Brothel Manager : Unexpected Encounter with A Hidden Family Heirloom-Chapter 520: Every Story Needs an Ending!

Fifty years passed like leaves falling from a summer tree. The world had changed in ways no one could have predicted.

Under the unanimous rule of one organisation, Technology flourished, nations rose and fell, humanity reached the next state of pleasant life and yet, amidst all the transformations, one thing remained constant—the unchallenged rule of the Red Sword Sovereign.

Fifty years of time changed many things in the world. Many already forgot the war of hidden families and nuclear weapons.

The women who got married to Das also changed.

And Das.

Das stood unchanged, an eternal enigma wrapped in youth. His face, unmarred by the touch of time, remained as fresh as a young man in his prime, defying the relentless march of years. From head to toe and from skin to organs, he remained young like a teenager with dashing looks.

Yet, the world around him did not share his curse—or blessing.

His women aged. Their once vibrant bodies weakened, their once unbreakable spirits mellowed. They still loved him, and he loved them in return, but an undeniable truth loomed over him like an unshakable shadow—time had stolen them from him, one by one.

At first, he thought it was just an anomaly, a phase. He refused to believe he was alone in this immortality. He convinced himself that Thea, his fated one, would return to him. That was the reason, he told himself, why he kept marrying women who reminded him of something… someone. He was searching for something lost, something broken inside him. But no matter how many warm smiles or loving eyes he saw, none could fill the void Thea had left.

He lived a casual life where he enjoyed street foods, had friends like General Harries who was at the age of death. Almost many friends of Das were old and people gave strange looks when Das spoke with old people casually like friends.

But time became more cruel to the people around Das.

The first wound cut of time happened deeper than he ever expected.

Lily died.

He held her frail body in his arms, her once golden hair now streaked with silver, her once lively eyes dimmed with age. Even as her last breath trembled in the air between them, she looked at him with love, whispering, "I have no regrets… Das."

And then, she was gone.

Das buried her himself, hands trembling as he placed the last handful of dirt over her grave. He refused to shed a tear, yet his heart bled inside, unseen and unheard.

Years passed. One by one, the women he cherished succumbed to the natural cycle of life. Amelia, Sophia, Geetha, Latha… Some left with a smile, some with regret, some holding his hand until the very end, as if even in death, they refused to let go.

Das with a stone heart, personally buried them and did the rituals as per tradition. But everytime, he didn’t shed a single tear.

Then, the final blow came.

Eden—the sister of Thea, the last leaf to the past he longed for—breathed her last in his arms. She was the last one to go, the last whisper of a history that now felt more like a fading dream.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

As he laid her to rest, silence filled the air. There were no more goodbyes left to say. There were no more hands to hold.

Das stood at her grave for hours, motionless, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of sorrow. The wind howled around him, as if mourning the end of an era.

Then, he turned away.

Inside the grand hall at the topmost floor of his palace, he closed the doors behind him. The grand chamber, filled with relics of the past, bore witness to his loneliness. He walked toward the center of the room, where a simple swinging chair sat by the vast window that overlooked the world he ruled.

He sat down, the chair creaking under his weight. And then, there was nothing but silence.

For hours.

For days.

He thought.

And thought.

Memories washed over him like relentless waves, dragging him back into the past. He remembered Thea’s laughter, Lily’s fiery temper, Eden’s soft whispers. He remembered every kiss, every embrace, every promise whispered in the dead of night.

"Why…?" he murmured, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Why am I the only one left?"

Now he understood the cruelty of life without death and old age. Every story needs an ending… The river water should merge with the sea… the old leaves must fall… if these things didn’t happen, life would become meaningless.

He had tried everything. He had searched the world for answers, fought big wars single handedly, yet none could explain the mystery of his unchanging youth. The presence of weapon spirits might be a reason? Was it a gift? A curse? Or was it punishment?

He reached into his robes, pulling out a small pendant—one of Thea’s keepsakes, the only thing that had remained untarnished by time, just like him. He rubbed his thumb over its smooth surface, feeling the warmth of a memory he could never let go.

A knock on the door shattered the silence after 3 months.

"My Lord…" It was his steward, the one eyed man who fought alongside him during the war of hidden families, an old man now, the last of the once-mighty warriors who had served him. "Your people await your decree. The world still needs its Sovereign."

Das closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Did it?

For fifty years, he had given the world his protection. He had seen civilizations rise and fall, had witnessed countless faces come and go. But in all those years, he had never felt more alone than he did now.

The door remained shut.

"Leave me," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

A long silence, then footsteps fading away.

Das looked out at the vast world beyond his window. The sun had long set, and the stars gleamed against the midnight sky. They, too, were unchanged, eternal in their glow.

He let out a small, hollow chuckle. "Perhaps I shouldn’t have desired these weapon spirits!"

He leaned back on the chair, letting it sway gently with the wind. His hands clutched the pendant tightly as he closed his eyes.

And for the first time in fifty years, Das allowed himself to let go. A small tear drop slipped from the corner of his eyes.

His emotions stirred… Truly, deeply, endlessly.