Chapter Text
Echoes of slow footsteps produced by gilded boots bounce on the pristine white walls of the hallway. Each step taken bears the weight of a tired body, stiff in the way it moves almost robotically. At the end of this eerie hallway are large doors illuminated by the simple yellow glow of dim lights attached to the ceiling and mere inches away from the frame. It blinds Alhaitham's sullen eyes and the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach grows exponentially at every clack of the heels of his boots against cold marble tiles.
Alhaitham usually took pride in his thoughts which are always racing incessantly due to his nature as a scholar in search of nothing but answers and the truth, but time as of now proves him unbecoming as nothingness takes over his mind. He can't think of anything, solely focused on the white doors he is inching closer and closer towards and absentmindedly walking on autopilot like a winded nutcracker doll.
As soon as he touches the metal surface of the door, his fingers feel too feeble to even exert a force on it. Hesitation clouds his mind but he composes himself just as quick as the beating of his heart, putting on a stoic countenance that rivals even the coldness of glaciers. Alhaitham gulps the lump that formed in his throat, tasting the residual bitterness on his tongue from the bile that forced its way out his throat just moments ago when he had arrived at the building.
A loud sigh escapes his chapped lips, bitten red, and had previously drawn a droplet of blood. Alhaitham clenches his right fist hard enough that his knuckles turn pale and his nails dig harshly into his skin, leaving crescent marks to form. He pushes the door open and he is hit with the revolting scent of medicine and alcohol. His shaky eyes dart immediately towards the ground and his knees start to tremble as he walks past the door.
Fear and immense grief wash over him as soon as he lays his eyes on the lone bed in the middle of the room. Once he reaches it, a clean sheet of emerald-colored paper gripped by frail hands catches his eyes and he gently pries it off as carefully as he can.
All the strength he mustered a while ago left him and he drops down to his knee just beside the bed, his mouth agape and his hands twitching with immense anxiety. Alhaitham goes pale as he observes the lifeless body of his grandmother on the hospital bed with a defeated look on his face.
There on the paper in his hands is a phrase written in cursive writing and jet-black ink that reads:
May my child Alhaitham lead a peaceful life.
The stench of Fire-Water and residual smoke lingers in the area and the clinking of ice cubes against walls of thin glass breaks the cold silence in the living room. Bright light assaults Alhaitham's baggy eyes and he glares at the twinkling chandelier just above him with a magnitude that could dissolve mountains into nothing but rocks and soil. An exasperated groan escapes from his lips quite easily, and his head with a messy mop of gray hair drops on the couch with a thud.
The hand clenching around a glass of alcohol moves across his head, his arm now covering his eyes from the glare of light beating down on him. He does not even startle when his phone starts ringing loudly and brings pain to his sensitive ears, his noise-canceling headphones usually stuck to his head having been pitifully discarded somewhere on the floor.
Alhaitham does not answer the call.
He lets the ringing continue to at the very least fill in the silence that accompanied him in his misery until it dies out. How many hours has he been like this? His stomach is filled with nothing but alcohol and his sense of time has been lost akin to an ancient relic drowned by the waves of smoldering sands.
Numbness spread in every fiber of his being. His fingertips freeze at the cold temperature brought by the ice in his glass yet he does not feel the sting. All the warmth in his body is so drained that you might as well just declare him a corpse. He does feel like it anyway. A dead man walking, but in this case, he's languidly drinking himself to death on his couch with an empty stomach. At the thought of this, he feels the threat of bile creeping its way up his throat.
As a man lost to his drunken thoughts and lamenting, Alhaitham's worn-out ears do not even pick up the sound of a door opening and closing shut with a metallic click. He does not even process the presence that made its way in front of him, only with a nudge against his sock-clad foot did he take awareness of someone talking to him.
"Is this only for this evening or are you going to drink for the rest of your life? I doubt you'd even last a week before you drop dead and then I would have to clean up after your mess. Too much work, I don't want that."
