《An Inconvenient Flame》


 Chapter 1: Incurable

    Lucien Salverson loves to start his day with a hot cup of second-flush Darjeeling tea, paired with a couple slices of soft cheese. Later in the afternoon, he would resteep it for his mother, who prefers to cut the unpleasant flavor from a freshly used teabag. She would often lounge in the balcony adjacent to her bedroom, basking in the mid-afternoon sun. Sometimes she''d be in the backyard, sitting under the weeping willow tree, away from the prying eyes of neighbors.


    This entirely depends on her mood: Balcony when she''s in high spirits; backyard when the effects of Prozac doesn''t kick in. And recently, she''d been spending more and more time in the backyard.


    At first, this wasn''t a cause for concern. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and seemed to be responding well to treatment. But the depressive state often lingered a bit too long.


    It all began when the company she had built from the ground-up, slowly crumbled to pieces in just a matter of months. She watched it fall at her feet, and it happened all too quickly. Lucien thought she would go crazy by the end of the year, but she managed to stay sane after the deluge.


    Or so he thought.


    He hadn''t seen the signs. Or maybe he chose to overlook them? But three days ago, it came crashing down before him.


    <hr>


    That day, instead of serving the usual resteeped tea and a few helpings of fruits and nuts, Lucien prepared Lapsang and dark chocolate. Both were gifts from a former employee, but had been gathering dust in the pantry for weeks. He had spent a considerable amount of time steeping and rinsing the tea, hoping his mother would appreciate a new flavor.


    It was a somber afternoon and he guessed his mother would be in the backyard. As he walked along the hallway leading towards the garden, he remembered checking the time on his watch: 3:00 PM. Not a minute too late.


    From where he was, he could see a few branches of the willow tree swaying gently. He tilted his head towards the window and smelled that pleasant petrichor - the unmistakable scent of rain as it begins to fall on dry soil. Silver tray in hand, he made quick strides towards the backyard. His mother might have fallen asleep, like she always does.


    Lucien opened the door towards the backyard. "Mom, I''ve prepared something new for you," he said cheerfully as he eased the tray out through the rickety door. He had been planning to call a carpenter to fix the hinges but he always ends up putting it off, just like pruning the overgrown forsythias, replacing the front-door lighting,and oh, handing over Ms. Carmella''s final paycheck.


    It was a terrible and desperate time.


    He let out a deep sigh.


    "I''ve carefully rinsed the tea. It''s calledLapsang souchong. Actually, it''s a gift from Mr. Monaghan. I thought it''d be a waste to just keep it lying around."


    He gave the door a gentle push before finally turning around to face his mother. And just as he did, a terrifying sight petrified him. There, on the thickest branch of the willow tree, was his mother, a noose tied around her slender neck.


    He was frozen in place, not daring to take a single step. His hands shook uncontrollably, the teacup making a violent rattling sound on the tray.


    "Mom... Come on," he muttered, lips quivering. "This... This is a bad joke. Mom,please. It''s... It''sdrizzling." He didn''t know what else to say.


    He couldn''t see her face clearly from where he stood. The first hint of rain is here, and the raindrops falling on his face brought him back to his senses. He quickly dropped the tray on a nearby table and scampered towards his mother.


    Where the fuck is Miss Carmella? I told her to keep her company! Did she forget to give Mom her meds again? Is she doing this on purpose since she''s about to get sacked?


    He moved close enough to see his mother''s face hidden beneath the thick lush of auburn hair. She had always looked calm and she often smiled, albeit beguiling. Her cheeks and lips were always flushed pink, and her eyes were shockingly blue - features that always made heads turn.


    But those delicate features are all but gone now. Her cheeks were pale, lips blue, and she had a blank stare. Lucien didn''t know where exactly she was staring, however, because one of her eyes had nearly popped out from its socket, seemingly staring back at him.


    "MISS CARMELLA!" Lucien screamed out as he averted his eyes from his mother. "Miss Carmella, come here right this instant!"


    He nearly lost his balance as he bolted towards the door. He kept looking back at his poor mother, hoping it''s not yet too late.


    "I won''t be long, Mom. I promise! I won''t..." His voice cracked. "Wait for me!"


    He grabbed the doorknob, pulled the door open. It didn''t budge.


    This goddamn door, I''ll have you replaced tomorrow even if it''s the last thing I fucking do!


    "Miss Carmella!" he kept yelling as he gave the door a good kick, hoping the hinges would loosen up. With one strong pull, it finally pried open. Only that it hit him right across the face.


    He felt the back of his head hit the stone-cold floor. Only the sharp pain lingered, and then there was complete darkness.


    Lucien had no idea what happened next.


    <hr>


    When Lucien finally regained consciousness, he had found himself in his bedroom. He lay unmoving for a full minute, staring blankly at the ceiling.


