"You're healed," said the healer, smiling. "The wound isn't very deep and it seems you have no other injuries other than the one on your waist".

Moulin thanked the healer and she went to tend to the other injured. The Little fox on his lap climbed unto its shoulder and without a second thought took a short nap, the transformation had worn him out wearily. Moulin did not waken him and instead let him sleep comfortably. Although, he wondered how Snow would still be able to keep his balance on his shoulder every time Moulin moves.

"Does it still hurt?" Emlen worriedly asked, his thick brows knitted. "Don't try to hide anything from me. If it hurts anywhere don't hide it".

"I'm alright, elder brother" Moulin stood up, feeling very lively but a bit exhausted. He annoyingly flicked his long hair behind him and it fell like a silver waterfall on his back. His gaze watched the departing back of the Archnoble as he disappeared into the crowd.

Knights from their respected Noble households came to escort their young masters and mistresses. Fancy carriages came and crowded outside the Vernallia estate as well as numerous sentinels from Sentinel guilds heading towards the Midnight Florae garden entrance in an orderly manner.

Hastened footsteps sounded heavily on the warm stone pavement as a tall figure narrowed his brows, a worried expression etched his handsome face while his forehead sweated. Ash brown strands fell from his previously neatly styled hair as he panted heavily. When his eyes finally caught sight of the small frame of his youngest brother, relief quenched the worries in his heart.

The youth's silver eyes brightened as he spotted the familiar frame of his eldest brother. "Maxille...".

"Moulin..." Shoulders slacked in relief as Maxille walked over towards Moulin with easy steps.

He froze when he saw the crimson dyeing his little brother's clothes in deep red, his fingers trembled as he abruptly grasped Moulin's shoulders. Like a dagger had stabbed into his heart and cruelly twisting it deeply. His mind repeatedly blamed his own self of failing to protect Moulin from any harm that would come to him.

"You're w-wounded... " He stammered. His fingers reaching towards Moulin's once wounded waist.

"Brother, I'm fine. The wound has healed. I am not in pain at all, I'm alright" Moulin could not help but console Maxille. For a moment, he thought this esteemed eldest brother of his would burst into tears! His eyes were moistening. Moulin could not bear to see his revered and stern brother openly stammering and eyes watering.

"How about you, eldest brother? Are you hurt anywhere".

Moulin intended to change the subject as quickly as he could for he was certain Maxille would never let him go as soon as his wound was brought up.

"I'm... alright. The healers came on time to tend my injuries..."

Of course, judging by Maxille's eyes, Moulin was sure this brother of his was still doubting him. Pressing his lips together, Moulin opened his arms to embrace Maxille, stunning the tall man in his place. "You did well brother..."

The warm embrace quickly doused the flames of regrets like sweet gentle rain. Maxille furrowed his eyebrows as he hugged Moulin in response, carefully gripping his brother's shoulders.

He felt Moulin's cold breath and the unusual ambiance of mana beneath his clothes. Because of this, he stiffened.

His hands harshly gripped Moulin's shoulder as he pulled away and stared intensely into his little brother's bright eyes. There was a questionable shock in Maxille's face, his grey eyes looked at Moulin as if he was arduously searching for answers within. Moulin only stood there utterly confused.

"Eldest brother..."

Maxille dragged his eyes away from Moulin and shifted his gaze towards Emlen, who looked at him in a very serious manner. The young heir's fingers relaxed, reluctantly letting go of Moulin. He faced Emlen, his usual stern expression returning.

"A word with you..." He spoke in a very deep tone. Emlen only nodded his gaze locking on his eldest brother making his way towards him.

"Brother?..." Moulin didn't know what was going on between his two brothers, the two looked like they would fight in the next second so he was worried.

"Stay here. We'll be back after we finish" Comforted Maxille, ruffling Moulin's head.

He then left with Emlen and once again Moulin was left alone on his own. Honestly, he was tired. His little performance with his sacred weapon drained all his energy in one shot. His limbs were weak and his movements felt sluggish. In the next instant, anger rushed inside him irritatingly. He had immersed himself in heavy training with the torturous Captian Vidola yet this was the result of all his hard work and endurance? It was simply laughable.

