Helios stared out of the window.
As the landscape passed by, an icy silence filled the rental car. Since their last conversation, not a single word had been spoken. Dante was practically clinging to the steering wheel, as if he was forcing himself to focus entirely on the road just to avoid having to look at Helios. The tension was etched into every line of his face, yet at the same time there was an unshakable determination in his silence. At least when it came to ignoring him. If Dante's stated goal was to banish Helios completely from his thoughts, then he was succeeding brilliantly.
Which wasn't a bad thing. Helios was relieved not to have to say anything else. That conversation — or whatever one might call it — had not been easy for him. Even if it had been liberating to talk, for the first time, about what drove him.
But he hadn't dared to reveal everything.
He kept his deepest and darkest secrets to himself, and it was very likely he would never share them with anyone.
Especially not after the way Dante had reacted.
He hadn't expected Dante to dismiss the whole thing with a pat on the back. He wasn't that naïve. But he also hadn't expected such harsh rejection, and somehow…it hurt.
Helios simply wasn't good at making up with someone. Or even at arguing. It was one of the few skills he had never had to improve. Why should he? Normally, all he had to do was snap his fingers, and he got what he wanted.
At least most of the time.
All the better that Helios had decided to behave as he always did. He shut off his feelings and focused, with a sober gaze, on what lay ahead.
The next steps were simple: Visit Penelope's grave. Develop the means for immortality, and one to reverse it. Find Belladonna, tie him up somewhere, and torment him for the rest of his life. Make Dante mortal again and get rid of him. Then he would resume his old life.
There was plenty on the agenda before he could have his peace back. But it was good to have so much to do. It would distract him and help him focus again on the things that lay ahead. He wanted to create something again, and to enjoy the rush of a successful project.
In the meantime, the suburbs began to mix with the fields and forests, the first houses coming into view. Helios straightened up almost imperceptibly as they entered the familiar city — the city where his best friend had once lived.
People streamed along the sidewalks, laughing, chatting, carrying their groceries home or pushing their babies in strollers. Cyclists weaved through the traffic, trams rattled along their tracks. Life pulsed, so naturally, so effortlessly and lightly, as if there were no monsters, no guilt, no revenge.
This was how people in his territory should look: healthy, happy, alive. At least, as long as they knew how to behave.
His father now practically controlled the entire healthcare market of the continent. Thanks to his father's tireless expansion — and Helios' own equally tireless work — the Vale family had achieved a level of prestige that opened doors for them wherever they went. As soon as people recognized his face, every path was cleared for him, as if he were of royal blood.
Sometimes Helios really did feel as if their family were some kind of modern royal dynasty — even though monarchy was long gone. But his father thoroughly enjoyed being revered like a king.
And all of it was thanks to Helios' hard work.
The car came to a stop in front of a private cemetery, reserved exclusively for members of high society. Without a word, Helios reached for the carefully arranged bouquet he had brought for Penelope and got out. Dante unfastened his seatbelt and followed, staying discreetly close to his side. His eyes scanned the grounds carefully, always on alert for possible threats.
With every step, Helios could feel his injured foot throbbing rebelliously against the bandage. Only Dante's improvised splint made it possible for him to walk with any semblance of stability. His painkillers helped only so much. Still, he would never in his life have considered asking Dante for support if he stumbled.
They continued their silent stand-off.
Thankfully.
At the cemetery gate, a uniformed guard demanded their IDs and asked which grave Helios intended to visit. Strict rules, meant to ensure that only the "worthy" could enter this place. Helios, however, doubted anyone would ever seriously turn him away. The name Vale opened doors like no other.
And this time was no different — the guard's eyes went wide the moment he realized who stood before him, and he practically fell over himself to open the gate for Helios.
Most likely, the guard would still report his visit to Penelope's father, but that didn't matter to him. He had no intention of staying long.
All he wanted was to pay his last respects to his best friend.
An employee led them down narrow, perfectly maintained gravel paths. Every step felt heavier, as if he were trudging through mud. The weight of Penelope's death pressed on him like a collapsed house. But he gave nothing away. He couldn't let his guilty conscience catch up with him or distract him.