Alhaitham frowns, his intoxicated mind familiar with the voice. He feels the ghost of a migraine beginning to form. "Cyno."
He hears a sigh. "Yes, that is me. You're pathetic like this. Get up or I'll make you."
"Your unceremonious arrival is not welcome. I'd rather you leave me alone."
Hearing nothing, Alhaitham almost celebrates for a brief second until he feels his glass of alcohol being taken away from his grip, left with condensation clinging to his skin. His cold palm moves to clench and unclench, finally feeling his senses returning to him. The arm covering his eyes is removed, making his already bleary eyes even more unfocused but he regains clear sight in just a few seconds after. His head tilts sideways, seeing a flash of brown skin before he closes his reddened eyes again. They were screaming at him to sleep, but he couldn't when he was too busy drowning himself in alcohol and his sorrows in his living room to even care about resting.
Cyno takes in the sight of a clearly wasted Alhaitham and shakes his head in disappointment. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens the camera app to film the miserable man that is his friend. "Oh, won't you look at that? The stoic, poised, and unmovable Young Master Alhaitham was reduced to nothing but a debilitated, noisome, and undignified idiot decaying away in his house. Will he be like this forever?"
"Can't a man grieve in peace? My grandmother just fucking died a week ago, Cyno." Alhaitham snarls in irritation, sitting up to attempt slapping the phone away from his face but is too sluggish in this condition to ever match Cyno's dexterity.
"Your grandmother would have smacked you right in the face if she saw you like this. Alcohol is eating the lining of your stomach, your lungs are deteriorating from being filled with smoke from your cigarettes, and your eyes may as well be as dry as the desert with the lack of sleep. How long are you going to keep this up? Is it worth it to waste your life in this manner?" Cyno's voice is laced with ice-cold venom but Alhaitham is too stubborn to feel the concern also present in it.
Like he didn't hear anything, his hands reach out to the bottle of Fire-Water on the table, but Cyno snatches it away faster than lighting.
"For fuck's sake. Snap out of it, Alhaitham!"
"I don't need your pity. Leave me be. Now." Alhaitham says and stands up, his height towering over his friend, but what use is this tactic of intimidation when he looks like he's about to collapse any second now?
Cyno laughs, humorless. "As much as I'd like to see you fight me with your current condition, I rather you sit the fuck down, sober up, and listen to me."
"So what if I die?" Alhaitham scoffs. "In that way, wouldn't I be reunited with my grandmother? That is if the afterlife even exists."
Suddenly, Alhaitham staggers backward, dropping on the couch at the strong force of Cyno's push on his chest. Cyno, anger evident in his eyes, retorts: "Don't fucking say that. Please. We already lost someone important to us. I don't want to end up... losing you too."
Searching for something in those flaming eyes, Alhaitham finds nothing but vulnerability and sadness, and can't help but feel guilt and anger towards himself. His teeth dig into the already peeling skin of his lips and he casts his eyes to the ground in shame. The self-reflection is immediate and Alhaitham almost wants to punch himself for being so stupid and uncaring of those who care for him.
"I'm sorry," the apology leaves his lips quietly.
Cyno sighs, catching the sincerity of those words. He puts a hand over his stubborn friend's head, saying, "You should be…"
Alhaitham's lips tremble, eyes blurry with unshed tears as he casts a wistful glance at a portrait of him and his grandmother on the wall.
All the walls he has carefully built around him begin to collapse like ancient ruins into debris and dust, his vulnerability pouring out for his friend to witness for the very first time in years. "She was my last family member, Cyno. She was the only one I first learned to love since I couldn't feel it for my parents who got taken away from me too early when I was merely a child. But now, I lost her. What she taught me now is what grief is like. And it's so painful, I don't know how to handle this. It's too much. I want it to stop."
