TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 32

A sliver of pale moonlight crept into the room, illuminating that familiar yet deathly pale face. Albin gazed at it, and for a moment, he felt an illusion—perhaps he had never transmigrated into some fantastical world at all. The car accident, magic, gods, monsters… it was all just a dream.

He had merely experienced a bizarre dream and woken up in the middle of the night, just in time to see his brother checking if he had kicked off his blanket.

Just as he thought this, the excruciating pain of the crash, the deafening impact, the screeching of tires—all those memories flashed through his mind.

Ah, so this is the dream.

Only in dreams could he see his brother again.

Albin threw off the covers completely, sitting up to get out of bed and approach the figure.

Moon quickly strode over and, before Albin could step onto the cold, messy floor, bent down and pulled him into an embrace.

Buried in his brother’s arms, Albin suddenly felt a wave of sourness well up in his nose.

“Brother, I’m so glad you came to see me again.” He rubbed against Moon’s arm, tilting his head up to look at his brother’s face, which was sickly pale, yet his violet eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky.

“This is the cosplay you did before…” He examined closely, yet he couldn’t see any signs of makeup. His brother hadn’t even applied any last time, only wearing a pair of violet-colored contacts.

So aside from the eye color and outfit, this was just his brother. His brother was already incredibly good-looking to begin with!

At least this time, he hadn’t dreamt of his brother in their father’s form.

Albin chuckled lightly. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you before, but you look really cool dressed like this!”

Moon was instantly reminded of Albin on the ambulance that day. Back then, it seemed like Albin had so much to say, yet he had no strength left to speak.

That surge of emotions returned, making Moon’s eyelashes tremble slightly as he pressed Albin’s head into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body.

As the god of night and death, he had been powerless to stop his brother’s demise.

“Little brother…” His dry voice whispered.

Moon had yet to fully absorb his soul fragment’s memories. Instead, from the moment he reunited with Albin, he was reliving everything—slowly, bit by bit—feeling the emotions that grew from the depths of his heart.

He once thought his monotonous days were dull and unchanging, choosing instead to sleep through the endless years.

But the days with Albin were never boring.

This was his little brother.

He had watched the infant wrapped in swaddling clothes suck on his tiny fingers, beam up at him with a radiant smile—an indescribably soft emotion taking root in his heart.

He had watched the babbling child offer to share his milk bottle, roll over in his sleep and snuggle against his chest, breathing evenly as he dozed—leaving Moon completely at a loss.

He had watched the crawling baby tug at his pant leg, trying to lead him to play, watched the toddler wobble toward him and throw himself into his arms, calling out, “Brother!”—filling him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

His days were no longer filled with the flattery and scheming of old men, nor with mindless cultivation, nor with sleeping through eternity.

He had a younger brother who was innocent and lively, rich in emotions and full of kindness. Every day, he could see Albin’s brilliant smile, sharing his joy with him.

He had watched his little brother grow up, realizing that time had never felt so fleeting before. The infant he once held had learned to talk, to walk, to run away. He no longer needed feeding, could live independently even in another world.

The two brothers had settled their emotions when Albin suddenly sneezed.

Moon quickly shoved his younger brother, who was only wearing thin sleepwear, back under the covers. There was no heating in this otherworld—nights were frigid, and remnants of frost magic lingered in the air.

Just like when they were children, he pulled the blanket up to cover Albin completely, leaving only a tiny face exposed. Then he smoothed the covers along his body, adjusted the pillow and nightcap, bundling him up snugly.

But Albin still struggled to reach out and grab Moon’s sleeve, shifting over slightly.

“Brother, lie down too.”

So, just like before, Moon took off his outer coat and shoes and lay beside him.

The moment he did, it was as if an ice block had been thrown into the bed—the warmth that had just begun to build dissipated instantly.

Yet Albin didn’t shrink back. Instead, he snuggled closer, trying to warm his brother up, channeling magic to infuse him with warmth—even though he wasn’t sure if transferring magic to someone in a dream would work.

Since this was a dream, of course, he wouldn’t actually sleep.

He wasn’t sure when he’d get to see his brother again, so he began chattering about everything he had encountered—just like in their past life, when he would tell his brother about his day at school.

Under the bed, Padma, who was in the midst of healing his body, was forced to listen to their conversation.

Hearing Albin affectionately call Moon “brother,” Padma suddenly understood—why Albin always addressed him with the formal and cumbersome “Padma-brother.” Because to Albin, the simple title “brother” belonged solely to Moon.

Padma was, undeniably, jealous.

