Chapter Text
1
It was a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be the subject of every gossiping family in the countryside. At least, that proved to be the case if the single man in question was Seto Kaiba.
He barely stepped a foot inside the threshold and had already been called upon by at least half a dozen gentlemen; all eager to introduce themselves, giving less than subtle references to their eligible sons and daughters. Each one extended invitations to come shoot on their grounds, which he declined with the excuse of being busy helping to settle things in the new estate. It was a shame. In general, he quite enjoyed hunting, just not when he was the intended prey.
Seto had little doubt, the invitations came with the sole aim of introducing him to their conveniently available offspring. Did they think he would become enraptured by their insipid conversation and form some sort of romantic attachment? He lived in the largest, most technologically advanced city in the world. The prospect of settling down with some country bumpkin would hardly tempt him.
He regretted allowing himself to be talked into coming to Gameton. As he suspected, it proved to be a dreary little town with no fashion and even less sense.
Kisara framed it as a holiday. A holiday. As if the promised "fresh air and good country manners" would give him anything other than a migraine. It was a thinly veiled excuse, anyway. He came because Kisara did not wish to make the venture of checking out the estate on her own. She inherited the amount of a hundred thousand pounds from her father, and with it she intended to settle herself away from the bustle of Domino. When Lightstone Hall became available for sale, Kisara decided to lease the house to see if she liked the area well enough to consider a purchase. She, of course, would want his approval before making any decision on where to settle.
Mokuba wholeheartedly approved of the trip. His brother even begged to be allowed to come himself, but Seto would not permit him to abandon his studies. He had very little interest in taking time away from his business in the city, but he had a poor track record of defying both his brother and his best friend when they set their minds to a common goal.
Though the estate appeared to be of good value, he came to loath what little of the society he had already seen. Kisara was the one looking for a place to establish property, but despite this fact, word had evidently spread of his own substantial fortune; and the number of desperate matchmakers–for he refused to call them guests–doubled.
Less than a week in and Seto already needed a holiday from this holiday. He made it his sole purpose during this venture to dissuade Kisara from settling in Gameton, if only to insure he would never again be dragged back to this lousy little town and its insufferable inhabitants.
The Otogi family was hosting a private ball tonight, and Kisara expressed her eager intent to attend. Mr. Ryuji Otogi appeared to be one of the few people in town with no interest in him as a potential marriage prospect. Upon their meeting, Otogi made it clear he was not concerned with settling down any time soon. With that knowledge, Seto was already inclined to like the gentleman.
If it were a matter of just dancing, he would turn the invitation down without consideration. He could not imagine a more uncomfortable or tedious way to spend an evening, but balls rarely consisted of dancing alone. In Domino, a host would be expected to provide a multitude of diversions, and the gathering tonight would likely have cards and other entertainment. Mr. Otogi suggested he had an affinity for dice. Although Seto preferred games of skill to chance, he was intrigued to see what country games were in fashion–intrigued enough to agree to go.
A gentleman had an obligation to know, and be seen with, all the right people, after all. He would be expected to make some connections during his stay, though he very much doubted he would gain much by the acquaintance of anyone here.
Nevertheless, he would attend, he would eat, and he would dominate at the game tables. He would even allow for more pointless introductions, but of one thing he was certain. He would sooner stick a dinner fork in his eye than dance.
"Oh, Seto," Kisara said, twirling towards him in a graceful whirl, "you must ask someone to dance!"
"You know I will not."
"I know you are very good on your feet, and yet you insist on denying the entire assembly the pleasure of seeing it."
She nudged him in the ribs in a good natured manner.
Seto did not enjoy being teased in public, nor being addressed so informally; but Kisara knew she was just about the only person that could get away with it.
"I did dance," he reminded her. "Once with you, and once with the other Miss White."
When attending a ball, it became Seto's custom to dance a single turn with Kisara and her other two sisters and then quit the activity for the remainder of the evening; a calculated move not to appear rude to the host by shunning the main event. He dare not risk the headache of asking a stranger.
