"I can't even believe I got out of that alive." That was the first sentence Ryan said spontaneously as he crossed the golden gates of the enormous mansion that housed the Savant Mafia once more.
On the other side, some eyes were immediately fixed on them. "Is that them?! He's alive?! Holy shit! He's alive!!!"
Before long, he found himself face to face yet again with a crowd of excited mafiosos who looked at him with a kind of euphoria never seen before. The convoy that had brought him here still waited tensely for his return, though now with visible relief.
"I told him he was strong and would survive!"
"Survive? Is that what you doubted? He prevented a fucking war!"
"What does the war matter? We were going to win anyway! Ryan felt sorry for them!"
"Hahaha, even the Tyrant had to tone it down for Ryan."
Ryan smiled genuinely at the sight. 'Having company isn't so bad after all.'
Ryan had been surrounded by enemies for far too long, with only his loyal servant John by his side, a loyalty he still didn't fully understand and toward which he still harbored quiet reservations deep down. But what mattered now was this: he had spent so long surrounded solely by enemies that he had forgotten he had allies in equal, if not greater, measure.
"Welcome back from the dead, Ryan! Next time, remember to bring a souvenir."
Amid the joyful shouts.
Their first reaction was to form a circle with Ryan at the center, closing in on him in an animated fashion, eager to embrace him, give him friendly slaps on the shoulder, offer respectful nods in his direction, and even toss him into the air in celebration. Momentarily forgetting the current state of his body, which was worse than a rag.
It was almost like a festival in his name.
To them, the dead man had been brought back to life, much like the myths of divine figures who returned from the dead after three days, and that was reason enough to celebrate. However, though it would go unspoken that day, the fact that Ryan had survived was a modern miracle, one that would later be revisited with reverence.
Yet the only problem with all of it was:
John's intimidating stare.
That stare immediately sank into a world devoid of light.
His Voice cried out at once, sounding like the shriek of a myriad of insects and, just as suddenly as the cry, a swarm of countless insects manifested around them, forming a circle with him and Ryan at its core. The insects did not attack, but they drew a clear boundary that no one was to cross, one immediately perceived by everyone present, a boundary that promised to devour every last piece of anyone who dared take a single step closer.
No one was to pass beyond that point, regardless of the reason.
"It had to be John, he loves to spoil the party. He just gets more grumpy with age."
"He's actually in a good mood; he's usually more grumpy."
"But what can you do? That's his golden boy."
John growled.
"It is still far too early." John said, looking out at the crowd. "The young master still has many things to learn before he comes to know each of you, truly many, and knowing you now would only harm his foundation, his education, and his future." He exhaled briefly. "But I understand the excitement. I too am glad and would love nothing more than to celebrate, as if at a grand festival, eating and drinking as though there were no tomorrow for three days straight in an endless commemoration. But we must acknowledge that this is not the right moment, and that better opportunities will come. When the young master has truly matured and finally blinds us with his brilliance, like a jewel fully cut and polished... No! Like a Great Radiant Star! Which he is! Crafted by the cosmic artisan himself! Then, and only then, will it finally be time to..." Ryan interrupted him with a dry cough and a dead-fish stare.
"I loved your devotion, John, I truly did, I really mean it... But the way you talk makes me seem today, how can I put this? In elegant terms: somewhat unworthy. But in honest terms: like I am right now a poorly peeled, dirty potato in the hands of a rough sailor." Ryan said in a dry tone with a mischievous smile. "I genuinely loved your devotion, but I think that's enough. Don't you? After all, I don't know the future, and in the present all I want is my bed. I don't know if you can tell, but I look like a mummy at this exact moment. I think I deserve that much, don't you? My bed, you know?"
John shuddered with a cough, trembling with embarrassment. "Forgive me! I would never! I would never dare diminish my young master. I only meant to say that if it is already like this today, imagine in the..." Ryan coughed, his eyes sinking into a dark and screaming abyss.
The roar of a beast was heard as John fell into a brief trance. The beast was not more powerful than the insects. And yet it made them retreat, easing the pressure on everyone around.
"John, I said that's enough. I am what I am, and only the present exists. Be content with that." Ryan smiled ambiguously. "Now, prepare my car, a hot meal, and let me rest in peace. As for tomorrow, teach me my duties so that I may carry them out, and help me with the preparations for the mission."
"Yes, young master, as you wish." John bowed slightly. "And I apologize for neglecting your current state in favor of my own delusions." John said categorically.
"Don't worry about it, your services are appreciated." Ryan laughed with amusement. "Very much so."
"As for the rest of you." Ryan said in a raised voice, at which the crowd fell suddenly silent. "I thank all of you, from the bottom of my heart. It was thanks to the speed and readiness of each one of you that I was able to survive and that we were all able to avoid a major conflict that would have brought us nothing but losses and ruin." Ryan took a deep breath before continuing, with countless gazes falling upon him. No longer as the star of destruction. But as the star of hope.
