Chapter 71 Chapter 71 I'm pretty sure we can find a...
Leopold has been having a hard time lately.
Not every recent graduate experiences a series of ridiculous things like "my roommate suddenly inherits the bloodline and becomes a murderer in seconds" or "the movie villain who wants to conquer the world is actually my father". Compared to these, having to immediately pick yourself up and rebuild the family business after the death of your father is actually quite common.
However, after this absurd life turnaround, it was these seemingly mundane tasks that truly sapped Leopold's energy. During the day, board meetings, speeches and interviews, deal approvals, charitable foundations, and meetings with politicians and businesspeople filled his schedule. The young chairman, Mitchell, was constantly on the go. Last week, he was in Washington, meeting with policy advisors; this week, he was flying to London to review the family trust estate. This global travel had become his work routine, leaving no room for a moment of respite for this young man, newly ascended to the center of power. This was a life he had chosen.
Leopold chose to do so.
He could, of course, not strive for the chairmanship, not lobby for board votes, and instead take on a more relaxed role as a non-executive director, a trustee of a family trust, or simply manage the family's philanthropic endeavors, completely ignoring the business operations. That would be enough for him to live comfortably. The inheritance his father left him in the trust fund was more than a normal middle-class person could spend in several lifetimes, not to mention the steady flow of dividends from his shares...
But he didn't.
And when the busy days faded, the nights were filled with the long-suppressed pain. All that exhaustion, the pressure, the deep longing and love. Leopold fought tooth and nail to be the best he could be, simply to make his father—or at least, his former father—proud.
Even though he had gone so far, even though he once had the ridiculous wish to conquer the world, even though he was proven to be a wicked criminal in the last moments of his life!
Leopold knew this, but what was even more tragic was that he still missed him deeply—missed the father whose memory had faded.
How did things get to this point?
"Winners win, losers lose, that's all," Galahad said. He stumbled upon Leopold retching in the bathroom, but he didn't ask any questions. He simply tilted his head toward the door. "It's either you or them."
"Really?" Leopold washed his face with forced composure and looked up in the mirror. "Which one do you expect?"
Galahad folded his arms and looked at him for a moment. The face of this usually smiling, polite young man was still dripping with water, but strangely, there was still a fire in his eyes; despite his discomfiture, he looked more alive than the mask he wore in social situations.
Leopold didn't know what Galahad was thinking at the time, but he saw the elusive Templar tilt his head, reach into his clothes, and pull out a few pills, handing them to him.
"Functional dyspepsia, sleep disturbances," Galahad counted, "and stress retching. It's up to you whether you want to use these drugs or not."
With every word he spoke, Leopold's face grew darker. The young man looked at him in the mirror, without moving.
"…I knew your father," Galahad said finally. "He was a good man."
Leopold didn't ask which "once upon a time" he was referring to. The overly young chairman finally accepted the pills from Galahad, and as he straightened his appearance and pushed open the door to leave, Galahad made way for him.
And so, Leopold returned to the social scene he was quite familiar with. No one could see what he was going through, and no one cared, perhaps partly because Leopold was acting so smoothly...
Until Elio was invited to his estate.
Leopold cleared the place early and told his staff to take a half-day off with pay. He prepared hot fish and chips, a cheese platter with crackers and grapes, and ice cream pudding. But when Elio entered through the window he had deliberately left open, Leopold could easily see that the assassin's attention was completely undivided.
The assassin's attention was completely focused on him.
"You...uh, you're different," Elio said, looking at him.
"Oh," Leopold was also stunned for a moment, "You mean my hair?"
He had indeed grown his hair a little longer, letting it fall to his shoulders. Half hidden by the golden hair were the glittering diamond earrings, which swayed gently with his movements. But that wasn't the main reason why Elio stared at him in a daze. Perhaps Leopold himself didn't realize it, because changes in a person are often subtle. But Elio, who hadn't seen him for a long time, certainly noticed it immediately.
Compared to his student days, Leopold had become stronger and tougher. Elio should have thought of this earlier. He was now the youngest and most outstanding chairman of Mitchell. It was normal for him to become more mature than before—well, he looked much more mature—Elliot, who always saw his speeches and interviews on TV, should have thought of this.
But he also looked tired. Although he gave Elio a smile, in Leo's moment of surprise, the sharp-eyed assassin noticed that detail.
“It’s not entirely your hair,” Elio said, setting the gift he had brought on the table. “Well, that’s part of it.”
"Long hair is easier to take care of than short hair, believe it or not." Leopold opened the bag and looked. "At least now I don't have to get a trim every week or two. What is this?"
