Celestial Emperor of Shadow

A Son at the Door

His knuckles touched the wood—once, twice.

A soft, firm tap that echoed just enough to break the stillness of the palace corridor.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then a warm voice he knew by soul, not by sound, drifted through the door.

"Who is it?"

Victor felt something inside him steady. His heartbeat slowed, not out of calm, but out of that strange, vulnerable tenderness that only surfaced when he stood in front of this door. Nerves hummed beneath his skin—old, familiar, impossible to shake. Determination settled right beside them, like a quiet shadow urging him forward.

He exhaled once, opened his mouth, and let the words fall.

"…Mom. It's me."

For a moment, he heard movement—soft fabric rustling, a faint exhale, the warm hush of a smile carried through wood.

Then her voice came again, lighter, almost teasingly sweet.

"Ah, my dear. Why stand out there? Come inside."

He hesitated for the briefest second. Not because he feared anything, but because her tone—soft, welcoming, effortlessly motherly—always loosened something deep inside him.

A small smile tugged at his mouth before he even realized.

He pushed the door open.

Warmth greeted him immediately. The room smelled faintly of morning tea, sweet herbs, and the soft fragrance his mother always preferred—light, luxurious, familiar enough to wrap around him like a memory.

The chamber was large, elegantly arranged but lived-in. Cushions scattered on the couches, sunlight warming the silk curtains, steam rising from freshly poured cups on a low table. His father and mother sat side by side, enjoying their first tea of the day, already dressed, refreshed, and glowing in that effortless way only they could manage in the early morning.

Ben lifted his gaze toward him, brows slightly raised. Anna looked at Victor with the same expression every mother has when their child appears earlier than expected—surprise tinted with concern.

Sasha and Ania stood nearby, helping with the morning setup. Both turned toward Victor, exchanging a look that screamed, he woke up early? on purpose?

Ania whispered under her breath, "Impossible…"

Sasha elbowed her, but she wore the same startled expression.

Anna rose the moment she fully processed his presence.

She walked toward him quickly, skirts whispering against the floor.

"Victor. Come here. Quickly."

He blinked, confused. "Why… Mother, why are you calling me like—"

Anna ignored his confusion entirely. She cupped his cheeks, then slid her hands to his neck, palms warm as she checked him like he was a feverish child.

Ben didn't even look up from his cup as he said, almost lazily,

"He's perfectly normal. Don't fuss."

Anna didn't even spare him a glance. "You keep quiet. I'm not speaking to you."

Victor let out a small groan, almost burying his face in his palm.

"Not again…"

Anna grabbed his wrist this time, lifting his hand as if checking pulse, muscle tension, anything she could justify her worry with.

Victor freed himself gently. "Mother. I'm fine. What are you doing?"

Ben sipped his tea, fighting a smirk. "Son, you don't wake this early. That's why your mother is—"

Victor shot him a withering look. Ben immediately coughed and looked away, the smirk softening into something a little guilty.

Anna shot Victor a worried glance. "Did you sleep late? Any nightmares? Pain anywhere? Discomfort? Tell me immediately."

"Mother," he said, exasperated but soft. "I'm absolutely fine. Just tired."

Her eyes narrowed in a way that told him she believed maybe ten percent of that sentence.

Anna gestured to the table. "Come. Sit. Have tea with us. You look like you need something warm."

Sasha quickly poured him a cup. Ania passed it to him with both hands, bowing slightly.

Victor took a sip.

His mother watched the way he swallowed.

His father watched the way his mother watched him.

Sasha watched everyone because she was nosy.

Ania looked away because she was embarrassed for them all.

Victor finally muttered, "Mother, the tea is good…"

Anna's expression bloomed into a prideful smile. "Of course it is."

Ben chuckled under his breath. "Cherry as ever."

Victor set the cup down carefully, but before he could escape her stare, Anna leaned in, her voice low but amused.

"Now, tell me the truth. My son never wakes this early just for my handmade tea. So why are you here?"

He nearly choked on nothing but air.

Ben outright laughed this time, shoulders shaking.

Ania hid her face.

Sasha bit her lip to stop giggling.

Victor cleared his throat, glare flicking toward his father.

Ben raised his hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything."

Anna reached out and softly tapped Victor's cheek. "Never lie to your mother. Even when you're old."

He managed a crooked smile. "Mother, if I get old… you'll be older."

Ben coughed so violently he almost spilled his tea.

Anna turned on him sharply, her voice dangerously sweet.

"Oh? So you think I will become old, but you won't? Fine beauty like me never ages, you scoundrel. Only you will wrinkle."

Ben froze, spine straight as a sword, eyes begging Victor for help.

Victor just sipped his tea.

Ben mouthed, Traitor.

Anna, fully in control of the battlefield, flicked her fingers dismissively. "Be quiet. Our son is here."

Ben tried again to defend himself. "Dear, maybe we focus on—"

She slowly tilted her head toward him.

Ben swallowed hard. "...Yes. Good idea. Later."

"Tonight," Anna said calmly.

A threat wrapped as romance.

Ben went pale.

Victor chuckled, unable to hide his amusement.

His mother heard it and shot him a playful glare.

"Son, don't tease your father. He's fragile."

"I'm right here," Ben whispered, defeated.

Victor leaned back slightly. "Sorry, Father."

Ben looked ready to say you're not sorry at all, but one glance at Anna made him shut his mouth.

Anna returned her attention to Victor, her tone softening.

"Son. Tell me what brought you here. Truly."

Victor inhaled slowly.

He set the cup down.

His fingers curled once on his knee, nerves tightening.

"Mother… I want to participate in the winter—"