    It was just a nightmare. It couldn''t possibly be real.


    He got up from bed and opened the windows to let the sunlight in. The room smelled faintly of mold. Ms. Carmella hadn''t been doing the usual chores for the past few weeks. Well, it wasn''t part of her duties to begin with. The person in-charge of bedroom cleaning had been sent away for over a month now.


    He didn''t want to live with it - this moldy, rotting, festering way of life. He has to find a way to get out of it. Escape from all of it, if he has to.


    And then, he remembered his mother.


    He felt a twinge from the back of his head. Could be the regular cluster headaches he''d been having since he started picking up where his mother had left off after filing for bankruptcy. She wallowed in shame and disappointment and when she did, she stopped showing herself to family, friends, and colleagues.


    Lucien, being the only child, had to do everything in her behalf, which included paying off debts for the final chunk of bad investments she had made. They should at least end things without owing anybody a single penny.


    It must have been past ten in the morning when he finally decided to step out of his bedroom to get some breakfast. He put on a robe and slowly made his way to the kitchen.


    But instead of the welcoming scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttered toast, the whole place smelled strangely of flowers. He didn''t particularly like this floral scent, though.


    Carnation and chrysanthemum. It made his hair stand on end.


    "Miss Carmella, what''s this obnoxious smell?" he groaned as he waved his hand in the air, trying to whisk away the smell. "Please get rid of it, whatever it is."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    No response. In fact, the whole place was eerily silent, it''s starting to become unsettling. He looked for the servant in the kitchen but she wasn''t there. No breakfast on the table, either. He tried to calm himself down, and was considering letting her go by the end of the week. This string of disappointments has got to stop.


    Ms. Carmella was not in the laundry room nor was she in the maid''s quarters, which she now has all to herself. Could it be that she decided to leave without getting paid?


    He heard the faint sound of a woman crying, along with several muted voices. He tilted his head and realized the sound was coming from the living room. For a moment, he stood frozen. It''s as if a part of himself didn''t want to go. But he did anyway, because this is going to be his reality from now on.


    A small group of people gathered in the living room, all of whom are familiar faces. Among others, there was his mother''s elder sister Sherry, whom he hadn''t seen since the beginning of the year - along with her husband and son. Some of his mother''s most trusted(former)employees were there, too. And then there''s Ms. Carmella, her eyes swollen and bloodshot.


    They huddled around a finely polished metallic casket. But for a casket, the color was quite an eyesore - a sort of chrome black that screams moroseness.


    "She wouldn''t be happy with your choice. It looks...tacky," said Lucien, breaking the silence. Everyone turned to his direction.


    Ms. Carmella sobbed even harder as she walked up and held him firmly by the arm. "Master, are you feeling better? You shouldn''t be up and about just yet."


    "My dear..." Aunt Sherry cut in. "I wish we could have seen each other again in a better situation. Honestly, I..." Her voice trailed off as Lucien walked towards the casket and the rest made way for him.


    His mother looked as though she was just sleeping. She looked so solemn and peaceful. For a moment, the memory of her disfigured face crossed his mind. It''s frustrating how the mind tends to keep the ugliest, most unpleasant memories in your head.


    On the bright side, the mortician did a good job at restoring her delicate features. The only thing he didn''t like was the color of her lipstick. She probably wouldn''t want to get caught wearing such a vulgar color, even if she were dead.


    Yet here we are.


    Lucien put his hands inside his robe pocket. "So it''s true. This is all real. She really did kill herself."


    Ms. Carmella shot a glance at him and let out a whimper. "Master,please..." she said in a hushed tone.


    All the pent-up anger was welling up inside him. Ms. Carmella knew better than to leave his mother alone. She had been on suicide watch for the past few months. He wanted to slap the old croon. Scream at her, curse her. Curse everyone in this room who''s invading their family''s privacy and hovering over his mother as if she were some sort of carnival attraction.


    "All of you, please leave," Lucien simmered, his voice barely audible.


    "What''s that, dear?" asked his Aunt Sherry. She gently placed a hand on Lucien''s shoulder.


    "I think he''s asking us to leave, Mom," said his cousin Edmund, sounding a little disgruntled.


    "Please... All of you, leavenow," Lucien said in a louder and firmer tone of voice.


    "Jesus. You''re still an obstinate prick, huh?" Edmund blurted.


    Lucien clenched his jaw and glared at his cousin. "Leave or I''ll bore a hole through that thick skull of yours."


    "Come on, dear," Aunt Sherry pleaded as she glanced towards the other mourners. "There''s no need for this display of hostility. As family, we should be united right now. Your Mom -"


    "Stop with all this pretentiousbullshit, Auntie," Lucien seethed through gritted teeth. "I know you and Mom never liked each other. You never even came to visit, much less give her a call when she needed your help. She practically had tobegyou to spare her a minute of your time. Well, news flash for all of you here! Go back to where you came from andnevercome back. You won''t get anything from us, not a single fucking cent. Now, be gone!"