Dante was right. He had lost everyone he had ever truly trusted. There were so few left whom he could rely on. He would never be able to be truly honest with anyone again, but that wasn't important at this moment.
At last, they stopped in front of a massive gravestone, crafted from white, flawlessly polished marble. Fresh flowers covered almost the entire surface, among them countless forget-me-nots — Penelope's favorite flowers. In the middle of the floral arrangement stood a framed portrait, placed there with great care.
Helios took in every detail.
Penelope's features, graceful and clear, just as he remembered them. Her thick, black hair, falling around her shoulders like a soft veil. Those steely gray eyes, always so deep that it had felt as if they could see straight into his soul.
She had never learned his greatest secret. And yet, she had understood him better than anyone else ever had.
Helios knelt down and carefully placed his bouquet in front of the picture. For a moment, he let the grief wash over him — like a wave, cold and cutting. Then he took a deep breath and straightened up again.
He simply stood there, looking at the photo. He didn't care that Dante was only a few steps away, silently watching him.
"I'm a bit late, Penny. I hope you can forgive me," he finally whispered, his voice unusually gentle. No sooner had he spoken than he had to clear his throat. Ever since Soley, he had barely used words, and his throat still felt dry and raw.
"The journey was… interesting. I saw so much. It wasn't always easy, but I had fun." He faltered, drawing in a sharp breath. "I wish you could have come with us. If only I had told you the truth, the real reason for our trip… maybe then you wouldn't have—"
His voice broke, and he felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes. Quickly, he wiped them away.
"You only became a target because of me. Just because of that stupid disguise. I'm so sorry that you and Leo were caught off guard and that you had to meet such a cruel end…" he continued, his voice trembling. "If you had never accepted me as your friend, you would surely be living a happy life right now."
Helios remained in front of the grave for a while longer, speaking quietly. He told her about Soley — though he left out all the details about Dante, Spider, and the underground complex. Instead, he talked about the sights, about foreign smells and foods, as if he were giving her a vacation report. He kept all the darkness to himself, things she no longer needed to hear — but which unseen listeners might have picked up on. He didn't even mention that they had been in Soley.
He told her how much he missed her, how much he would always love her. That she had been more of a family to him than his own father ever could have been. And that no one would ever be able to take her place in his heart.
Again and again, he apologized. Again and again, he cursed himself for her fate. The words came haltingly, accompanied by silent tears, until he finally felt he had said everything there was to say.
He remained there for a moment longer, staring into Penelope's steely gray eyes, which looked back at him unchanged from the portrait. Part of him wanted to take the picture with him.
Slowly he exhaled and dried his eyes. With one last glance at the portrait, he finally turned around. Dante was watching him but still said nothing. There was understanding in his gaze, and he, too, seemed to be mourning. No surprise — even in the short time he and Penelope had known each other, they had gotten along well.
Helios couldn't bear his gaze any longer, so he walked past Dante and made his way back to the car.
Every step hurt. His lungs still felt as if they were coated in ash. The fire, the smoke, the suffocating darkness — all of it had left wounds that were far from healed. Again and again, he had to fight back the urge to cough, which clung to his throat like a foreign body.
The walk back to the car felt longer than it really was. At least the wet rag he had hastily fashioned out of his shirt had probably saved his life in that inferno. Never again did he want to feel as helpless as in those moments when he had believed the flames would devour him. Even now, nightmares haunted him in which the fire consumed his skin.
If it hadn't been for Dante and Spider, he probably wouldn't have gotten a wink of sleep that night.
No matter how much he had enjoyed the adrenaline of their little mission, in hindsight he regretted ever going there himself. It had only made things more complicated. Besides, he simply wasn't cut out for that kind of thing.
Sure, it had been interesting to break in himself and see everything with his own eyes. But next time, he would just hire the assassins if he needed anything again.
After all, Spider would do anything for him, as long as he was paid.
Speaking of Spider, he hoped the assassin would keep his promise regarding the doctor. Knowing him, he had probably set everything in motion shortly after returning. Spider was one of the few people Helios could always count on to get the job done.
