Harbinger Of Doom: The Attainer

48. Seven, Where Are You?

The elder observed Lores with reason. What an adamant fellow, he thought. He stood up and made his way to the kitchen only to come back a while later with that thing Lores drank yesterday. He kept the bowl of medicine broth on the table, then coasted it towards Lores whose face contorted at the sight of it. Steam rose from the bowl, polluting Lores' nose.

"Master, I'm really fine. You saw me chopping firewood not long ago. I don't think I need to take this thing again."

The elder replied casually, like he was so sure of himself.

"You're vigorous not because you're really fine, but because you're after something. Don't deceive yourself."

Lores gave it a thought. On his quest for progress, drinking a bowl of medicine was inconsiderable till he got hold of what he was after. He would put up with the damn medicine. It was worth it after all.

"If you say so." Lores smiled broadly, his lips almost elastically touching his ears. He hoisted the bowl and glugged the medicine. "Master, why do I feel that you care about me? Could it be that you've accepted me?" Lores asked lightheartedly.

The elder steeled, though he didn't glimpse at Lores. This boy!

"Who accepted you? I only want you to regain your energy. I don't entertain lazy people in my house." The elder spoke confidently, still keeping his face blank.

"You want me to regain my energy. All the same, it shows you care about me. I promise you, I won't be lazy."

The elder had to shoot a glimpse at Lores before turning away. He pondered if his intention to forestall could match the persistence of Lores. The boy was amazing. He was ostensibly enjoying his persistent pursuit.

He was one of a kind.

The elder left for the kitchen again.

As Lores ate, he suddenly thought of Mo. He quickly dipped his hand behind his lapel and brought out the jade pendant. To his relieve, he still had it with him. He stared emotionally at the ornament. The outing they had that day flashed back to his memory. What now? The prince could be searching everywhere for him. After a while of harking back, he put it back to its place. But then, he pitifully shrugged off his thoughts with a feeling of self-disappoinment afterwards. He was in Liz for a purpose. He really shouldn't be thinking of Mo.

Bloom pavilion

Prince Mo just had an oat bath. In his chamber, two maids were decorously dressing him up. Mo had just worn an embellished sapphire satin. The soft smell of oat and other skin products effused, brandishing the noses of the maids. The fact was that they couldn't get accustomed to the pleasant smell. Each time they dressed up Mo, the sensuous smell was ever refreshing, like a gentle wind wafting in a garden full of peonies, like the aura of moonlit silk flowers in a crispy night. That smell, you just can't get tired of it. They diligently adjusted each part of his clothes, from the high collar covering his lower face to the sleeves and then the waist, as they perfected his three-inch leather belt.

Their faces were thoroughly crestfallen without daring to take even a glimpse at the prince.

After dressing Mo for years, the maids had grown to become perfectionists. Mo was a delicate and esteemed figure. Therefore, the maids paid stringent attention to every detail of his appearance.

Mo had his dark, well-groomed hair done in a high ponytail, a gold hairpiece keeping it firm. A fringe cutely hung above his eye, creating a beautiful contrast with his ivory skin. His face was very smooth and unblemished, just like a polished jade ornament, his red, thin lips curving slightly with an aura of arrogance.

The bronze ear cuff on his ear and conspicuous moonstone rings circling his thumbs highlighted his ever extreme appearance.

When the maids were done, they turned to leave but he called back one of them.

"One of you, come back." His manly voice was pleasant and clear, like the sound of a nightingale.

The maid walked over to him with the usual etiquette. The floor was almost blushing from her unyielding stare.

"Do you think my lapels need a little adjustment?" He verbalized his uncertainty while watching the mirror. The maid attempted to touch his lapels, but his voice froze her on the spot.

"I didn't ask you to adjust them. I asked if they needed it. Feel free to voice out your thought."

She was mystified. When did His Highness ever ask for her opinion? Due to the scenario happening for the first time, she felt unworthy of Mo's laxity. She summoned every ounce of courage to glimpse at him. What she saw was astonishing.

Mo was displaying a rare friendly smile.

An involuntary gasp escaped her as she speedily carried back her gaze downward. On top of that, her heart fluttered. She could feel it throbbing abnormally.

"What? You don't know how to talk?" Mo's tension-inspiring voice sounded yet again. He took his head down to take a good look at her, his grey eyes expectant. The poor maid's vision was focused on the floor.

"Your highness, your lapels have been finely adjusted." She offered gently with decorum.

"So sure? But you haven't taken a look at them." Mo gave her a doubtful gaze carrying a hint of amusement, as if he enjoyed her passivity. He was giving her the jitters without knowing it himself. Mo was only trying to be amiable and carefree. However, it would require a long time for the maids to become accustomed to it. She sighed hushedly before taking a bold step of raising her head. She extended her bravery by requiting Mo's smile. She brought her hands to Mo's lapels and adjusted it slowly and neatly.

"Now it looks good."

Mo smiled satisfactorily at her, nodded and walked out of the room.

In truth, Mo's maids were terribly crushing on him, but they weren't bold enough to flirt with him. The normal Mo usually paid no mind to them. Whenever they greeted him, he would only grunt an 'mmm' without even sparing them a glance. At times, he would just respond with a stiff nod.

The maid watched as the posterior of Mo passed over the threshold, a smile of meaning spreading on her lips. Even though Mo acted bizarrely, his change was for the better. Having Mo chat and even going further to smile at her was considered a colossal honour. She felt so accomplished and relieved with just a little chat with Mo.

The crew Mo sent out to search for Lores returned. It had been two days with no trace of success on the search. They met Mo on the hallway standing in front of the osmanthus flowers that were gracing the facade.

"Your highness, we couldn't find him. Punish us." The head of the crew reported. Their eyes were stringently trained on the ground

Mo's expression dimmed.

"What do you mean? Are you trying to say that Seven has disappeared from the mortal world?"

"I dare not." The crew's head apologetically answered. Mo let out a sigh. The news saddened his soul.

"The search must continue. You must find him, or else don't bother coming back." Mo ordered with a tone of finality.

"Roger." They said in unison and left immediately.

Mo looked worrisome. His eyes fell on the plum tree in reminiscence of Lores' figure. There in front of the plum tree was Lores smiling sheenly at him. His hair fluttered in rhythm with the breeze, his pretty face epitomizing the gorgeousness of a lustering monolith. Those beautiful pigtails, those abyssal eyes that could upset his pride were visible to Mo.

"Seven." Mo called out softly with an enlivened expression as he made to approach Lores. But suddenly, the figure evaporated like a wisp of smoke.

He was hallucinating.

Mo's expression slowly returned to its dim form. He stared wistfully at the azure sky, as if begging for hope. Standing there bemused by the omnipotence of fate, he presented a question with no apparent answer.

"Seven, where are you?"