Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three consecutive raps echoed from the door of Vern's room, sharp yet trembling, carrying the weight of desperation.
Vern rose, his brow furrowed. The sound hadn't been firm—it was uneven, almost pleading. When he opened the door, Edward stood there, shoulders slumped, his chest rising and falling as though he had run all the way.
His hair was a tangled mess, sticking to his damp forehead, and faint tracks of tears stained his cheeks. His lips quivered as he tried to speak, but only a hoarse breath escaped him.
"Edward…?" Vern's tone was low, wary, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his disheveled companion.
Edward's hands twitched at his sides before clenching into fists. His gaze flickered between the floor and Vern's face, as though he were ashamed even to be standing there.
"Don't ask me anything," Edward spat out hoarsely as he brushed past Vern, not even waiting for permission to enter. His steps were unsteady, heavy, as if each one carried a burden he couldn't set down.
Vern arched a brow but didn't argue. Hm? Now what happened to that idiot… he thought, irritation mixing with curiosity. Still, he obeyed the demand and fetched two glasses, setting them down with a faint clink.
Edward had already sunk to the floor, his back slumping against the wall. His hands trembled slightly as he rummaged through his cloak, finally pulling out two bottles wrapped in deep crimson seals. They gleamed in the dim light, the glass flawless, the golden liquid within shimmering faintly as though it held sunlight itself.
Even Vern, the second son of one of the wealthiest houses on the continent, felt his chest tighten. His eyes narrowed at the extravagant sight—these bottles weren't the kind of thing common merchants, or even nobles, could casually touch. The crest engraved on the wax alone screamed rarity.
Edward's expression, however, did not match the luxury of the bottles. His eyes were bloodshot, swollen at the edges from weeping, and his jaw clenched so hard that veins strained against his skin. When his shaking fingers brushed against the glass, it wasn't reverence but desperation—as though the bottles weren't treasures but lifelines.
Vern quietly placed the glasses before him and sat across, arms crossed. His sharp gaze lingered on Edward, reading every twitch of his lip, every uneven breath, but he said nothing.
Edward avoided his eyes. His lips curled into a crooked, humorless smile as he muttered, voice low and ragged, "Let's drink… until nothing matters anymore."
"Hey… by any chance, are they alcohol?" Vern asked cautiously, his brows knitting as he eyed the bottles.
"Yes. I stea—no, I took them from my father's closet," Edward replied matter-of-factly, though the slip of the tongue betrayed him. His eyes flickered for a moment, but his tone remained flat, almost careless.
"What…?" Vern's voice sharpened as he leaned forward, disbelief written all over his face. "You stole them from your father? And we're underage—don't you know that?" His words came out harsher than intended, more from shock than anger, but he found it difficult to form a proper response.
Edward lifted the bottle and tilted it lazily, watching the liquid swirl inside with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "So what? Don't you want to drink?" His bloodshot eyes glinted with a mix of defiance and invitation, like he was daring Vern to refuse.
Vern opened his mouth, then closed it again. His throat tightened, and after a brief pause he cleared it with an awkward cough. "…Well, ahem, it doesn't matter if we're underage—as long as we don't get caught." He forced the words out, trying to mask his unease with a crooked smile, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed him.
Edward let out a short, bitter laugh—not one of joy, but of someone who had already given up on caring. He popped the seal off with a sharp snap, and the rich, intoxicating aroma immediately filled the room, heavy and overwhelming. Vern's nose twitched as he shifted uncomfortably, torn between disapproval and reluctant curiosity.
Vern gulped as he watched Edward pour the drinks into the glasses. In his previous life, he had enjoyed drinking—not the taste itself, but the feeling of intoxication that came with it. Whenever he got the chance, he would drink just to chase that sensation. But since his regression, he hadn't touched alcohol once. Now, for the first time since returning, he was about to drink again.
"To tell you the truth… this isn't my first time." Edward's lips curled into a crooked grin, his voice rough yet strangely steady. "I've already stolen from my father before. But this should be your first… so take it." He confessed, pushing a glass toward Vern, the golden liquid filled to the very brim.
