Ah, I know the kitchen’s lights have been off recently, but...
Do you really think I could sleep through the sheer volume of this particular celebration? The sheer acoustic force of Diasomnia’s most dedicated guard demands attention, and the Mostro Lounge always honors a birthday.
For the boy whose voice can shatter glass but whose dedication is entirely unbreakable, we have prepared a special, limited-time dessert.
Happy Birthday, Sebek Zigvolt!
Serving: A Guard's Rare Day Off
The halls of Diasomnia were quiet, which, to Sebek Zigvolt, meant they were highly suspicious.
Normally, the dorm was filled with the low hum of ancient magic, the soft rustling of Lilia hanging upside down from a chandelier, or the aggravating sound of Silver sleeping while standing up. But today, the silence was absolute.
Sebek paced the length of the entrance hall, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the polished stone. His brow was furrowed so deeply it looked permanently etched into his face. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his green eyes darted to every shadow.
"Too quiet," Sebek muttered to himself. "This is exactly the sort of environment assassins favor. I must remain vigilant. The Young Master’s safety depends entirely upon my unwavering focus!"
"You're going to wear a trench into the floor, Sebek."
Sebek whirled around, instantly dropping into a defensive stance, magic sparking at the tip of his pen. "STATE YOUR BUSINESS AND STEP INTO THE—oh. It is you."
You stepped out from behind a large tapestry, holding a suspiciously ornate box. "You really need to lower your baseline volume, Sebek. You’re going to give the gargoyles a headache."
Sebek immediately straightened up, his cheeks flushing a faint pink, though he refused to drop his severe expression. "I am merely fulfilling my duties as a guard! Which you are currently interrupting! Why are you lurking in the shadows? Did Silver put you up to this? If he is sleeping in the courtyard again, I swear—"
"Silver is asleep, yes, but not in the courtyard," you interrupted smoothly, walking up to him. "And Malleus is currently in the library with Lilia. They are perfectly safe."
Sebek’s eyes narrowed. "And how would you know the exact whereabouts of the Young Master?"
"Because Malleus explicitly told me to tell you that if you do not take the next three hours off to relax, he will personally enchant your boots to dance the waltz until sunset."
Sebek gasped, absolute horror dawning on his face. "The... The Young Master threatened me with a curse? Because I am working too hard? What a profound display of mercy and concern! As expected of the future ruler of the Briar Valley!" He brought a hand to his chest, looking close to tears of sheer loyalty. "I am unworthy of such benevolent punishment!"
"Right. Well. Before you start crying over his majesty," you sighed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the dorm's private dining area, "you're coming with me. Sit."
You shoved him gently into a plush velvet chair. Sebek looked incredibly out of place, sitting stiff as a board, his eyes darting around as if expecting an ambush.
You set the box down on the table and carefully lifted the lid.
Inside was a masterpiece from the Mostro Lounge's secret menu: The Thunderbolt Matcha Mille-Feuille. It was a towering dessert of crisp, buttery pastry layered with rich, earthy matcha cream. The top was glazed with a stunning emerald mirror sheen, and it was garnished with spun sugar shaped like jagged bolts of lightning.
Sebek stared at it. "What is this?"
"It's a cake, Sebek. It’s your birthday."
"I am aware of the date of my birth," Sebek huffed, crossing his arms and looking away, though his eyes kept betraying him by darting back to the sugar lightning bolts. "But a true guard does not require frivolous celebrations. My birth is only significant because it allowed me to live in the same era as the Young Master. That is gift enough."
"Sebek." You leaned across the table, fixing him with a stare that brooked absolutely no argument. "You train harder than anyone I know. You patrol in the rain. You study until you pass out at your desk. You yell at everyone who slacks off. For one day out of three hundred and sixty-five, you are allowed to just be Sebek. Now, eat the cake before I shove it into your mouth."
Sebek’s mouth opened, likely to issue a booming reprimand about your lack of respect, but he closed it.
He looked at you. Truly looked at you. The fierce, defensive energy that usually radiated off him in waves seemed to temper, dialing down from a raging storm to a quiet, electric hum.
"You... requested this to be made?" he asked, his voice dropping to a volume that could actually be classified as a normal human speaking level.
"I did," you said softly, pushing a silver fork toward him. "Matcha. Not too sweet, earthy, with a bit of a crunch. I figured it would suit you."
Sebek picked up the fork with surprising delicacy. He cut a perfect, geometric slice from the pastry, the layers cracking satisfyingly under the pressure, and took a bite.
You watched him, holding your breath.
Sebek chewed in complete silence. His eyes widened a fraction of an inch. The tension in his jaw melted away, and his shoulders dropped from where they had been permanently hiked up around his ears. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Well?" you prompted.
"It is..." Sebek cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "It is not entirely offensive to my palate. The bitterness of the tea balances the sugar adequately. The pastry technique is... acceptable."
"I’ll take that as a glowing five-star review," you laughed, resting your chin in your hands.
Sebek took another bite, eating with the focused efficiency he applied to everything in his life, but there was a distinct softness to his gaze now.
"Thank you," he muttered, so quietly you almost missed it.
"What was that? Couldn't hear you over your usual volume."
"I SAID THANK YOU!" Sebek roared, his face turning the color of a ripe tomato as he slammed a hand on the table. "DO NOT MOCK ME WHEN I AM EXPRESSING GRATITUDE!"
You couldn't help it; you burst out laughing. It was loud, joyous, and completely unafraid of his temper.
Sebek glared at you for a moment, panting slightly. But then, the glare fractured. He let out a sharp sigh, shaking his head, though the faint smile returned to his lips.
"You are an incredibly frustrating individual," he stated, picking up his fork again.
"Happy Birthday, Sebek," you smiled.
"Hmph. Yes. Well." He focused very hard on the matcha cream, avoiding your eyes. "...Sit down. There is too much of this for one person to consume efficiently. You will assist me."
You pulled up a chair beside him, the silence of the room no longer feeling suspicious, but rather, perfectly, comfortably shared.
---
Hey everyone. As I mentioned in my previous announcement, I am still officially on an indefinite hiatus.
However...
I remembered what day it was. And I know that Sebek is the absolute favorite of a very special patron of mine ( @bluessmau ). I couldn't in good conscience let his birthday pass by without opening the kitchen doors for a quick, special serving just for them.
Thank you all for the continued patience and well wishes while I'm away. It means the world to me. I'll be retreating back into my hiatus now to take care of my family, but I hope this brought a little bit of joy to your day!
— Seru 💚⚡
