Chapter 4: Of Ghosts and Faces That We Do Not Know Of

Yeojoon arrived at the mansion about fourty minutes later after Damon. The skies darkened with rage and lightning striked at the ground as the god drove the car inside the huge gates of his mansion. Clangs of metal came down from behind as he parked it right infront of the house. Yeojoon inhaled the smell of rain, of peppermint, and the soft gusts of faint flowery scents in the ruined garden. 

Being the god of wine, he has always had a good nose. This is why he prefers to be isolated from other humans and live off in a wide expanse of land, placing his mansion in the middle, with it's all walls and maenads, his female followers, that guard each corner for rabid beasts that sometimes pass by. 

The first time he had encountered a crowd of humans, way back in the Joseon Era, he fainted from all the various scents that assaulted his senses. As a man now, he has more control in limiting his sense but it's better to live far, far away from the busy, mundane world. 

It was a good thing that he has cars stationed in the lot of his father's sorry excuse of a building. When he needs time for himself, he tells Damon to go home while he drives off to clear his mind. 

'To me, you are Dionysus.' His father's words echoed inside his head, like an annoying off-beat drum that runs over and over. He got off the vehicle and was welcomed by a wind spirit, who's looking very much like a pale ghost in mid-air, that carries an umbrella to shield him from the rain. 

The downpour became heavier as he rushed inside the warm comforts of the house. 

—

The inside of the mansion was warm. Bright, yellowish-white light contrasted the dark shades of black outside as the rainstorm blasted in full fury. Yeojoon sat down on the ocean blue couch by the living room. Despite being empty of other beings, the huge house felt like home to him. From its beige tiled floor, grayish-white walls, blue furnitures, and purple curtains – yeah, it does feel like home. 

As if the skies desire to capture the beauty of a drenched earth, it snapped a photo, turning the whole world white as lightning shook the heavens. No doubt, Zeus has reached his limit with him. Mayhaps, he'll find himself being struck, too. It's a surprise that he survived all the way back here.

Ah – wait. He can't die. Yeojoon heaved a sigh, pressing his back against the couch, legs spread apart, with both hands  clasped together on his thigh. There's a throbbing in his head that he can't quite put a finger on. Thinking about earlier's events seem to make it worse. 

Suddenly, his nose detected the smell of jasmine tea. The wine god turned his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where Damon emerged with a tray filled with teacups and a teapot. 

Ever since he had come down to live here, he abstained from drinking wine. It's a matter of rejecting himself or, perhaps, his father's blood in him that made him a god. Yeojoon deeply inhaled. The clatter of the tray as it was placed in front of him echoed in his ears, just at the right time that thunder grumbled mightily and lightning forked the ground. 

Damon sat down on the other side of the table, crossing his legs with an elbow settled on the couch chair and a palm supporting his chin, facing Yeojoon. 

"So, what's today's happening, Sir?" Damon mused, blinking once, with a small smile on his face. No doubt, he's interested on what caused such weather. This is the strongest freak storm at the latest and, well, it's a bit of his fault, too. 

Yeojoon heaved a deep sigh. Picking up the teapot, he poured tea for himself and for the latter. "As usual, he's mad. Been pushing me off to come to Olympus when all the good things are out here," he clicked his tongue,"That place is something I will never go back to." 

Damon brow raised at the reply, however, he said nothing as he picked up the cup and took a small sip. He had grown together with Dionysus and god forbid it that he loses control if he asks anything more about his past. Even if it was years ago, it feels like seconds to a god. Who is he to ask things like that? 

"Some things stay the same. Does it not, Sir?" Damon mused, his eyes shining with keen interest on the teabag in his cup. 

Yeojoon, too, took a sip of tea. The sweet scent of it wafts through the air, allowing him to take a deep breath as he puts the cup back down on the table. "I guess.. that's how it's ought to be." He gave the latter a wistful smile. "Ah - and we'll reschedule the company visit tomorrow. How is Victoire faring?" 

Victoire Wine Companies is the label that the company goes under and Yeojoon, the man behind everything, had appointed Damon to be the standing CEO while he controls everything from the back. 

It was quite a shock for Silenus in the past, having to call himself by a new name - a human name - to camouflage themselves amongst the people. Now, as Damon, it had been his responsibility to be at the company for about three or four working days. He provides Yeojoon all the intel every month until he decides it is time for some people to receive a blessing for their hard work. 

Damon took another sip of tea. Lightning striked from the skies right as he spoke. "We've acquired yet another company under us, Sir. Few more months and we'll be able to monopolize the wine industry, with your grace watching over Victoire," his eyes shined with pride as he spoke, radiating an aura that's brighter than the morning sun,"As for tomorrow, I'll be sure to prepare everything beforehand." 

