his father... Will he not recognize him anymore?

"Moulin..."

A voice called him from behind. 

It was Emlen, and Maxille stood beside him, silently observing Moulin's figure. Now Maxille wasn't sure if it was right to tell Moulin about his father's situation. However, despite that, he knew it had to be done. Moulin needed to know, and even if Maxille wouldn't tell him, Moulin would still find out. 

'He is still my father...' Moulin thought, half trying to convince himself. Even if he wouldn't recognize me... he is still my father. This will not change.

Bracing himself, Moulin curled his fingers around the door handle and slowly pulled the door opened. Warm light spilled from the crack of the opening door. It didn't originate from the windows covered with pure white curtains. It came from the lamp, sitting on the bedside, illuminating the dim room. 

A large canopy bed was situated beside the tall windows. The sheets were white, and a veined hand rested upon it. Someone occupied the bed. He had lost weight, and he faced the covered windows. Only half of his sick body was revealed. With one look, anyone would determine the person as ill and depressed as a lifeless air surround the individual. 

However, Moulin could recognize him at one glance. Even if he looked thin or spiritless, Moulin knew right away who this man was to him. This was the man who had always embraced him and supported him, gave him the warmth a father should give to his child.

Silver eyes moistened, and Moulin couldn't help it. 

"Father..." He spoke brokenly. 

The man remained unperturbed. Even his fingers didn't flinch. He was still staring openly as if in a trance. The sight made Moulin's heart break.

With soft steps, Moulin approached the bed. He kneeled before the edge of the bed, pained and sorrowful. "Father?"

He lifted his hand and slowly touched the back of his pale father's hand. At the same time, Maxille and Emlen entered the room. Both watched silently as their little brother struggled with his despair as he tried to catch his father's attention. 

"Father..." Moulin lowered his head with trembling shoulders. 

No matter how many times he called for him, His father would not even face him. It was as if he didn't feel anything from Moulin's touch, nor did he hear Moulin's words. He was only staring. His listless expression remained.

But Moulin called for him again. In every passing second, he felt as though his heart was shattering. "Father... It's me, Moulin..." Moulin finally sobbed. "I'm back... please..."

Emlen looked away. His fists clenched. He remembered when he behaved just as Moulin did right now—on his knees, hoping for even the faintest reaction from his father. However, not once did his father reacted. He was like a soulless person.

Almost an hour passed, and Maxille could not bear to see Moulin in pain any longer. With a heavy heart, he told Moulin that they should leave their father to rest. Staring at Maxille with aggrieved eyes, Moulin reluctantly pulled away as Maxille helped him to his feet. Eyes filled with tears, Moulin slowly raised his hands to the back of his neck. 

"Father..." Moulin began hoarsely. His fingers unclasped the crystal necklace hidden beneath his collar. The blue crystal twinkled dazzlingly. A warm glint shined on its mirror-like surface. Its radiance was reflected within the silver rings of Moulin's eyes. Maxille and Emlen stared at the pendant, knowing it held their mother's soul and body inside.

With a wistful smile, Moulin slowly opened his father's hand and gently placed the necklace within his palm. He curled his father's fingers back before he stood. Maxille tenderly stroked Moulin's back as he led him towards the door. Finally, Moulin took one last hopeful glance at the solitary person within the room before he exits the door along with his brothers.

It was when the door closed that silence once again settled within the room. The three children failed to witness the slight movement of Lord Dontae's closed hand. 

"Lord Hendrick visits father frequently," Maxille spoke as he walked beside Moulin. "He and father had been relying on each other before he..." he sighed, unable to finish his words.

So that was why Lord Hendrick seemed to be knowledgeable of his father's situation. Moulin lowered his head silently. Emlen and Maxille tried to cheer up Moulin as they headed towards Moulin and the Lord's quarters. However, the youth remained silent and in deep thought.

"Moulin..." Emlen called. 

The youth stopped to look at him. With furrowed brows, Emlen continued. "Don't worry..." 

A faint smile formed on his lips, and his gray eyes were surprisingly calm. "Father will be alright. We will do our best to make him better. It's not your fault..."

Moulin's eyes moistened. His head lowered, and he couldn't help but shed a tear. How can it not be his fault? Everything... happened because of him... 'How can it not be my fault?'

Seeing the grief in his little brother's eyes, Emlen approached him and pulled the young man into his embrace. Moulin wrapped his arms around his brother's back. His fingers trembled, and he shut his eyes.

Not long after, Moulin arrived in his room. His steps felt heavy as he walked across the carpet. 

When he arrived in the bedroom, he stopped. The guilt was eating him away. No matter how many people would say that it wasn't his fault, he believed it wasn't true. He remembered the demon's words before his death. When his home was collapsing, and hundreds of people surround him. 

Because of him, disaster struck. 

Moulin no longer believed it was a lie. 

His delicate fingers curled, and his head bent downwards. 'Is it really my fault?'

Suddenly, strong arms surrounded him. They circled his waist, and Moulin felt a hard chest press against his back. The touch was familiar, and Moulin didn't need to turn around to know who it was. 

"Calm down..." Hadrian's deep voice penetrated deep into his heart. He spoke soothingly just above Moulin's ear. 

"I'm scared..." Moulin whimpers as he covers his face. His shoulders trembled uncontrollably. He didn't know why it was so easy expressing himself to Hadrian. But he didn't care. "It's all my fault..." His voice trembled. 

"None of it is..." Hadrian comforted as he brought Moulin closer to him. 

Moulin shook his head, "What if I make things worse by being here? What if more people get hurt? What if you..." Moulin choked out. He couldn't finish the sentence. He was terrified that if he said it, it would eventually happen.

"It will not happen..." Hadrian said. He stroked Moulin's waist, hoping to soothe the youth's worries. "I will not be harmed, and if people were to get hurt, it would not be your fault. I will be by your side... I will never leave you alone. At least you can trust my words." Hadrian's gaze lowered, and he buried his face on Moulin's hair. 

"Nothing will separate us. Never again..." His words was like a declaration. Powerful and strong enough to topple down walls. It felt as though he was convincing himself more than persuading Moulin. In the end, both of them were fearful.

Finally breathing steadily, Moulin closed his eyes and bathed himself with the warmth of his lover's embrace. Being in the man's arms, hearing his voice, feeling his beating heart. It felt as though Moulin had returned to his sacred sanctuary. 

He hoped and he prayed silently in his heart... if Hadrian were to get hurt because of him. Moulin would rather offer himself to the devil.