Cyno winces at the pain in his friend's quiet voice, feeling the immense sorrow in his words. How can he not feel the same when it has always been just the three of them before? Now there's only the two of them left because one got away and slipped from their fingers. He knew what Alhaitham was going through because when he was a child, lost in this cruel world, he was taken in by Alhaitham's grandmother and has felt like a son ever since. Losing someone so precious to you is the greatest pain you could ever feel, and that's exactly what both of them are feeling now. The only thing is that the other was in the process of slowly losing himself from grief.
"Why did she have to go? She was getting better, wasn't she? She told me that the last time we had a phone call. She promised to see me finish my studies. And I did, but at what cost? I'm graduating in a few months. But what even is the point? It's futile. She won't be there. She's gone now. If only I knew her health declined so abruptly, I would've been there to witness her last breath."
Sitting down next to the forlorn man, Cyno gulps the lump in his throat and carefully constructs his next words of assurance. "Listen, I know coping with her death is hard, and that there are plenty of ways people deal with grief. However, slowly killing yourself is not supposed to be one of them. And you're not alone, Alhaitham. You still have me and so are the others. And you didn't know fate would take her like that, it was unexpected; neither did I think she would be gone the next day when the night before we were just talking about visiting you in Liyue. However, just know that I'm certain she is proud of you for finishing your studies."
"I know," replies Alhaitham, albeit weakly.
"I would've tolerated you for drinking, but spending your entire week doing so? How incredulous. I've had enough of your churlish behavior so I came to take matters into my own hands. A funeral was held not too long ago, and I don't want another."
"I know," Alhaitham says as he accepts the glass of water offered to him and downed all the contents. As to when Cyno got it for him, he doesn't know.
"And you're such an idiot, are you aware of that? Well, you should be. I do have to ask where all your brain cells went. I thought you had an abundance of them. I suppose they're all withered away now due to your cell-flessness."
The joke didn't go unnoticed, eliciting a quiet groan and a tight-lipped smile from Alhaitham. "I know."
"So you do know. Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up then? After that, I'll force you to eat dinner next because I brought the food that Nilou cooked for you. You had her worried sick since you weren't eating much these past few days, and you were binging on alcohol on top of that. You're an imbecile, truly."
"Shut up, of course, I'm going to," Alhaitham announces, standing up with Cyno and he roams his eyes all over the mess he made in the living room. Then, he looks at his friend who is observing him silently. "Thank you. Just. For everything. I'm sorry."
'I was indeed so absorbed in my sorrows that I didn't even think I would also be weighing you down when you were just as bereaved as I was,' Alhaitham struggles to voice out, opting to keep it to himself.
Somewhat, Cyno still knew what he wanted to say as an understanding look and a knowing smile planted on his face.
"Alright then. Go shower, you stink like a wet stray dog who happened to be drunk on the streets of Sumeru. Don't be slow or else I'll eat all the food and leave you with just a single grain of rice and a glass of water." Cyno turns his back on him and saunters into the kitchen. But not even a second later, Cyno's head pops out from the side of a wall. "By the way, I have something to discuss with you this week once you're well-rested enough for a long conversation."
Hadn't Alhaitham known the man for years, he would've missed the subtle anxiety in his eyes. 'Quite ponderable,' he says in his mind.
Saying nothing in response, Alhaitham watches him disappear after that and sighs, ruffling his matted hair, fingers instantly catching on some knots and tangles. He grimaces at the texture of his unkempt and oily hair. A visit to a mirror to examine his state of being would be fruitless as he is no doubt a lousy amalgamation of tired, drunk, and depressed. This is further proven by the way he could feel his sleep shirt damp and stained with alcohol and sweat, sticking uncomfortably to his skin. And if he cups his chin, his hand would be irritated by the scratchiness of his stubble.
With a shake of his head, he thinks there's a lot to go through to regain his usual composure. First, on the list, he truly does stink as Cyno has said, therefore a long and eventful grooming and shower is due. He leaves the living room to go to the bathroom but not before sending a message of his thanks and apology to a certain angelic red-haired friend.
