Old man Caius could not help but bear a sorrowful expression. He took a sip of his black coffee, then, after putting his cup down, answered with a fragile tone, "I... Have cancer..."
Sythrik's eyes fell in disbelief, his throat bore a clump of chaos, and his voice cracked in sorrow with each passing word, "You're joking right?" he laughed off, denying the old man's faltering existence.
"I am not. All I have said is true." He confirmed. His face loosened it's light as he kept assuring Sythrik, "The doctor said I bear at most a month left to live, and that I should use that time with those I deem precious. Do whatever I needed to do before I die, to not bear any regrets when faced with the abyss."
Sythrik found himself in a state of daze, gazing at Caius' form without control, as if implanting his very being into his essence, an retaliation of forgetting. He suddenly stopped, as if having fully processed the old man in front of him-the the small amounts of white hair atop his wrinkled head, combed carefully to the side. His gentle eyes, and caring expression, as well as his fingers' size and length. His rounded body shape, and short frame, covered by a traceless, white shirt, covered by a black vest. His black pants, layered above his short legs. And his shoes, black and spotless as before. An old man that cares deeply of his own health and well being, being afflicted with what made it flip upside down. His efforts, now in ruin do to life's fragile cover. His personality challenged with given time. All just seemed so unjust in Sythrik's eyes...
Caius saw his state of disbelief and quickly smiled a warm smile. Not exaggerated, not forced, nor was it intentional. It was simply a warm smile that came naturally, a sign that joy still lingers within him. "Thanks. Thanks for caring so much about me Sythrik." Caius spoke with a more gentle tone. It almost seemed as though he had accepted it.
Gilbert simply stared, unable to muster words due to the shock.
Caius, once more, broke the silence, "I am an old man who's questioned life during the whole of my own. I have long been prepared for this moment, even before I stumbled upon a fellow little philosopher that came knocking on my door with questions... to be honest, since then, my acceptance of the impending end we call death have lessened." Sythrik's eyes widened in understanding, suppressing his tears with all his might. "I used to think of death as nothing but a reuniting moment with those one had lost through time... My wife. However, now I cannot help but feel guilty. I fear death, not because of its embrace, but your sadness. The same sadness I had needed to bear. It seems that such things carries onto another, as if in an eternal cycle... That's right, an unstoppable cycle filled with sorrow and guilt." Caius said with the voice of an experienced griever.
Caius exhaled, breathing deeply before he spoke, "I want you, Sythrik Montague, to be my sole inheritor, the person to represent the last of what I am, and what I have built up during my time of living. So I ask... Will you, my most precious student, accept it?"
Caius pulled up a paper and pushed it to the wooden table in between them. He looked at Sythrik and said, "Sign and this is yours to do with-sell, keep, re-design, whatever it is you want. I want you to choose and inherit what I own and do with as you own. That, is my wish..."
Sythrik looked at Caius with teary eyes, gripping his left hand with his right, clenching his teeth and suppressing his ears once more... He let go, stopped clenching his teeth, and withdrew his suppression. He then spoke with a sad but happy voice, "I... I will accept your inheritance, however, under one condition." Caius' eyes slightly widened as he asked what it was. Sythrik let go of his sad emotions and turned more emotional as he answered, "From my knowledge you lack offspring, isn't that right?" Old Caius simply nodded under a faint understanding, confirming with a simply, "yes" Sythrik smiled, then said with a warm tone, "Then, can I continue your true legacy? not just objects and coins, but something that sets you apart form others-a name." Old man Caius was taken aback with a gaping mouth. His eyes flickered of hope and joy. while his body seemed tense, in truth it was more laxed than ever. With a thankful voice, Caius answered, "I would be more than happy to fulfill that condition, if that is what you wish for."
Sythrik chuckled in a low tone, then, his posture relaxed, leaning forward to the paper. He picked up a fountain pen and dipped it in a small bottle of ink. He aimed it carefully at the piece of paper, guiding it under the text that said, "signature:" With a gentle push on the paper he wrote his name with care, then said, "Its done. From this moment onward, my name will be, Sythrik Finlay."