The Mansion’s Final Night

Horace chugged his glass of whiskey and slammed it on the counter bar, glaring at the doctor with a flushed face. “Ugh, I don’t get it!” he sobbed, his words slurred. “What does Lady Maribel even see in you?!”

The young doctor stared at the new, shining wedding ring forever attached to his finger. “To be honest, I don’t quite understand it either.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, he emptied his glass and glared at the bartender. “Give me a refill.”

The bartender sighed and nodded, taking his glass and pouring another serving of whiskey.

Horace sniffled. “That’s all rubbish, I say! You thieving scoundrel, you stole her heart, didn’t you?”

“I… cannot tell if you meant that literally or figuratively.”

Horace hiccuped and shook his swaying head. “Just… just because you’re so kind, and tall, and strong, and smart, and… h-handsome, doesn’t mean you deserve her!”

Solomon raised a brow. “Erm, thank you for the compliments?”

“Compliments? What—hic—compliments?”

The doctor chuckled and shook his head. “Never mind. Say, Horace?”

“What?”

He grinned and patted his shoulder. “I think you’re wonderful as well. You’re loyal, hardworking, and thoughtful. Mari still cares about you as well, you know.”

“Ugh, why did she let you call her by a nickname? That’s not faaair…”

“Oh, Horace, nobody said that you couldn’t.”

“No, no, nooo… What’s the point when she never said I could? If she doesn’t say anything, then it has no meaning!”

Solomon raised a brow. “Do you humans truly find such trivial gestures that meaningful?“ he quietly muttered. “How intriguing.”

“Whuwhazzat?” Horace hiccuped.

Solomon chuckled and shook his head. “Horace, you may not remember this later on, but I’d like to tell you anyway: I also find you quite fascinating, you see.”

“The bloody hell does that mean?”

He trailed his finger on his glass of tomato juice, staring curiously. “To tell you the truth, I envy you, Horace. I envy both you and Mari a lot more than you realize. You two have the privilege to drink away your sorrows, even if that means only a temporary relief.”

“Huuh…” Horace tilted his head. “You can’t drink?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m… allergic.”

“Huh. Is that even possible?”

“Although rare, yes, it’s possible.”

“What a pity to be you, I suppose.”

Solomon chuckled. “Would that make us even, I wonder?”

“Even? How absurd. How can you envy this pathetic ability to drink?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand…”

“Hmph, then you wouldn’t understand me either.”

The doctor frowned as he curiously observed his drunken state. “What a shame then. And yet, should you ever… learn the truth about me, would you be able to understand me then?”

“Why sound so grave? You speak of it as if you’re keeping some dark secret.”

“Haha, do I now?” Solomon hummed and gently swayed his glass. “Excuse me then. I only meant to humor you with a hypothetical question.”

Horace grunted, his flushed face scrunched in confusion. “I have no bloody idea how to answer that, you strange doctor.”

Solomon shook his head. “No matter then.” He raised his glass toward him. “How about a toast for our future endeavors together?”

“I refuse. I despise you.”

The doctor couldn’t help but chuckle as he sipped. “I hope I can fix that someday. I truly find our friendship fascinating.”

“How disgusting. Don’t try to charm me.”

“...Charm you? I wasn’t trying to.”

“Don’t act so naive, you thief.”

The two continued with their banters as such, until Horace passed out during their conversation, forcing Solomon to carry him back home.

✦☆✦

To quickly alert each other in case the danger finally arrived, everyone in the mansion agreed to have a sleepover in the living room. Dorothy and Solomon volunteered to gather some mattresses while the others rearranged the furniture to make space for the mattresses and couches before the fireplace.

Because of the mattresses’ sheer sizes, the group ended up sharing them. Penelope and Dorothy shared one, Clover and Theodore shared the other, Charlie and Eloi shared the third, and Cherry took a couch.

Even though being in each other’s presence did reassure each other’s safety, it didn’t stop the overwhelming anxiety that they could all die at any second, making it rather hard to fall asleep after all. In the end, the doctor decided to help them all out with a sleeping spell—an ability he’d often cast on Charlie to calm his nerves months prior.

Solomon turned to the other three couches meant for him and the other two gentlemen. Although Ren and Horace did appear to have fallen into slumber, his ears could tell they faked it. He sighed, surveyed the sleeping youths and their serene faces one more time, and left the room.