A dance was never merely a dance. It was a dangerous game with a complicated rulebook, not to be attempted without careful consideration. Scheming mothers were little more than headhunters, and an unmarried gentleman in attendance was all but declaring his eligibility to them.
Etiquette decreed he should dance with any suitable person in need of a partner. Despite his general strive for propriety, he refused to conform to that standard.
For the average gentleman, dancing with the same partner more than once could be considered showing a particular interest , an indication that they intended to court their partner. Seto learned the hard way, his aversion to dancing in general meant that partaking in the activity at all caused a tizzy of rumors and expectations. Kisara and her sisters understood his disposition and were happy to oblige him in a dance without any of them losing their heads about his intentions. He could not say the same for anyone else in the room.
Kisara's second sister was recently married and opted to stay with her new husband at his estate in Heartland. That reduced his normal count of dance partners from three to two. Since he already danced with both of them, he considered his social obligation fulfilled.
"If you insist on me dancing, you will waste your evening in a hopeless endeavor, and we will both be miserable."
At that moment, a determined looking, boar of a mother began barreling her way towards them, with a timid looking daughter following in her wake. He noted their host also stood nearby. No doubt, the mother had seen this as a promising opportunity to force an introduction.
"I believe I have had my fill of socializing for one evening. Excuse me."
Without another word, Seto carefully navigated through the crowd and slipped through the doors of the ballroom that lead to the interior corridors of the house, away from scheming eyes. The moment he stepped into the darkness of the hallway, a wave of relief washed over him.
Upon their arrival, Mr. Otogi disclosed that his grandmother dropped in unexpectedly. He apologized, explaining she had stringent views on proper assembly and did not approve of games at a ball. There would be no tables tonight. This infuriated Seto. He felt he had been deceived–brought here under false pretense.
He wanted to leave immediately upon the discovery that there would be no real entertainment, but could not deny Kisara's obvious excitement at the assembly, and even he knew better than to show open contempt for the accommodations of their host. So he stayed, anticipating a dull slog of an evening.
As the night dragged on, it turned out to be worse than he imagined, offensively reminiscent of the balls of his childhood. Evenings forced to mingle under the critical eye of his father –his every move analyzed and every mistake awaited punishment. He felt that familiar prickly at the back of his neck, as if Gozaburo still hid somewhere in the crowd. Dread pooled in his stomach as he unsuccessfully attempted to banish the feeling of the man's presence from his mind.
It would be at least a couple hours before his party was ready to head back to Lightstone–potentially a great deal longer. Some balls would even go to the next morning. With the exclusion of proper entertainment, he assumed this would not be one of them; but given his current streak of fortune, he was sure to breakfast in the dancehall come sunrise.
He refused to go back there. He desperately craved a moment of fresh air and open skies, to feel the wind wash over him. Most people would find the weather too cold to linger outdoors, making it even more ideal for his purpose. He would have liked to step outside directly upon his retreat from the dancehall, but when he made his escape he found himself on the wrong side of the room for outdoor access. If he chanced crossing the large ballroom, no doubt, he would get caught up in several more introductions, all with the heavy handed expectation he ask someone to dance. Best not to risk it now that he had his freedom.
The Otogi Estate boasted of being one of the largest manors in the neighborhood. If Seto intended to find a route outside, he would have to navigate a maze of hallways to reach the north entry.
After a few turns, a set of opened double doors caught his eye. Warm light washed over the dark hallway, beckoning him inside.
As Seto approached, the room revealed itself to be a library. The owner of the light concealed himself on the far side of a book shelf. Seto stepped inside, curious who would abandon the dance floor in favor of reading.
He made his way around the bookshelf, where a small figure lay, sprawled across the floor, completely absorbed in a book. His back rested against the ground and one leg propped daintily across the other, leaving a foot in the air; a position far too casual for anywhere but one's own home.
Seto first speculated the figure must be a child, given his stature and lack of propriety. A closer look revealed a young man, certainly old enough to know better.
