Chapter 551 — It Mattered
5 min read ·
Night was beginning to fall when Damian finally stopped walking.
The mountain rose before him, beautiful and remote, far enough from Military Police Headquarters that no one would find this place by accident.
Snow covered everything, pristine and untouched, reflecting moonlight that made the landscape glow.
Damian’s boots crunched through powder as he climbed higher, Brian’s body still held carefully in his arms.
The black fog poured from him in waves that never seemed to end, spreading across white ground like ink through water.
He found a spot near the peak, where the view stretched for kilometers in every direction.
Where Brian could see the world below, could watch the stars above, could rest in peace without walls or cages surrounding him.
Damian laid the body down gently, his hands lingering for a moment before pulling back.
Then he started digging like a normal person.
His fingers broke through snow into frozen earth beneath as the grave took shape slowly, deepening with each handful of dirt removed.
And as he worked, words began emerging, quiet muttering that carried across the empty mountainside.
"You know, when we first met, I never thought a day like this would come."
His hands kept moving, steady and controlled, pulling earth from the growing hole.
"To you, I was just a kid with a suspicious background, someone who appeared out of nowhere with behaviour that didn’t make sense."
He paused, his gaze tracking toward Brian’s still form.
"And to me, you were just another dog working for the people in power, another officer following orders without asking the right questions."
A smile crossed his features, there and gone.
"But life really works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?"
His digging resumed, the rhythm never breaking.
"A Mafia boss happened to become friends with a just SFD officer like you."
The words settled between them, heavy with meaning.
"Friend."
Damian’s voice became quieter, carrying weight that made each syllable feel important.
"You might not know this, but a very long time ago, that word meant everything to me."
His hands slowed fractionally, his gaze becoming distant.
"When you lose your family, when everything you knew gets ripped away and you’re left completely alone in the world..."
His voice stayed perfectly even, despite the words.
"The only place left to find solace is through friendship. The only thing that makes the emptiness bearable."
His fingers dug deeper, earth piling beside the grave.
"But I never found one, not really. No matter how hard I searched or how desperately I needed it."
The admission came quiet and honest, carrying truth he’d never spoken aloud before.
"Sure, later on I had many Mafia members calling themselves my family, people who claimed to care about me..."
His digging continued without pause.
"But I could see the way everyone treated me differently. I could see the fear hiding behind their smiles when they thought I wasn’t looking."
He pulled another handful of earth free, the grave deepening further.
"The way they’d step back when I approached, the way their voices would change when speaking to me..."
His white hair fell forward, obscuring his face.
"Like I was something dangerous they needed to appease rather than someone they actually wanted around."
The pile beside the grave grew higher, earth removed with patient determination.
"Until I met you in this life."
His voice gained something warmer, gratitude bleeding through despite everything.
"And truly understood the meaning of the word for the first time."
Damian’s hands stilled, the grave deep enough now.
He looked at Brian’s body, his expression showing peace mixed with grief.
"A friend isn’t someone who fears you or follows you blindly. A friend is someone who sees all your flaws and darkness and chooses to stand beside you anyway."
His hands rose, gathering Brian’s corpse with care.
"You were that someone for me, Brian."
He leaned down, pressing his lips against Brian’s forehead.
The kiss lasted one heartbeat, gentle and final.
"Thank you for that."
His whisper carried weight that pressed down on the entire mountain.
"Thank you for being my friend."
Then he lowered Brian into the grave, settling the body with hands that never shook despite the grief.
He straightened slowly, his gaze tracking across his friend’s still face one final time.
Then he began covering the grave, earth falling like rain to blanket the corpse.
The process took time, patient and methodical, ensuring everything sat properly.
When the last handful settled, when the mound rose completely above the frozen ground, Damian searched until he found a stone large enough to mark the spot.
His fingers moved across its surface, Aura flowing outward to carve words into rock.
Here lies Brian Oleaf
A brother who carried his sibling’s memory with devotion that never wavered
A son who honored his parents’ memory through every choice he made
A friend whose loyalty never wavered even unto death
May he find the peace in death that this world never gave him in life
Damian settled the stone at the grave’s head, his hands lingering on the carved surface.
Then he stepped back, his white hair catching moonlight.
Light flashed as he pulled a bottle from his spatial ring, the liquid inside catching light like captured fire.
"Let’s have our last drink together, shall we?"
His voice emerged soft and steady, carrying across the empty mountainside.
"You loved Phoenix if I remember correctly."
He uncorked the bottle, the rich scent spreading through cold air.
His hand tilted, pouring amber liquid across the stone and into earth below.
The offering soaked into frozen ground, disappearing like tears into snow.
Then Damian raised the bottle to his lips, taking a long drink.
The burn settled in his chest, warmth spreading despite the cold surrounding him.
He lowered the bottle, his gaze finding the carved words on the stone.
"To our friendship."
His whisper carried absolute conviction.
"However short it may have been, however it ended..."
He took another drink, the liquid flowing down his throat.
"It mattered."
Then he settled onto the snow beside the grave, his back resting against the stone.
The bottle sat cradled in his hands, half-empty now.
The black fog kept pouring from his body, spreading outward in waves that grew thicker with each passing moment.
It wrapped around the grave, around the stone and around Damian himself like a shroud.
The moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness, creating shapes that moved without source.
And in the absolute darkness, a boy with white hair sat beside a grave, drinking to friendship and paying the price for peace with his own soul.