CHAPTER 373: I MISS HIM

Meanwhile, back in the Nocturne Mansion, Ethan’s room still smelled faintly like him—warm, familiar, the kind of scent that didn’t just sit in the air but had sunk deep into the wood, the bedding, the smallest threads of the blankets.

It was more than a smell; it was a presence, the echo of someone who had lived in this space, breathed in it, filled it with his voice and his quiet.

It lingered even with the windows closed, and even without trying, it pulled them back to every moment he had been here.

Under it all was the low, steady hum of the protective wards. They had always been there—never loud, never demanding attention—but once you noticed them, they were impossible to forget.

A constant thrum, like the slow heartbeat of the room, reminding them that this was still a protected place, a place kept safe for him.

The stillness seemed thicker here than anywhere else in the house. The walls, the air, even the light coming in from the window—all of it seemed to wrap around them like a blanket, holding the quiet in place.

Lilith lay sprawled across Ethan’s bed, her long frame stretching out as if she wanted to sink into it completely.

Her head was buried in his pillow, her face turned just enough that she could breathe in the scent with every slow inhale.

She didn’t move much—only the occasional slight shift of her shoulders or tilt of her head, as if trying to find just the right angle that would let her sink deeper into the comfort it brought.

Her silver white hair lay across the covers in loose waves, catching threads of light in a way that made them shimmer faintly whenever she shifted.

Close by, the other two sisters sat in their own quiet ways. One had claimed a spot on the floor near the side of the bed, sitting cross-legged with her elbow propped on the mattress, her chin resting against her hand.

She stared off at nothing in particular, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. The other sat on the opposite side, leaning her shoulder and back against the bed frame, knees pulled up, arms looped loosely around them.

Neither of them was touching Lilith, but there was something in their postures—mirrored in different ways—that spoke of the same emotion.

That low, restless ache that came when you missed someone so much you didn’t know where to put the feeling.

"I miss him already," the one on the floor said quietly, the words almost blending into the soft hum of the wards.

Her voice didn’t tremble, but it carried that kind of weight you only hear when the feeling has been sitting in someone for a long time.

Her fingers brushed absently over the blanket’s stitched patterns, tracing the shapes without really looking at them.

"We should just... ask the dean if we can make a small teleportation formation. Just enough for him to come and go when he wants.

It doesn’t have to be anything complicated. Just a way for him to step through when he can."

The sister leaning against the bed frame looked up almost instantly, her head turning toward her sister with a flicker of light in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

"That could work," she said quickly, her voice carrying that small burst of almost dangerous hope because of how good it feels.

"We could finish it in a day if we focused. It’s not like it would cause trouble. And it’s not like he’d have to use it all the time—just knowing it’s there would make things easier."

At the foot of the bed, Seraphina, who had been quiet until now, let out a slow breath. She sat with her back pressed against the frame, knees bent loosely in front of her.

She glanced at each of them in turn before speaking. "I want to see him too," she said softly, and her voice didn’t have its usual edge for a heartbeat—it was warmer, more open, the way it got sometimes when she forgot to guard it.

"But right now, he’s in a place where he needs to stay focused. If we keep pulling him back here, even for short visits, we’ll break his rhythm.

This time at the university is meant for him to push himself. If we keep stepping in, he won’t get everything out of it that he needs."

Both sisters turned toward her with identical pouts, the kind of expression that was equal parts stubborn and wounded.

They didn’t speak right away, but the look in their eyes said enough: they didn’t like her answer.

"It wouldn’t be all the time," the first one said after a moment, her voice carrying a small bite of protest. "Just here and there. We wouldn’t be dragging him back constantly."

"Exactly," the second sister chimed in, quick to back her up. "Even an hour every now and then. That’s not enough to ruin anything."

Lilith finally stirred, lifting her head from the pillow, though she didn’t bother to sit up fully.

Her cheek stayed pressed against the fabric, her voice calm and steady. "She’s right about that, you know," she said, tilting her gaze toward Seraphina first before letting it drift to the other two.

There was no sharpness in her tone, but it carried the kind of quiet certainty that made it hard to argue with her.

"He needs the space to grow, and now is the right time for him to advance through realms as quickly as possible without any problems."

The disappointment on their faces deepened, their shoulders sinking slightly. It wasn’t anger—they weren’t upset with Lilith or even with Seraphina—it was that slow ache of wanting something so much and being told they couldn’t have it.

Lilith let the quiet hang for a moment before adding, "That doesn’t mean I didn’t ask."

Both of them blinked at her, suspicion flashing in their eyes.

"I spoke with the dean," Lilith continued, her lips pulling into the faintest suggestion of a smile.

"She said it wouldn’t be a problem if we built one." She let the words sit there just long enough for both of them to brighten, their expressions shifting toward something almost relieved—then finished with, "But it has to wait until we deal with the god."

It was almost physical, the way the mood in the room dropped. That flicker of hope they’d just let themselves feel was pulled out from under them in an instant.

"So... after," the one leaning against the bed frame said quietly, her voice softer now.

"After," Lilith confirmed with a simple nod.

They didn’t speak again right away. The hum of the wards filled the space between them, steady and constant, like the sound of time passing in slow motion.

Wood creaked faintly under the weight of someone shifting against it. Outside the window, the light had shifted just slightly, the angle of the shadows in the room stretching longer.

The sister on the floor toyed with a loose thread near the corner of the blanket, her touch careful, almost absentminded.

"It already feels like forever," she murmured, barely loud enough to hear.

Seraphina’s gaze softened, though she didn’t move from where she sat. "It won’t be forever," she said, her tone quiet but sure.

"Just long enough for him to do what he needs to do. The less we distract him, the sooner he’ll be back."

The sister nodded slowly, though there wasn’t much conviction in it. "I know," she said, and though she meant it, the words didn’t carry much strength.

Lilith’s eyes opened again, fixing gently on her. "The hardest part is waiting," she said. "But we’ve done harder things before. This is just... different. And we can handle different."

The words didn’t erase the ache, but they settled something in the air—a reminder that there was an end to all this, even if it felt far away.

The room stayed warm, the afternoon light softening as it filtered through the glass. Now and then, one of them spoke—little things, memories that slipped out without planning.

The way Ethan had looked at them a certain way once, a small joke he’d made that stuck, the sound of his voice when he was tired but still trying to reassure them.

The moments were brief, but they carried enough to keep the silence from turning heavy.

Through it all, the wards kept their low, unchanging hum, like they too were waiting for him. The space felt like it was holding its breath, preserving everything just as he left it. And they would keep it that way until he returned.

No matter how much it hurt now, they would wait.

Patience wasn’t easy—especially when every day seemed longer than the one before—but it was the only way to make sure that when he did come back, it would be for the right reasons.

Not because they couldn’t bear to be apart a little longer, but because he was ready.

And for now, that had to be enough.