20. A Rose Dedicated to Dio (20)

The three fine horses were bought when Dio and the others had just entered high school. Back then, they were still foals, each a different color. Now that they had matured, the foals had grown into handsome adult horses.

Only a wealthy family like the Joestars could afford to provide horses for all three children.

Mokumono stepped forward first and took hold of his white horse.

His horse was as delicate and gluttonous as he was. Mokumono had come prepared, pulling a candy from his pocket to feed the white horse.

The horse gazed at him with moist, gentle eyes and happily rubbed against him twice after enjoying the treat.

Mokumono smiled softly and casually popped a candy into his own mouth.

Dio, standing nearby, remarked coldly, “Don’t spoil it too much.”

The horse, perceptive as it was, snorted twice in displeasure and gave Dio a sharp whinny.

Dio’s gaze grew even colder.

Frowning, Mokumono said, “Little White is so well-behaved; it’s just two candies. You’re just as indulgent with your Caesar!”

He had personally seen Dio grooming his black horse, Caesar. If he didn’t care, why would he bother?

Dio couldn’t outtalk Mokumono’s sharp tongue, and Mokumono was one of the few who could argue with him without being targeted.

He was truly at a loss.

The group left the estate and then mounted their horses.

Dio didn’t notice that as adolescence progressed, his glances lingering on Mokumono grew longer and more frequent.

The same happened during this hunt.

Jojo had intended to ride alongside Dio to discuss strategy and jointly pursue the desired prey. Yet he found Dio distracted, his gaze repeatedly flicking towards Mokumono.

When questioned, Dio said, “That guy lacks strength and caution. I’m worried that if danger arises, he won’t even manage to flee. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mokumono fell asleep on horseback.”

Jojo laughed heartily at that.

Mokumono frowned and rode forward. “Hey, what bad things are you saying about me?”

Knowing he’d heard, Dio replied, “Maybe we’re just telling the truth.”

Suddenly, the cold, moonlike aura around Mokumono dissipated. He raised an eyebrow and snapped, “You’re always spouting nonsense, Dio.”

They began their usual bickering, with Jojo caught in the middle trying to soothe either side, to no avail.

It gave him quite a headache.

Jojo decided to shift their attention to prevent further quarrels, saying, “Do you know about the upcoming social dance?”

Mokumono and Dio asked in unison, “What?”

“It’s hosted by a baron in town, and he’s long since invited our family. You know, at our age, we have to start attending these social dances. It’s an unavoidable part of life,” Jojo sighed.

Mokumono asked puzzled, “Why not just refuse? We could focus on our studies instead; there’s no need to participate now.”

Dio shrugged. “Those people only care about our social status. Every time we attend a dance, it’s like we’re meat on a chopping block. I’ve even heard the saying, ‘A wealthy bachelor is inevitably a future legitimate possession of some lady.’ Isn’t that ridiculous?”

Jojo scratched his cheek. “You two have a narrow view of these dances. Since we’re grown now, we should participate more, so we won’t be flustered when we have to handle things ourselves in the future. Besides, making friends can be enjoyable, and you might meet kindred spirits there.”

Dio’s gaze lingered on Mokumono. Kindred spirits? Hardly. More like determined to vex him.

Mokumono said bluntly, “Jojo, you just want to see Elena, don’t you?”

Jojo’s cheeks blushed crimson like a monkey’s behind.

“N-no, as gentlemen, we must not casually discuss other girls.” He awkwardly shifted the topic.

Mokumono and Dio exchanged knowing glances; they had long seen through his juvenile feelings.

The three quickly dropped the subject and charged into the woods to begin hunting.

Mokumono trailed behind, mostly just enjoying the ride—more play than hunt.

The hunt was brief and casual, with only a few shots fired; the outing was more for fun.

Along the way, Jojo encountered Elena and stayed to talk, eventually losing track of Dio and Mokumono.

Dio didn’t bother watching their lovey-dovey antics.

He and Mokumono rode side by side. Initially eager to speak, Dio noticed Mokumono spot a small creek. Mokumono gently petted White’s head and directed the horse forward.

