There's No Love In the Deathzone (BL)
Chapter 340 - 332. Ropes

Chapter 340: Chapter 332. Ropes

"What is the last memory you have?" Zein asked the esper.

Varion immediately became defensive. "Why would I tell you that?"

Zein raised his hand and Varion winced in reflex, flinching back slightly. The esper stopped when he heard someone scoff and in embarrassment, realized that the guide wasn’t about to hit him. Zein tapped his commlink, and the screen appeared in front of Varion.

On that screen, Varion could see himself mumbling something that couldn’t be caught by the commlink’s audio system. But it was clear enough that he didn’t look like himself, with eyes that sometimes moved wildly and sometimes became void. He was restrained with a chaining spell, but he wasn’t moving in the first place; shoulder dropped and limbs slacked.

That was...him? Varion watched the recording with widened eyes.

As if answering his unworded question, the guide spoke. "This is you when you were brought here," Zein let Varion digest his words for a few seconds before grabbing the esper’s hair and forcing the man’s head to turn toward the small puddle of black liquid on the floor.

Varion belatedly realized that it was the substance he vomited when he came to, just before he received the first slap.

"And that is the cause."

"...what?" Varion looked at the guide incredulously. What kind of nonsense was that? In the first place...what was that black substance?

Zein let go of the hair and grasped the man’s jaw with a crushing grip. "That’s what made you act like you lost your mind, a malice in your brain," he spoke flatly, like someone simply reading the news. "You’ll probably lose yourself completely by tomorrow and...well, you wouldn’t die, but you’d never wake up again."

"Lies!"

"No, we already have someone experiencing that," Zein said coldly; his heart felt heavy for the researchers who got afflicted by the Specter’s core. One of them still hadn’t woke up, the brain completely corroded by miasma.

Over in the ’seating area’, Darleon turned toward Radia with eyes open wide. "Is...is that true?"

"Yes," Radia answered briefly, a layer of grimness could be heard in his voice.

"Aren’t you lucky that you have someone to heal you before it’s too late?" Han Shin sneered; the mockery and anger were palpable in his tone.

Varion blinked repeatedly as he stared at the guide in front of him, beautiful and cold, rough and merciful. The sharp, melodious voice spoke again. "You’ve been influenced for quite some time, but whatever put you in this state must have been recently inflicted, so I’ll ask you again," the blue eyes glint in piercing light. "What is your last memory?"

Varion pressed his lips and closed his eyes, brows furrowed deeply as he fell into deep contemplation. But he wasn’t given time to manage his mind, since he heard his father’s voice.

"Rion, please cooperate," Darleon spoke softly, the voice of a desperate father. The old man gripped his armrests tight, two summoned phantoms still standing guard behind him. "They won’t help you. They already set on killing you, son, cutting their tail loose," the old man said further, trying to convince his son. "They knew their agents were already compromised, but would never speak about the clan, so...the next liability is you."

"Unfortunately, you are a bit more famous than their dogs, so they had to do some elaborate tricks to end you," Bassena added, making sure the fact shoved deep inside Varion’s head. "So fess up quickly why don’t you; I’m losing patience here."

Having Bassena Vaski say he was losing patience was honestly scary, even for someone as arrogant as Varion. But still, deep inside, there was a part of him who wanted to believe that it wasn’t the clan who did it to him, that everything was a ploy made by Radia Mallarc and this guide as revenge. Then...then he could hope that they would save him.

What caused such hope was his pride. His pride couldn’t accept that after everything that he did, after running around doing what the clan wanted him to do, after years of hanging by the opportunity to be a part of an Old House...his pride couldn’t accept that everything was for naught. That it could be erased just because of a single failure.

Varion couldn’t see how ironic his train of thought was, seeing he was the type to fire his people for something as simple as failing to book him a flight. But it couldn’t be helped, since there was too much on his mind right now. His heart couldn’t help but reach out for denial.

"It can’t be...I...I am his grandson..."