Horace opened his eyes and turned to the door closing behind him. With a quiet sigh, he slipped off the couch and followed him.

✦☆✦

Solomon claimed a chair on the porch, gazing at the forest far through the gates. Horace stood behind him, and the two stayed briefly silent.

The plan was that they and Ren would take turns guarding the mansion, so the fact that Horace was here with him only meant one thing: to have a private discussion.

Solomon quietly inhaled the whispering breeze. “Horace, do you remember the night after my wedding, we had a drink together at a bar?”

Horace rubbed his head. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten it.”

“I expected as much. You’d always end up completely drunk and blacked out to remember anything.”

“I vaguely remember you frequently bringing me to multiple bars in the past. Did we discuss something noteworthy on one of those nights?”

“Why, yes. Yes, we did. One night, we talked about how we were envious of each other.”

“Envy? You?”

“Of course. I envied you because you can drink, whereas you envied me that I won Mari’s heart.”

Horace clicked his tongue. “And I still am.”

“Haha, the feeling is mutual, so it seems. Tell me, Horace, what does alcohol taste like?”

He rubbed his chin. “As bitter as the medicine you would prescribe to your patients, I suppose. Certain beverages can even burn your throat.”

“...Is that so? Then why do so many people drink it?”

“There are plenty of reasons: to reduce stress, to avoid the cruelties of reality, for enjoyment, and so on...”

“Entertainment…” Solomon frowned. “Here in Theatreux, alcohol has played a significant role in events and festivals. And to think there are so many of us vampires who are stripped away from ever experiencing it. Not only can we not enjoy it, we fear it for our lives and others.” He slowly turned to the ex-butler with experience in his eyes. “Now that you understand why I’ve envied you, would that finally make us even?”

“Hmph, do you seriously think materialistic desires can even compare to a longing for another?”

“We both desire something that we cannot have from the other, no?”

“Goodness, you truly do have a vampire heart.” Horace shook his head. “Alcohol is but a mere source of entertainment—or medicinal component. One can live a normal life without drinking a single drop.”

“I can say the same with love, you know. One can also live a normal life without ever finding a partner.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Love is the foundation for a healthy life.”

Solomon stared down at his palms etched with his bloody youth. “A healthy life, huh?” He chuckled and clenched his fists. “And yet, here we are, our lives equally ruined in the end. How horribly ironic.”

Horace sighed. “And we even ruined the next generation’s future,” he muttered. “It pains me even more that they tried to reassure us of our mistakes.”

“I feel the same as well.” Solomon shook his head. “But it was also thanks to them that I no longer wish to cling to this envy. Horace, I no longer bear any grudges. In fact, I sincerely appreciate that you’re here, supporting the kids with me.”

Horace blinked. “What’s gotten into you, being so sentimental all of a sudden?”

“No reason. I felt like I just had to make it clear.”

Horace crossed his arms, looking away. “Hmph, I’m only obligated to support the children Lady Maribel loved so much.”

He said that, but his tender heart said something else.

Horace forced a cough. “And perhaps… reconciling with you wouldn’t hurt,” he mumbled. “I’ve spent a considerable amount of time thinking about Eloi’s question—that was, whether I’ve regretted harboring these doomed feelings.”

He stared down at his palms. “A part of me believed that it was indeed a curse. After all, it still horribly torments me whenever I realize Lady Maribel is gone, and it was these feelings that convinced me to share my pain.”

He dangled his arm and stared at the thicket. “But, were it not for these feelings of mine, perhaps I wouldn’t have tried to understand her choices and raise her children. If I were to compare my present self with my child self…”

Horace stared at the empty spot before him, picturing his old self in dirty rags wearing a lifeless, dull look in his eyes. With a soft smile, he said, “I would’ve realized that falling in love allowed me to feel warmth for the first time in my life. And while living with Lady Maribel, I’ve gradually learned to love others. Therefore, I consider these feelings more of a blessing than a curse.” He faked another cough. “That would explain why… the more you and I spend time together, the more I tolerate you, I suppose.”

Solomon raised his brows and stood up, still speechless.