    "E - Excuse me," murmured the blonde-haired lady who was standing behind Edmund. He couldn''t catch her name but he was certain she worked in the company''s production department. It''s hard to forget the elaborately coiffed hair she had always flaunted but right now, there were thin strands of hair sticking out of her ponytail and trailing over her shoulders. She looked like she came to the wake in a rush.


    The lady stifled a cry and buried her face in a pink handkerchief, unable to speak for a moment. "We''re just here to pay our respects to Madame. If you don''t mind..."


    Lucien felt a twinge of guilt and regret for saying such harsh words. He''s always had a short fuse when it comes to his relatives. Most of them are just a bunch of hyenas who are only after the family fortune or the very few scraps they have left. It was because of them that he developed a cynical eye, and he almost forgot that there are still a few people who genuinely care for and respect his mother.


    He sighed as he placed a hand on his forehead. "I''m sorry.Uhm.Thank you, I really appreciate you coming here," he said with a refreshing tenderness. He pushed his way between his aunt and cousin, smiling weakly at the blonde lady. "I would really like it if you -" He scanned his eyes towards the other former company employees. " - and the rest of you guys come back in two days to see Mom off."


    "Two days?" His Aunt Sherry interjected. "Isn''t that too soon? Aren''t you going to wait for the rest of the family to come and -"


    "In two days, Auntie," Lucien repeated himself vehemently. "Two days. No more, no less. The dead shouldn''t be the one making adjustments for the living. Now, if you please..." He walked back towards the coffin. "I''d like a moment alone with Mom. So I''d like to kindly ask you all to leave.Please."


    There were no further objections nor retorts from the guests, even from his aunt and cousin. Lucien didn''t bother looking back at them, but he could feel their piercing gaze, like knives stabbing him on the back. Ms. Carmella politely ushered them towards the front door, bowed down her head as she muttered ''I''m so sorry for this'' and ''Please understand'' under her breath.


    When the last of the guests had left, she walked back into the living room, still sniffling. Slowly and cautiously, she approached Lucien, who was sitting down by the couch next to his mother''s casket. He was plucking the petals off a wilting carnation.


    "I''ll be leaving the day after the funeral," she said nonchalantly. "I''ve prepared all my things and called my son to come pick me up."


    Lucien dropped the last of the petals and rubbed his hands together. "I''ll just wire you your final paycheck before the end of the month, then." He shifted from the couch and crossed his legs. "You don''t mind that, do you?"


    "Master..." The servant''s voice was filled with remorse. "T - That day, the Madame asked me to pick some azaleas from the front lawn. It was an unusual request, since she never liked flowers. And... I should have taken it as a sign.I was careless.And I''m... I''m sure you''re blaming me for this."


    "Yes. Yes, I do blame you, Miss Carmella," Lucien replied without reservations. He gave her a resentful look, one that made the old lady burst into tears.


    "I''m sorry. I''m really, truly sorry..."


    Lucien''s lips quivered. And then, his expression softened. He looked up and heaved a sigh.


    "Well... if it''s any consolation, I''m to blame, too. The signs were glaringly obvious, you''re either blind or stupid to not notice them. I guess I''m the latter." He gave a hollow laugh. "She cried for helpsomany times, but I chose to ignore them. What a clusterfuck it was,hmm?"


    Ms. Carmella remained silent throughout his affirmation.


    "So!" He straightened up and slapped his knees. "You can stop torturing yourself over something that''s inevitable, Miss," he said with a forced smile. "It as as they say:There''s no point crying over spilled milk."


    He stood up and motioned towards the connecting hallway leading to the kitchen.


    "I... I thought you should know something, Master," the servant called out to him. "At first, I thought it''s just one of the Madame''s usual ramblings, but... she sounded truly resentful of this one thing."


    Lucien stopped in his tracks and looked back at her. "Something I don''t know?"


    "It could be nothing, but... it could also besomething."


    He crossed his arms. "Try me."


    "Well... She kept mentioning this one company." Her eyes were moving, trying to remember something. "''Carmichael Tech'' or whatnot."


    Lucien shrugged. It didn''t ring a bell. It''s frustrating, but it piqued his interest. He sat back down on the couch.


    "Well, what else did Mom say?"


    Ms. Carmella cleared her throat and looked at Lucien with bloodshot eyes. "The thing is, the Madame kept blaming that company for everything that''s happened recently. It''s ''cause of that company that she had to drop everything. It''s what she said."


    Lucien felt a chill run down his spine. He couldn''t believe what he''s hearing. All this time, he thought it was just a series of miscalculations and investment risks gone wrong.


