Chapter 4 The Short-Lived Man

When she first met Drake, he was already one of the most powerful men in the business world.
The name Drake stood for power and wealth. He was a legend at the very top of the pyramid.
Unfortunately, he was born under a cursed star. He only lived to 35 before his brilliant life came to an end.
She called him her "sworn enemy" because even after death, his spirit wouldn't leave her alone. He haunted her until that final battle, when she used every ounce of her power to cast the sealing spell. As it sapped the strength from her limbs and sent the world spinning, she saw him burst forward, scrambling to break her fall.
Now, looking at the 20-something man before her, Venus couldn't help thinking how fragile he looked.
So this is the mighty Drake, she thought. He doesn't seem all that strong after all.
Saul Bax, the middle-aged man, supported Drake as they walked toward the cottage. When they saw the crumbling building, both men froze.
"Saul," Drake said in a low, steady voice, "are you sure this is the place my grandfather meant? The great oracle lives here?" The young man tone was calm but carried pressure, like a sharp blade hidden behind silk.
Saul nodded and looked toward Venus. He noticed Venus dressed in plain, patched clothes like a kid from a nearby mountain town. Saul hesitated before asking, "Hey, kid, do you know where the owner of this cottage is?"
Venus tilted her head. "Why are you looking for my mentor?"
Saul twitched his mouth.
"We aren't looking for your mentor. We're looking for the one who lived in this cottage."
He was starting to think the girl was messing with them.
Venus saw the doubt in his eyes. She bowed slightly at him and said calmly, "Mentee of the Great Oracle, Skylor Dust, at your service."
Judging by Drake's fragile state, she guessed they were here to ask her mentor to change his fate.
Saul was skeptical. "You're Mr. Dust's student? You don't look it—you're barely a teenager! Mr. Dust disappeared years ago and told us to come here 20 years later to find him. Where is he now?"
Venus wished she knew. Not even her cards could reveal his whereabouts.
Oh well—might as well deal with what's in front of her.
She sat down on the broken wooden step, gave them a small smile, and said, "My mentor's traveling the world. The cottage's mine for now. If you've got a problem, speak up. If I can help, I will—"
Before she could finish, Drake turned away without a word and walked off.
His face was cold and unreadable.
"Mr. Drake!" Saul hurried after him. "Mr. Ralph said you must pay your respects to the Cottage of the Wilds to save your life!"
Drake shot him a cold look, his eyes sweeping lazily toward Venus. "You want me to pay my respect to a pile of junk? What a joke."
Venus blinked. She had no words.
Okay, calling the cottage junk was one thing, but why was he looking at me when he said it?
Thinking of how this guy had haunted her every day and night after his death, refusing to leave her alone, her ears turned hot. She slapped her hand against the broken door.
"Bah! A short-lived man like you—if you're going to die, do it somewhere else! Don't drop dead in my cottage and bring me bad luck!"
Saul's eyes lit up. "Mr. Drake! She must be Mr. Dust's mentee! Only a true oracle could recognize your fate so clearly!"
Drake's gaze turned icy. Anger masked his face.
Is Saul getting old or just plain stupid?
Couldn't he tell the brat is insulting me?
"If you're truly Mr. Dust's mentee," Saul asked earnestly, "is there any way you can help Mr. Drake survive this disaster?"
Drake stood tall, his face cold, his lips pressed into a thin line.
He wanted to see what nonsense this brat could come up with next.
Saul noticed Drake's look and added cautiously, "Since you're Mr. Dust's mentee, surely he told you before he went wandering that we would come here seeking his wisdom?"
Venus's sharp gaze swept over Drake's face.
Years of sickness had left his skin paler than most. His features were sharp and handsome—clean-cut jaw, cool eyes, and thin lips. He was a bit lean, but his tall frame and the all-black suit gave him an air of power. Even looking frail, he somehow carried a restrained, almost untouchable charm.
Back when he was a ghost, he was mostly shameless. Still, she had to admit—this man's face was annoyingly perfect.
Both his features and bone structure were flawless. Those who mastered physiognomy would call that face a rare blessing.
Too bad his fate was cursed. His lifeline was weak. Without her mentor extending it years ago, he would've died before 20.
Looking at his cold, elegant face now, Venus found it hard to connect this man with that shameless ghost Drake she remembered.
Venus had once read Drake's astrological chart. She saw a danger hit him when he was 20.
It was called the blood omen.
"The blood omen brings blood and sudden disaster," she told them. "For most people it means money loss or serious illness. For someone like you—a short-lived soul—it can be deadly."
"Of course—just like Mr. Dust said!" Saul said, eyes wide. "Ms. Oracle, how do we remove the blood omen for Mr. Drake?" He sounded devout.
When this plain-looking girl said the same thing as Skylor, it convinced Saul that she was truly a mentee of Skylor.
Venus answered casually, "Easy. Keep him here with me for three days and it will—"
Before she finished, Saul jumped into his Maybach and drove off, yelling over his shoulder.
"Mr. Drake, I'll pick you up in three days!"
He left in such a hurry he looked like he was running away from trouble.
Venus couldn't believe this. "Hey—what are you doing leaving him at my door like this?"
Drake said nothing. He reached for his phone.
But his hand came up empty.
The phone was still in the car.
They stood there looking at each other in awkward silence. The quiet was broken only by the rumble of Venus's stomach.
"Um, are you hungry?" she asked, a little awkward.
She knew the dead Drake well, but she did not know this young Drake at all.
Drake did not answer right away. Slowly he pulled off his tie, loosened the top button, and began to take off his suit jacket.
Venus had seen him do that countless times before. She sprang forward and grabbed both sides of the jacket. She held it tight so he couldn't take it off.
Drake rarely let others get close. When the girl lunged, his breathing hitched. His face flushed.
Venus stepped back the moment she realized what she'd done. "Why are you taking off your clothes here?" she asked.
"Dirty," he said, tossing the jacket onto a pile of rotting wood and sitting down.
It was his cushion. She had mistaken his intent.
He looked at her with a cool, puzzled gaze. Venus, standing stiff with a sense of rightness, said, "It's cold in the hills. Mr. Frost, you're weak. Don't remove your coat out in the open."
Drake bristled at that odd phrasing but said nothing.
Hungry, Venus ran to a nearby grave and found herself some offerings.
She devoured it without embarrassment. Drake watched her eat the food left for the dead and frowned.
"You can eat that?" he asked.
Venus bit into a slice of honey cake and handed him an apple. "I asked the grave owner. He said it's fine."
Drake blinked.
The grave owner was dead, wasn't he?
She'd asked a ghost for permission?
Whatever. None of my business.
If his grandfather hadn't insisted he come to the cottage, he wouldn't have believed any of this.
He only needed to wait for someone to pick him up when it got dark.
As for the girl who ate the grave offerings like a picnic?
He decided it was safer to keep his distance.