Seto could not help noticing the cover of the book looked familiar. He instinctively moved closer to try and catch the title, but his movement drew the man's attention and their eyes locked.
Like a deer frozen in the cross hairs of a rifle, a wild look flashed across the other man's face at having been caught in such a manner. The lone light of the lamp left the colors muted in the room, but he could clearly make out the mess of spiky hair and large, angular eyes.
The stranger took a moment to compose himself, rising from the ground as he straightened his disheveled jacket. The startled look melted away, and the other man smirked to himself–as if having been caught in such an undignified position was a game he played that, until now, he did not think he would lose.
The gentleman hesitated. Protocol dictated they should not speak until a common acquaintance introduced them, but the overall awkwardness of the situation won out, and he evidently decided silence would be a worse offense.
"Excuse me. I did not realize anyone else would be in here."
His voice was rich, deeper than Seto anticipated–the kind of voice that commanded respect, despite his obvious youth.
"Do you often sneak into the private rooms of a house during a party and raid the library?" asked Seto, ignoring his own fault in having committed the same offense.
"I am good friends with Mr. Otogi. He permits me access to the library. But you will have to forgive me, I should not have gotten so comfortable. I am not accustomed to other guests coming this far into the house."
The unspoken, "What are you doing here?" hung in the air, awaiting Seto's own explanation.
"There is only so long I can tolerate dancing. It is not what I consider a stimulating activity."
"What do you consider a stimulating activity?"
"Reading," Seto replied with perfect brevity.
His companion shifted in discomfort, as if unsure if he was being mocked. It had not been Seto's intention. If anything the gesture was a rare attempt at solidarity, but he recognized his tone often came across more acerbic than intended.
"Forgive me, we have not been properly introduced," said the man, deciding to forgo convention all together and introduce himself. "Atem Mutou."
"Seto Kaiba."
He found it unlikely the other man did not know his name. As he already witnessed, news traveled fast in the country, and Seto's presence and fortune often preceded him.
The uniquely coiffed, vibrant hair bore a striking resemblance to a couple other figures in the dance hall. Notably, an older gentleman Seto heard complaining about his back in a less than dignified fashion. This man's kin, no doubt. Atem's complexion was darker than the others. A product of time spent outdoors or some foreign bloodline? A tan was hardly fashionable for a young gentleman, but Seto could not help thinking it suited him.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kaiba. Since it is evident neither of us care to dance, perhaps you would join me in a game of chess." A smirk played at his lips as he motioned to a beautiful, marble chess set at a small table near the back of the room.
Seto almost forgot himself, nearly laughing in Atem's smug face. Realizing how rude that would come across to a relative stranger, it came out half aborted, in a harsh scoff.
"No one has ever beaten me at chess," he explained. Atem clearly did not know his reputation. "I have been defeating chess masters since I was ten. I would have more of a challenge staging a solo match."
Atem's eyes flashed furiously. That wild, half feral look returned. So much for not coming across as rude.
In the weak light of the lamp, it had been difficult to tell the shade of his eyes. He thought it must have been a trick of the candle, but now he was certain. They were deep blood-red; unyielding and unnerving.
Seto had a naturally propensity to take control of most situations. He stared down Masters, Dukes, and Generals, but this young man, with his intense gaze, left Seto unexpectedly off kilter.
Atem seethed, "Have fun playing with yourself then." He hesitated just a moment to see if there would be a response, but when Seto said nothing, he gave a curt nod and disappeared into the hallway.
The implication of what he meant by playing with yourself was apparent. Seto could not help but admire the fact that Atem somehow tactful suggested he go fuck himself. That takes a certain level of wit and whimsy. The comment caught him off guard, and left him unable to come up with a suitable retort. As a man who preferred to get the last word in, that did not sit well with him. He would also rather be the first one to walk away from any given interaction.
It had been a tiring day, he decided, accepting his own excuse.
He came this way with the sole objective of getting a still moment to himself, but now that Atem left, the quiet brought more tension than peace. Silence turned out not to be a welcome companion.
