Chapter 162: No Starting Over
Chapter 162: No Starting Over
Elyn’s POV
"Start all over?" I repeated.
I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t laugh either. I just looked at him.
Zorathys seemed to sense that this was worse.
"No," I said simply. "We cannot start over."
The word cannot landed heavier than a will not ever could. It wasn’t a refusal born of stubbornness or wounded pride. It was certainty. The kind that didn’t need volume to be final.
Zorathys swallowed.
I could see it—his throat bobbing, the way his shoulders stiffened before he exhaled slowly. Even his shadows reacted, stretching along the marble floor before drooping like wilting ink.
"You set the date," I continued calmly. "You set the date for the introductory ball without telling me, didn’t you?"
There was no reply.
Ignivar shifted slightly, his presence a steady heat at my back, while Naviel adjusted his glasses and stared very intently at a pillar like it had suddenly become fascinating.
Zorathys rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"It’s... not my fault," he said carefully. "Per se."
I arched a brow.
"The thing is," he went on, "I may have signed it while I was asleep, so—"
I cut him off immediately.
"Now we both know that’s just another lie, future husband," I said to him.
Zorathys blinked at me.
"Everything you do, you do sleepily. We both know that. I’m sure everyone here knows that too. And no, you did not sign that document or set the date while you were sleeping. Maybe while you were sleepy, since it’s your default mode—yes—but not while you were asleep," I told him.
His lips parted in shock. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he stopped.
Slowly, he nodded.
"It seems you know me rather well," he said to me, but I detected an undertone of delight. I wasn’t very sure, but I knew it was a happy tone.
But it didn’t really show. He slumped his shoulders and then exhaled like the weight of the world was on him.
"You are right, firefly," he told me solemnly.
His shadows sagged further, like they were too tired to even pretend otherwise. But I knew they were just following his act.
"But," he added quickly, "I did do it by mistake. And I genuinely only realized a date had been set after the fact. I only realized a date had been set when you brought it up."
I stared at him.
"A mistake," I echoed. "You set a date for an event that involves me, the entire realm, and every noble family... by mistake."
"Yes."
"How?"
He hesitated, then spoke finally.
"...The way one makes a mistake."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"No," I said patiently. "Explain."
"I can’t. It was a mistake."
"Zorathys."
"It was a mistake," he insisted. "It doesn’t have an explanation."
I lowered my hand and looked at him fully now.
"That," I said very calmly, "is a lie."
He shook his head immediately. "I’m not lying."
"You are."
"I’m really not."
"Then explain it."
"I can’t."
"Then you’re lying."
He exhaled sharply, frustrated. "You can ask my shadows."
I paused.
Slowly, I turned my head.
The shadows along the walls—his shadows—shifted, rippling like dark silk caught in a breeze. They were watching me. Watching him. Watching everything.
I met them head-on.
"Is he lying?" I asked.
They shook their heads.
A collective, unmistakable no.
I stared at them for a long moment.
Then I scoffed softly and turned back to Zorathys.
"I shouldn’t even be asking them," I said. "They’re an extension of you."
He nodded. "They are. But they also have their own thoughts. Their own perceptions. They’re their own... people."
I gave him a sharp look that I was almost certain could cut through glass.
"Don’t push your luck."
He winced but nodded again. "Fair."
The tension lingered, thick and unresolved. Somewhere behind us, Aziren shifted his weight, his small shoes scuffing softly against the floor.
Zorathys straightened then, his expression changing—not playful, not evasive. Just... earnest.
"I’m sorry," he said. "I really am. I shouldn’t have fixed anything without your permission. Especially not something like this."
It was something simple, and something we had achieved after much struggle, but it was enough to appease me. Don’t ask me why—I was suspecting I might have a soft spot for this demon king.
I studied his face, searching for cracks, but I found none.
"I’ll make it up to you, I promise," he told me.
"How are you going to make it up to me?" I asked.
His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. The kind that almost made me forget why I was annoyed at him in the first place.
Almost.
He lifted a finger and placed it gently against his lips.
"You’ll know," he said.
Before I could respond, his shadows surged.
They wrapped around him in a smooth, practiced motion—coiling, folding, swallowing his form whole. In the span of a breath, he was gone.
There was no sound, nor any trace that he had even been here minutes ago.
I stared at the spot, unsurprised.
"...Of course," I muttered.
I turned then, ready to address the remaining two adults in the room, but before I could say a word—
"Daddy!" Aziren said excitedly.
I looked down toward the boy.
He was staring at the spot where Zorathys had vanished, eyes wide with delight, mouth parted in pure wonder. He tugged excitedly at Ignivar’s trousers.
"Daddy, did you see that?" he asked breathlessly. "Did you see? He disappeared! That was cool."
Ignivar stiffened.
His eyes widened in immediate alarm. "Aziren—"
"Daddy, do it!" Aziren bounced slightly on his feet. "Do the thing with the shadows!"
Ignivar froze.
"I—no," he said quickly. "I can’t do that."
Aziren frowned. "Why not?"
Ignivar crouched slightly, lowering himself closer to his son. "Because I’m not a shadow demon," he said gently. "And I’m not as... strong as that person."
I bit the inside of my cheek.
"I can only use fire," Ignivar told his son.
Aziren’s excitement dimmed.
Slowly, his wolf ears drooped, folding downward in disappointment.
"Oh," he said softly, and then sniffled.