A Gorgeous White

Moulin's chin slowly lifted, exposing the unblemished white column of his throat. Silver eyes are moist and hazy. Long locks of his white wavy hair fell over his face.

And his lips parted... in a long frustrated sigh.

Who in the world is knocking at his door at this time?!

Moulin narrowed his eyes. He muttered a curse as he got off the bed and, in irritation, slipped on a long white robe. He left the bedroom and strode towards the door with heavy steps. A deep chuckle sounded behind him from the bed, and it only fuelled Moulin's anger all the more. Hadrian thinks this is funny? Let's see if he still thinks so sleeping once ice for the whole night.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Moulin's eyes flashed. Whoever this is, I'll make sure you won't be able to have a single good night's sleep in your whole life!

Furiously tying the belt around his robe, Moulin grabbed the door handle, unlocked it, and yanked it open. His eyes flashed, glinting like a drawn blade ready for battle. Anyone who looked at his eyes would cower and flee in fear.

The person waiting behind the door met his terrifying gaze. Neither did they cower nor flee but flinched, startled at the youth's ghastly expression.

Moulin paused when he realized who it was. "Eilhara?"

The elven princess blinked and showed a pitiful smile. Her silver eyes gazed at him innocently. The hallways are dark, devoid of light, but in the princess's hands was a circular lantern emitting bright warm light. Two people were behind her, wearing dark cloaks similar to hers. However, unlike Eilhara, their hoods were worn over their heads to conceal their identities. Moulin gave her a questionable look.

"Ah, apologies for the late-night disturbance, but may we please enter? The guards in patrol will be entering this hallway in two minutes, and we're not that eager to be discovered yet." Eilhara whispered.

Moulin looked at the three people for a few seconds before sighing. He stepped back to let them through the door. Afterward, he scanned the hallways and shut the doors.

"Your highness, do you know what time it is?" Moulin asked with an unimpressed tone. He turned to them, awaiting their response.

"It's late." Eilahara laughed awkwardly as she approached the couch and put down the lantern.

"Indeed..." A deep voice spoke out. "It is quite late..." The four people turned to witness Lord Hadrian Hercullio leaning on the doorway, wearing a half-opened black robe, exposing his sculpted chest and abdomen and exuding alluring masculinity. The golden belt around his waist was tied loosely as if done languidly.

Aside from Moulin, the rest of the occupants within the room realized it was the first time they saw the High Lord with disheveled hair and dressed so provocatively as if he had just finished...

"..."

Their gaze darted from Moulin's equally stimulating look; loose waves of white hair, eyes with slightly red corners, and his sensuous appearance from the simple white silk robe he wore to Lord Hadrian Hercullio's appearance. The conclusion exploded within their minds, and they could not help but look away red-faced.

The couple didn't even twitch from their reactions. It didn't matter to Moulin and Hadrian.

Eilhara cleared her throat. Ah, Honestly! Right before her eyes?! Although she had already heard of the two maeruthan's relationship, it was still a shock to personally witness proof of their intimacy. She had thoughts of courting Moulin several years ago, but now, she couldn't deny that she could never compare to Lord Hadrian Hercullio's boldness and... sensuality.

But although this was the case, she found herself... rooting for both of them. Honestly, how could anyone find them unsuitable for each other? Aside from their looks, even their colors are a match.

Sighing in her heart, Eilhara bowed before the High Lord with a greeting before gesturing to the person at her side.

The two cloaked men revealed themselves. Moulin slowly uncrossed his arms, but his expression didn't change. Since they were already caught, there was no point in being ashamed anymore.

Even if it was the King of Thundralln, the princess, and one of the elven councilors standing before him.

"..."

'Ahhh, I can't feel my face.' Fortunately, Moulin had already mastered Hadrian's ability to become as unreadable as a rock. However, he didn't forget to shoot a glare at the smirking lord behind him.

"Your majesty..." Moulin bowed.

Nordehl cleared his throat, "Forgive us for... intruding."

"To what do we owe you the pleasure, Nordehl?" Hadrian straightforwardly asked. He didn't bother to straighten his posture.

"We have come to deliver you something..." Eilhara explained. A gentle smile graced her beautiful face.

Moulin raised his brows curiously. How significant was this 'thing' to have the two royalties deliver it themselves? And especially during this hour?

"What is it?"

Nordehl gestured to the councilor, who unhurriedly presented a box gilded with gold. It is large. Perhaps, about the size of an adult man's head. The object inside it must be big, but Moulin could not unravel any other clues about what it was.

Nordehl glanced at the two maeruthans and finally ordered the box to be opened. The elven princess approached the box and unlocked the three golden decorated clasps one at a time. Her slender fingers stroked the intricate golden edges of the box before she pulled it open with a soft creak.

Within the comforts of a velvet cushion was a fist-sized crystal cube, glowing like the bright rays of a setting sun. The moment the box was opened, a fierce ambiance of pure concentrated mana flowed into the room. It was so strong Moulin was afraid it would attract the sleeping creatures around the Great Tree.

Moulin didn't need to guess what it was. It only took him one look.