Despite his social finesse among nobles, he had always despised humans. He had never truly grown close to anyone, and due to his long-term entanglement with the human world and being possessed by Latu, he had little opportunity to befriend other creatures. His only true friend was Jade.

He envied Moon for having such a close bond with his sibling, envied that even though they were both “brothers,” Albin was closer to Moon.

But what could he do about it? He was just a pitiful creature, a fragmented, incomplete monster enslaved by the very humans he loathed, manipulated by the gods, consumed by dark thoughts and jealousy. His only redeeming quality was perhaps his uniquely pink fur.

And Moon was far superior—his strength overwhelming, having effortlessly sealed away the trickster god who had toyed with Padma. His true identity was that of the Night God, one of the three Supreme Deities, feared by all. Simple-minded yet always protecting his brother.

A wretched, weak, and powerless monster. A noble, powerful god who shelters his kin.

From every perspective, Moon was superior. It was only natural that Albin cared more for him.

All Padma could do was stew in his own bitter jealousy.

Ha…

He grimaced in pain as his wounds burned.

Unlike Latu and the others who drowned themselves in alcohol to numb their agony, he loathed liquor. Even with his regenerative abilities, the pain he felt was raw and real.

He was enduring the agony when he suddenly heard Albin mention his name.

“Today, Padma-brother taught me how to write. His handwriting is so beautiful, and he knows so much.”

Moon muttered, somewhat unwillingly, “I can write too.”

“But his writing is really amazing! And the food he made last time was delicious. I don’t get why the Count dismissed him. It’s so unfair—everyone really liked him.”

Moon fell silent.

Because he knew just how terrible his cooking was. Without exaggeration, he had blown up several kitchens.

He couldn’t understand why cooking was so difficult. It was as if his exceptional talent in cultivation had come at the cost of utterly disastrous culinary skills.

“Brother Padma seemed to be in a bad mood today. He looked like he was in pain, but I have no idea why, and I couldn’t do anything to help.” Albin’s voice was low. “Brother, how do you make the apple pie from last time in the dream? I really liked it and want to make it for Brother Padma.”

“Since this is a dream anyway, I can conjure up all sorts of things. It’s a good chance for me to practice cooking! I even took food education classes in kindergarten!” He was eager, full of confidence.

In kindergarten, they had learned to make all kinds of food—stir-frying, baking, roasting, they had tried it all, and they could even bring their creations home to share with their families.

Even though most of the ingredients were pre-prepared by the teachers, and all they had to do was assemble and heat them, compared to his kitchen-exploding older brother, Albin still felt his own skills were impressive.

Moon was silent.

How could he possibly know how to make it? He had merely recreated a taste he had experienced before in a dream. And besides, this wasn’t actually a dream.

When had he eaten that apple pie?

He searched his memory and recalled a red-eyed girl smiling as she brought him a plate of apple pie.

“…I don’t know the recipe,” Moon said, puzzled. “Why do you want to make it for him?”

Albin had to think of another way, but he answered as he pondered, “Because I hope it’ll cheer him up! I really like Brother Padma and want him to be happy.”

Under the bed, Padma listened to Albin’s words in a daze, finding it hard to believe.

Even with Moon around, Albin still liked him as an older brother?

Someone like him—was he really someone that could be liked?

Doubt crept into his heart, but at the same time, an inexplicable joy spread within him, like vines growing from cracks in the rock, quickly climbing up and wrapping around his heart.

In his shock, he lost focus for a moment and let out a pained gasp.

Above, Albin immediately froze and asked in confusion, “I think I just heard Brother Padma’s voice.”

He propped himself up, looking past Moon toward the other bed.

Since this was a dream, he hadn’t thought it strange that Padma wasn’t here. But why would he suddenly hear his voice?

Moon said, “Maybe you misheard.”

Albin was doubtful but insisted on getting up to check.

The sound hadn’t seemed right. Even if this was a dream, he wanted to confirm what was going on.

Moon draped his outer robe over him, and while Albin was momentarily distracted, a black magic circle for illusion casting appeared on the floor.

The guest room wasn’t large. Albin searched up and down, scanning every corner at a glance, but found nothing.

Perplexed, he sat back on the bed, muttering, “Maybe I really did mishear…”

This dream was strange. He had even smelled the scent of wine earlier—maybe that was why he was feeling dizzy and confused.

Under the bed, Padma had already drawn back his blood, his body mostly healed, with only a few wounds still mending.

He returned to his fox form.