Before he can open the bathroom door, his phone rings with a notification, receiving an immediate response to his message, and he reads: 'You're still alive, thank Gods!'
Fortunately, he was.
And will still be for a long, long time. Hopefully.
A few mundane days had passed. The mansion is oddly quiet. So quiet that Alhaitham can only hear his steady breathing as he meanders down the desolate hallway, passing through countless portraits hanging on the walls that encapsulated the visage of his late grandmother. He reminisces every piece he knew he was present in that was taken of him and his grandmother. There weren't many of him in his grown years as he was not fond of staying still just to be painted nor did he feel like being studied for long hours, but the walls were full enough of images of his younger self and his grandmother.
Vivid memories begin to play in his mind; some are just distant fragments of his childhood days, and most of them are just recent ones of him physically alone somewhere in another country and conversing with his grandmother through a device. Alhaitham finds that these memories are reoccurring, only begotten by the death of his most precious one, and going as far as to mold into dreams that pestered his nights. He concludes anyway that this is a neuropsychological response to the desire of reliving what he now lost, and that it is a side effect of the human condition that he calls grief.
He wonders how long this condition will last. Will it dwindle anytime soon or will it only persevere and hinder his living?
"You wish for me to lead a peaceful life, but how do I find peace when life only has vicissitudes and the memory of your death only grants me internal turmoil that I have yet to learn to handle?" Alhaitham whispers into the air as he stops walking and looks up at the largest portrait of his grandmother, scanning the details of the portrait and engraving it into his mind. He yearns to look at those familiar eyes and a gentle smile once more, but alas, fate was never kind.
"... a peaceful life," Alhaitham mutters, shaking his head with a small chuckle. "Not when a certain foe of mine persists in waiting for me to bare my neck."
A smirk forms on his lips.
"Perhaps, it won't be too long now until they grow impatient and opt to hunt me down themselves."
Alhaitham continues walking until he reaches the end of the corridor where he gathers an earshot of hushed whispers being exchanged between young maids. Deep into their own world, they don't even notice the looming presence behind their backs.
"Are you certain? You're not just pulling my leg, are you?"
"Of course not. I happen to have eavesdropped by accident but I heard what I heard. I cannot even begin to anticipate what will happen once he learns of this!"
"Oh, that's too exciting! It's not every day that we get to experience a stubborn man like him settle down once and for all."
"Indeed, indeed! This might yet be a glorious opportunity for our young master to change for the better!"
Their giggling turns quickly into terrified yelps at the sound of Alhaitham clearing his throat loud enough that it raises goosebumps on their skin.
Alhaitham levels them a look. He runs a finger through the surface of a small wooden table laden with a vase full of wilting flowers, then raises it to present the collection of some dust clinging to his skin. "I believe it would be more productive for you to clean the furniture in the hallway instead of chattering uselessly in this corner. Dust has settled so heavily in this house and it won't clean itself, I am paying you to do so."
"Eek! Yes, young master. We'll clean right away!"
"Our apologies, sir!"
He watches as the two maidens scurry away with dusters in their hands, huffing as soon as he can no longer see their figures in his line of sight. Perhaps he could've been kinder with his words if only it weren't for his foul mood today.
"Oh, you're here," someone says behind him.
Alhaitham turns to look at Cyno, greeting him with an ever-emotionless face and getting the same look in return. If Cyno notices the bag beneath his lackluster eyes, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he nudges his head towards the room and turns to go inside, Alhaitham following suit with not much of a reply. There was someone else inside though, Alhaitham notices as they proceed deeper into the room.
"He's here," announces Cyno.
A man in his mid-40s emerges from the couch, a very familiar face that Alhaitham hasn't had the pleasure of seeing for a while since he departed for his studies abroad. The man was his grandmother's personal assistant and had been, by extension, his own too. However, it really has been a while since they met, especially when they had to handle their share of affairs.