Upon reaching the creek, Mokumono dismounted without even tying the reins to a tree, simply letting White wander freely.

He found a shady spot beneath a tree, lay down with his hands clasped behind his head, legs crossed.

“You’re really too leisurely. Are you here to hunt or camp?” Dio mocked.

Mokumono raised a hand in surrender. “Just here to have fun. It’s almost the same thing.”

Dio, familiar with his temperament, didn’t mock him further.

He asked, “Are you going to that social dance, Mokumono?”

Mokumono, eyes closed, opened them at the question. His long, beautiful eyes met Dio’s gaze and he replied with a question instead, “Why do you want to know?”

Dio’s tone was calm as he analyzed, “I’m worried about you. If you go to the dance, things might not turn out as you expect. Those girls are very pragmatic; they prefer wealthy bachelors. Besides, you’re not a true Westerner, so they’d have even more considerations.”

Mokumono covered his face and laughed quietly.

Dio’s expression darkened. “Do you think I’m joking? And you don’t take my words seriously!”

Mokumono shook his head and removed his hand, revealing a captivating face beneath. His smile was radiant, almost dazzling Dio’s eyes.

Dio closed his eyes, feeling his heart pound fiercely in his chest, and suddenly his anger faded.

Mokumono said, “I’m just going for fun, to see the excitement. I’m not really planning to marry anyone. We could even see how Jojo and Elena’s relationship is at the dance. After all, that young lady is very popular among gentlemen.”

Dio twisted the corner of his mouth. “Those men are only after the thousands of pounds behind her dowry. The ugly nature of these upper-class nobles is plain to see.”

Mokumono was helpless against such cynicism and, wanting to avoid heavy topics, joked, “After all, I’m still your ‘wife.’ Someday, I’ll be waiting for you to marry me. Logically, I should be the one worrying about you going out and carousing, then bringing home some girl.”

These were the childish banter they had shared in youth. No one took such teasing seriously. But as they grew older, such jokes became rarer.

Hearing this now made Dio’s heart skip a beat.

He scowled. “What kind of joke is that? If anyone else heard you, they’d tie you up and burn you at the stake.”

Especially said with such a casual tone—it was infuriating.

Dio’s face darkened.

Fortunately, over the years, Mokumono had grown used to Dio’s temperamental moods and still greeted him with a smile.

Suddenly, Mokumono leaned close to the lying Dio. Their crimson eyes met, and he gave a playful smile.

The young priest, revered and untouchable to many like a pure snow lotus on a high mountain, now resembled a demon from hell, rising from the abyss to tempt mortals.

Dio’s handsome face flickered with surprise but he quickly composed himself, returning the provocatively challenging gaze. “You think I’m afraid? In the past, when faced with such things, who was the one hiding the most? You.”

Their noses nearly touched, lips mere inches apart.

Their breaths seemed to mingle; Mokumono’s black pupils were both innocent and seductive.

Dio was momentarily lost, almost leaning in.

At the crucial moment, Mokumono leaned his head back, resting it on his intertwined hands behind him, eyes closed lazily.

“By the way, Dio, you’re coming to the dance with us tomorrow, right? You’ll surely be popular with the girls. With your looks, even without a vast fortune, many would flock to you.”

He shrugged. “Besides, Uncle George will definitely divide the inheritance between you and Jojo.”

No one doubted that George was such a kind man; many understood this well.

Mokumono spoke calmly, a trace of drowsiness in his voice, his soft black hair fluttering in the breeze.

“You stayed up late reading those strange books again last night?” Dio asked.

Mokumono’s hair flared. “Strange books? Those are fantasy novels! Fantasy—do you understand?”

“Hmph. Truly powerful people don’t rely on fantasy; they grasp the future with their own hands and seize what they truly desire.”

Dio’s hair, uncombed and tousled by the wind, framed eyes burning with ambition—fiery and dazzling.

Mokumono was momentarily stunned, then said, “Bastard, don’t dodge my previous question!”

Dio turned his head, staring intently, then suddenly smiled. “I’m going. Of course I’ll go.”