NOVEL NEXT Chapter 356: Guilt Dripping
Lux was driving in his mortal car, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in rhythm with the music blasting through the speakers.
Some mortal indie-pop track with too much bass and too little shame.
He hummed along, low and easy, because why not? Lunch with Elias had been surprisingly tolerable—warm, even—and now his stomach was full, and his mind buzzing with possibilities.
"What's next…" he muttered, squinting at the road ahead. Neon billboards scrolled by, screaming about things he didn't need: shoes, cologne, some tacky theme park. He drummed his fingers faster. 'Entertainment? A casino? Or maybe…' His grin tilted. '…buy something nice for Sira.'
It was fair. Yesterday she'd bought him a coffee machine, which was both thoughtful and passive-aggressive. Pride never gave without a reason. A machine that hissed and steamed and made the entire mansion smell like luxury caffeine? Cute. But Lux wasn't about to be outdone.
'Fair trade,' he said. 'She invests. I reciprocate. Balance sheet clean.'
But then reality tapped him on the shoulder. 'How the hell do you shop for Pride?' He groaned, steering one-handed as he rubbed his temple. 'She laughs at mortal diamonds. She sneers at mortal wine. Entertaining a Pride Lord's daughter with mortal trinkets is like offering an MBA graduate a piggy bank.'
He considered antiques. Artifacts. Maybe some cursed relic from the black market. 'Antique? Artifact? Auction house run by lunatics? Ugh… headache.'
And then—
He nearly had one.
Because suddenly, he wasn't alone.
Zavros.
His father's face stared back at him from the glass of his windshield.
"Fck!"
Lux swore violently and slammed the wheel to the right. Tires screamed. Horns blared. The car fishtailed, nearly kissing the bumper of a delivery truck before he muscled it onto the roadside.
His pulse thudded in his throat. He yanked the parking brake and sat back, exhaling through his teeth.
Then he glared straight at the windshield. At him.
Zavros' reflection gazed back, silent.
Lux deadpanned. "I'm driving! Can you not? Show up like… normally? Like not in the bathroom mirror and definitely not while I'm piloting a mortal tin can at sixty kilometers per hour!"
Zavros said nothing. Just stared, posture unnervingly rigid.
That silence? Weird. Too weird.
Lux squinted. "…What's this? The silent treatment? You sulking because I slammed the elevator doors in your face?"
Still nothing. His father's expression wasn't anger—it was something else. His gaze tilted downward, not at Lux, but inward.
Lux sighed, long and annoyed, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. "If you're gonna mope, do it somewhere else. Seriously, I don't have time for ghost-dad cosplay."
Then Zavros finally spoke. His voice wasn't sharp. It wasn't smug. It wasn't even heavy with smugness. It was… quiet.
"I heard it," Zavros said.
Lux straightened slowly, wary. "…Heard what?"
"From the King. From the lords." Zavros' eyes finally lifted, light dimmer than usual. "What you've done. How you managed the department. How you kept it breathing when even I—" He broke off. "…How you survived."
The words dropped heavy into the car.
Lux froze. He didn't know where this was going. He never did. Conversations with his father were usually contracts disguised as lectures. Lux wasn't sure if this guilt-show was genuine—or just another tactic to reel him back into the infernal seat he'd abandoned.
He tilted his head, smirk thin but dangerous. "Oh? You mean how I kept your empire from imploding while you were off screwing your way through a two-century honeymoon? That part?"
Zavros flinched. Just a flicker. But it was there.
Lux's laugh was low, cold. "Yeah. I heard it too. Every audit. Every wraith knocking on my door. Every abyssal creditor asking why your name was signed on a promise that I had to cover. That's not news, father. That was my day-to-day."
Zavros' mouth opened, closed. He inhaled. "Lux…"
Lux lifted a hand, palm out. "Don't. Don't you dare try to sugarcoat this into some father-son bonding moment. You weren't there. You never were. And now you want to show up like a reflection in my windshield and play confessional? No thanks."
Silence again. Except this time, Zavros' eyes softened. There was no mockery. No dismissal. Just… guilt.
"I thought it would make you stronger," Zavros said quietly.
Lux barked a laugh. "Stronger? You dumped a collapsing department on a teenager and called it training. You know what that was? Negligence with a shiny bow."
"You lived," Zavros murmured.
"Barely. Do you know how many times I almost died?" Lux snapped. His voice cracked into a laugh again, but sharp this time. "Bandaged up in boardrooms, bleeding from debt-wraith claws while I negotiated with sharks. A dozen times I should've died. Dozen times. And I smiled through it, because someone had to keep the vaults from going dark."
Zavros' jaw tightened. He looked away.
Lux shook his head, bitter. "And now you're here. Guilt dripping like bad accounting. So what is this? Hm? You want me to come back? Handle the spreadsheets while you run off with mother for another honeymoon? Is that it?"
Zavros' eyes flicked back, sharp. "No. That's not—"
"Bullshit." Lux leaned forward, eyes glinting. "I know you. Every deal you make comes with fine print. Every word is leverage. Even this guilt. Especially this guilt. So forgive me if I don't buy it."
The silence stretched. Only the tick of the cooling engine filled it.
Finally, Zavros said, "You were never supposed to be alone." His voice cracked faintly. "I should have come back sooner."
Lux stared at him, searching, but didn't soften. He didn't trust it.
"Should have," Lux echoed. "But you didn't. You left me with balance sheets and blood and called it destiny. And you know what?" His smirk sharpened. "It worked. I became the devil CFO you always wanted. But don't expect me to thank you for the trauma."
Zavros exhaled, shoulders sagging. He looked… smaller.
Lux watched him, wary. His own chest tightened, but he shoved it down. Because guilt? Regret? Those didn't erase the centuries of silence.