Trila, Theales. Year 2601.
The air hung heavy as dozens of citizens lined up at the Trila Municipal Hospital. Faint murmurs showered the night, and people squishing against each other was regular.
A man, wearing worn-out jeans and a plaid button-up shirt, maneuvered through the crowd of visitors right before the large entrance. The glowing red light indicated that the hospital was full, but civilians continued to push through.
"The hospital is closed! Return to your homes!" An officer wearing a military uniform held a long broadsword and pointed at the people condensing the entrance.
However, the weight and sheer quantity of visitors triumphed and shoved him down. The military officer was trampled and stepped over as hundreds of people loomed over him, one being the man in the plaid shirt.
As he finally broke free of the crowd when he went deeper into the hospital, a wide grin plastered itself on Darian Vaughan's face. My son! It's almost time!
The 40-year-old civil servant was awaiting the birth of his son, Emory Vaughan. He and his wife, Elara, had arrived at the hospital on Sunday. Unfortunately, Elara happened to forget their documents, and Darian was assigned the task of quickly retrieving them.
Due to the crowd, it took Darian a couple of hours to travel to and from his home. It resulted in him arriving on Monday, meaning he missed the birth of Emory, which happened deep into the night of Sunday.
Darian happily ran through the halls, locating room 23A. On his way, he glanced at the crowd being held back by more military personnel.
Ever since Empress Thala died, the country has turned feral... He was right. Thala Selwyn, wife to Theales' emperor, Magnus Van Selwyn IV, was brutally murdered three days ago. The details of the homicide were not disclosed to the public, but it is said that the death impacted the emperor drastically.
After her death, a chain reaction was sparked. 1,830 murder attempts have been reported in the past three days, resulting in two of Trila's six major hospitals shutting down completely. Visitors and families of the victims wanted answers, and the only places they could go were the emperor's palace, the minister's office, or the hospital.
Turning his head away, the ink on the documents gradually faded as Darian's grip turned sweaty. Eventually, after what seemed like ages, Darian was met with the pale piece of wood that stood between him and his family.
Alright... Moment of truth. As his chest rose and fell, he reached out his hand and twisted the brass doorknob. The door's creak rang repeatedly in Darian's twitching ear.
The smell of chemicals and the stillness of the cold room hit Darian like a dagger.
Entering the room, he was met with an older-style bed, propelled up by a metal skeleton. A large blue blanket covered what looked to be a human that rested on the mattress.
There were no signs of movement coming from the body that lay on the bed, only a cold atmosphere that panged Darian's heart. As his shadow entered the room, a doctor, who was resting on the chair, pricked her head up.
She donned matching scrubs and wore a mask, her short black hair tied into a small bun. Her eye bags looked heavy, and her expression was grim. Being no older than 50 years old, she locked onto the quivering Darian.
"Mr. Vaughan..."
"Elara!"
Disregarding the doctor, Darian sprinted toward the bed and frantically removed part of the blanket that covered her head. It revealed a radiant, modest beauty. Short black hair that fell just above her shoulders, soft feminine features, and the fairest skin.
However, she had no pulse. A lifeless appearance that released a haunting vibe around the solemn room.
Darian's heart dropped as the blood drained from his trembling face. While he was generally an airhead, even he had enough intelligence to understand what was going on.
His wife was dead.
"No—" His eyes began darting all across the room. Processing this news was something Darian could never get used to. "No—" His frail, bony hands latched onto the thinning hair follicles that rested atop his head. Stumbling back, he landed on his rear with a thud. The doctor stood behind him and spoke somberly.
"It was... unexpected. Her vitals and health were fine right before and during the birth. But the moment he left her womb, she died of a heart attack. We tried to resuscitate her, but it was to no avail." She couldn't look the quivering man in the eyes.
After sighing, she continued, "I'm going to give you some space to deal with all... this." Her gaze shifted towards Darian's chin. "Your son, however, was born healthy and is in the nursery. I will have a nurse bring him over soon."
No response.
Frozen, Darian's eyes began to lose their luster. He had always thought he and his wife would go home, with their baby, and raise the little boy together. Unfortunately, that dream was shattered. Along with any other dream involving the mesmerizing Elara Vaughan.
Clutching his chest, he lamented, What is this feeling... He felt the corners of his eyes swell and then moisturize. Rubbing his knuckles along the edges, his cheeks began to turn a light shade of red.
Leaning in, he stroked the side of her face, his hand rubbing across her soft, delicate cheek. It panged his heart to see her unperturbed by his gesture.
She was really dead.
Trying to put on a smile, Darian began to remember the moments he shared with her. Whether it was a fight they had, their engagement and marriage party, or the time they knew she was pregnant—she was always with him. Always have a firm grasp on his hand.
Her smile lit up the room, and it especially lit up his gloomy, unappealing face.
Choking on his words, he began to speak softly. "I'll raise him right, my love. The way you always wanted, the way you always had dreamed of." Tears continued to fall and stain the white bedsheets, but that didn't stop Darian from continuing. "I just know he's going to be the spitting image of you. If he looked like me, he would have so much trouble finding a gorgeous wife, haha."
Darian always had a problem with putting himself down. He had always thought of himself to be inferior in most aspects and suffered from really low self-esteem.
. . .
Trila, Theales. Year 2561 (40 years ago).
Darian Vaughan was born inside a bathtub in a ragged house on the outskirts of Trila.
A man barged into the bathroom, where a woman was panting heavily and half submerged in water. They were his mother and his father.
The man, who had no hair, dark red eyes, and a burly physique, slammed his fist on the sink counter, causing the impact to reverberate across the bathroom. His devilish gaze locked on to the woman and the crying baby.
