Damon was quite surprised to see the item spirit actually following through on the role as he poured wine for everyone. The family’s mood immediately became better. Only La Rocha was clearly not pleased as he kept giving Damon death glares every once in a while.
"Oh please," Damon waved him off, taking the wine. "You love this as much as I do. Look at you. You’re practically sparkling with elegance. This castle was missing something, and it was clearly you."
John blinked at the sight of the butler and leaned over to whisper, "Is that... a servant you summoned?"
Damon nodded with a grin. "Yes, something like that."
La Rocha, without missing a beat, bowed just low enough to appear respectful, though his glare betrayed centuries of pent-up sarcasm. "Shall I begin preparing the feast, master?"
"Sure. Can’t wait to see your cooking skills!" Damon gave the guy a pat on his ass as he turned around, which made the vein on La Rocha’s forehead throb.
"Actually, wait a second. I have an idea." Damon downed the wine in one big gulp and then suddenly pulled out his blood wings for everyone to see. A round of awestruck gasps erupted all around as the blood-forged wings unfurled behind him.
"These are so cool!" Lola tried to reach for one of the wings, but Damon was already in the air. He abruptly dove straight into the ocean and disappeared. Everyone gasped in shock.
"Uncle?!" Lola squeaked, darting to the edge of the balcony and peeking down at the waves. "Where’d he go?!"
"Did he... did he just jump?" John stared, jaw slightly open. "Please tell me that was on purpose."
La Rocha let out a long-suffering sigh as if personally offended by the dramatic flair. "Of course it was. He does everything like he’s trying to audition for a celestial opera."
Just as the family was starting to panic, the ocean below began to swirl and bubble. A moment later, a crimson vortex exploded from the surface, and Damon shot back into the air, his wings gleaming with seawater and streaks of blood energy trailing behind them like shooting stars.
He soared above the castle in wide loops, grinning like a lunatic, before finally gliding down and landing perfectly on the balcony rail. "Ta-da!" he declared with both arms stretched dramatically.
A bunch of fish clattered onto the floor.
Lola clapped like she’d just witnessed the world’s greatest circus act. His father blinked rapidly and then nodded once, deadpan. "Not bad."
His mother, still clutching her chest, muttered something about giving her a heart attack.
La Rocha grimaced. "Am I supposed to cook these now?"
Damon raised a brow and grinned. "Well, you are the butler, aren’t you? And the kitchen is your domain. Show us what you’ve got, maestro of fish guts."
La Rocha looked down at the flopping sea life strewn across the balcony, and his mood dropped even more. He mumbled something about how pigs did not understand greatness and then begrudgingly collected all the fish with just a wave of his hand.
He then glared back at Damon with the kind of withering glare that could curdle blood. "I am an ancient artifact forged in the furnace of a dying star, not a line cook at some beach resort."
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