Chapter 315 – Just?
"Argh...slowly...slowly, Dorian, you bloody bastard, I said slowly!" Morgan cursed at her little brother, raising a fist as if about to punch him in the face.
Dorian rolled his eyes, easily dodging the strike, "Sister, you were the one who asked me to help with the bandages. Stop wasting my time and stop whining."
The two siblings sat in the top room of Bliss’s House. Morgan perched restlessly on the edge of the bed, her body bloodied and wounded all over.
She pressed her lips tight, watching Dorian crouch beside her, working through Healing Potions and bandages to treat her wounds.
But the task proved harder than he’d expected.
"Tier 5 potions aren’t enough. Some of these wounds are poisoned." Dorian said calmly, cleaning what he could, Morgan hissing in pain with every pass, "You’ll need an Apothecary, sister, if you want to heal fully."
"You think it’s easy finding one?" Morgan shot back. "I’ll manage. My body adjusts in a couple of days, the pain fades, and then Tier 5 will do the job. You know our bloodline."
"I do, yes. What I don’t know is what exactly you’ve been doing to end up this wounded." Dorian frowned, lifting his eyes to meet hers, "What have you been up to?"
"Ah, the real fucking question finally." Morgan said, shoving his hands away, grabbing his collar, and yanking him close, "You, damned bastard, what’s your problem?"
"I don’t know what you mean."
"You’ve changed, Dorian." Morgan frowned deeply, "Ever since that day you went off dealing with whatever’s been eating at you, something’s been off. You’re gloomier, you don’t joke or smile anymore, and you throw yourself into your work like it’s the only thing that matters."
Dorian said nothing to that. Truthfully, he didn’t fully know what his own problem was. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t dwell on his messed-up relationship with Esmeray, but that had proven impossible.
Their bond was affecting him more than he’d ever imagined it could.
He felt ashamed even meeting his sister’s eyes now, as though he were failing her a little more each day. He hardly spoke of Cassius the way he used to either, as though even thinking of him felt like some kind of betrayal.
Dorian Desdemona was thoroughly lost.
Guilt gnawed at him constantly, dragging him into an endless sea of restless, useless thoughts, and every day he felt more certain the price he’d paid for power hadn’t been worth it.
’How pathetic. How hypocritical.’ He thought, lowering his head slowly, ’I was the one who lectured Morgan about knowing when enough is enough. Yet because I wasn’t satisfied with my own power, my own position, I made a deal with the devil.’
And that deal could never be undone. Dorian could already feel the change taking root in him, ever since that night.
Subtle, but unmistakably there.
He was growing stronger, his Characteristic slowly awakening in full, but alongside it came an intense, overwhelming feeling for Esmeray.
So intense, in fact, that he no longer found any enthusiasm in sleeping with other women, even though his work often required exactly that method for faster results.
That was when he knew he was truly doomed.
’...this is worse. Far worse than I thought. How am I supposed to advance my position if I can’t even use the advantages I have?’
Dorian’s thoughts spiraled again, in every direction at once.
Morgan noticed and scowled immediately, "You’re drifting off again. Not the first time. Not the second, or even the third."
"Sister, please," Dorian sighed, rising from his crouch, "Don’t worry about me. I’ll handle it."
"This all feels like you don’t trust me."
"It’s not about trust." He said, "It’s more that I’m not ready to share it yet. Someday. I’ll tell you someday, sister."
’I’ll die with this secret. I’m sorry, sister.’
Before Morgan could respond, Dorian pressed on quickly,
"But what about you? Your wounds keep getting worse by the day. You’re scaring off my customers and staff."
"Who cares? They’re all whores, gigolos, and perverts anyway."
"Ouch. Feels like you’re cursing me too."
"You’re my brother. You’re excused."
Dorian smiled wryly. "So?" He prompted again, turning to walk toward the huge glass window overlooking the Red District of Vorn City.
