Ascension Of The Villain

"-ter… Master!"

Vyan's head jerked up from the desk, startled by the sudden voice. "Benedict, you nearly gave me a heart attack," he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. "You should have knocked before entering."

"I did, Master. Several times, in fact," Benedict replied, his voice gentle but laced with concern. His eyes briefly flicked to the untouched plate of snacks on Vyan's desk and his red-rimmed puffed eyes. "But you didn't answer."

"Oh… sorry, I must have dozed off." Vyan rubbed the bridge of his nose, his expression blank. "Anyway, what is it?"

"It's dinnertime, Master. You should come down and eat."

"I am not hungry," Vyan replied flatly, beginning to gather the scattered documents on his desk. "I think I will just sleep."

"You didn't eat much at lunch either, Master."

"I said it's fine," Vyan's tone was almost mechanical.

Benedict hesitated, his gaze lingering on Vyan's face, noting the exhaustion and the emptiness in his expression. "Alright, Master. I hope you can rest well."

As Vyan made a move to stand, Benedict suddenly remembered something. "Oh, Master, there was something I needed to mention."

"Yes?" Vyan's voice was devoid of interest, his focus elsewhere.

"This Friday… it marks Young Master Aster's death anniversary. And next week, it's your parents'. Would you like to visit their graves this time around?"

Vyan froze, a shadow passing over his face.

"Last year, I didn't press the matter because you didn't feel as connected to them… but this year, I thought perhaps—"

"Asters," Vyan interrupted, his voice low. "Please have two bouquets of these flowers prepared on the day of Mother and Father's death anniversary."

Benedict blinked, surprised. "You remembered something so small as their favorite flowers?"

A faint, almost bitter smile curved on Vyan's lips, his gaze distant. "There is a reason I remember this particular facr. Brother always hated his name because he was named after a flower—something he hated." That was why he much preferred to be called Ash.

Benedict's heart clenched as he forced a smile, trying to keep his composure. "Alright then. Two bouquets for Asters for your parents. Duly noted. What would you like to do for Young Master Aster?"

Vyan's eyes lifted, hollow and devoid of warmth. "Why would I prepare something for the death anniversary of someone who is still alive?"

Benedict's breath caught in his throat. "Master… what do you mean?"

"It's true, Benedict," Vyan whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "Ash is alive. I confirmed it."

———

Eight hours ago.

Vyan's mind raced as he stood frozen on the stairs, the realization clawing at him like a screaming beast. No, it can't be...

The thought echoed through his mind, a desperate plea for it not to be true. But the memory, that distant voice from his past, refused to fade. His breath quickened, panic creating a storm in his chest.

He couldn't just leave it like this. But how would he confirm it—

That's right! That guy can help.

Turning on his heel, Vyan sprinted back down the stairs without having the rationality to inform Clyde and the jailor.

His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran back to the deeper bowels of the prison. He didn't care if he didn't have permission. He had to know.

Reaching the floor he had visited just a minute ago, Vyan skidded to a stop in front of Fred's cell.

The man inside was a shadow of the monster Vyan remembered, slumped against the wall. His eyes were lifeless and sunken. But that didn't stop Vyan's desperation.

"Fred!" Vyan's voice was sharp, cutting through the dead silence. "Did you see someone come in here after I left last night?"

Fred didn't even lift his head, his voice flat and indifferent. "Why would I answer you?"

Vyan clenched the bars, frustration boiling over. "After the way you tortured me for years, for no reason? Don't you think I deserve this much from you at least?"

Fred finally looked up, his expression cold and unfeeling. "I don't want to."

"You fucking bastard," Vyan cursed under his breath. "Come on, just help me out a bit here."

Fred shrugged, uninterested. "Why don't you offer me something? Get me out of this prison or something like that."

Vyan scoffed. Even in his frantic desire to confirm the truth, he had this much sense left within him. "No, you don't deserve that."

Fred's eyes narrowed. "Then forget it."

Vyan searched for something, anything, to persuade him. Finally, an idea sparked. "Okay, how about I get you a picture of your son?" Getting portraits painted was costly, after all—not something a horse trainer should have been able to afford at the time.

That got Fred's attention. His eyes flickered with the briefest hint of life, the only sign of emotion he had shown. "You can do that?"

"I have a mage friend who can pull memories into pictures," Vyan offered, hope creeping into his voice. "I can get you a picture of your son."

Fred stared at Vyan for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Fine. I will tell you."

Vyan stared at him with hope.

"After you left last night, I was sitting by the bars and saw some imperial guards come in. They forced someone out from the solitary confinement area. I almost thought it was a pretty woman because of the long hair and thin frame, but the voice… it was deep, like a man's."

Vyan's heart skipped a beat. "A thin man with long hair? Were you able to tell what color?"

Fred squinted, recalling the details. "It's dark in here. But it was most likely red, I think."

"Red hair… you say…" Vyan's grip on the bar loosened and he fell to his knees, the confirmation of the truth hitting him harder than anything that had happened for the past few days.

"Vyan!" Clyde's panicked voice came as he ran to his side. "What the hell are you doing here?" He grabbed Vyan's elbow and tried to pull him up, but Vyan kept staring at the bars, his mouth ajar. "Vyan…?"

Getting no response, Clyde sank to his knees by his side and took in Vyan's crestfallen expression, softly asking, "What happened?"

"My brother, Clyde…" Tears fell out of Vyan's eyes. "They had my brother in solitary confinement for six… sixteen years… How…" his voice broke. "H-how can they do that? How can they do that to him?"

His brother was alive; sure, he should be jumping over in happiness. But how could Vyan be happy with this truth? Because no matter how he looked at it, death would have been much kinder than what his brother must have gone through inside that narrow space with no windows or a source of light.

Vyan could vividly feel the loneliness and despair Aster must have felt. Therefore, he couldn't help the sobs that tore through his soul, breaking down into helpless tears.

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