Upon noticing that the wine god had finished his tea, he suggested, "More tea? Perhaps - dinner, Sir? I'll have the seilenoi cook-" about to stand up and call for a wind spirit to do the job.

"It's okay-" Yeojoon's eyes blinked twice, lifting his hand with a palm facing the latter, signalling him to stop. "- I'm not hungry. Tell them to clean this up and we can all rest for the day. Thank you for the time." He gave the other a curt nod before dismissing himself upstairs, up to his room.

Damon nodded subserviently as he sat down, propping the cups back on the tray as it then floated back into the kitchen. He trained his eyes on Yeojoon's retreating back as more lightning flashed in the skies. 

I should close the windows, he thought. The storm will last until tomorrow. 

It has been a long day indeed. 

—

At the exact moment that Yeojoon opened the door, he was greeted by his medium-sized, four-walled bedroom with its framed photos of Nicholas, his panther. His bed is by the side of the window, and a terrace is on the left - the foot of the bed points toward the balcony - being seperated only by the sliding door and its white blinds (that he forgets to close whenever he sleeps so the morning sun wakes him in its youthful, and annoying, glory).

His room always smells of soft blueberry jam and vanilla. Perhaps, it is because his scent mixes with his favorite soap, creating a soothing smell that exudes from the sheets and his pillows. Yeojoon removed his clothes, leaving only his boxers on, and he puts the discarded clothing on the bedside table. Usually, he sleeps fully naked but it's cold so he'll spare his body a little something to cover himself with. It has been raining after all. The ambiance is cold and well - perfect for being wrapped around the sheets.

The bed bounced with his weight, creaking slightly. As he buried himself in the warm, comfortable sheets, the rain slowed down to a trickle outside. It, too, had taken a rest after lashing out. 

Pitter ! Patter ! The sound of the huge raindrops against the roof lulled the god to sleep. His body relaxed beneath the warmth of the cloth around him. If anything, the smile on his face as he sleeps looks peaceful.

Unfortunately, his subconscious mind has a different idea. About four hours into his slumber, the dark mirage of nightmares started rolling in. Cold sweat trickled down his face in small beads. The god's face furrowed into a huge frown under the blankets, tossing and turning in his sleep. 

// 

In his dreams, he was his younger version, witu his lanky body, noodle arms and frail, thin legs. His hair was long and it bounced, black strands swayed with the wind in his haste. He was running away from something. 

He saw himself, as Young Dionysus, and felt chills travel though his spine as the crashes and loud thumps of large feet echoes from behind him. He's facing a huge stone wall and there is nowhere to run.

He's trapped! 

The god's eyes darted left to right, looking for a way to escape whatever horrible fate is about to come to him. The stone wall slowly crept up to his feet and solidified once more, rendering him into a halt. His heart crashes in his chest, threatening to collapse in fear. Mirrors sprung forth from each direction, making his eyes turn wide as each reflection showed his past — all the memories that he never wanted to see again plagued him in such mere seconds. 

The stone is creeping up his chest now, restricting his lungs from getting proper oxygen. His vision blurs but it seems, at the moment, that it felt better that way. There's a reflection of him holding a bunch of flowers. Another one's showing him carrying an unconscious lady, worry lacing his face. Stop — His face contorts with pain and emotional anguish. The stone is covering half his face.

Death is nothing but cruel, he thinks for the last time. 

Dionysus closed his eyes, accepting the end of him. 

CRASH.

The sounds of glass breaking rang in his head. The wine god felt the unbearable pressure fade away. His frail body falls to the ground with a thud. Shards of glass stung his cheek, his chest, his hands, and his knees and he winced. He took a sharp intake of breath as the world remade itself. 

Suddenly, the scene was dark. It was quiet except that, in the dimly lit place, he could see flowers blooming on the ground where he laid. Him, now in his mature body, looked at the near distance where a pair of feet comes his way, stopping right in front of him. Dionysus looked up, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, upon seeing a face so beautiful - it took his breath away. 

There he is, pathetically lying on the ground, looking above a deity that rivals Aphrodite herself. The face was about oval shaped, their body is wrapped in a shroud of darkness other than their feet, they had eyes that reflect the beauty of the moon, lips that are plump and rose red. The person kneeled down and caressed his cheek, revealing a soft, reassuring smile as they looked at him. So beautiful. Ethereal. Magical.

He was about to ask the person on what their name is but the world crumbled. It shook with such magnitude that the ground cracked, revealing hot magma from below. Dionysus couldn't move. He could only watch himself fall into the river of fire, eyes trained on the looming figure above who's hand reached out for him – 

And he woke up.