"Panah," Alhaitham acknowledges him.
He's met with a kind smile. "Good day, sir. I apologize for not personally being there to welcome your safe arrival, I was quite occupied with handling matters during the funeral."
"Don't fret, I must thank you for your service."
"Please, it's only part of my duty to your family, sir. I, once again, offer my sincerest condolences."
After the exchange of pleasantries, the ambiance in the room shifted into something more serious. All men inside are now seated and comfortable on the couches, meanwhile, Panah is shuffling the documents in his hands. The man clears his throat, spreading the documents on the table in a neat and organized manner.
"As to not delay any longer, I will go straight to the point," Panah says, handing out a folder for Alhaitham to receive, the latter immediately opening it and scanning its contents. "Young Master Alhaitham, it must be brought to your attention that my former Master, your grandmother, had written her last wishes just a week before her passing. The folder in your hands consists of the legal documents pertinent to this matter, in that you're the inheritor of all her prized possessions, thereby naming you as the beneficiary. This is to say that you may decide to keep them so long as you meet the requirements to hold proper ownership over these assets."
"Is that so?" Alhaitham sighs, having assumed correctly the purpose of this meeting, which was to discuss the inheritance his grandmother had left for him. Being the only child of one of her sons— or to be most accurate, the only grandchild— it was inevitable that Alhaitham would become one of the potential inheritors. It wasn't also a surprise that he would be considering his close relationship with the late businesswoman.
"Yes. Your inheritance also includes the ones given by your parents that Master had to accept in your stead. Here's a separate folder."
Alhaitham grabs it, skimming the contents casually. He reads and reads while Panah discusses the assets such as the estate of the mansion, his ownership of his grandmother's money, cars, jewels, and other luxuries. Not to mention, also his ownership and entitlement of his father's company that his grandmother had to handle for him before he was yet of age to handle it. And then more of his mother's valuable assets.
After a moment of contemplation, Alhaitham speaks, "What of my uncle?"
The statements seem to take Panah back, but he immediately catches on to the essence of the question. "Oh, that. Master specifically only wrote her present grandchild, which is you, on her last will and testament as the sole inheritor. Your uncle was never mentioned in any of the statements."
At this, Alhaitham feels a raging headache beginning to form. He brings up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with a pained look. Panah starts to get nervous at the obvious display of displeasure. "S-sir? Is there a problem? Shall I go over again?"
"No, no, I understood all correctly." He casts a glance at a bored-looking Cyno who's casually cleaning his Casket of Tomes before returning his attention to the assistant. "You briefly mentioned earlier that I have to meet certain requirements to properly own my inheritance. Please elaborate on that."
"Y-yes? I mean, uh, yes, sir!"
Alhaitham watches in confusion as Panah's face takes on a sickly pallor and sees Cyno uncharacteristically fiddle with his precious cards from his peripheral vision. The oldest of the bunch struggles to clear his throat, blatantly avoiding Alhaitham's curious gaze.
"Uh, s-sir," Panah's hands tremble as he bends over the table to grab a file. "Would you rather I read it to you or you... read it y-yourself?"
"Hmm," Alhaitham hums, resting a bent finger over his bottom lip and relaxing back on the couch. He glances briefly at an oddly quiet Cyno. "You can do the pleasure of reading it to me."
Panah wheezes silently, muttering a quick prayer to the heavens above. "R-right. Of course, sir."
He glances at the other man in the room, but the certain white-haired lad seems to have taken leisure with playing with his deck of cards to avoid involvement with the process of elaborating their late master's wishes.
Clearing his throat, Panah winces for a second before putting on a professional look.
"My dear child Alhaitham, you are the inheritor of all my possessions. My heart hopes that you will take care of these for me. It's not only mine but also your parents. You may not be a sentimental one and rarely value anything tangible, but may these assets remind you of me and your dear parents, even without our physical presence in the world.
