There's No Love In the Deathzone (BL)
Chapter 377 - 369. The Paladin

Chapter 377: Chapter 369. The Paladin

The time Zein found himself devoid of thought could be counted on one hand.

To be so blanked out, so shaken to the core that he couldn’t do anything but stand in place as if he had turned into a lifeless statue... had only happened once before; when he found out he was stranded with two toddlers.

This would be the second time, and the fact that he stopped breathing made him look even more like a statue.

He just stood there, five meters from a glowing light that imprisoned his father.

It was so close; a distance that he could reach in just two seconds. And yet, he couldn’t move.

He was scared. He was scared that it was just a mirage, a hallucination, a dream. He was scared that if he moved, if he walked closer, that glowing light would disappear, like any mirage.

And so he stood there, like a rooted tree, thinking of nothing but how scared he was. Everything went still and silent as if he was drowning in darkness--

A wordless touch met his hand, warming his cold fingers and frozen courage. The touch, of someone who had been drowning in darkness, was telling him it was real; it wasn’t a dream.

It wasn’t a dream.

Slowly, Zein felt his legs unfroze, stepping forward one leg at a time like a toddler learning how to walk. With each step, he took a deep breath and waited until he was sure the tank was there, the light was there, his father was there. And with each step that brought him closer, he could see the man’s face.

The face he had only seen in two portraits, and a few times in his dream. A young face of a young man, frozen in time. Handsome, sharp in the right angle, and delicate in the right curve. Even in the paleness of death, he was graceful.

When Zein stood in front of the glass cover, it was akin to seeing a reflection. He had been hearing that he was the spitting image of his father, and he witnessed it now. Their visage, at the very least. Alteroan had a knight physique, towering over his son even inside the tank that froze him in time.

Another thing that had been frozen was the horrible wound in his body; across his skin and etched into his flesh. Wounds that hurt him, and wounds that killed him. The wounds of sacrifice, immortalize his last effort to protect his wife and son.

The son that was now staring at him blankly.

"Is...is he--"

Zein couldn’t finish the words that were caught in his throat, choking him.

"No," he heard the soft answer behind him. "I’m sorry, Zein--but his heart had stopped breathing, and his brain had--"

"Okay."

Zein nodded solemnly He already knew, he just wanted to entertain a flicker of foolish hope. But it gave him relief, because it would be much worse to be suspended alive in this condition for almost thirty years.

But aside from relief, Zein couldn’t feel anything. His mind simply couldn’t process much more than that. "Bas," he whispered, and as he felt that warm touch on his hand again, he gripped it tightly. "What should I do?"

"First, we’ll take him out."

"Okay,"

"And we’ll send him to the hospital,"

"A hospital?"

"...a morgue," Bassena stroked Zein’s hand with his thumb. "You can ask for an...autopsy, if you want."

Zein stiffened at the word, and Bassena could feel the guide stop breathing for a second, before slowly shaking his head. "I don’t think...I don’t think I want him to be in this kind of state any longer."

"Alright," Bassena gripped the guide’s cold hand tighter.

Finally, Zein could move his eyes from the hypnotizing light and Alteroan’s figure. He looked at Bassena, let himself be bathed in the warmth of ambers that melted his freezing nerves. The husky voice whispered softly. "Why don’t you sit down and wait for your uncle?"

"Sit down..." Zein muttered dazedly and lowered himself, almost unconsciously plopped on the floor in front of the tank. The blue eyes were akin to the liquid preserving his father, and now, they tried to preserve the image in his memory.

No one said anything. Not Bassena, who stood silently like a guard. Not Han Shin, who crouched beside the door and stared blankly at the ceiling. And not Radia, who barred anyone from entering the room, giving his orders through commlink and hand signs.

It was only after Senan and Cohen came that any voice could be heard again. They came quickly with a teleportation scroll and moved swiftly with their Young Master’s safety in mind. Never, in their right mind, had they thought they would find Alteroan’s body there.

"Ma...Master Roan...?"

Unlike Zein, Senan only spent a few seconds being frozen, before running toward the glass encase and touching it with trembling hands. "M-Master...Master Roan..."

