Dinner With The Duke

The corridors of the Nightshade estate were dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn to keep the outside world at bay.

Damien's footsteps echoed faintly as he walked, the cold marble beneath his shoes reminding him just how lifeless this place felt.

It didn't feel like a home.

Not that it ever had.

From what he remembered, the original Damien Nightshade had been nothing more than a shadow within these walls — a child ignored, shunned, and despised. The reason for that hatred?

His mother.

Damien exhaled, shaking off the thoughts as he pushed open the door to his quarters.

The room was large but barren, devoid of warmth.

The furniture was dark wood, the walls decorated with gothic carvings. A massive bookcase stood against one side, half-filled with books that had gathered dust over the years.

But the first thing his eyes landed on… was the painting.

It hung above his bed, framed in ornate silver. A portrait of a woman.

His mother.

She was beautiful.

Long raven-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, her pale skin contrasting against the dark backdrop of the painting.

Her eyes — piercing violet, the same color as his own — held a haunting, ethereal glow, as if she could see through the very fabric of reality.

Damien studied her features, trying to imagine what kind of woman she had been. The novel had never given much detail about her, only that she was the first wife of Duke Aldric Nightshade and that she had died giving birth to him.

And for that, everyone in this household despised him.

His fingers traced the frame lightly before stepping away.

It didn't matter.

What mattered was survival.

He needed power.

The Fatebreaker's Grimoire had already shown him a glimpse of its capabilities, but it wasn't enough.

He was still weak. If he wanted to avoid his preordained downfall, he needed to level up, to train, to harness his magic.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"...Young Master."

The voice was soft but laced with tension.

Damien turned to see a maid standing at the entrance, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was young, probably in her early twenties, with auburn hair neatly tied back into a bun.

Her uniform was pristine, but there was something about the way she stood — rigid, cautious.

Just like the others.

"Lunch has been prepared," she said, eyes flickering toward the floor. "The Duke requests your presence in the dining hall."

Damien studied her for a moment before nodding.

"I'll be down soon."

She hesitated, then bowed quickly before leaving.

Damien sighed.

He knew this meeting was inevitable.

His father.

Duke Aldric Nightshade.

A man who was both feared and respected throughout the empire, a war hero who had once commanded legions. But to Damien?

He was nothing more than a distant figure. A cold, ruthless man who had never once acknowledged him as a son.

It was time to see if anything had changed.

───

The dining hall was grand, the kind of room designed to host banquets and nobles, yet it felt empty.

A long, obsidian table stretched through the center, its polished surface reflecting the flickering candlelight from the chandelier above.

The scent of roasted meat and seasoned vegetables filled the air, but the atmosphere was icy, suffocating.

At the far end of the table sat a man.

Damien slowed his steps.

Duke Aldric Nightshade was a towering presence, even seated.

His silver hair was streaked with age, tied back neatly to reveal the sharp angles of his face.

His features were chiseled, almost sculpted from stone, with piercing steel-gray eyes that could shatter a man's resolve with a single glance.

There was no warmth in those eyes.

No recognition.

Just a cold, assessing gaze.

Damien approached, feeling the weight of his father's stare press down on him.

"Sit."

The word was not a suggestion.

He complied, taking the seat across from the Duke. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding.

The servants moved like ghosts, placing dishes before them without making a sound. Everything was calculated, formal, suffocating.

Damien picked up his utensils, but before he could take a bite, his father's voice cut through the silence.

"I heard you collapsed in the forest."

Damien stilled.

A test.

He placed his fork down and met his father's gaze. "Yes," he admitted. "But I recovered quickly."

Aldric Nightshade studied him.

His expression did not change, but there was something… searching in his eyes.

"Hmph." He took a sip from his goblet before setting it down. "A Nightshade should not show weakness."

Damien forced himself to remain impassive.

"If I was weak," he said calmly, "I wouldn't be sitting here."

The tension in the room shifted.

Something flickered across the Duke's expression — something unreadable — but it vanished just as quickly.

"Good." His father's voice was even, but there was an edge to it. "Then I expect you to act accordingly."

Damien didn't flinch.

The old Damien would have lowered his head, submitted.

But he wasn't the old Damien.

"I intend to."

A long silence followed.

Then, to his surprise — his father smirked.

It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

"Tch." Aldric took another sip of his wine. "Perhaps you won't be a complete waste after all."

Damien didn't react.

He knew what that meant.

It wasn't approval.

It was another test.

The Duke would be watching him now. Judging him. Seeing if this change was real or just another failure waiting to happen.

That was fine.

Let him watch.

Damien would prove that he wasn't a waste.

That he wasn't some cursed heir to be discarded.

That he would surpass everyone.

───

The meal continued in silence.

When it ended, the Duke stood, giving him one last glance before turning away.

Damien remained seated as the doors closed behind him.

As the Duke walked away, the storm began.

Damien sat still for a moment, the lingering presence of his father weighing on him. His fingers pressed into the polished surface of the table before he finally rose, pushing his chair back.

He moved toward the nearest window, watching as dark clouds consumed the sky.

The rain started as a drizzle, soft patters against the glass. But within moments, it turned into a torrential downpour, a storm fitting for the emotions swirling inside him.

Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the Nightshade estate for the briefest moment. A fortress of stone, cold and unyielding.

It didn't feel like home.

Nothing about this place did.