Vern's fingers wrapped around the glass. The cool surface sent a shiver through his hand, and for a moment he stared at the swirling amber inside, its rich aroma rising to sting his nose. With a sharp breath, he lifted it.
"Yes." His voice was low, almost defiant.
Without hesitation, he tilted the glass back and downed it in one gulp. The liquid scorched his throat, fiery and heavy, making him cough as it burned its way down into his chest. His eyes watered, and yet—beneath the sting—a familiar warmth spread through his body. That long-missed haze from his past life stirred faintly within him.
Across from him, Edward raised his own glass and drank deeply. Unlike Vern's rough first gulp, Edward drank with a practiced recklessness, the liquor spilling slightly at the corner of his mouth. He didn't flinch at the burn. Instead, his expression darkened, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as though each swallow was less a drink and more a weapon against himself.
The room grew heavy with silence, broken only by the sound of their glasses hitting the floorboards with a dull clink.
After a few more glasses, the room felt warmer, their faces flushed red as intoxication began to take hold. Vern leaned back against the wall, his head slightly heavy, while Edward sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching his glass as though it were the only thing keeping him steady.
"Hey…" Edward's voice broke the silence, low and uneven. He lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes glistening. "Do you know what happened to me today?"
Vern turned his gaze toward him but said nothing, his blurred thoughts too sluggish to form a response.
Edward let out a shaky breath, his tone somber, almost trembling. "Today… I was humiliated." His grip on the glass tightened until his knuckles whitened. "My dignity… my pride—crushed."
His words came out cracked, and before Vern could even think of replying, Edward's composure snapped. He began speaking in a rush, words spilling uncontrollably as sobs clawed their way out of his chest.
"And part of it… was because of you." Edward's finger shot out, trembling but firm, accusing Vern through blurred eyes. His voice cracked between rage and sorrow.
Vern's brows knitted, his lips parting in surprise. "Because of me? How so?" he asked. His tone was calm, but the words carried weight. Though his face was flushed and his body heavy from the liquor, his mind remained steady, clear as steel beneath the intoxication.
Edward's chest heaved. He tried to steady his breathing but failed, the alcohol loosening his tongue, dragging out the pain he had buried deep. His gaze wavered, sharp yet pitiful, as he stared at Vern like a man cornered.
"You…" Edward's voice cracked as he jabbed his finger at Vern, his words slurred yet sharp. "You couldn't put a hold on your tongue—you blabbered everything in front of Salena like the fool you are!" His face twisted, red not only from drink but from humiliation burning fresh in his memory.
Vern's eyes narrowed. He didn't flinch, didn't look away. "What do you mean? I just spoke the truth," he replied evenly, his voice calm, almost detached, the alcohol failing to cloud his judgment.
Edward's expression contorted, his lips trembling as though each word scraped his throat raw. "No! Don't you get it? I could've made excuses—I could've talked my way out of it—but you…" His voice cracked into a pitiful whine as he slammed his palm against the floor. "You messed everything up!"
His breathing grew ragged, tears welling again as his pride twisted into pain. "Because of you… I had to kneel before her. I had to apologize to Salena like a dog groveling at her feet!"
His shoulders shook violently. He downed another gulp straight from the bottle, the liquid spilling past the corner of his mouth, and let out a strangled laugh that was closer to a sob. "Do you even know what that did to me, Vern? Do you have any idea how it feels… to have all your pride shattered ?"
"No… that won't do." Edward's words slurred as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His chest heaved, and after chugging down the rest of the bottle in one go, he staggered to his feet.
His legs wobbled, but his eyes burned with a wild, drunken fire. "I… I will regain my honor and pride—right this instant!" he declared, swaying as he jabbed a finger toward the door.
Vern looked up at him, his own face flushed but his mind still sharp. He frowned, watching Edward stumble like a man possessed, half-suffocated by shame and half-fueled by liquor.
"Edward…" Vern muttered under his breath, his tone somewhere between annoyance and caution. "…you're going to get yourself killed."
But Edward didn't seem to hear him. His fists were clenched, his teeth bared, and in his drunken state, the humiliation he had suffered burned brighter than reason itself.