LUCEM
LXXX Chapter

"What are you doing here?"

I turned around, raised the gun, and aimed towards the sound. I lowered my gun when I saw Lucio's face. And hastened to keep the weapon behind my waist. In an instant, heat seeped out from my head.

My mind was returned to me.

My thoughts, my name, my presence, where I'm—my soldiers barging in, are shameful and reckless. Worries and horrors flooded into me, dyeing my face. How do I explain what I don't understand?

Our views meet. Lucio's face remained petrified.

"Master," I said quickly. “This young woman is the daughter of Magenta and Venus. I don't really intend to enter this room, but— I feel compelled to help her.”

Lucio just looked at me. For a while he just looked at me without making a sound or moving.

Finally, he said, "How did you know that this girl was the daughter of Magenta and Venus?"

I shook my head. “Master, there. . . sort of a vision. Stand in the hallway. She told me she was Anna, and she needed help. He knows my name. He told me where to go.”

Lusio exhaled, his shoulder releasing the tension he held. "This is not the daughter of Magenta and Venus" she said slowly. "You've been misled by your previous thoughts and training failures."

This guy knows my training, surprisingly. Did Magenta tell this man everything?

Lucio took a breath. Showing a disappointed look.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Lucio. I thought— I thought I had interfered too.” I move, starting the steps to find the exit.

"Wait," he said.

I'm pecking on the spot. Waiting for what he will say next.

Lusio walked in front of me, looking into my eyes again. "Of course."

"And?" she said. "What are you thinking?"

Lucio pointed to the line of glass cylinders, to the figure displayed inside.

"I think it's a beautiful look, Mr. Lucio" I replied.

Lucio almost smiled. He took a step closer, studying me. “Beautiful appearance, indeed.”

I swallowed spit.

His voice changed, becoming more friendly. "You're never gonna betray us, are you, Mars?"

“No, no will,” I said quickly.

"Say something to me" he said, raising his hand to my face. The backs of his knuckles touched my cheeks, traced my jaw line"

My heart rumbled in my chest. What does this man do, what does he want? Can't he speak at a distance?

"Will you do something for me?" Her speech.

"Say, what can I do for you." I rushed over hoping the conversation between us was over soon and I could leave this stifling room.

I lowered my gaze.

"Have you forgotten," he said, "that you are a guest?"

"Not at all." Reply slowly.

"Liar!" his yell.

His voice echoed. My heart jumped down my throat. I go back to swallowing. Didn't say anything.

"I'll ask you one more time" he said, looking me in the eye. "Have you forgotten that you're a guest?"

"Y-yes, I'm sorry."

Eyes shiny. “Should I remind you, Mars? Should I remind you that a door that doesn't open and someone doesn't invite you in is off limits for you to enter."

"Yes, I'm sorry," I said again, but I was heard breathing fast. I feel sick from fear. Heat. The heat pierced my skin. The lightning debate in my head, who this man is to Magenta, why do I feel he is acting as if he is the master of this house. Shouldn't that be Magenta?

A second later I saw him pick up a knife from his jacket pocket. Carefully, he unfolded his fold, his metal glittering in neon light.

He pressed the handle to my right hand. Put it there until I had to grasp the handle of the knife.

Then he took my left hand and explored it with both hands, tracing the line of my palm and the shape of my fingers, stitching my knuckles. The sensation swirled within me, a gentle and terrible massage. Pressing in the right place.

Then he pressed my index finger lightly. He looked back into my eyes.

"This one," he said. "Give it to me."

"Cut it. Put it in my hand. And everything will be forgiven.”

I looked at him in disbelief. Trying to clear my own head what he just said, what he just asked me to do. Who is this guy, who is this Lucio so he even sues me on what I don't really understand? Just the guess there is no definitive answer that I can catch immediately.

While I was digesting the situation, the man raised my hand. Strange, there is no rejection I can do. Then he slowly grabbed the handle of the knife in my hand. The knife turned to him. A small smile was caught on his face. I blinked.

With trembling hands, he pressed the knife into the soft skin at the base of my finger. The blade was so sharp that it instantly pierced through the flesh there, and my crying voice was held in my throat as he pressed it deeper, hesitating only when he felt the rejection from me. Knife against bone. The pain exploded there, blinding my sight.

I fell on one knee on the floor. He still holds my hand.

There's blood everywhere. I saw blood flowing from my hands. A spinning feeling struck my head.

My breath hunted so I gasped, trying desperately not to vomit from pain or horror. I clenched my teeth so hard that it sent a new shock of pain upwards, directly into my brain, and the distraction was helpful. I had to press my bloodied hand against the dirty floor to keep it stable, but with one last desperate cry, I cursed at the man, shouting my brother's name. Shouting and hoping someone will come and end all this madness.

The man grinned, his eyes wide as if he had not expected what he had done to my hands.

My eyes were filled with tears that were stifled.

The knife fell from his trembling hand, clattering to the floor. My index finger was still in my hand with the flesh torn apart, and I closed it with a quick and loud movement. My body trembled so violently that I could barely stand, with the rest of my strength returning to shout Marbella's name before collapsing to the floor.

"Good boy," he said softly. "Good boy."

That's all I heard him say before I fainted.