Chapter 2
Chamomile Tea, the Big Black Chair, and the Fireplace

He was seated there, looking at the fireplace that didn't burn at all. It was around 8:30 in the morning, why would he light a fire? His butler brought him a cup of his favorite tea. He looked deeply into the open space which was as black as ebony from the fires he's been lighting up the past nights. As he looked at it, images of the past began to flash before him… "Father?". He could remember the image of a boy with rich brown hair looking at the fire as he looked up to his father, blankly gazing into the flames that cracked and burned the wood. "Father?", the boy said again, he somehow couldn't get the image of his son out of his head. Soon, memories began to flash before him, memories of his own son. His attention was averted from the fireplace when he smelled the aroma of Chamomile fill the room. He picked up the cup and took a sip. "Never better…" he said softly to himself as the liquid streamed down his throat that it placed a small smile on his face. As he sat in his black leather chair, he grasped the calmness of his surroundings. Never has he been this at peace in his mansion his whole life. He put the cup down on the table and looked at a picture frame of his son's wedding picture on top of the frame of the fireplace. It wasn't your everyday wedding picture, not at all. His son was holding the peace sign up and his smile was the biggest anyone had ever seen, fortunately his wife wasn't able to notice what was going on behind her. He smiled at it, remembering those memories which seemed so long ago. It was all broken by one voice, "Grandfather?" his grandson said at the entrance of their living room. "Yes Kai?" the aged man asked.

"I was wondering… what was father like?"
"I thought he spent a few years with you until…"
"Well yeah, but… what's the difference if I was like I am now and he was still here?"
"It would be… different…"
"Oh…."
"What made you bring him up so suddenly?"
"Nothing… I saw his picture in my drawer… I just wanted to know more about him since I haven't really shared so much with him…"
"He… was much like you… resilient…"

The old man turned around to see his grandson with a thin smile on his face. He then walked out of the doorway and the old man looked back at the picture. "I wonder where you are now…" he thought as he picked up the frame and traced the picture with his fingertips. His son would rather have continued Beyblade development than work at the family firm. He could understand... after all, it's not like Voltaire hadn't seen an incident like that before. "Just like his father… he chased down his dream…" he thought as he smiled at the picture and looked out to the sun which began to fill the room with light.