"Although I've already said that, seriously, Leo, you're the only one in our dorm who does that." Elio sat down next to him. "Roselle tea bags, I brought them from Arabia. They taste very fresh."
Leo paused, "Okay, that makes sense."
He reached out and grabbed the unused teapot on the other side of the coffee table. The sweet and sour aroma of the Middle East mingled with the British late-night snack. Elio picked up some chips and mumbled a thank you when Leo handed him the brewed tea.
"Are you still in touch with them?" Leopold asked.
"Who?" Elio reacted for a moment. "Oh, you mean Cas and Jerde? No."
"So, they're working in Manhattan after graduation." Leopold picked up the crème brûlée. "If you don't want them to run into you, be careful there."
Elio swallowed his food and smiled at him. Leopold understood. "You just been to Manhattan?"
"I was there last week, but I didn't see him," Elio scratched his face. "I guess that's a good thing for them."
"They've asked me many times if I can find you," Leopold said. "It seems I'll have to give them the same answer from now on."
Elio nodded, unsurprised, then picked up his teacup, leaned forward as if offering a toast, and winked at his friend. Leopold gave him a helpless smile and clinked his glass with his. Up to this point, everything was still normal. Leopold's heart was filled with a faint sense of nostalgia, regret, and sadness, for his classmates who had parted ways, and for this unfortunate fate.
If nothing unexpected happened, their conversation tonight would be no more than a reunion of old friends. Recent changes, trivial matters, and perhaps some reminiscing about the past; nothing more. At least Leopold wasn't going to ask what Elio had done in Arabia—as if the Templars didn't know—all those stories of assassinations and bloodshed, as well as those real conflicts and disputes, would not be mentioned tonight.
If nothing unexpected happens.
Until Elio finished the cup of tea and made a joke, "Here's to our secret love."
Leopold nearly choked on his tears. He hadn't meant to make such a big noise, but the fact was that he was coughing so hard that Elio, who was sitting next to him, jumped up from the sofa, patted his back with one hand, snatched the teacup from him with the other, and warily sniffed the place where Leopold's lips had just touched.
He seemed to suspect Leopold was poisoned and was about to check on his friend. Leopold finally recovered and quickly waved his hand at Elio, "I just choked."
"You look bad," Elio said, studying him. "That's what I was going to say."
"I'm fine."
Elio's eyes expressed his doubt. Leopold turned his head away, avoiding his direct gaze. "Try the cheese platter, my chef..."
Elio suddenly grabbed his wrist.
"...always proud of it." Leopold paused and finished his words slowly. In his peripheral vision, Elio was looking at him with a frown.
"You say you're fine," Elio said, "but all the evidence I can find tells me otherwise."
Leopold said nothing. He gave Elio a gentle shake of his wrist, and Elio obeyed and let go.
"I can see that, Leo, you know." Elio lowered his voice. "I just wish I could help. Even if it's just to talk to me..."
Leopold finally looked at him, but there was something so cold in that look that it made Elio shut up.
"You can't help me," Leopold told him bluntly. "Even if you could, I wouldn't want you to do it for me. Just like you don't want Cas and Jerde to know about you—about us. You want them to stay out of this, and I feel exactly the same way about this."
Elio just stared at him, his drooping brows making him look like a kicked puppy.
"…Well, if you must know." Leopold couldn't help him. "It's just business. It's my job—it's causing me so much stress, and I can't handle it very well, but I'm trying to deal with it. It's just temporary, okay? I'll deal with this. This will all pass, Elio, I just need more time…"
Perhaps even Leopold didn't realize that his words were a little incoherent, but this was the real Leopold that Elio knew, even though he was obviously mad because of work pressure or something else, until Elio took the initiative to reach out and bury his head in Leopold's shoulder.
"I know, I understand," Elio said softly, "but I'm pretty sure we can find a way to make you relax a little."
Like a hug like this.
Leopold fell silent. He hadn't wanted Elio to see this side of him, but strangely, after his incoherent ramblings and gesticulations, he calmed down. In Elio's warmth, he felt his taut, knotted nerves being gently combed, then relaxed.
Leopold said nothing, but he also reached out and hugged Elio tightly.
"…I missed you so much," he whispered, "I've been thinking about you."
"Me too, bro."
Leopold laughed helplessly. But he felt more relaxed than ever before, even a little sleepy. If there was one last thing weighing on his nerves, one thing that prevented him from falling asleep as he wished, it was—
"Would you like to stay tonight?" Leopold asked. "I don't want to disrupt your plans, but..."
"Of course," Elio said, "I won't leave even if you try to kick me out."
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The author has something to say: Hug me, brother, and tell me what’s in your heart (music)
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