Chapter Text
*Ding Dong*
“Hello? Excuse me? I have a delivery for Maxim Horvath?”
Ace hoists the crate of expensive wine up from the ground. Already regretting doing so as he feels his back strain. A simple spell could do this easily, but that would blow his cover of course. He came all the way over to the outskirts of New York just because one of his informants claimed it was a Morganian hotspot. He needs to be sure that they don’t pose a threat to his students… And then he’s going to chug a healing potion, because God DAMN his back hurts.
“Sir, I need you to sign off on this one…”
The silence stretched, thick and unnatural. No footsteps. No voice in reply. Just the faint drip of a leaky pipe somewhere deep within the mansion’s walls, but then… with a creak the door opened by itself.
Then, from above, a slow creak echoed through the grand hall. The staircase groaned under weight you couldn’t see yet. A figure descended. Tall. Pale as bone. Dressed in an obsidian tailored suit with silver trim that shimmered like frost under candlelight. His hair was raven-black, perfectly combed back to reveal sharp features carved by centuries: high cheekbones, full lips curled slightly at one corner… and eyes so dark they swallowed light whole.
"Well, he is certainly not hiding his nature. Being a bit overly obvious even." Ace thinks to himself.
“Good evening, I need your signature for his delivery for this crate of Chardonnay.”
Wait… That’s not how delivery personnel sound. Do they? Some might… Ace starts to overthink his choice of words and quickly adds an akward… “-mate…” And quickly shoves a piece of paper into his hands and a pen.
“You are the delivery person, I take it?" He said, cocking his head to one side.
Maxim took a slow step forward, then another. His polished shoes clicked softly against the black marble floor.
"You don't seem nervous."
Another pause. He studied Ace now like an art critic inspecting a rare painting: his posture, his calm face, the way he stood without fidgeting or sweating despite being alone in this monstrous mansion at night.
"Most humans tremble when they meet me for the first time. What is your name?"
The truth is Ace isn’t afraid of him. He is afraid of casual interactions.
"Oh... ehm..." Ace doesnt quite know how to lean even more into this role he came up with.
"Eh... My name?" This guy hasn't prepared a fake name. He’s going to try to make one up on the spot
"My name? Ehm.. j...Ehm.. Jason? Jason Garcia, yes. That is my name"
“... Jason Garcia, hm?"
Maxim repeated in with a small smirk. He let the word roll off his tongue delicately, testing its authenticity. Ace could've sworn he knew you were lying, but his expression remained as unreadable as ever.
"And how old are you, Jason?"
The question was smooth, almost casual, but Ace couldn't shake the underlying suspicion in his gaze.
"31?" Ace answers quickly. Too quickly. But then he overthinks it again, because that’s not even close to being realistic.
Maxim's lips curled into a humorless smile. The answer was so obviously wrong, he had to bite back a laugh.
"Thirty-one, huh?"
He began to pace slowly, circling around him. His gaze roamed freely from Ace’s head to his feet and back again, taking in every detail as only a centuries-old predator could.
"You don't look thirty-one."
His tone was almost playful now, teasingly prodding him to see how you'd respond.
"Did I say 31? I meant 41." Ace hurriedly corrects himself cringing at his own bad attempt.
“41?"
Maxim stopped dead in his tracks. His dark eyes sharpened like daggers.
"You’re a terrible liar, Jason Garcia."
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. Not cruel or mocking exactly… but the kind of laugh someone makes when they’ve caught someone red-handed with an obvious lie.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and tilted his head slightly.
Ace sighs annoyed, his demeanor changing in an instant. His back straightening as he rolls his eyes, this is all an inconvenience to him. With a flick of his wrist his delivery outfit changes into a nice academic suit "Fair enough, I was not made to be a liar."<
That simple action seemed to intrigue Maxim far more than Ace’s poor attempt at deception. He couldn't hide a hint of surprise as the illusion of his delivery driver uniform faded and revealed his true form.
"Impressive…"
He murmured under his breath. His gaze remained fixed on him, now filled with a mix of fascination and curiosity.
He walked around him again, this time with a different kind of appraisal in his eyes. He was studying every detail of his new appearance.
This irritates Ace, he’s not used to being looked down upon. It’s not that Ace is that small, this vampire is just way taller than a normal person, towering over him. He looks like a petulant child beside him.
"May I come in? I suppose I need to talk to you, a tête-a-tête? I feel the need to explain myself."
"Of course."
Maxim stepped aside gracefully, sweeping his arm toward the interior of the mansion in a silent invitation. The dim candlelight flickered across his pale face as he watched Ace step forward.
The heavy doors closed behind him with a soft thud, sealing out the cold mountain air. Inside, it was warmer, pleasantly cozy for such an imposing estate.
He led you down a narrow hallway lined with portraits and ancient tapestries.
Ace is genuinely surprised by this vampire’s hospitality. He was fully prepared to fight him tonight, but this is nice. But he was still expecting the unexpected. Would he turn on him as soon as they’re further from the exit?
The living room was elegant and spacious, dominated by a grand fireplace with crimson curtains framing the windows. A plush black leather sofa sat opposite it, surrounded by antique furniture that likely cost more than most people made in their lifetime.
Maxim gestured to the couch for him to sit before moving toward a silver tray where an open bottle of blood-red wine rested. He poured two glasses without asking if he wanted one.
"May I ask, why the disguise? Why pretend to be some ordinary delivery driver when you clearly aren’t one?"
“Well, first of all, my apologies for the deception. My real name is Ace Withlock, and my students call me Professor Withlock.”
"Ace Withlock."
Maxim repeated your his slowly, as if tasting each syllable. He didn't offer his handshake yet, but something in his stance tensed ever so slightly.
"Professor…? I think I might’ve heard of you."
His questions were direct and measured, not interrogative exactly, but clearly trying to piece together who Ace really was beneath the surface.
"I have been teaching for a few centuries now. I have my own teaching institution where I teach young Merlinian apprentices."
He deliberately accentuates the word Merlinian, testing how he’d react to it, clearly reading his expression for any signs of disgust or weariness.
Maxim settled into the opposite end of the couch, crossing one leg over his knee. He swirled his wine slowly before taking a small sip.
"A Merlinian..."
He studies Ace over the rim of his glass with those fathomless dark eyes.
"What brings someone like you to my doorstep? Certainly not just delivering wine by accident?"