He knew he offended the other man, but he felt justified in his comment. He refused to diminish his own skills for the sake of someone else's feelings. Still, he considered he may have made a tactical error. A game of chess, even if one sided, would have helped pass the time. At the very least, an easy win might have been what he needed to ease the stress of a hectic week–and he would have liked to wipe the cocky expression off Atem's face with a swift victory.
Seto glanced around the room. In his hasty retreat, Atem deserted his lamp. It was likely in Seto's custody now.
On the floor, where Atem had been lounging, lay his abandoned book. "Die Elixiere des Teufels." The Devil’s Elixirs. A German novel that explored the concept of the doppelgänger. A thorough examination of dark desire, sin, and the corruption of the soul. Not a bad pick, as far as gothic horror went, though Seto personally preferred " Frankenstein ".
He picked up the discarded novel, flipping through the pages. He read it upon its first print, but, with nothing better to do, he supposed he could read it again.
A pair of leather studded, wingback chairs sat proudly in the middle of the room, a small table nestled between them. If a little of the brandy disappeared from the decanter on the table, no one would notice.
As Seto settled into one of the chairs he understood why Atem opted for the floor. The aesthetic of the chairs was beautiful, the level of comfort left a lot to be desired.
In the book, Hoffmann recounts the creepy exploits of a man, who is driven to the brink of madness by a mysterious substance–and a cryptic, possibly demonic figure who bears a striking resemblance to him. In some ways, it was a truly bizarre read, but not without merit. Seto pondered what caused Atem to make this particular selection.
Seto tried to focus on the prose at hand, but he could not shake the afterimage of fierce, wine colored eyes.
As he progressed through the story, his thoughts kept circling back to Atem. He could not understand why his mind was fixated on a person whose manner obviously lacked refinement–or worse, did not care enough to employ decorum; but something about his demeanor stood out as extraordinary. There existed a dichotomy in his nature that intrigued Seto. Uninhibited and yet he spoke with intelligence and poise. He had the wildness of spirit to drape himself on the ground, like a cat bathing in moonlight, but the natural grace in the tilt of his legs had been undeniably appealing…
Seto did not allow himself to continue that trail of thought. In fact, he refused to think about him at all.
He doubled his efforts to concentrate on the novel. Unfortunately, the more he fought against the intrusion, the more Atem invaded his mind. Seto contemplated if he often read foreign books. He wondered how far into the book the other man got. Was this his first read or one of many? Did he have easy access to other copies, or would he make slow progress every time he found his way to the Otogi manor?
In his effort to read and forget, and his absolute failure to do so, he at least succeeded in helping the time go by.
"There you are!"
He looked up to see Kisara standing in the doorway.
"I thought you would be eager to leave, but I see you found a way to entertain yourself."
How much time had passed?
"Is the dance wrapping up?"
"People are still going, but a few parties have started to leave. I figured you would like to be one of them."
"I would."
He shut the book, leaving it on the table.
As he turned to extinguish the light, he noted a little more than a little brandy disappeared from the decanter–more than he intended. Though, he reasoned, not more than would be considered appropriate, had he been drinking in the main hall.
They said their goodbyes to their host, thanking him for the invitation. Kisara gushed about how excessively delightful the dance had been and extended her wishes to see everyone again very soon.
Blue eyes traced around the room searching for a particular shock of vivid hair amongst the crowd. He figured Atem would be hard to miss, but perhaps his small frame hid too easily in the congested mob. More than likely, the Mutou family already left…
"Were you looking for someone when we were leaving?" Kisara asked as the carriage pulled onto the road.
"No "
"Who was it?" she pried, with a knowing smile.
"Just someone I met in the library. We hardly spoke. I am sure he was already gone"
"Who?"
Withholding the information from Kisara would be pointless against her determination. She might have the appearance of being easy going and amiable, but Seto knew she could be quite stubborn when she set her mind to something.
"Atem Mutou."
"I did not have the opportunity to meet him, but I danced with his brother, Mr. Yugi Mutou. What a sweet boy! The older brother must be quite something if he caught your eye."