Darleon clenched his jaw and took a deep, regretful breath. He looked at the summoner beside him, pleading wordlessly. Fortunately, this time, Radia permitted him. Darleon immediately crossed the room to reach his son.

"Rion, why do you think I left that House a long time ago?"

Varion lifted his head to see his father crouching beside him. Looking at him up close, Varion realized how old his father looked suddenly. "Because they don’t approve of your relationship with Mother--"

Darleon chuckled bitterly. So that was what they were telling his son, huh? Varion must have felt he was very selfish, to throw away a good future for love, which was very flimsy in Varion’s eyes.

"No, I left the House years before I even met your mother," he shook his head, and Varion’s eyes widened--eyes that were identical to his mother’s, eyes that made Darleon spoil his son too much. "I left because I couldn’t do it anymore. Rion, I was the patriarch’s son, but the number of times I had to face the possibility of death inside that House was greater than the times I was dying inside the dungeons that I couldn’t even count it with my hands."

"What...?"

"I was the patriarch’s son, a direct descendant of the founder, a member of the House since birth, and yet--" Darleon paused, taking a deep breath to hold back the pain rising in his chest. "And yet...they treated me like a disposable tool. I am sure that if I were to stay there, I wouldn’t get old enough to be a father and sire you."

Varion stiffened, looking at his father’s eyes to see for even a tiny bit of deceit. But he knew there was none, there would be none. Varion knew his father, and he knew Darleon Belthera was an honest man with high integrity.

"Can’t you see how hopeless it is?" Darleon grabbed his son’s shoulder. "He might allow you to call him grandfather, but you are still not a part of the clan, and they had tried to cut you off already," he squeezed the shoulder a little bit, afraid he might accidentally hurt his son. "There’s no need to hold into a rope that had been cut, Rion."

"So what? It doesn’t mean I should tell them anything," Varion snapped, but his voice lost its strength, faltering in self-doubt.

With a sigh, Darleon told his son what he had been dreading. "Because they will come at you again once they know you’re not dead."

"What about you? You’re still alive!"

"Because I don’t have anything to report about them," Darleon shook his head. "I knew nothing, I was the youngest, and I refused to work for my older siblings, so they told me nothing about the core of the clan’s work."

And even if he told people about what happened inside the House, he constant infighting, nothing would be done. An Old House’s internal matter was no one’s business, and not even the government could intervene.

"But you..." Darleon felt his breath stutter as he tried to very gently touch his son’s swollen cheek. "You attempted to kidnap a member of an Old House, and if you told the authorities about them, the rest of the Old Houses who don’t like the clan would use it to attack House Horin."

Varion bit his lips; his confidence chipped away with every new information given by his father. "So...they want to eliminate any witness."

"That’s what they do," Darleon let go of his son’s face, smiling bitterly. "That’s why I seek help from Radia Mallarc."

Varion flicked his gaze toward the summoner who was still sitting calmly like a king on a throne. His eyes found the Serpent Lord, the five-star healer, and finally...the pair of blue eyes belonged to another member of an Old House.

"The only one who can face an Old House is another Old House," Darleon said.

Varion shifted his gaze to Darleon, staring into his father’s eyes. They were firm, sincere, just like how they had always been. "You want me to give you information so you can destroy your own father?"

"Rather that despicable place than my own son," those firm eyes softened, and Varion remembered them from his childhood days. "I want you to be safe, Rion, please..."

Varion closed his eyes, teeth gritted as he saw everything he had been working on for years crumbling just like that. But just as his father wanted him to be safe, he too, wanted to be alive.

"I was called to the House Wednesday morning," he said slowly, hesitatingly, opening his eyes and staring at the floor. "I...I was led to a room deep inside the archive..."

Varion could feel everyone’s eyes on him as they listened to him keenly. Their stares were burning, hurting his self-esteem. But his old rope had been cut, and he needed to hang onto a new one.

Even if the new rope might strangle him.

"I recalled walking along an old corridor, entering a dark room, and then..." he shook his head and frowned. "I don’t remember anything anymore."

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