After a few minutes of disparaging himself, his buttocks sat dispiritedly on the steps with a sigh escaping his lips. A great amount of mana was drained from his body and at the moment he only wanted to stuff his belly, to take a warm bath in scented waters, and to dress into new comfortable loose clothes and sleep for weeks. Admittedly, he was already quite attached to his new comfy life.

Glancing around, he noticed there was still a handy of people glimpsing at him. His eyes turned cold.

This was one of the reasons why he didn't want to reveal his powers. Being the center of attention would mean more people would be pestering him in the future. What concerned him more was his family. How would he explain all of this to them?

The sun rose high up the sky. The morning heat delves into people's skin, gently warming. The ground was still sticky and filthy with mud and the stains of blood crusting of the heat. The Lady of the Vernallia family wept sorrowfully as she held the wilted moonflowers within her palms, they crumble into dust and was carried by the wind. The Vernallia Lord was dejected of the burnt garden, wondering of how angered his ancestors were from above as they watched their years of labor burnt into ashes. The temple would certainly come to cause them trouble at any day.

"Hey..."

Moulin's lids lowered slightly as he turned around. He was waiting patiently outside the pavilion for his brothers. Pola had come and was so devasted she couldn't fight back her tears when she saw Moulin's 'wounded' figure. Moulin was very sensitive by her wails that he ordered her to wait for the carriage. She obeyed with a lowered head still sobbing.

"Alsander... "

Moulin raised his eyebrows in surprise. Oh, so he wasn't dead...

"What's with that look? Aren't you pleased I survived?" Alsander cocked his head in confusion. He glimpsed at the small fox sleeping on his shoulder, interested. This young man was truly remarkable to even tame this kind of rare creature...

"How did you survive?"

Alsander perceived the dull hint in Moulin's voice and a corner of his lips turned up. No one had ever spoken to him like this before and it was quite interesting than insulting. Probably because it came from Moulin's mouth and not any other's. "I fought with your eldest brother along with some others". He paused and looked straight into Moulin's silver eyes "... Some person saved us just when we were about to withdraw".

"Some person?..."

Alsander smiled "Someone who we thought was very frail and vulnerable turned out to be a very powerful person and completely shocked the whole generation of aristocrats".

"..." Moulin closed his lips. His expression turning serious. His back straightened and he shifted his gaze to a random place.

His eyes turned very solemn and cold with a hint of tranquility. Beneath his cold countenance was a soul repeatedly berating himself over and over again. "I reckon that this amuses you greatly".

"A bit. Your performance will quite cause a stir within the noble circle all over the kingdom. The Fraunces family is rather secretive, hm?"

Moulin could feel his amber eyes staring at him as if to drill out every bit of the secrets hidden inside him. He shuddered internally.

"However..." A smirk grew on Alsander's face making Moulin pay attention to his next words. "The news about you will probably die down after a few weeks..."

"...?" Moulin furrowed his eyebrows "Why?..."

Alsander had fully caught Moulin's attention making him more elated and as well as reluctant. Did he really want to hear what he was going to say next? Well, if he insists.

"The Lion of the Hercullian Archnobility, feared by people for his dominating intelligence and cruelness of heart seemed to be quite intimate with the rising third young master of the Fraunces Family. Sounds quite the news, what do you think-".

Alsander's words were abruptly cut off when he felt a biting chill around him, coming from the youth next to him. He pressed his lips tightly as he witnessed the freezing storm brewing within Moulin's silver eyes. For the first time, he regretted his actions...

"I think that if anyone speaks of it right in front of me I shall wish them a Good, Warm, and Harmless life" Moulin stared at him.

...

Alsander felt his neck sweat with dread. Moulin's words don't seem to suit his expression. He silently prayed for the poor soul who would dare to speak so with this third young master.

Just when he was about to calm the rage within the young man before him, Alsander stiffened. He wasn't even able to calm his nerves when another person suddenly oppressed Alsander with his aura almost cruelly. Like boulders were suddenly stacked on his shoulder and sharp needles were prickling every part of his skin.

The Vernallian son raised his gaze over Moulin's shoulder and his breath was stuck inside his throat.

A pair of golden eyes glowered at him menacingly. Of course, Alsander recognized well who this Lord was and almost instantly knew what those eyes meant. Alsander glanced at the silver-haired young man in front of him...