"I would hardly say he caught my eye. We had a conversation that lasted less than three minutes."
"Oh, but Seto, a conversation does not have to be long to leave an impression."
The discussion had drawn the attention of Kisara's younger sister, Azura. She did not have Kisara's easy going nature. Rather, she had a shrewd disposition and often delighted in judging the world with a critical eye, and never failed to comment when something did not live up to her exacting standards. In some ways, they had that in common. He found her a credible source on assessments of class and fashion, unlike Kisara, who was determined to like everyone and everything.
"You said Mutou?" she asked with a sparkle in her eye. "Did you know," she continued in a hushed tone, hardly needed, as they were the only ones in the carriage, "that when Sugoroku Mutou acquired the fortune used to buy his estate he employed, let us say, less than legal means." She took absolute delight in having someone to discredit. "Supposedly, they are in a bit of a desperate situation, since the estate has dwindled from his gambling debts."
Azura possessed the uncanny ability to seek out the biggest gossip at a party, and, by the end of the night, she could unravel every dirty secret about anyone in attendance. Whether her information contained any real merit was more difficult to determine.
"I did not know that, as it is none of my business," Kisara chided.
Gambling hardly qualified as a scandal. Though technically illegal, the aristocracy would wager on just about anything, from cards to the weather. In a manner of speaking, Seto won his own estate in a high stakes bet, not that anyone would be aware of the circumstances. However, losing one's fortune in excess was a significant moral failing. It spoke of a ruinous lack of self control. The cynical part of Seto's mind figured the real offense, in the eyes of society, was not gambling, but being poor. He learned from a young age, there was no crime greater than that.
The laws were starting to be more strictly enforced, to crack down on excessive gambling. Some men would bet their estate into complete ruin, leaving their families destitute. If Azura's information could be believed, that may be the case for the Mutou family.
Normally, Seto did not put much stock in idol gossip, but he found it far better to be aware of everything than to stay ignorant and be caught unawares.
"I would be careful then, Mr. Kaiba. If Atem Mutou has, indeed, caught your eye and he is anything like the grandfather, he may very well gamble away your fortune as well."
Azura's goading aside, the tendency to jump from two people having a single conversation to alluding to their marriage in the same breath exasperated him.
"Though, if what I hear is accurate, the young Mr. Mutou may be a great deal more successful at gambling than his grandfather. Apparently, he is something of a game prodigy in these parts."
Seto could not help his ears from perking up at that.
"Is that so?" He feigned passive interest. In truth, she could not have him more on the hook.
"If you believe the rumors. I am sure what is considered 'a great talent' for country folk is nothing to what we are used to in Domino."
The conversation then moved on to the dresses that were worn and the partners each of the girls danced with. Seto quickly lost interest as his mind drifted back to Atem. Admittedly, his thoughts consisted of little else since their encounter. He blamed the combination of a tedious day, the tense encounter in the library, and indulging in too much drink. The latter of which had him stuck in a particular state of constant rumination he did not enjoy. In the future, he would need to remember that Atem and brandy did not pair well together.
This new information certainly painted their earlier encounter in a different light. When Atem suggested the chess match, his attitude had been so self assured–a sort of jovial conceit Seto assumed to be ignorance and false bravado. Seto wrongfully supposed him to be a novice. Now he was allegedly a game prodigy. One he insulted and let slip through his fingers.
He bristled with frustration at having squandered the entire night. Seto ended up being guilty of the very thing he condemned Atem for; being ignorant of who he spoke to. Nothing thrilled him more than dethroning those who fancied themselves great gamers, showing them just how poorly they stacked up against Seto Kaiba. It had been far too long since he had the challenge of a worthy opponent. Would he find that in Atem?
Unlikely.
He would not know until they played–and they would play. He was determined to face him at the next available opportunity, if only to prove to himself that the other man was not worthy of all this deliberation.
And so, he decided, Seto would challenge him, he would defeat him, and then he would move on with his life and endeavor to never think about Atem Mutou again.