In a previous dream, he had indeed envied the blood-covered fox being cared for by the white-haired boy. But now that the opportunity was in front of him, he hesitated.

If he exposed his suffering, he would undoubtedly steal Albin’s attention away from Moon. He would get what he wanted—to see the child’s gaze fixed entirely on him.

And yet… at this moment, he suddenly didn’t want the child to see him covered in wounds.

Even just acting a little upset had made Albin worry endlessly. If Albin saw him in such a state, he might actually cry—perhaps even more than Padma himself.

It would be better if this child remained happy.

Fortunately, Moon seemed to have used some magic, making it so that Albin couldn’t see him at all.

He emerged from under the bed, leaped lightly onto the blanket, and approached Albin, who was still puzzled. Rubbing his face affectionately against Albin’s cheek, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Albin froze. He hadn’t heard a voice, but for some reason, his ears tingled, and his cheek felt as if it had been brushed by a soft breeze.

Padma cast a provocative glance at Moon.

Hmph~ Even though you’re the Night God and the older brother, Albin still likes me too!

Moon’s gaze darkened. He abruptly stood up and picked up the fox.

“Brother?” Albin didn’t understand why he had suddenly gotten out of bed.

Moon said, “I’m just closing the window.”

Under the pretense of closing the window, Moon tossed the fox outside.

He thought, when something annoys you, it’s best to get rid of it.

Padma landed gracefully on the ground and glanced at the window.

Who said the Night God had no emotions?

Forget it.

Padma didn’t plan on going back just yet. He would take a bath first, then go pick up Emerald.

But as he turned his head and saw someone approaching, he paused.

Inside, Moon turned around with satisfaction.

When he was with his little brother, there really shouldn’t be any distractions taking away his attention.

Albin saw his mysterious gaze, the way he stepped through the moonlight in an elegant shirt, and was reminded of his earlier guess.

“Brother, are you cosplaying as a vampire? Do you have fangs?” He examined him with interest.

Moon opened his mouth and let him take a look.

Curious, Albin touched the sharp tooth beside his canine. “Is this a fang?”

“No.” Moon gazed at his younger brother, still unsure whether to reveal his identity.

The title of the God of Night and Death was not a pleasant one. Whether human or deity, all feared him, just as they feared death.

Especially now—on this continent, the Temple of the Night God was infamous, akin to an assassin organization, something everyone avoided.

He had never meddled with the temple’s affairs, but perhaps influenced by other temples, the Night Temple had developed its own selection process:

There was no Saint, only a rule—whoever could kill the current High Priest would become the next one.

Such a bloody method only added to the temple’s terrifying reputation.

He feared that if Albin learned the truth, he too would be afraid of him.

He tested, “If I were a vampire, would you be scared?”

“Of course not!” Albin replied without hesitation. “If Brother were a vampire, I would take care of you! You can drink as much blood as you want.”

Would he be raising a vampire brother in his dream?

The settings in dreams were so interesting. Last time, Brother played the role of their father; this time, he had taken on the vampire script?

No wonder the dream was set at night.

If only he could keep dreaming of his brother. That would be wonderful.

He tilted his head, exposing his neck.

“But Brother, you can only bite me, okay? Even in a dream, no biting random people.”

Moon leaned down, opening his mouth as if about to bite.

Albin braced himself for the pain—but it never came.

Moon merely bit lightly, like a big cat carrying a kitten by the scruff.

“Gotcha, little dummy,” Moon chuckled, ruffling Albin’s hair like they did when they played as kids.

“Ahh, Brother, you’re mean!” Albin howled and bit his shoulder in revenge—though he didn’t use any force.

As they played, a deep sadness welled up inside Albin, an emptiness gripping his heart like an invisible hand squeezing it.

He let go and leaned against his brother’s shoulder, soaking in the illusion of warmth, saying nothing.

No matter how real it felt, this was only a dream.

“What’s wrong?” Moon sensed something off and looked down at him.

“…Nothing,” Albin mumbled an excuse. “Brother, since you’ve read the comic, do you know how I die in the future?”

Moon froze.

Die?

How could his Albin die? What did this have to do with a comic?

Before he could process it, a cold, sharp voice rang out behind him.

“Get away from Albin!”

Outside the window, a white-haired man exuded a terrifying killing intent.

Golden and crimson magic circles layered upon one another, forming a magnificent, powerful tapestry of mystery in the night sky.

Albin was stunned.

Dad? Is this still a dream?

Why does this dream have a fight scene too?!

Feel free to donate for earlier/bonus chapter releases! Thanks for supporting me and enjoy reading 😀