"From this day forward, I will always remind you of this: the role each of you played was no lesser than that of the doctors who treated me, than the Doctor's role, or even than John's, who was there at the table speaking face to face with the Boss, risking a bullet to the head at every single moment." He then pointed a finger toward the crowd. "It was thanks to you that I survived, and it was also thanks to the pressure you all applied that we were able to have a seat at the table and speak as equals with the leadership of the Savant Mafia. It was thanks to you that our heads didn't explode this time. So, while I cannot tell you to abandon your posts and loaf around, I do say this: reward yourselves however you see fit, because today, every last one of you was a hero to us. All of you. And you certainly deserve a reward."
The crowd began to tremble, eyes widening as broad smiles spread across their faces against their will, it was simply impossible to contain the rising tide of emotion. Some of them quickly removed their glasses and hats in reverence, pressing them against their chests as their hearts pounded with burning emotion, while they looked upon the young boy. Their feeling was palpable. Quickly, a familiar sentiment swelled in each of their chests, a feeling that even they could not name. It was something between reverence, respect, admiration... and of course, the desire to follow unconditionally.
Ryan nodded. "With that: dismissed, men!" He walked through the increasingly emotional crowd.
"..."
"Ryan!!!"Suddenly, one of them brought his foot down with a sharp stamp and beat a fist against his chest as he shouted Ryan's name.
The crowd around watched and swallowed hard.
"Ryan!!!" Then a second did the same.
Then a dozen.
Then all of them.
John opened the car door as Ryan watched a crowd chanting his name. "Why on earth did I give a speech?" He asked himself with a smile. "What a silly thing of me to do."
"It was the right thing." John said. "It seems that one day you really will be their leader, and expressing yourself openly as early as possible is ideal." He reflected briefly. "As long as you don't give too terrible a speech, it's fine. It's even recommended. That way they grow accustomed to their new leader. Though this could attract unexpected adversaries. Keep that in mind."
"As always, I can count on you, John." Ryan said. "You only keep proving just how valuable you are to me. If I lost you today, I wouldn't know where to begin."
"I don't deserve such praise, young master. I am simply glad to serve." He said, and silence settled in.
"Of course. I expected nothing less from you." Ryan said with his trademark mischievous smile, but the gears of his mind were already turning once more.
'When the hell will I ever get a real vacation?'
Once again Ryan began to wonder: where did this devotion come from? Simple nepotism? Or perhaps John saw in Ryan some opportunity that he himself had not yet noticed. Ryan might have missed one essential piece of information that could completely change the way he saw his current situation.
Even so, he soon began constructing scenarios and thinking.
For a moment Ryan thought of John like one of those poor uncles who envy a wealthy and successful brother. But when the well-off brother suddenly dies of a mysterious illness, they end up adopting the nephew, an immature young boy. And because he is so young, the uncles secretly manage the hefty inheritance, indulging in luxuries that they neither deserved nor were entitled to.
And by the time the young man finally discovered the truth, it would be too late. The uncles would have spent the entire family fortune, and the young man would now find himself with no inheritance left, forced to fall from landowner to field hand.
Would that be unjust? Ryan questioned.
He shrugged, unable to say.
'That hallucination spoke about equivalent exchange. Perhaps that is what all of this was: I hand over my entire fortune, and in return you become my parents. Ryan felt in his heart that this seemed right.'
But then he allowed himself a mischievous smile. At certain moments in the past, he had thought of himself as a Demonic Wolf, and in this moment, he consulted what that wolf would say.
'Equivalent exchange?! What an absurdity!' The Demonic Wolf laughed mockingly. 'It would only be an exchange if there had been a clear agreement. The child didn't even know of any agreement, so how could it be a trade? They hid the truth of how they would use the money, and there is not even a word about whether they would give him affection as true parents would. In the end, they stripped him of the knowledge necessary to exercise his right to free will, and ultimately to make a choice.'
Ryan pondered a little more. 'But the boy had to accept that arrangement, otherwise no one else would take him in as family. There was no other deal. The only other possibility would have been for him to try managing the money alone at the start and lose it all. In the end he might have even ended up living on the streets.'
The Demonic Wolf laughed again. 'But he could still have chosen to live on the streets, even a poor choice is still a valid option. And who knows, he might have by chance crossed paths with a wandering mage seeking for a detached apprentice to teach him magic? He could have also chosen to join street gangs, gaining protection and learning more about life. He could even have become a traveler with the caravans, trading and journeying. He could have created and told as many stories as there are grains of sand in a desert.'
Ryan then stared at the car window, the Demonic Wolf reflected in the glass. 'If the boy had known the truth, which of the many paths would he have taken? Would he truly have wanted to live with his greedy uncles, or would he have preferred to risk his life in the streets, or even leave everything behind? To steal the truth from someone, however painful it may sometimes be, is to steal the power of decision. It is to destroy free will. There is no equivalent exchange.'
"You may be right... but..." Ryan laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. The reflection before him returning to normal. "I'm going mad, aren't I?" He sighed deeply.