Chapter 60: Incineration

The waiter before me was no longer the one from that day. I remembered that on that occasion, the Adjudicator, Albus, had bathed the bar in blood; no one present had been spared, and everyone had died.

"Please show your identification!" The white-clad waiter was growing a bit impatient.

"That person up there is my friend." I pointed at the figure on the high stage, doing the same foolish thing Alastor had done back then.

"You mean Master Morven?" The waiter wore a strange look, then gazed at the figure on the stage with a face full of admiration.

"In a thousand years, there has never been a moment without longing; love has never wandered far..." As if to confirm my suspicion, that voice continued to sing, overlapping with a certain voice in my memory. The sound seemed to possess a peculiar sort of magic.

"Morven?" I narrowed my eyes slightly.

Impossible. I had seen Morven vanish in the sunlight with my own eyes. If it wasn't Morven, then the man on the high stage at this moment could only be... Li!

"Li, is it you?" I spoke. My voice wasn't loud, but I knew he could hear me.

The figure stiffened for a moment, and the singing came to an abrupt halt. Then, with a slight movement, the figure stepped out of the shadows.

A dark red trench coat with a high collar—an enchanting man descended from the stage. Pale cheeks, slightly curly burgundy hair, long and narrow phoenix eyes, and full lips; he was the embodiment of allure.

It was Morven's body and Morven's attire, but I knew the soul within this body was a man named Li.

He waved his hand, and the waiter from before walked away with a dazed, enchanted expression.

"Hello, I am Morven." He looked at me and chuckled, as bewitchingly beautiful as a rose.

Looking at the seductive man before me, I felt a bit dazed, as if I had returned to that day when Alastor first brought the newly transformed me into this bar called Night Charm, and the man named Morven had greeted us just like this.

If I hadn't seen Morven disappear with my own eyes, I would have certainly believed that nothing had changed—that the man named Morven was still keeping watch over a bar called Night Charm, waiting there forever for a person named Li.

But... the one before me was Li, not Morven.

Yet Li said he was Morven.

What kind of bone-deep longing must it be to make him believe he was another person? He would rather the one who vanished had been himself; so, he said he was Morven. He let "Li" disappear from this world. Even if only the name remained, even just the name was enough.

Because a name is often the evidence of a person's existence.

He could pretend he was Morven, the owner of Night Charm.

Everyone in City A who knew about Night Charm knew that its owner was named Morven, and they all knew that the owner was waiting for someone named Li...

Waiting on and on...

My heart suddenly began to ache—a sharp, uncontrollable pain.

"Hello, my name is Aurora." I reached out and shook his equally cold hand, as if we had never met before. He didn't know my tragedy, and I didn't know his desolation.

Following him to the bar counter to sit down, I saw some regular customers greeting him.

"Hey, Morven!"

"Hey..." He smiled and raised a pale, slender hand.

I pursed my lips slightly. They called him Morven. With so many people calling him Morven every day, so many people were helping him miss and remember the man named Morven...

On that day, he had said: I am different from that selfish ghost. If he wants me to live, I will live. I'll listen to whatever he says. Return my immortality? Then for every day of this eternal life, I will nag him constantly, so that even in death, he won't find peace...

At that time, he had been so nonchalant.

Was this, then, his way of keeping Morven around?

A way so persistent it bordered on the tragic.

And so, although he was clearly smiling, I saw a weeping, lonely soul within those smiling eyes. Those blood-red tears gathered into a vast ocean at the bottom of his gaze.

Those blood-red tears, drop by drop, would forever accumulate in the depths of his heart, yet not a single one could flow out.

How bitter must it be?

"Move over." I gave him a nudge.

He arched an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Smiling, I began to mix a drink.

After a while, I raised my hand, holding a crystal glass up to my eyes and swirling it gently. The dark red liquid inside rippled along.

"Try it." Setting the glass down, I pushed it toward him and smiled. "Think of it as a return gift for the Daywalker's Blood you gave me."

He squinted at me, his long eyelashes appearing a bit blurred in the dim light. Then he started to laugh—a smile so gorgeous it was hard to look at directly. He raised the transparent crystal goblet to his lips and sipped gently, his posture identical to Morven's.

"This is..." The smiling expression fractured. He stared at me blankly, his hand loosening. The crystal glass fell to the floor with a crisp sound, splashing shards everywhere.

"'Incineration.' He taught me." I smiled.

"He..." He lightly clutched his chest, frowning.

"Does it hurt?"

"I quite like this feeling—the feeling of my heart burning with pain." He let out a soft laugh.

So it was him... I had said the exact same thing that day. Morven's loss of composure then was indeed because of him.

"Can I have another glass?"

"Of course."

Morven, you were the greatest prophet of the Demon Realm. When you taught me to mix drinks back then, was it for this very moment? You couldn't stop worrying about this stubborn-to-the-point-of-obsessive fellow either, could you?

Glass after glass, glass after glass.

I mixed, he drank, and then I drank too.

Drinking on and on, a single binge to drown a thousand sorrows.

Drinking on and on, for wine can dispel grief.

But can a vampire truly get drunk?

Regardless, Morven—or rather, the one acting as him—was drunk. He began to cling to me and cry—wailing, sobbing, like a pitiful, abandoned child.

Not a shred of vampire poise or elegance remained.

I hauled him up and took him back. Fortunately, I remembered Morven's residence.

"Morven, you bastard!" He suddenly threw a punch.

"Yes, Morven is a real bastard." I took the punch squarely and gritted my teeth.

"Morven, why don't you want me..." He started crying again, in a drunken stupor.

Holding him, I tossed him onto the sofa in Morven's apartment. I was about to leave, but he clung to me like a koala to a eucalyptus tree, refusing to let go for anything.

"Morven, don't you dare think of leaving me behind again! I'm telling you! Don't even think about it!"

I didn't even have the energy left to roll my eyes. I really wanted to kick him away, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it. After all, we were both broken-hearted souls at the edge of the world; I still possessed that much pity.

Snowy, who had been in my arms, had long since hidden away, put off by the heavy smell of alcohol.

My own head felt a bit dizzy. I grabbed Snowy and pulled the furball into my arms, refusing to let go.

"Snowy, is being good to me a crime?"

"Snowy, is it a sin to be good to me?"

"Snowy, Cass... he pleaded guilty..."

"Snowy, do you think Cass regretted being good to me...?"

"He regretted it... he regretted it..."

With my cheek pressed against its furry body, I murmured.

Snowy lay obediently in my arms, gently licking my face.