As quietly as they had arrived, they got back into the car. Dante started the engine, and without looking back, they began the drive home.
At least he had been able to say goodbye to Penelope. No matter what lay ahead or what might happen, it gave him the feeling of having regained a bit more control over his life.
Even though he felt empty inside, it was far too soon to rest.
After all, he still had plenty to do.
___
"Just put the stuff down over there and lock the door," Helios said as he drew the curtains shut, plunging the room into complete darkness. He had only lit a single candle, which barely illuminated the space.
If Helios's command irritated Dante, he didn't show it.
Helios shrugged off his shirt and grabbed a thick, oversized sweater from the closet — an old piece of Davis's clothing that he had claimed after his death. The fabric no longer smelled of his beloved, but he still hoped the sweater would bring him a bit of its familiar warmth. It hung almost down past his butt, but he'd rather look ridiculous than freeze it off.
Dante gave him a slightly puzzled look while pulling on a pair of comfortable sweatpants, letting out a hearty yawn.
Helios, in turn, shot him an amused glance but said nothing.
Instead, he picked up the candle and moved toward the bookshelf, pulling out the book on mycology just far enough to trigger something.
"Aren't you tired? We drove straight through from Soley with barely a break," Dante asked, confused. "I didn't think you'd still have the energy to read."
Helios turned toward him, a mocking sparkle in his eyes, while behind his back the shelf slid silently aside. Cold air hit him, like the breath of a tomb, as the hidden passageway revealed itself. He felt the chill brush over the bare parts of his skin, caressing him like dead, icy fingers.
"What the…?" Dante began, staring at Helios as if he were a ghost.
Helios raised an eyebrow calmly. "Believe me, I'd love to sleep. But there are documents I urgently need to review. Are you coming? You were so desperate to learn all of my secrets."
He grabbed a shoulder bag full of substances, trusting that Dante would follow with the rest. Even just that one bag weighed so heavily on his injured foot that he hardly dared to step down the stairs. He stayed close to the wall, descending into the darkness step by careful step.
"Hey, wait!" Dante called quietly.
There was a soft clatter behind him, and a moment later he heard Dante's heavy steps following.
"Are you serious? A damn secret passage?!" Dante asked, astonished. "When I was here back then… oh, never mind."
Helios raised an eyebrow.
"When you were here back then doing what? Were you snooping around?" Helios asked, unimpressed.
He had assumed Dante must have done some investigating on his own. He'd had more than enough opportunities, after all. But apparently he hadn't stumbled across his secret laboratory. At least that confirmed no one else had ever found it either, and Dante was the first outsider he had ever let in on the secret.
"Maybe I did a bit of digging," Dante evaded. Helios could hear the hesitation in his voice.
"When did you do that? You were always at my side, except when I was alone with Davis," Helios wondered aloud as he continued to descend carefully. That damn staircase felt longer than ever. "When I was sleeping? When I took the sleeping pills? Oh! Did you do it when I was laid up with the gunshot wound? That would have been the perfect time — I hardly noticed anything back then."
Dante stayed silent for a moment.
"Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you're too smart for your own good?" he finally grumbled quietly.
Caught you. Helios smirked. "That I'm smart, yes. But that it was a bad thing? Never."
At last, he reached the final step. Completely exhausted, he leaned briefly against the cold stone wall, his chest heaving violently. Every breath burned, and his dry cough returned mercilessly. He shuddered at the thought of having to climb all those stairs again later. Going down was always easier, yet he was breathing as hard as if he'd run a marathon. He coughed softly, trying to catch his breath.
Damn cough.
Helios coughed into the crook of his arm, fighting desperately to suppress the urge until he finally managed it.
But he refused to show any more weakness in front of Dante.
With clenched teeth, he shoved open the heavy door leading into his laboratory. Inside, he lit several candles one after another until the room was bathed in a warm glow. Glass jars sparkled, notes were stacked high on tables, metal devices gleamed in the light of the flames.
"Close the door behind you so it'll stay a bit warmer," Helios said. He walked over to his small desk and set down the bag he had carried himself.