Horace narrowed his eyes as Cherry’s words flashed through his mind. “After all these months, you’re still the same, stubborn doctor who took great care of this family as you always have been for decades. I… have come to realize that despising you vampires just because of your curse is but an excuse to act on my jealousy. I… confess that I am in the wrong. I am sorry, Solomon.”

Solomon gawked at the blushing ex-butler. His heart swelled, and he couldn’t help but approach him and pull him up into an embrace, much to Horace’s shock and dismay.

“Thank you, Horace. Hearing that makes me so happy…”

“Hey, l-let go!” he stammered. “You don’t have to be so touchy!” Horace slipped away and cleared his throat. “If our conversation is done, then I’ll go and rest.”

“Ah, of course. Rest well,” he said with a nod, watching him leave with a smile. He went back to his seat, gazing over the thicket and the quiet, starless sky.

✦☆✦

Hours flew by before Solomon knew it, and by the time the night reached a few hours past midnight, he went back inside.

He debated whether to call Horace or Ren to take charge next, but by the time he arrived back in the living room, he found Ren absent from his couch. Distant voices quickly answered his questions as he turned to the window, widening his eyes at Ren arguing with a man in a scholarly suit with shoulder-length, brown and yellow hair and a pair of glasses.

“Fantario, for the last time, I can’t leave them to fend for themselves,” said Ren, pacing around. “And those kids won’t ever forgive me if I take them away. I just know it.”

“And risk dying in the process? Are you stupid?” asked Fantario, folding his arms. “If you and your kids perish tonight, everyone else in the kingdom shall follow suit!”

“Ugh, I know that already…”

“So hurry up and go back to your wife! Weren’t you waiting to take your kids home this whole time?”

“What about Solomon? Horace? The other brats? They can’t handle this on their own!”

“Then take them with you if you’re so worried!”

“Then that bloody train might as well follow us to our house! Monty will win if that happens!” Ren pointed at him. “And don’t give me that ‘go home’ bullshit when you’re supposed to look after your students! Why the hell are you here?!”

“If you perish, then my institution might as well collapse next. Besides, are you really going to risk abandoning your wife?”

“What are you talking about? Everything I’ve done was for her sake!”

He pinched his fingers in frustration. “You stubborn imbecile! Dying here means leaving her to suffer alone!”

"Who says I'm dying?!"

"Fiona's cards do!"

Ah, Solomon should’ve seen this argument coming. He inhaled, slipped out the window, and loudly cleared his throat, silencing the dispute. “Ren, I hate to tell you this, but I agree with Fantario,” he said.

Ren gaped his eyes at him.

“You should go back home—alone, that is,” said Solomon. “Trust me when I say this: You should not leave Fiona alone during this time of uncertainty.”

“Then what about the kids? Are you saying that they should stay here and die?”

“Of course not.” He folded his arms. “But to separate them from their friends is, in my opinion, the cruelest choice possible. You were the one to teach us how important teamwork is, yes?”

Ren frowned. “Are you saying that they can take down a weapon of war?”

“In my opinion, I believe they have a chance.” Solomon stretched a reassuring smile. “Haven’t you been watching over them? After overcoming tragedy after tragedy, they’re all still alive—and much stronger. Have faith in them, Ren. They’re more than ready to face the future.”

Ren still maintained his frown as he spared another moment to ponder. He clicked his tongue and turned around. “Fine,” he mumbled. “If they die, then it’s off with your head.”

“I’m more than willing to accept that punishment,” said Solomon, nodding. “Please take care of yourself. You as well, Fantario.”

With a grunt, Ren and Fantario nodded and disappeared into red mists in the blink of an eye.

A cold breeze slithered through the scene, brushing past Solomon as he stared at the sky. With a sigh, he walked back toward the mansion, only to freeze as his ears twitched.

He widened his eyes, his heart dropped, and adrenaline crashed through his veins the moment the forest rumbled.

Solomon slammed the door open and ran through the hallways. “Everyone, wake up!” he roared. “The train has—”

An ear-deafening bellow, mixed between the roar of a beast and the whistle of a train, amplified and drowned out his words in seconds. A heavy earthquake shook the house, strong enough that vases and chairs topped over each other.

As fast as a strike of lighting, Otrone's weapon of war zipped through the trees and burrowed straight through the mansion with a thundering explosion.