"The Dragon crystal..." He mumbled in a daze. Silver eyes reflected the shining image of the precious stone. Afterward, confusion abruptly doused him from head to toe. His being bathed in the precious ambiance of the pure, captivating mana.

What is the meaning of this?

As if sensing Hadrian and Moulin's questionable looks, Nordehl explained. "We have troubled you greatly despite the aid you and your people had given to us. Because of you, we were warned and discovered the hidden problems within our kingdom. We offer you this crystal as a token of our gratitude."

"Ah..." Moulin stared at the box in a daze. Moulin hadn't even finished doing his responsibility yet, and now this...

With uncertain eyes, Moulin glanced at Hadrian and spoke, "Your Excellencies, if you felt indebted-"

"Moulin, we are truly grateful. Although others may not, it doesn't influence our decision." Eilahara smiled. "Your kingdom is in a dire situation, Is it not? Time is running, and the month is almost up. There is no need to hesitate."

Moulin silently gazed at the three sincere elves before setting his eyes on the box presented to them. Finally, he responded.

"Thank you for your kindness..." Moulin bowed his head and carefully accepted the box. The three noble elves heaved a sigh of relief, watching the youth take one last look at the crystal before his pale fingers closed the lid.

Moulin did not know what was in their minds and how much time they had borrowed to make this choice. However, he was grateful. Whether it was from their indebtedness or some other reason, Moulin was thankful. With this, they could finally venture back home. He would return to his father and eldest brother and bring them the news of his mother and the relic.

Relief poured into his heart, and he could not stop the soft, lovely look in his eyes, exposed to the people before him. Somewhat, it was worth it to witness that rare look.

Not long after, the three elven nobles could not stay too long. Suspicion would arise if they were caught. No one else should know about the matters within Moulin's quarters, especially this night.

When the doors closed and Moulin was once again left with the High Lord of Helios City, the youth held the box to his chest tightly.

He turned to Hadrian. "We have it..."

"Mn..." Hadrian nodded.

"It's... all so sudden. Somehow, it is hard to believe..." Moulin approached him with slow steps. Unease etched his face as he gazed at the intricate golden leaves on the box's lid.

"We have all the time to think tomorrow." Hadrian came and pulled the youth close, warming him with the heat between their bodies. "Tonight, you must rest."

Moulin looks up to him. His gaze met the lord's deep golden rings, looking as if they were glowing within the darkness. Slowly, he nodded.

On the following day, the men and elves parted for Moulin as he, Na'El, and Arcefi headed towards Gala'En's core. Heart pounding within his chest, Arcefi expressed a confused expression as he stood before the niche of the core's garden, the gateway to Galadin's space.

"What is it?" Na'El asked in concern.

Arcefi breathed out. "It doesn't want me to enter."

"What?"

"It's rejecting me..." Arcefi swallowed. He paled as he took a step backward, facing Na'El with a desperate look.

"That can't be..." Na'El muttered. "You have been purifying the core for years. It's impossible..."

Moulin was about to question them when the air shifted. Mana thrummed around them, signifying the gateway's activation. The three whipped their gazes towards the niche to witness two greyish arms elegantly reaching out, fingers twirling as they opened their hands to a particular silver-eyed youth.

"..." Moulin intently stared at those smooth open palms, yearning to welcome him back into the god's space. When he chose to ignore it, it was shameless enough to beckon him with its fingers, like a woman beckoning a lover.

Witnessing the strangeness of the spirit keeper's movements, Na'El's eyes slightly brightened. He cleared his throat and turned to Moulin. "It seems that from this moment on, the Holy One only prefers the young master to face him."

Moulin furrowed his brows. His head turned to look at the other purifier, who only gave him a helpless smile. Within the elf's pupils, amusement glinted.

"It can't be helped then. Fortunately for me, I'd have more time to do my cooking." Arcefi shrugged.

Moulin sighed and took the spirit's hand.

............

"It seems... that your departure grows nearer." Galadin's child-like voice echoed throughout the space. His glowing heavenly figure sat on the mirror-like ground. In Moulin's eyes, he looked like a bright lily on the tranquil waters of a pond.

It is the first thing Moulin hears, and he could not mistake the disappointment within the deity's voice.

"It seems..." Moulin muttered.

The boy furrows his eyebrows. His dismaying eyes quivered slightly. A trembling plead left his mouth. "Can you stay a little longer? Just until my soul can recover. That time is enough..."

Moulin's eyes softened, "I will not be leaving so soon, my friend."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh..." The God in his child-like form nodded. The corners of his lips hooked up in a faint smile. "I see. That... is good."

Moulin chuckled, and the two entities began to exchange words. Their eyes glistened with the other's warm expression. Gala was both thankful and regretful for what he had inflicted on Moulin's body. However, Moulin didn't blame him. It was for a good cause, and fortunately, they were successful.

"Gade..." Moulin began as he gazed at the god's ethereal face.

"You have something to ask me?" The god presumed with a slight smile. "You can ask me anything..."

Moulin nodded. His eyes dimmed, and there was a frantic pounding within his heart.

...

"Do you know of Morhas?"