Alone, in the vast halls of amber and high ceilings towering over his head. With echoing steps, he walked unhurriedly. Thoughts cluttered in his mind as he moved unfocused. The man's words resounded in his head along with the echoes of his steps. They were clear, and the emotion hidden beneath that deep tone held something close to… guilt. Or was Moulin just imagining it.
Shaking his head, Moulin finally stops a few steps before the massive mirror. It was then when he realized he was too busy overthinking Lord Hadrian's words that he had briefly forgotten his previous concerns. His fingers curled into fists, and he lifted his chin. The beams of warm daylight illuminated the floors behind him caused a warm shadow to enshroud his front.
Only his eyes, of pure silver, rayed with deep uneasiness, stared unyieldingly at his own image in front of him.
'Please, let it be today…' He prayed silently in his heart.
He reached out—delicate fingertips approaching the cool surface of the mirror. There was a bit of hesitation, evident from the slight tremble of his fingers. However, he couldn't help it.
When they touched, he began to wait.
Longing for even a slight glow from the mirror in front of him. It felt as though the air refused to enter his lungs the longer he stared at his own reflection.
…
Two seconds, five seconds, ten seconds…
…
Nothing…
Moulin closes his eyes and presses his lips together.
'Where are you, Mother? Did something happen? You… once told me not to return at all costs, but how can I not want when you are not even speaking to me for three days. What happened? Did something awful happen at home?' A dreadful feeling arose from his chest.
Overwhelmed by distress, Moulin sank to the floor. He leaned his back on the cool surface of the mirror and held his knees closer to his chest. Slowly, he breathes with despairing eyes. His heart ached. Suspicion and worry rooted themselves inside his chest. His mother would not be doing this without reason. Something must have happened in the estate.
However, he only knows that the Kron had breached the walls of the Fraunces estate. Perhaps the situation had gone worse.
Moulin bit his lips. Was his family alright?
They have to be. He was certain he would do anything to protect them. If they were in danger right now, nothing would stop him from breaking down every wall to return home.
However, to do that, Moulin must leave the Golden Fortress.
A crease appeared between Moulin's brows. His fingers dug into the sleeves of his arms.
...............…
A few minutes flew before both doors of the Mirror Hall opened with a smooth creak.
The only person standing in waiting turned and faced the youth exiting the hall. He felt relieved to see Moulin's figure again. However, he stopped when he noticed the saddened countenance worn by the young maeruthan.
Striking silver eyes were downcast, and a melancholic aura emanated from his form. Hadrian then realized it had something to do with the youth's mother again. He had known that Moulin had always visited the Mirror Hall every day, and he always left with a distressed expression. Alaric didn't specify the youth's emotions in those days, but seeing Moulin's expression now made him realize it was troubling than he thought.
Unhesitatingly, Hadrian moved forward. He strode towards Moulin and slowly held the youth in his arms. Moulin's eyes widened briefly, but being held in the embraced that he had yearned for many days, he lost himself to his distress and let himself be held in the strong arms of his lover.
