"I really enjoy the food at this restaurant, the flavors are wonderful, and the wine isn't bad either."

In the noon hour, the Coulson family emerged contented from a fulfilling luncheon.

James Coulson, Merlin's foster father and high school gym teacher, was in high spirits. A robust, slightly stout middle-aged man, he'd encountered several acquaintances at the restaurant and had indulged in a few extra glasses of wine, now feeling slightly tipsy.

He walked alongside Merlin, while Mrs. Coulson and a sullen Phil trailed behind.

"Say, Merlin, Phil, what's with you two? You both looked so down during the meal."

James's voice lowered with concern. Merlin didn't want to worry his family nor share his innermost secrets, so he shrugged nonchalantly, telling his father:

"Just young people's troubles, Dad, nothing to fuss over. I was just thinking... once I leave for college in August, maybe you should shut down the farm and move to the city. It'd be better for looking after Phil and yourselves."

"That farm can't close, my Merlin."

James shook his head stubbornly, addressing Merlin as if he were his own flesh and blood:

"When your parents' ancestral home was demolished, I couldn't save it for you. I used that money to buy back this farm; it's the only legacy I can leave you, a promise to Wilton and May. They were my best friends; we grew up together, and I was there when you were born... Ah."

James sighed, reminiscing about the past, then patted his eldest son's shoulder:

"Don't worry, Merlin. You just focus on your studies in New York. Your cousin May has settled there; she'll look after you in our stead. As for things in Wisconsin, don't concern yourself; I'll find someone to take care of the farm."

"Dad, you know I don't really care about all that."

Merlin steadied James's arm, glancing back at his mother and brother, and said:

"I barely knew my parents, and you and Mom raised me. I'm not much for inheritance. You know I can support myself and you both. I was thinking, maybe we should move away from Wisconsin. Why not come with me to New York?"

"New York? No."

James shook his head:

"My forefathers came to this land from Europe, and every generation of the Coulsons has grown and aged here. I won't go to some big city full of devils and chaos. I know you're a good kid, Merlin, and you've been wonderful to us, but trust us, child, we can take care of ourselves after you leave."

"Alright."

Merlin realized his impulsive suggestion was just that, perhaps influenced by the mysterious vision that morning. That apparition disrupted his 18 years of tranquility, exposing a flicker of panic that didn't suit his usually composed demeanor.

But after all, he was just a young man, perhaps with more peculiar experiences than others, but that didn't mean he was any stronger.

"I'll visit often."

Merlin opened the car door, hesitating briefly between driving himself or letting Phil continue, but he quickly settled into the driver's seat. Adjusting the rearview mirror, he promised his parents:

"I'll call every week, and I'll come back every holiday, or you can visit me in New York."

"I can move into your study when you're gone."

Phil, buckling his seatbelt on the other side, said to his brother:

"And the garage, you'll leave Lola for me, right? You won't drive her away! Will you?"

"Ah, sorry, my Phil."

Merlin blinked, telling Phil:

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"I can leave everything else for you, but Lola, she's mine."

"No!!!"

Youthful troubles are fleeting, and Phil had recovered from his emotional setback by meal's end. He feigned despair with a howl, eliciting laughter from the three in the car.

In this joyful atmosphere, Merlin made sure to look around before starting the car, ensuring the figure didn't reappear. As he drove back to the farm, everything seemed normal.

It appeared... as if everything that had happened was just an insignificant illusion.

Merlin sighed with relief.

-------------------------------------

However, during the Coulsons' moment of familial bliss, miles away on a grassy knoll, the mysterious figure stood. He adjusted his hat brim, gazing toward the Coulson farm, a sly smile playing under the shadow of his hat.

"Little Merlin, are you ready?"

He mused to himself, twirling a golden pocket watch in his gloved hand. With a crisp click, the watch opened, revealing an intricate mechanism far more complex than any ordinary timepiece.

The mysterious figure glanced down at the "time," murmuring as if in conversation with unseen entities.

"Tonight, the first 'spin' of fate's dice will cast upon Merlin's destiny. I will observe and then report back to you."

The entity at the other end seemed to pose a question, which only broadened the figure's enigmatic smile.