"You fiend! You always have to make a fight! I just gave birth to your devil child. Give me a break!" The lady screamed at the enraged man.
In the background, Darian, who had just been born, was wailing. The man stomped his feet and walked towards the bathtub. "Make the baby shut its mouth before I do." His threats were calm but deadly.
The woman's face was red as she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Get out!" He did eventually comply, but of course, he didn't leave without making his mark.
. . .
Trila, Theales. Year 2576 (25 years ago).
Now 15 years old, Darian was used to the state of mind his mother was constantly in. The walls of their home were moldy, the floor creaked and caved, and the water was contaminated.
Darian was in his room, quietly counting his fingers. The boredom was so severe at his home that counting fingers was the best form of entertainment. On the back of his head, there was a red mark. It read, "Loser!" Scratching it, he felt his eyelids droop.
It wasn't until the door was slammed open that he twitched fully awake. "Y-You rat! You useless, no good, waste of money rat!" His mother wobbled across the floor of his room. Darian did not reply; he only nodded his head. He noticed that it was the most effective method to get her to leave.
Contrary to his beliefs, she did not leave this time. Instead, she pulled out a paper from her back pocket and flashed a wicked grin. "Mama has a new job. Far, far away from you." It was simple what she meant: today was the last day she would ever see her son.
Darian's eyes were lifeless as he nodded.
"Alright."
. . .
Trila, Theales. Year 2576 (25 years ago).
"How may I help you?" A lady at a receptionist's desk looked up from her stack of papers to lock eyes with Darian.
Her brows furrowed. "How old are you?" She questioned, interrupting him before he could speak. "15 years old," Darian responded quietly. The lady, who wore her brown hair in a bun and was clearly out of shape, sighed. "Boy, this is an orphanage. Are you sure you're in the right place?"
"Yes." Replying calmly, Darian tried not to break out of character. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. He often noticed how classmates and kids alike had parents who were excited to see them. Do my parents hate me? He would wonder. Sometimes, he even apologized to his mother, thinking that the reason she was angry all this time was because of him. The reaction he got back was ugly and disheartening, so he gave up on that strategy.
The lady's expression softened, realizing he was lying. She frantically gathered papers that were scattered around her u-shaped desk and replied. "Alright. Give me one moment, and we'll get a room set up for you. I am so sorry." Darian rubbed the back of his head and exhaled.
"Alright."
. . .
Trila, Theales, Year 2579 (22 years ago)
"Alright, Mr. Darian Vaughan." Two men walked into Darian's orphanage room with still expressions. The one on the left, who had a bald spot and wore crooked glasses, began. "Now that you are 18 years old, you cannot stay at this orphanage anymore." The other man, who had a soft grey beard and a mustache, fiercely seized Darian's little belongings and threw them out of the door. "Out," he ordered, to which Darian followed immediately.
On the streets, Darian found a spot where he could beg for money in peace. In the other spots, he would often get harassed or hurt. He knelt and counted his money, 33 Qunats... Not even enough to buy some water.
In Theales, the currencies used are the Dinar and the Qunat. For every one dinar, it is equal to 100 Qunats.
He felt tears begin to swell in his eyes, and while sobbing and wiping the fluid sliding down his face, he cried out. "I hate myself." It was not uncommon for Darian to loathe himself. Every time his mother had a temper tantrum, he would bang his head against the rotting bed frame and curse himself. He had always thought he was the root cause of his mother's anger, and hated himself for it.
"Um, excuse me." A delightful voice echoed in his ear. All he could see was her gorgeous black hair that cascaded past perfect shoulders. His eyes were blinded by the insurmountable beauty she radiated.
Her delicate hand placed a small 5 Dinar bill in his ragged, soiled palm.
"This is some extra money I had..." She bent down slightly and met him face-to-face. Her mesmerizing, ethereal eyes locked onto his. "T-Thank you." Darian couldn't help but break out into a warm, innocent smile.
Just as he did, the girl's expression froze as her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. Darian's eyebrow twitched. What's wrong…? He gazed at her face, which was now beet-red.
While there could be a multitude of reasons as to why she froze at that moment, the real reason was simple:
Love.
. . .
Present day, Trila Municipal Hospital.
He rested his face on her palm and tried to smile. The bedsheets were stained with his non-stop tears. "Why couldn't it be me? I-I wish it were me!"
He couldn't help crying into her hand.
Darian! What did I tell you about putting yourself down? It was her — he could hear her in his mind. She was holding baby Emory in her hands and looked at Darian in disappointment.
He couldn't help but cry harder. Elara's expression softened as she sat beside him. She placed Emory in Darian's lap.
You're going to be such a good father, I know it. Don't worry, I'll be here. Whenever you need me, I'll always be looking at you. Just don't forget about me, okay?
"O-Okay..." He replied to the woman in his mind with a somber tone.
"Mr. Vaughan."
A nurse's cold tone woke Darian up. He quickly tried to rub his eyes and hide the tears.
"Y-yes?" She was holding a cooing child; it was Emory.
"Here is your child. You will be able to take him home today. Please have everything prepared before exiting the hospital. We shall take care of the woman's body. Please select a date for the funeral on the way out."
"O-okay..."
He took Emory into his arms, his face surprised at the fact babies weighed almost nothing. He felt something grab his finger. Looking down, he saw the baby's expression. The baby stared at Darian with a strangely still expression — as if analyzing his face.
"Emory..."
Doing everything possible not to cry at that moment, Darian grabbed everything he needed and exited the hospital that day.
Elara's funeral was going to be in two weeks.