His eyes were blurry before he knew it, but it didn’t prevent him from catching the sight of his young master, and the blue eyes watching the father he had never had the chance to meet.

"Young Master..."

"How old was he?" Zein asked. His voice was strangely calm; any emotions he might bleed were trapped behind the hardness of that unblinking gaze.

Senan closed his eyes, feeling his heart crushed into a million pieces. "He was twenty-eight."

"Ah," Zein nodded. No wonder they looked so much alike. "It’s weird, to think I’ll outlive both of them."

"Young Master..."

Zein exhaled slowly, before standing up and brushing the dust off his pants. "Let’s get him out of there."

Senan had no idea at that point, which one broke his heart more; finding the remnant of his dead Master, or the restrained sorrow in those blue eyes. The way Zein started to ask for the tank to be drained felt like an effort to distract one’s mind from any thought.

They watched in silence as the government agent helped them operate the tank, draining the blue liquid as cables suspended Alteroan’s body so he did not fall down the floor of the tank. Curiously enough, his skin wasn’t wet, cold as it may be. Zein and Senan took him off the cables and the tank, and respectfully laid him down on the stretcher that Han Shin brought from the outside.

They covered the man with a blanket, and Zein only realized his hand was trembling when he put the cloth over the face that was so alike him. He gritted his teeth, and let Bassena cover his hand, pulling it away from the stretcher.

"Go now; there’s a chopper waiting for you outside," Radia calmly said, shifting the cloth to fully cover the black hair. "I’ll find out what happened and why he’s been kept here, and I’ll tell you as soon as I get the big picture."

Zein looked up, at the reassuring crimson eyes. If there was anyone who could chase the information to the bottom, he knew it would be Radia.

"For now, you don’t need to think about anything but your father."

His father. "...okay," Zein nodded dazedly. "Thank you."

Radia stepped back and turned toward the two bodyguards. "Are you--"

"No," Senan shook his head; his red, swollen eyes staring hard at the covered body. "We would like to, but..." he shifted his gaze to Zein. "I think, for now, it should be Young Master, and..."

"We have something to talk about," Cohen added, glancing at the bound old man in the corner of the room, "with this man."

Zein turned his head, finally recognizing Baaleon’s presence. There was a quiet rage that slowly climbed up, but too much sorrow was piling up on top of it that Zein just looked away immediately.

For now, he had a more pressing matter to tend to. "Bas..."

"Mm," Bassena nodded, gripping the side of the stretcher as Han Shin held another.

"Go," Radia tapped on the railing softly, before letting go completely.

He waited until the stretcher was out of the archive hall, before harshly pulling the chain that bound Baaleon. With a sharp pair of crimson eyes and cold, unsmiling lips, he uttered dryly.

"Not being very good, are you?"

* * *

Not thinking of anything.

It was easy to not think of anything. In the white room that was reeked of chemical substance and coldness, surrounded by death, it was easy to be numb by the silence.

It was perfect for the living to only think about the passing. Perfect for farewell. Provided, of course, one knew of what he should be saying.

But how could he be saying farewell when he never even said any greeting? What farewell should a son say to a father he never met?

Rather than not thinking of anything, Zein felt like his ability to think had left his body. Again, he found himself just standing there, wordless, nerveless, staring at a cold, pale face that bore so much resemblance with him, eerily so. Pitifully so.

"Should I leave you alone?" Bassena asked carefully with a soft voice.

Zein gripped the esper’s hand tightly, absorbing the warmth for a little while longer. "Just..." he paused, and only after a few seconds later did he continue. "Just give me half an hour."

"Okay," Bassena stroked Zein’s hand gently as the grip loosened. He took a fur coat from his storage ring and draped it over the guide’s shoulder. "It’s cold here, so wear this. I’ll get some warm coffee for us."

Zein nodded, saying an inaudible thank you, and closed his eyes as the esper footsteps got further away, and disappeared behind the closing door.

The silence enveloped him in an ironic peace, and only after he felt his heart calming down did Zein open his eyes. He looked at his father’s peaceful face wordlessly for a few minutes, wondering what was Roan’s thoughts at the end of his life. Through a burning, dry throat, Zein spoke quietly.

"I hate you."

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