I believe that my assistant must have informed you of my wishes by now, so I do hope the process with the probate court goes along smoothly. Surely, he must have also informed you that should you meet the requirements to proceed with your inheritance you will be the rightful owner of it. I know all of this might be hard to comprehend for such a hard-headed and stoic young man like you, but will you please humor this old lady, won't you? Later on, you will understand why I did what I did. This request of mine is quite simple, but I just know that it would be hard for you to agree with. Please read carefully.
For my grandson, Alhaitham, to be granted rightful ownership over my assets, he must grant my wish of him to be betrothed to the child of— "
A loud sound cuts Panah off, and all heads turn to Alhaitham slamming his fists on the table, successfully messing up the documents on the table. No one minds that some files slid off the table and scattered all over the floor. What the other two men were apprehensive about is Alhaitham's silent figure bent on his waist, breathing quietly. They don't know what is running through that genius mind of his. No one dares to even breathe loudly lest they interrupt Alhaitham's thinking.
Both men anticipated this reaction— this outburst of Alhaitham upon learning his grandmother's wish. It is now their current problem whether Alhaitham grants the wish or not. His refusing to do so will not only affect them, but it would also mostly cause a huge loss on Alhaitham's part. Therefore, they must do their best to coax him into doing it. They now must ensure Alhaitham secures his inheritance.
Cyno observes Alhaitham carefully, noting any change of reaction except the trembling of his clenched fists against the wooden table— almost fearing that the force would leave a dent in the expensive material. Alhaitham's face was obscured by his gray hair which was longer than usual without his usual haircut so Cyno is not able to see his face. He does picture somewhat of an extremely blank expression that is actually quite terrifying, especially when it's Alhaitham that we're talking about. Who knows what's going on inside his mind right now?
This news is exactly what had made Cyno anxious about these past few days. He wasn't sure Alhaitham would take the information well, especially after what had happened these past few weeks. He was just as shocked as Alhaitham is now when his Master had casually bombed it on him when they were in the hospital.
"Cyno, come here," Alhaitham's grandmother said, beckoning Cyno, who was adjusting an array of flowers on a vase on a desk, towards her with a frail hand. "I have to tell you something."
Cyno obediently went to her, standing at the edge of the bed where the old woman was lying. "What is it?"
"Be a dear and keep this from Alhaitham for a while, will you?" The old woman grabbed his hand that was idle on his side with one hand and patted it a few times with the other.
This made Cyno raise an eyebrow. "Will do."
The woman hums, pleased. "I had him engaged to someone."
Cyno's eyebrows lifted heavenwards in surprise, momentarily failing to understand the words that reached his ears. "Come again?"
"Silly you, I said I had him engaged to someone. Isn't that wonderful?"
Having heard it for the second time, Cyno felt like a bullet had shot through his brain. "You what?"
"Oh, how I wish I would be there to witness my grandson marry and have kids. Alas, fate is never kind." The woman sighed wistfully.
Cyno faltered. "Master, you had Alhaitham engaged to someone? And he isn't aware of this?"
"Yes and yes. Why must you be so baffled? Is it so bad to wish for it? Think of it as my last wish before I die."
"Master, this is Alhaitham we're talking about. How are you so certain that he would accept that arrangement? We know all too well how he feels about interpersonal relationships. And something as sacred as a marriage on top of everything else? Alhaitham getting married? I don't even see it myself. The world would be doomed before we know it."
The sickly woman clicked her tongue, lifting a hand to pull on Cyno's ear. "Don't be so pessimistic! Marriage is a wonderful thing that could alter someone's life for the better. Alhaitham needs a special bond with someone, and I chose only the best for him! You're also at that ripe age to be thinking of things like this, you know? Tell me, dear, have you an eye for someone nowadays? While I'm still alive, I will give them my blessing!"
Cyno paled. "Master—"
"Nuh-uh, no arguing with me. My decisions are final!"
"Master, please—"
"Imagine this, dear, my lovely grandson being the best husband and father! He will thank me for it sooner or later. Oh, it brings me joy to know that..."