"I’m hunting the Crimson Daggers." Morgan said, groaning as she shifted her shoulders, "The old man’s request. I already told you that, Dorian."
"Oh...right, you did mention something about it. Like how the Crimson Daggers and the Hoods are connected." Dorian said, finally recalling, "So, if I understood correctly, our great-grandfather was the founder?"
"Yes." Morgan said.
"And his goal was, what, to kill his own bloodline?"
"Apparently." She replied, "And you know the restrictions the Hoods’ first ancestor put in place. Which means if he ever kills one of them, no matter who, the entire Hood bloodline gets essentially destroyed."
"Why?" Dorian asked, frowning slightly, "If he does that, he’d suffer the consequences himself, crippling himself in the process. He’s willing to go that far? For what reason?"
Morgan hesitated at the question. She knew some details from Old Mort, but wasn’t sure the old man wanted these particular Hood family secrets shared any further.
Still, Morgan disliked keeping things from her family.
Dorian tended to hide things. Cassius, she’d noticed, had picked up that same bad habit.
The twins mostly shared things between themselves, but Lucian was loud and talkative. He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.
So Morgan sighed, standing beside her brother now, gazing out at the bustling city below.
"Well, you know great-grandmother Hel Hood, don’t you?"
"I do. I don’t like her."
"Neither do I." She shrugged, wincing at the pain that followed, "Let’s just say she’s the reason the Crimson Daggers exist."
Dorian glanced at her, eyebrow raised, "How so?"
"Our lovely great-grandmother Hel Hood cheated on her husband." Morgan said flatly, Dorian’s eyes widening, "Where normal people might divorce or fall into depression, our great-grandfather decided to kill his own wife for the offense. But how could their son accept his own mother being killed just for loving another man?"
"Just?"
"Focus on the story, Dorian."
"Tsk, fine. And by ’the son,’ you mean Old Mort?"
"The very man." Morgan nodded, "He was old enough by then, old enough to be King himself. He fought his own father over it, and in the end, knowing full well the Hood taboo against harming their own kin, the father vanished and instead founded a Sect for one sole purpose: killing his wife, and the entire Hood line."
"An entire sect...just for revenge?"
"Just?"
"I mean, it was just infidelity. Was it really worth all this drama?"
"I’m not surprised ing from you."
Dorian, though, was genuinely speechless.
He stared blankly at his sister before turning away, dragging an exasperated hand down his face, "This fucking family is a mess. How messed up can one bloodline get?" He frowned, "But one thing bothers me...the leader of the Crimson Daggers is known as the Lord of Red Moon, with authority over the Moon. That’s not the Hood Aspect. Did he change his bloodline?"
"No, of course not." Morgan shook her head, "He wants the Hoods destroyed. He needs his own bloodline intact to do that."
"Then?"
"Borrowed power, Old Mort said."
"Borrowed...power?"
Morgan nodded, her black eyes darkening with seriousness, "Our great-grandfather, Domada Hood, is using the corpse of a Fifth-Rank being. A literal Ascendant, Dorian, mind you. He took that corpse and forged Characteristics from it, granting himself power over the Moon. You know as well as I do that bloodline patibility isn’t required to wield power granted through Characteristics. The same way you use Charm and Lust, thanks to your Cupid’s Heart."
"A bloody Ascendant?" Dorian said, dismayed, "How did he even get his hands on an Ascendant’s corpse? None of this makes sense!"
"I don’t know. Even Old Mort doesn’t." She frowned, "But you’re right to question it. Ascendant beings exist on an entirely different level. Even our parents, with all their power, aren’t Ascendants."
"Do you know who the Ascendant was, though?" Dorian asked, "Given how rare they are, we might be able to trace something from that alone."
"I don’t know his name, but Old Mort told me the title he was known by."
"A title?" Dorian echoed, "What is it?"
Morgan paused for a heartbeat, lifting her gaze skyward before finally answering,
"Moonlight."
—End of Chapter 315—
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