He looked once more toward the Coulson farm, replying:

"Of course, I guess... little Merlin is ready. Even eager, just like us, who have long awaited. Though, 18 years for us is but the time it takes to enjoy an afternoon tea."

The mysterious man enjoyed the talk, eager to share his thoughts, but as he finished, his gaze shifted to another direction. His eyes narrowed as if observing a power slowly rising from beneath the earth.

"Excuse me... it's watching this way. It's coming. I must disconnect; I wouldn't want your boss's presence to scare it away."

"Until next time, await my good news."

With a flick of his finger, the mysterious man was enshrouded in light, vanishing as if he had never been there, standing in another dimension, his blue cape fluttering in an ethereal pallor. He watched the Coulson farm, saw the dark red aura rising from the earth like a fog, restless and hungry as it sought out its prey.

This clearly wasn't a force of the human world.

"San Gong..."

The man shook his head, eyeing the precise watch, whispering:

"So many years, and still no progress. But then again, welcome to the game."

"May you... enjoy it."

———————————————————

Merlin was oblivious to the abnormality.

He was unaware of the watchful eyes behind him, just as he was unaware that after tonight, his destiny would veer onto a different path.

After lunch with his family, the afternoon passed without incident, devoid of the bizarre events found in Phil's favorite superhero comics.

The earth didn't split open, rivers didn't reverse, livestock didn't perish. Everything was beautiful, everything was normal.

Until night fell, and with Phil's help, Merlin replaced the last spark plug in Lola. Now, all that was needed was fuel, and the classic 1962 red convertible could once again race across the land.

The very thought filled Merlin with elation.

He called out for Phil to hand him the pliers, but there was no response. The garage was eerily quiet, causing Merlin to start. He quickly crawled out from under the car, only to discover Phil asleep in a corner.

The young man had drifted off at some point, lost in what seemed like a pleasant dream.

"Alright then."

Merlin didn't disturb his brother's slumber. He fetched the pliers himself, tidied up underneath the car, cleaned the oil from his fingers, and for the first time as its owner, settled into Lola's driver's seat.

His fingers caressed the immaculately polished car as if touching the perfect skin of a beautiful woman, finally resting on the steering wheel. Merlin smiled, a sense of fulfillment and pride in his grin.

What man doesn't love a car?

Especially when it belongs to him.

"Ah..."

Merlin leaned back, stretching out in the seat, yawning expansively. He glanced at his wristwatch; it was dusk. The beautiful sunset streamed through the garage cracks, casting a warm glow inside.

All was so peaceful, so quiet, it made one want to sleep right there.

And so, he closed his eyes...

"Bang"

A soft noise jolted Merlin awake. His eyes snapped open; he was still in Lola's driver's seat, Phil still snoozing on the shelf. But in front of Lola stood a man in an old-fashioned black suit with dashing white hair, tapping on the car's hood with his finger, producing a series of crisp knocks.

Merlin stared at the uninvited guest; he had never seen this man around. He noticed the dark red lines on the man's cheeks, resembling scars, giving off an eerie vibe.

"Don't touch Lola!"

Merlin swung the car door open, instinctively reprimanding.

Behind him, his left hand discreetly gripped the nearby pipe wrench. This hefty tool could easily crack a man's skull when swung.

In strange circumstances, the reassuring weight of a weapon in hand can steady one's nerves.

Merlin stood a few meters from the man, his reproach halting the odd tapping. The stranger turned to regard Merlin, eyeing him as if appraising a rare object.

And only then did Merlin notice the man's dark red eyes. Aside from those eyes, whenever Merlin averted his gaze, the man's features would fade from memory...

This was clearly abnormal!

His grip on the pipe wrench tightened.

"Can I help you with something, sir?"

Merlin tried to sound calm, as if he hadn't noticed the man's bizarre markings, the unnerving eyes, nor the sinister aura that set him apart from everything else.

"Yes."

The man replied, his voice deep like a warhammer falling, not sharp, but piercing to the ear.

He looked at Merlin, saying:

"I have come for you, mortal."

With a finger, a dark red flame danced, and the man tilted his head, expressionless, as he stated:

"Sign a pact with me..."

"And with all the glory your impoverished mind can conceive, become my 'son.'"

In that moment...

Merlin's expression...

Froze completely.