Cyno shivers as he recalls that conversation, but his trip down memory lane is cut short as he sees Alhaitham standing up and turning to leave. He also stands up along with him, trying to catch him before he goes. "Listen, Alhai—"
"Please excuse me. We shall continue this meeting some other time."
Panah gathers the folders hastily. "S-sir? But—"
Alhaitham ignores him, moving quickly towards the exit. He takes long strides down the hallway, purposefully accelerating his speed when he hears footsteps behind him. The cogs in his head barely function this time, gears not turning as smoothly as he would like. As his grandmother had said, it was hard for Alhaitham to comprehend what she wished for. She wants him to get married? And for what? Rightfully owning his inheritance aside, what else could be a logical reason for the need of him to be married to some stranger? He wasn't even aware of this until now! Alhaitham bets all his money that it had been planned for a long time now, but did it really take his grandmother being six feet under for him to be made aware of it? Preposterous.
"Alhaitham," Cyno follows after the man, hot on his heels. "Alhaitham, listen!"
Turning abruptly, Alhaitham seethes. "You knew this. This is what you were being skittish about these past few days. You knew this yet you never thought of telling me beforehand."
"I wasn't instructed to tell you," Cyno says simply, but Alhaitham notes the hint of regret in his voice.
"Instructed? That's your excuse?" Alhaitham squints his eyes. "Oh, of course, it is. Ever the diligent Cyno carrying out his duties. Your service is much appreciated. Should I give you a bonus as a token of my gratitude?"
"Don't give me that tone," Cyno snaps, groaning when Alhaitham starts to speed-walk again. "Look, I tried to talk through it with Master but she already made up her mind way before she even told me about it. If only you cared more to look through more of the documents, you would've seen the contract she made with the other party."
Alhaitham stops at that, gritting his teeth. "She made a contract."
Cyno inhales a copious amount of air before letting it go with a wince.
"A binding one."
.
.
.
He was contractually bound to a stranger.
"Great, just utterly great," he whispers tiredly.
"You didn't even let Panah finish reading the Master's Will. You didn't even care to let him tell you who you are getting married to."
"Well, you're right. I could care less about who they are."
Cyno's head aches at his stubbornness. "You really don't have a choice, Alhaitham. If you don't do it, you will lose everything your grandmother and parents had worked hard for—what they had left for you. The terms in the contract are not effective immediately. I'll give you some time to think about it."
"You will?" Alhaitham asks, oddly calm.
Hesitantly, feeling as though he had said something he will later regret in the future, Cyno says, "Yes… It's the least we could do for you."
"A'ight."
They do not speak for a while as they start to trek again, and a few minutes pass when Cyno sees Alhaitham's destination a few meters away. Somewhere he knew Alhaitham would lock himself up inside for the rest of the day with no one able to reach out to him unless you want to face his cold wrath if you force him to leave.
"Non-negotiable?" Alhaitham asks once they reach the library.
Cyno looks at him.
He doesn't answer, instead asks: "Will you do it?"
The only answer Cyno receives is a slam of the door to his face.
"Celestia damns it all," Cyno whispers, tilting his head back while pinching his nose bridge. He really didn't want to force Alhaitham into doing something he didn't want to, but the contract didn't really leave them any room to disagree. The best they could do is to negotiate with the other party with some certain conditions about the marriage. Still, it's up to both Alhaitham and his spouse-to-be to do most of the talking and deciding since Cyno can only serve them as an advisor of some sort
Cyno really hopes he can coax Alhaitham into doing it. It's only for his best after all.
However, Alhaitham never fails to live up to his notorious reputation for being stubborn because a day later, when a maid comes knocking on Alhaitham's bedroom door to deliver his usual breakfast, no one answers.
Cyno enters the bedroom upon being called to investigate their Master's disappearance and becomes enraged when he sees that most of Alhaitham's important belongings are gone.