Rivers of the Night

Chapter 812: Jun

The messenger was blown back. He had been on the verge of taking a knee when he lost his footing and tumbled.

"Oops, sorry. My bad, my mind was elsewhere," Theron said, walking up to the messenger until he was standing side by side with Ayame.

He took her waist in a hand and waved a palm at the air. The letter of invitation was sucked out of the man’s hand and landed in Theron’s palm.

"Wait! That’s not for—"

"Not for me? How could it not be for me? You came here to invite my wife somewhere and expected not to bring me along as well? That’s mighty bold of you."

Ayame’s lip twitched. She was trying very hard to maintain her usual cold air, but she really couldn’t remember having ever gotten married to this guy. In fact, hadn’t she drawn a clear line just moments before?

But she also couldn’t bring herself to push Theron away. Something about the idea of embarrassing him left her with a sick pit in her stomach. It was as though she subconsciously felt that they had to form a united front against the world.

Then she could deal with him later.

Her jaw set, and she looked away.

But to the outside world, it really did look like something on the verge of a lovable pout—something that was all too intoxicating on the face of a woman as beautiful as she was.

Theron tossed the envelope up and flicked a finger. It burst open, and he saw the message.

He shook his head. "You really are popular. At this point, I’m half convinced you could just charm your way to revenge. Well, lucky for you, you have me. Consider me charmed."

Theron tossed the letter back.

"Tell DiBarr Heir Jung that we will be there." Theron didn’t particularly emphasize the we part, but it sounded like a clap of thunder in the ears of the messenger... followed quickly by the fact Theron got Jun’s name wrong.

The messenger cleared his throat and quickly stood to his feet.

"No. I have only come to invite Miss Ayame. And it is Heir Jun you are referring to, not Jung."

"Ah, right. Jung is dead. True, I almost forgot. Their names are so similar I got them mixed up. Why do you think that is? Did Prince DiBarr fall asleep at the wheel?"

The messenger’s eyes opened wide.

Theron blinked. "So there’s an interesting story about this, is that so?"

"Jun is the elder brother. Jung is the younger. The latter was raised to be superior to the former. It has led to a fork in the relationship between Heir and Prince, so Jun does not spend much time in the capital at all."

"I see, I see. So an inferiority complex by the eldest brother. This is the first time I’ve seen or read such a thing. How fascinating."

The messenger was practically quivering in fear by now.

The three injured lackeys that Jung had taken along with him to Theron’s city holding were also trying their best to distance themselves. But at this point, it felt like there was too little that they could do.

If Jun or the Demon Prince decided to take out their anger on them, they were all finished.

"Alright, into the city we go."

**

The night approached swiftly, and maybe due to design, no one came to bother Theron. As for Ayame, she had gone off elsewhere, but Theron wasn’t too worried.

A woman like that could protect herself, and since she had left, she had a clear goal of her own for the time being.

When the night did roll around, though, there was a knock at Theron’s door. He opened it to find Ayame standing there, her hair done up in a bun that had elegant curls hanging and bouncing from it.

Her hairpin was a silver flower that sparkled with life, which was quite odd. Theron picked it out immediately.

That pin didn’t seem very "Ayame."

But then again, the form-fitting silhouette dress she had worn to Lyra’s wedding hadn’t seemed very her either. Maybe he was just wrong... or maybe she liked to play a character when it suited her too.

Another reason he was drawn to her. She was trying to figure out who she was as well.

"Well, don’t you look beautiful," Theron said with a smile.

Ayame looked down at what Theron was wearing. It didn’t seem special at all, just a robe of black. But when she moved slightly and the moonlight hit him, she could see the swimming indigo and violet embroidery.

They were so dark that they seemed to blend into the black. But when the slightest light hit them, it was like roaring and pouncing lions had manifested into the real world.

It was a craftsmanship so perfect and beautiful that she lost herself in it for a long while.

"... Who made this?" she asked after a long while, gently touching Theron’s lapel.

"Who?" Theron chuckled. "I did."

The threads of the Karmic Needle and Thread were made of probably the best materials in the world. Theron had figured out long ago how to use them to craft clothing for himself.

Though, the only reason he had done it during his journey was because he wanted to improve his dexterity. Making use of the Angel and Demon Doctrines to craft things was unintuitively an easier way to understand the world.

However, this would be the first time he would be wearing such a thing out. The clothing was too eye-catching to those with the right eye for things, and clearly Ayame was one such person.

But on the other hand... unless you were amongst the strongest of Transcendents, tearing Theron’s clothing would probably be entirely impossible.

Since he was going to have such a beauty on his arm today, he should look the part.

His hair danced as he took a step, thin filaments of a deep indigo radiance lining each individual strand.

"Let’s go see what this Jung wants with my wife."

"Jun," Ayame corrected.

"Ah, right. Right."