Dante looked around and let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "Why am I not surprised that you've got a secret lab hidden under your bedroom?"
Helios turned toward him and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe because you're not stupid, and deep down you already suspected it?"
"Maybe, but there was never the slightest hint you were actually hiding something," Dante said quietly.
"It wouldn't be a secret if everyone knew about it. And by the way, you're the first person besides me to ever set foot in these sacred halls."
He turned back to his papers as his pulse slowly began to calm.
He set down all the substances he had brought and began sorting them — by type and version. Internally, he hoped the paperwork at least matched the numbers on the bottles. Afterward, he packed everything neatly into boxes and placed them on the sideboard next to him. Normally, that was where his distillation apparatus stood, but after extracting the last toxins, he had decided to completely clean the setup. Unfortunately, he hadn't had time to reassemble it yet.
With Dante sleeping in his room for weeks, he hadn't been down in his lab in a long while. Displeased, he wiped a bit of dust from the sideboard. Annoyed, he grabbed a cloth and wiped the damn dust away. He hated it when his workspace was dirty; he simply couldn't work properly like that. So he decided at least to clean the surfaces before getting started.
It pained him that he hadn't been able to take better care of this little lab where he had already spent so many hours.
Dante stared at him in complete astonishment. "Seriously? I'm the first?"
Helios looked at him seriously. "You are. And I would really appreciate it if all of this stayed between us. Father must not find out about it under any circumstances."
Dante let out a disbelieving snort. "Damn, Helios…"
Helios only raised an eyebrow. "What? You always complained that I never trusted you with anything. Consider this a small down payment on my trust."
Dante ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head, a quiet laugh in his voice.
"You don't have to worry. After all, you've been keeping my secret for a while now," he said. "But why do you even need a secret lab?"
"To study things no one else should know about. It's not like I could research everything in my official lab. There are eyes and ears everywhere watching me, and it would damage my image if this ever came out."
"Why can't your father know about it? I mean, I know you're not exactly fond of him, but—"
"That," Helios interrupted him coldly, "is a topic for another sleepless night. If I start on that now, I'll never get any work done."
He had absolutely no desire to talk about his father right now.
Dante sighed. "As you wish."
Helios shrugged almost apologetically. "It would just take an awfully long time to explain it all properly."
"Hm," Dante only replied, crossing his arms as he continued to look around.
While Helios brought some order to the materials, Dante studied the shelves where Helios stored his beautiful poisons.
"What kinds of things have you researched down here?" Dante asked, reaching out toward a bottle containing a thick, dark liquid.
"You shouldn't touch anything. Any of it could kill you — and even if you're immortal, it would hurt a lot," Helios warned, as he laid the first documents on his desk and began reading through them.
He started with the formulas, sorting the documents according to their corresponding substances. It quickly became clear that figuring out exactly what had been changed over the past few years would not be easy.
And then there was that one bottle with a code he had no matching documents for, as well as Ambrosia itself. Both substances were probably the greatest mysteries he had ever encountered.
"Is this all poison?" Dante asked, his voice tinged with awe.
"Yes."
"Why do you have so much poison down here?"
"It's a hobby. Nothing more. Probably the only thing I truly collect."
"They say rich people have strange hobbies…," Dante muttered. "Although I'm not really surprised you've collected so many poisons. What do they all do?"
Helios raised an eyebrow and shot him an amused look. He tossed him the notebook he'd written himself.
"Here, read through this while I'm busy here. You're distracting me."
Dante barely managed to catch the book, then sat down on a chair in the corner of the room and carefully opened it. His fingers traced gently over the first page, which displayed a detailed botanical illustration of a poisonous plant.
"I didn't know you could draw so well," he murmured, almost in admiration.
"My art is limited to things like that. I can't paint much beyond it," Helios waved off as he took up the next folder. "Maybe anatomy diagrams too, but even that is more schematic, more documentation than art — and I'm fairly good at that, as you know."
It calmed Helios that Dante had apparently decided to speak with him again.
Before long, he was absorbed again in the documents while Dante leafed through his notes. Every now and then, Dante stood up to inspect the poisons more closely, comparing them with the entries until he sighed and sat back down to continue reading.
