𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 • sylus x reader

00 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞

• - -⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆- - •

t h e  f a l l  f r o m  g r a c e

• - -⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆- - •

If you weren't one of the few invited to celebrate Sylus's birthday at his mansion, then it meant you were irrelevant to everything that happened in the N109 Zone.

As the renowned leader of Onychinus, maintaining appearances was paramount for Sylus. Professionalism, class, and etiquette were his daily armour. But within the walls of his own home, on a rare occasion like today, he allowed himself to unwind. Just a little.

For Sylus, it was a beautiful, dark spring day, and everyone in the N109 Zone knew it was his birthday—almost like it was a civil holiday, but only those who were important to him were invited to celebrate. They also knew that today, more than any other day, it was vital to stay on his good side. Everything needed to go perfectly as planned according to the twins, or else.

Luke and Kieran, his most trusted companions, worked tirelessly to ensure Sylus would be satisfied with his birthday celebration. They orchestrated every detail of the event, as they were the ones who knew Sylus best—besides Mephisto, of course. The enigmatic assassin and spy had been too busy to assist with the preparations but promised to attend the party later that evening.

The twins had everything meticulously organized—a black and oxblood coloured masquerade, naturally. Guests were expected to dress in gowns, suits, and masks, adhering to a strict black-tie dress code. Invitations were required, and showing up without a gift was unthinkable. The doors of Sylus's mansion only opened to those who arrived properly attired and carrying a present.

For most of the day, Sylus lounged around, waiting for the celebration to begin. Luke and Kieran had woken him early in the morning and ushered him into the kitchen where a lavish spread awaited him. Bacon, spicy sausages, fresh fruits, sunny-side-up eggs, roasted potatoes, pancakes drizzled with sugar and syrup, and toasted rye bread with an array of jams and creams—it was far more than he could eat alone. And of course, there was coffee—black, just how boss liked it.

In the afternoon, the twins forbade him from leaving the mansion's top floor, even though it was his own property. Sylus had wanted nothing more than to take a leisurely stroll through his rose garden, perhaps admire the first buds of spring. But he let the twins win this small battle, knowing they were hiding the party preparations from him.

Retreating to his room, Sylus dusted his shelves with a feather duster and played old vinyl records on his vintage player, a gift from the twins. They never accepted the money he tried to give them for their work, refusing payment after he saved them from being sold into human trafficking. Despite their refusal to take his money, Sylus always found a way to ensure their hard-earned pay ended up in their accounts. The twins, in turn, used the funds to give back to him. The record player, the elaborate birthday party—these were just some of the ways they returned his generosity.

At some point, he managed to slip past the twins' watchful eyes and descended to the mansion's second floor where his library awaited. The room was filled with books, both ancient and new, their spines cracked from countless readings. On one side stood a large organ, its black-and-white keys polished and its metal pipes stretching up towards the ceiling.

Sylus couldn't resist playing a haunting melody, one that was once lost somewhere in his subconscious. It echoed through the mansion and quickly summoned the twins, who swiftly banished him back to his room.