"I believe our conversation ends here, Moulin. I will see you again when I visit..." The Vernallian young master smiled at him. He waved before leaving. Moulin looked at him confused about his sudden actions.

When he walked to a far distance, Alsander heaved a sigh when he was finally released by the manic aura. Now he was certain it wasn't just a passing interest between the Archnoble and Moulin...

Black boots tapped strongly on the ground as it made its way towards a slender youth with wavy silver hair glistening under the morning light. His sword clinked within its sheath as it's owner walked.

Moulin caressed Snow on his shoulder, who unconsciously snuggled against his palm. The brat really was tired considering the loud adorable snores made him sleepy. He restrained a yawn and rubbed his eyes.

"Does it amuses you to threaten people from far away, Milord?".

The nearing footsteps stopped.

"I wasn't threatening him" The deep magnetic voice was filled with beguilement and sternness.

Moulin didn't turn and left the man to walk to his side. "Then what pray tell do you call it?"

"He looked into my eyes and ran away... I call it cowardice"

Moulin turned his head to him with an eyebrow raised. 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦?

Hadrian looked at him from the corner of his eyes, the entertained look within his irises made Moulin's blood rush.

"I haven't received your gratitude..."

"You already did..." Silvery eyes glared.

"I believe it doesn't count as a proper manner to express your gratefulness"

Tsk.

"Maybe It should be me who deserves to accept your gratitude" There was spite and a bit of venom in Moulin's voice when he finally turned his body to face Hadrian.

"Oh? How so?..." His voice was rather taunting Moulin as his eyebrows rose in interest.

Damn this man. "I believe you witnessed how I was the one who brought down the last pillar and the very first person who discovered the particular abnormality of the corrupted moonflowers. Without me, I believe you would be having a very hard time, Your Excellency". His chin rose with pride, a dignified glint flickered within his bright silver eyes.

What Lion?! What intelligence?! What fearsome?! This man was none other than irritatingly evil and perverse! If it wasn't for Hadrian's status he would've definitely freeze those vulgar hands of his and crush it into fine dust. Other than his family, no one has ever had the nerve to touch him so frequently.

Although for a well-known cold-hearted man, the Archnoble's hands were rather warm and careful.

Moulin flinched when he realized his thoughts, he quickly dismissed them.

"I suppose that is true" Hadrian stared at him. Noticing the rapid change of Moulin's expressions. He could easily spot the rising pride inside those marvelous silver eyes as if there was a blazing fire beneath a frozen lake.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he took a step closer, which startled Moulin who once again raised his guard. Hadrian was pleased with how much he affected the youth with his presence, it was strangely tantalizing. The call in his heart screamed covetously as he stared at those silvery eyes. "Will this be enough to express my gratitude to this esteemed young master?".

Moulin looked at him confusingly before the man drew out his hidden hand from behind him.

A shining jewel-like glow was reflected on clear silver eyes as Moulin stared at the stunning blue thirty-six petal flower held within Hadrian's long fingers. A wonderful pleasant ambiance of rich mana wafted in the air around them, almost intoxicating Moulin into contentment. He thought all the flowers in the garden had been corrupted? How was this one spared? Was this plucked before it got corrupted?

His lush lips pursed as he raised his gaze to meet irises of blazing gold intently looking at him. Moulin's heart skipped a beat when he absorbed the sight of the attractive man earnestly presenting him a glowing flower with a striking tinge of magnetism within his golden eyes. It was like one of the many romantic scenes that he had written in many of his novels, one of the many scenes that could rise his thirst for affection that he had forcibly kept hidden within him.

In his previous life, he was always the active one in his relationship, whether it was giving flowers, chocolates, or buying watches and clothes he was the only one who did it all. It made him extremely thrilled to watch his lover smile, who In return gifted him with small kisses, however, after the bastard cheated on him, Moulin realized he was just some naive little bank.

Right now, he didn't know how to react to the bursting emotions swirling in his chest. It was only a small and simple gesture even a family member could do yet to him it felt warmer like a cozy fire in the middle of the winter woods, warming up his heart in an instant in a blaze of tenderness.

The young man was oblivious of the noticeable reddening of his rosy cheeks and the enticing twinkle in his widened eyes exposed vulnerably to the man before him.