Within the next hour, Helios had skimmed through and organized all the papers.
He had memorized some key data and had resorted the substances based on the documents, at least in terms of their date of creation. Some of the substances were incredibly old, and he was fairly certain most of them shouldn't be used anymore.
As expected, he hadn't found anything on Ambrosia or the mysterious substance "PL-021," even though he had taken everything of value from the underground complex.
A faint smile played around Helios's lips. He would get to the bottom of it. What would a game be without a bit of thrill?
He glanced at his wristwatch, only to realize with a start that it was already well past midnight. His fingers felt numb, clammy with cold despite the thick sweater.
Dante, on the other hand, had rolled up his sleeves.
Helios surveyed the results of his work from the past four hours. He had brought order to everything and reviewed the formulas. All that remained now were the documents on the test subjects — a far greater pile of paperwork compared to the formulas.
He would estimate it to be five times as much.
So many people who had been granted a single page before disappearing forever.
He would tackle that stack over the coming week. He needed to read through every detail carefully so nothing would slip past him.
He stood up and began extinguishing the candles.
It wouldn't be long now before he finally held the secret behind Dante's immortality in his hands.
___
Dante set him down gently on the bed. Helios simply hadn't managed to make it back up the stairs. He had tried — hadn't wanted to rely on Dante — but in the end his ankle had been too weak to carry him. Or maybe he had just been too slow for Dante.
Luckily for him, Dante had carried him without a word and even helped him get ready for the night. His foot throbbed dully, and his throat still felt raw from the damn smoke.
Dante gave him a look that Helios vaguely interpreted as worried.
"Are you sure you'll be able to pretend nothing happened tomorrow morning?"
Helios sighed. "I'll be able to suppress the coughing somehow. I already have an idea for that," he said, before casting a disgruntled look at his foot. "I still have enough material for a pretty strong painkiller. If you could bandage my foot again like you did at the hotel, I should manage."
"What if he notices?"
Helios shrugged. "I'll think of something. He won't notice — besides, it's more important to him that I get back to work."
"That guy really does care about nothing but money, huh?"
Dante began setting up the camp bed, the springs squeaking a bit as he unfolded it and locked the legs in place.
"Not just money — there are one or two other things he actually cares about."
"Your safety?"
"For example."
Dante sighed. "I still can't believe he's behind Soley."
"That's probably not the only thing he's running in the shadows," Helios replied calmly. "Knowing him, he's got a dozen projects no one is supposed to know about. Anything even remotely illegal, he handles in secret."
Dante swallowed. "Has he ever forced you to do those kinds of things for him?"
"Not directly forced. I do take on assignments that interest me, though."
Dante snorted dismissively. "Why am I not even surprised by that answer?"
Helios didn't bother replying.
He closed his eyes and turned onto his side. So Dante no longer intended to sleep in the same bed with him. That was perfectly fine by Helios. He didn't need to sleep next to Dante.
True, it had helped him sleep better, but it wasn't important.
And if that giant, stubborn brute preferred to squeeze himself onto a camp bed that was far too small for him, then so be it. It wasn't Helios's job to remind him that the bed would have been much more comfortable for Dante.
Besides, he'd have to get used to falling asleep without Dante sooner or later anyway. Once he made Dante mortal again, he'd be gone — and never come back.
Helios clenched his fist.
And he would be alone. He didn't understand why a sudden emptiness was spreading through his chest. Silently, he pulled the blanket up to his chin to fight off that annoying chill which had already crept into his bones back in the cellar.
The camp bed creaked softly, and Helios listened as Dante tried to find a comfortable sleeping position. Eventually things went quiet, and Helios almost believed Dante had fallen asleep.
But then Dante spoke quietly to him. "Sleep well."
Helios tensed his jaw for a moment, painfully aware of the emptiness beside him. How much he would have loved to curl up against Dante and share his warmth.
No, this was better. He had ruined things with Dante thoroughly enough.
"You too," was all Helios managed to say.
It took quite a while before sleep finally claimed him.
He only hoped no ghosts would come to haunt his dreams that night.