Chapter 138: Morning did not come with warmth

The morning light was thin and shimmering, filtering through the gaps in the linen curtains.

It was warm, but that warmth did nothing to chase away the chill that had settled into Julian’s bones.

Julian stood by the washbasin, his movements mechanical. He splashed cold water onto his face, gripping the porcelain rim until his knuckles turned white. He looked into the mirror and saw a stranger—pale, with eyes that seemed to have seen too much of the dark. The ’Waking Madness’ hadn’t just shaken his mind; it had drained the very color from his skin.

Then, he took a towel and wiped his face before picking up his crisp and clean shirt.

He stood in front of the vanity mirror, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Every movement felt heavy, as if his limbs were made of lead. He stared at the same stranger he saw in the mirror just now, his gaze particularly fixed on the dark shadows under his eyes. The cold water didn’t help wash it away, and he sighed.

He was exhausted.

He hadn’t dared to close his eyes again after the Duke had held him through the small hours of the night. Every time his lashes had fluttered shut, he would listen to the thumping of his heart, and it somehow threatened to pull him under.

This time, it was a little worse than before. He could not seem to shake the feeling quickly.

This is probably why the system called it (stage 2).

It was an advanced, suffocating version of the former.

Behind him, the bed creaked.

Alaric was sitting up, his chest bare and his hair a tangled mess of gold, but his eyes were sharp and filled with a lingering, restless anxiety. He hadn’t slept much either; he had spent the night acting as a living anchor, his arms locked around Julian as if he were afraid the younger man might simply dissolve into the shadows.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Alaric asked, his voice rough and low.

He didn’t move to get up yet; instead, he watched Julian’s every expression, the little scrunching of his face, the slight brow arcs, and how his lips somehow twisted in spite, all with a terrifying amount of focus.

The protective fury from the night before hadn’t faded; it had merely simmered down into a quiet, watchful desperation.

Julian paused, his hand hovering over his collar. He forced a smile, one he was sure would look genuine enough to pass Alaric’s intent ’inspection’.

"It will pass, Lucien," Julian murmured.

The lie tasted like ash in his mouth. He couldn’t tell the Duke that his mind was splintering. He couldn’t explain that the ’Waking Madness’ was a ghost he couldn’t outrun, or that the very air in the room still felt a little too thin to breathe.

"It was just a bad dream. A nightmare," Julian added, turning slightly to meet the Duke’s gaze. "I’ll get over it. I just need some tea and the routine of the day."

Alaric didn’t look convinced. He stood up then, walking across the room until he was standing directly behind Julian. He didn’t touch him—not yet—as if he were afraid Julian might shatter if he applied too much pressure.

"You’re exhausted," Alaric whispered.

"I can’t seem to deny that," Julian said, his voice sounding as cherry as he could make it to be.

"You still haven’t had a good night’s sleep," Alaric added, his hand finally reaching out to cup Julian’s jaw. His thumb brushed over the dark circles under Julian’s eyes. "You look like you’re fading, Julian." his tone softened, and so did his gaze. "Stay in bed. I’ll tell the staff to bring breakfast here. Lessons with Lucius can wait."

"No," Julian said, his voice a little too sharp. He softened it quickly, reaching up to lay his hand over Alaric’s. "No, don’t do that. I need the work. I need to stay busy." his voice, though softened, sounded a little desperate, and he attempted one more time. "I’ll be fine taking the class. And the Prince and Princess will likely be here again today. I can’t be seen as a frail tutor who comes up with one excuse of an illness for every class."

He smiled awkwardly and then leaned forward, resting his forehead against the Duke’s broad chest for a second, drawing strength from the sheer solidity of the man.

"Go on," Julian whispered, pulling back to look into those worried blue eyes. "Get ready for breakfast. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs."

He reached up, his fingers lingering on Alaric’s cheek before he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to the Duke’s lips. It was meant to be a reassurance, a sign that the intimacy they had shared hadn’t been erased by the horror of the night.

"It’ll pass," Julian whispered again, the words lingering over the Duke’s lips.

But as Julian turned away to find his coat, the words felt heavier in his own mind. It wasn’t a promise to the Duke; it was a plea to himself. It has to pass. It has to.

By the time they reached the dining hall, Julian had donned a charcoal grey coat, the high collar once again acting as a shield for both his marks and his nerves.

Lucius was already there, his eyes widening as he saw Julian’s pale face and dark eye-shadow under his eyes. He quickly scrambled for his slate, but Julian beat him to it with a gentle pat on the head.

"I’m fine, Lucius. Just a long night of... research," Julian lied smoothly, though he felt Alaric’s burning gaze on the side of his head.

And then, the meal began with no issue, but the silence of the meal was soon punctuated by the familiar, heavy clatter of a carriage in the courtyard. Julian’s grip on his teacup tightened.

It was obvious who was here. He might not have noticed it the previous day, but he would certainly notice it now.

The doors to the dining hall burst open, and Princess Liora’s laughter filled the hall before she even stepped inside.

"Teacher Julian! We brought you flowers!"

Julian took a deep breath, smoothing his expression into the mask of a calm, collected Master. He had to keep the madness at bay for at least a few more hours.