Transmigrated to a Dark Fantasy World of SSS-Rank: King of the Void-Chapter 41: A Place to Belong

For a second, his gaze met that old man’s, but he immediately looked down, overwhelmed by a horrible urge to vomit. He clenched his fist tightly, trying to swallow that stupid need to be pathetic.

"Mitsuki Kirishima...?" the old man murmured, surprised. He extended his hand, offering help. "Don’t stay lying on the ground; let me help you."

Mitsuki shook his head, getting up on his own. He held his abdomen in pain and said, "It’s not necessary. I’m fine... I’m just... really tired."

He tried to leave, even though it was the first time in days he had run into Aslan. However, the old man placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"You don’t look well. I’ll take you somewhere you can breathe and calm down. I also have breakfast, so I wouldn’t mind the company of a young soul at such an important part of the morning."

’Damn, that’s right... I completely forgot about you.’ Aslan had simply vanished from his mind as the problems with the girls and the bustle of the city grew bigger. And it wasn’t just that—there were also the memories, the transmigration, and the system.

Not knowing what to do or where to look, he reluctantly accepted.

Later, the two of them stood in front of a two-story house. The gray bricks looked more refined than those of other houses, and the door was more luxurious than what one would normally expect.

With complete confidence, Aslan ran his index and middle fingers over the wooden surface, and thanks to a spell that manifested as a soft golden glow traveling across the door, it opened.

"Go ahead. Fortunately, I cleaned beforehand. It’s a place where guests can feel at ease."

Mitsuki followed without questioning. Then, when the door closed behind him, he took in the interior of the house. The ceiling was high and dark, adorned with crystal chandeliers and luminescent stones the color of gold. There was a central staircase with a red carpet leading to the second-floor rooms, along with side entrances on the first floor to other important areas.

Taking off his coat and leaving it on the rack, Aslan said, "The living room is to the left. Leave your coat on the rack and have a seat on the sofa. You can relax as much as you like. I’ll take care of preparing the drink. Do you like coffee?"

"Coffee?" The word brought him back to reality. It had been days since his body had consumed any caffeine. "Y-yes. I like coffee."

Aslan nodded.

"Then coffee it is," he replied, heading into the next room on the right; it seemed to be the kitchen.

Mitsuki remained silent, standing in front of the exit door. His sickly expression had already returned to normal, but traces of discomfort still lingered on his somber face.

’So many things have happened in such a short time that I can barely think of anything to say.’

Unconsciously, he left his coat hanging and walked toward the place Aslan had indicated. There, he found an unlit fireplace made of red bricks against the wall; two small rustic sofas decorated the empty space alongside a dark oak coffee table. The bluish rug beneath the wooden legs of the furniture gave the living room some personality, along with the clean windows that let in a bit of natural daylight.

At first, he didn’t feel comfortable enough to sit, but after noticing a painting on the wall near the larger sofa, he decided it wasn’t worth staying so stiff.

He sat down and observed the painting in silence: it depicted a young man with brown hair and a young lady with crimson hair, holding hands. The lady was beautiful in her white wedding dress, and the young knight was quite handsome in his formal black suit. Both looked happy in the painting—a moment frozen in time on the canvas.

Suddenly, Aslan appeared carrying a tray. There was bread and two cups of hot coffee.

’That was fast,’ Mitsuki thought. Aslan set the steel tray on the table and handed him a cup of coffee. Mitsuki accepted it with a slight bow. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome. Besides, there’s nothing better than a cup of coffee from the lands of Annameda in the morning. The black tea from there is also excellent, especially with juicy mangoes."

With the elegance of a gentleman, Aslan took a seat with his own cup of tea. Mitsuki, on the other hand, didn’t dare say anything. He simply took a sip of the bitter coffee. What he didn’t expect was for the old man to be so direct about what had happened earlier.

"Let’s get straight to the point, Mitsuki Kirishima. Who were you running from earlier? Judging by the expression on your face back then, you felt deep doubt and fear. Am I wrong?"

"Uh... well..." Mitsuki looked away.

"I have seen the faces of many men on the battlefield to know when one cannot endure the fight. However, you don’t want to say anything, and I can’t blame you. Everyone lives in different worlds—but not true men."

Mitsuki looked at the coffee; his reflection stared back at him from the dark liquid. He saw that feminine face shadowed by heavy dark circles. Then, he remembered the carriage and the horses, and came up with the shameless idea of dodging the topic. With a forced smile, he said, "What have you been doing these past few days, Mr. Aslan? I didn’t see the carriage or the horses... where are they?"

Aslan sighed, disappointed. At this point, it was obvious.

’There are simply things you shouldn’t ask, old man. I have my problems, and you have yours... or at least, that’s what I’d like to say, but...’ Aslan’s gaze was intimidating. When he got serious, it was like looking at a thinner, angrier Santa Claus without the long beard...

"Both the horses and the carriage are in a stable nearby. I visit the horses every afternoon to feed them and chat with them for a while."

’Talking to horses, yeah. I’ve seen him do that a few times.’

Aslan continued.

"A horse is one of the most important parts of a knight. It is a loyal companion that gives its life for you and your cause on the battlefield. Without a doubt, they are perfect for the world of true men."

’I guess he’s about to start a speech. At least I appreciate that he considers me a man despite my unusual appearance. On the other hand, I probably shouldn’t stay too long.’

"As for the world of true men, a man must know when to open his heart so he does not shatter into pieces; we are not made of stone, after all. We will witness horrors, shed tears in silence, and all those wounds will be carved into our stories. We will carry secrets we cannot tell anyone—at least not a stranger."

Tightening his grip on the coffee cup, Mitsuki asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you don’t necessarily have to tell your life story to a stranger, but to someone you trust. A man should not fear speaking about what he feels with someone he fully trusts."

The painting—the young man beside the beautiful bride, the golden rings on their fingers, their joyful smiles...

Aslan smiled faintly, like a teacher giving a lesson to his student.

"Maybe you don’t have someone like that right now." He took a piece of bread from the tray. "But life is the greatest of adventures, one where you can meet all kinds of people if you set your mind to it."

Mitsuki reflected in silence, something that made old Aslan smile calmly.

"Stay as long as you need, clear your mind, and then return to wherever you believe your place in the world is. Rest, boy," he said, standing up from the sofa and heading upstairs.

’A place in the world...’

A place where he could be accepted... The memory of two crazy girls appeared in his mind.

’Why am I thinking about them right now? It doesn’t make sense.’