Chapter 400: _It Isn’t All You Are

Morozov Private Manor

Viktor stood right outside the manor, staring at the night sky with empty eyes. He held his phone to one ear, on a call with the only man who could effortlessly calm his chaos.

"Either you guys had the quickest dinner ever, or something’s up," Ambrose said knowingly from the other end. "And something tells me it’s the latter..."

The cool night breeze blew strands of the S-Rank’s snow-white hair against his face.

A smirk ghosted his lips despite himself. "One of the many reasons why I can’t help but love you, little bird."

"There you go again with that cringey ass nickname."

"Oh, it’s going to stick for a long time. So better get used to it."

For a moment, he thought maybe he shouldn’t pull the Guide into his family’s mess. Just listening to his voice made the storm of emotions that conversation with his uncle stirred to settle.

Yet underneath it all... there still lay the irritation.

And something else he couldn’t name.

"You’re right though," He mumbled, glancing back at the manor. "Dinner was going well at first. I blurted that I’m gay for the first time around my extended family. Also mentioned that I’ve got such an amazing boyfriend."

Ambrose giggled under his breath. "Vik, don’t start."

"No, I’m serious," his brows knitted. "Okay, maybe I didn’t exactly call you ’amazing’. But they better know it." An almost unbearable pause followed. "Well, that’s until my mother’s brother decided to preach to me about bloodlines and how I’ve got ’responsibilities’ or whatever."

He snorted, cursing in Russian.

At the other end, Ambrose stayed silent.

"As if I’ve not heard this same shit about responsibilities since my father died," Viktor went on. "All my life it’s all I’ve been told. ’I’m the great Irina Morozov’s only heir. ’I should be ready to take life seriously’... And all that bullshit."

"Vik—"

"I don’t know why I’m even triggered." He blew raspberries. "They’ve got no control over my life. None of them. So why the fuck am I triggered, Rose? W-Why did I let him get into my head like that?"

Unbeknownst to the Ice Prince, standing on one of the balconies in the manor, watching and listening, was none other than his mother.

Irina had left the dining room shortly after him, deciding to give her family space before she said something rash.

She didn’t expect to meet her baby boy out here, having one of the worst outbursts she’s ever witnessed.

Her fingers tightened on the railing, the wind picking up her lush hair.

"Babe," Ambrose finally got the chance to speak. "Listen, I wasn’t there. And I didn’t hear what this uncle of yours had to say..." His voice softened. "... But it sounds to me like this isn’t just about what he said. I might not have known you long, but I know you well enough to know you’ve built this perfect mask around yourself."

"You’re confident. Teasing. Adventurous. Have a snarky tongue that outmatches mine most times."

Viktor caught himself smiling too hard at that last part.

"You act like you’ve got everything figured out, but the second something gets under your skin, you bottle it up until it explodes all at once. Then you stand there wondering why you’re angry in the first place."

Viktor let out an amused scoff. "I don’t sound that bad."

"You sound exactly that bad."

Another cool breeze drifted through the gardens surrounding the manor, carrying with it the scent of freshly watered flowers.

Viktor leaned his forearms against the stone railing lining the front steps, his gaze following the fountain illuminated beneath the estate’s outdoor lights.

"I hate how accurate you are."

"I know."

For several seconds neither of them spoke. There was no awkwardness in the silence. If anything, it felt comfortable.

Familiar.

Eventually Viktor sighed.

"I think..." He paused, carefully choosing his next sentence. "I think hearing him say all that just reminded me of when I was younger."

Ambrose remained silent, allowing him to continue at his own pace.

"After my father died, everything changed almost overnight. Every conversation somehow came back to the same topic." Viktor laughed bitterly. "’You’re the only heir now.’ ’You have to be responsible.’ ’Your mother needs someone she can rely on.’ It never stopped."

His fingers curled around the edge of the stone railing.

"I don’t even blame my mother for most of it. She was grieving too. But after hearing those same words for years..." He exhaled slowly. "Tonight I suddenly felt like I was sixteen again."

Ambrose’s heart tightened.

"Vik," he said gently, "being Irina Morozov’s heir might be part of who you are, but it isn’t all you are."

The ice Esper lowered his eyes.

"You’re one of the strongest Hunters on the planet. You’re an incredible teacher. You’re obnoxiously rich."

That earned a reluctant chuckle.

"You’re also one of the men I fell in love with. None of those things disappears because your uncle thinks your entire purpose is continuing a family bloodline."

Viktor’s smile slowly faded into something softer. "What if he’s right?"

"He isn’t." The answer came so naturally that Viktor barely had time to process it.

"If one day we decide we want children," Ambrose continued, "it’ll be because we want them. Not because somebody somewhere decided our genes are too valuable to waste. That’s our decision, babe. Nobody else’s."

Viktor closed his eyes.

The knot in his chest that had refused to loosen ever since dinner finally eased, if only by a little.

"You always know what to say."

"No," Ambrose laughed quietly. "I just know you."

Another silence settled between them before Ambrose deliberately steered the conversation somewhere lighter.

"So... are you escaping through one of my portals tonight, or are you staying there?"

Viktor glanced back toward the brightly lit manor. "If I disappear now, my mother will probably freeze me into an ice sculpture."

"Fair point."

"I’ll stay the night." A small smile returned to his face. "Besides, the twins would never forgive me if I left before breakfast."

"There he is," Ambrose teased. "That’s the Viktor I know."

High above the entrance, Irina quietly stepped away from the balcony before he noticed her.

She had come outside believing she would need to defend her son.

Instead, she’d listened to someone else do it with nothing more than patience, honesty and love.

Her gaze drifted toward the doorway behind her, where laughter from the rest of the family in the dining room filtered past.

For years she’d poured everything she had into making sure Viktor would one day be capable of carrying the Morozov name.

Standing alone beneath the night sky, a question surfaced that she wasn’t certain she’d ever asked herself before.

In trying so hard to prepare him to inherit their family’s legacy... had she ever stopped to ask whether it was a burden he’d wanted to carry in the first place?