There's No Love In the Deathzone (BL) novel Chapter 133

Chapter 133: Chapter 129. Paladin’s Tear

"So you’re the owner of Seven Ether?" Zein blinked, wasn’t really sure about the accuracy of his own processing thought.

"Not anymore," Bassena laughed. "But I have the biggest share here."

Seven Ether began as a workshop to satiate Bassena’s mother, Svadiva Vaski’s hobby. Something she owned secretly outside of the Vaskis to keep her sane. She used to bring little Bassena there, telling the boy it was their secret. And the little boy kept that secret even after she died.

But like all structures, it was bound to collapse when the foundation was gone. Despite already making preparation for her own possible departure, the workshop was crumbling. The artisans were splitting away, leaving to pursue their own interests. The only one who stayed was the old man.

"This place is the original workshop," Bassena explained. "Since my mother couldn’t buy lands and buildings with her name, she borrowed the old man’s name. I don’t know if he stays because of that, or because he sympathizes with my mother’s dream, as a fellow Southerner."

Bassena looked at the old picture again, amber eyes dancing with many emotions. Zein wondered if he was feeling resentful for those who left the workshop after his mother’s death. Perhaps he did. But the kind of man Bassena now would also understand why those people would leave. Just like how Trinity might crumble without Radia Mallarc at the helm.

"When I came of age, someone from a trust fund agency approached me secretly, and told me about my mother’s inheritance. One of them was my shares in Seven Ether," Bassena continued.

If it was him before being straightened up in the academy, he would probably hand them over to the Vaskis like a loyal dog. But the sobered-up Bassena brought the matter to Radia. After talking with the old man Isma who was managing the workshop alone with his family at that time, they decided to accept Mortix’s offer to absorb the workshop and developed it into a renowned company like now.

"The old man called the other artisans, and two of them came back," Bassena shrugged. Zein had a feeling he didn’t really like them that much, but there was nostalgic value in the past relationship that hindered him from outrightly expressing it. "The common product was being handled by the others, but the special, customized items would be done by the three original artisans."

"And the old man still using this place even now," Zein commented, to which Bassena responded with a nod. "Then...your mother is an artisan too right?"

It took Bassena a while to digest the way Zein refer to her in present, as if she was still alive--or at least her spirit. And then he remembered one of the things his mother left him in the vault. Two little things she made on her own, for her son--her son’s future.

And Bassena thought; yeah, as long as her creation still existed, she would forever be an artisan.

"Yes, she is," he replied with a smile.

"What did she make?" Zein asked while reaching out for the drink.

But even after he finished drinking half of the content, he couldn’t hear any answer. When he turned his face to look at Bassena, the esper was staring at him with a smile on his face; the soft and genuine smile, with a dash of vulnerability.

"You’ll know someday," the esper said, with a conviction he delivered for himself more rather than for the guide.

Zein was confused, but the solemn look on Bassena’s face made him hesitate to pry. So he just let it be, and stared at the photograph again. It was way clearer than the picture he had of Lucia, but he supposed that was the difference between a picture that was intentionally made to last and the one used for government records.

"You really look like your mother," Zein muttered, to which Bassena replied cheerfully.

"I know right?" the esper laughed. "I was being mocked because of that, but I’m glad that I resemble her so much."

It was a proud tone; the same as how proud he was when the old man said his personality was just like his mother’s earlier. Zein could feel how close they were, how much Bassena loved her. Well, that was easy to see, from the way the Vaskis decided to use her death as a tool to shape Bassena into a killing machine.

The blue eyes that were staring at the picture flickered; the only thing that was similar between us was our eyes, Zein thought. But then, it was also a trait that had been inherited by all of his ancestors, probably. His black hair, his physique, his face...was probably coming from someone else.

"Why?" Bassena broke Zein’s musing suddenly, tugging on the guide’s sleeve. "What’s wrong?" the esper frowned slightly in worry. "Did I do...did I say something wrong?"

Zein blinked then, and shifted his gaze at Bassena. "Why do you think so?"

"You..." the amber eyes looked at Zein keenly, observing. "You have that face you made when you hate something..."

Oh...Zein didn’t realize it. Perhaps because he was thinking about his supposed father, which he still felt icky about. Thinking that he might resemble that person more was rather loathsome.

"It’s not you, don’t worry," Zein patted the esper’s cheek to reassure him. "I was just wondering who am I resembling," Zein muttered an explanation.

Bassena turned to look at the picture that Zein had been staring at earlier. His gaze then shifted to their reflection on the glass partition across from where they sat, before turning toward the guide again.

"Do you wish you look more like your mother?"

Zein chuckled at how precise Bassena was at reading him lately. Or perhaps, Zein just had been letting his defense down in front of the esper. "Maybe," he replied vaguely.

He didn’t know. He didn’t even know if he liked his mother that much. How could he, when he never met her? Perhaps, rather than the irritated feeling toward his supposed father, he was just being jealous of Bassena.

"You look like her when you wear your mask. If you paint your hair, perhaps you’ll look even more similar," Bassena said. It wasn’t just an attempt to be nice, it was the truth. Things like that usually get recognized better by other people.

"I did?"

"But who knows, maybe their genes just meshed up so well that you ended up looking like neither of them," Bassena shrugged. "Like Radia."