    Mom, is this true? How come I don''t knowanyof this?


    He clenched his fists, feeling utterly helpless and clueless. "Please tell me more about this, Miss," he implored. He gritted his teeth, exasperated.


    The two were immersed in a deep conversation for nearly a couple of hours. At first, the servant''s story seemed incredulous but as the discussion went on, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, filling the gaps that were once mysterious to him.


    He was quiet for the most part, listening intently to every word Ms. Carmella said. He would ask questions from time to time, and she would always get the answer he needed.


    Lucien couldn''t see the point why Ms. Carmella would weave such an intricate lie, or the reason his mother would keep such a big secret. For one, he is not emotionally unstable enough for her to keep this important piece of information to herself. If anything, it might have been the very thing that put a heavy burden on her.


    What did she get herself caught up in?


    As far as he knew, his mother didn''t make enemies outside the family. Could it be that Carmichael Tech is owned by a relative seeking to crush their reputation? But from the sound of it, it''s a pretty big company that somehow just randomly decided to put them into bankruptcy. And besides, it''s impossible for his mother to just let someone from the family go and build what looked to be a corporate giant, right under her nose.


    So the question remains:All of this, for what gain?

 Chapter 2: Revelations

    By the end of their conversation, Lucien felt worn out and ready to give up. But more than anything, he felt betrayed. Why would his mother entrust this information to a servant and not to him?


    And then, a strong sense of dread enveloped him.


    Could it be that they''re still not done with whatever they''re scheming against the family? Is it possible that they''re coming after me, now that Mom is gone?


    Lucien barely ate anything that day, save for a few helpings of cheese and a cup of tea. When night fell, he tried his best to get some rest but he couldn''t sleep a wink. He expressly instructed Ms. Carmella not to send him food and to turn away guests for the following day - be it friend or family. The servant was hesitant at first but when Lucien shot her a stern look, she could only respond with a cold nod. She then returned to the living room, watching over the coffin in silent grief.


    Lucien turned in his bed, shifting from side to side, trying to fall asleep. When he checked his bedside clock, it read 2:56 AM.


    The pain on his head where he had hit the floor ached even more. Opening the bedside drawer where he usually kept his medication, he desperately searched for sleeping pills or pain relievers. He failed to find one, and began to rummage through the line of bottles in the bathroom''s medicine cabinet. There were none.


    Instead, he found the straight razor his mom had given him as a gift on his 21st birthday.


    Lucien was never the manual type of guy. He liked everything automatic. Whether it''s the day''s sales insight report or getting his beard shaved, he preferred instant results.


    Gently, he took out the razor from its box, running his fingers across the wooden blade with his name etched on it. His mom had it customized for him, so he thought to just keep it as a memento. He smiled, remembering how happy his mom was that day. He was supposed to be the debutant and was slated to make his first public appearance in the company. But his mother stalled it. He did not understand the reason at first, but it was around the same time the company began facing some serious financial issues.


    Just as Lucien was about to place the razor back inside the box, a strange premonition crossed his mind.


    What if this is Mom''s message all along? Mom always knew I never liked receiving this type of gifts. Perhaps now is the perfect moment to fulfill its purpose...


    He had to admit it to himself. He was afraid they would come after him next. He''s nothing more than a coward. A sorry excuse of a man who fell for a life of luxury and the tyranny of convenience. He would rather escape than to see himself rolling in a pile of filth.


    And he knows just how to do it.


    Lucien''s hands were shaking as he unfolded the razor, separating the blade from its handle. Even after two years, there was not a single rust spot, and the edges of the blade were as sharp as ever. Thank god he didn''t have to waste any more time sharpening it.


    "I guess we''re going to see each other sooner than expected, Mom," he whispered, voice cracking like cold ice. "This is what you wanted, right? Of course, we can''t possibly let them win. Let their efforts go in vain."


    "How unfathomably stupid," said an unfamiliar voice. "And here I thought you''d be more creative."


    His head jolted to where the voice had come from. There was nobody else in the room but him. That''s it, he''s finally losing it.


    Like a surgeon about to perform a delicate surgery, he carefully motioned the blade towards his left wrist.


    "It''s hard to continue with life when you see no point to it. Isn''t that right, Mom?" Lucien said to himself as he found himself laughing. "No point prolonging the inevitable."


    "I didn''t expect to come to your aid so soon," the mysterious voice whispered to his ear once more. "The Gates aren''t open for you - at least not yet. Would you rather I give you a fighting chance?"


    Just when Lucien was about to press the blade against his skin, his vision turned red as blood. The razor fell from his grasp, dropping to the sink with a loud clank. Panic-stricken, he put his hands on his face and closed his eyes as tightly as he could. He could hear his own raspy breathing in the middle of the deathly silence.


    Is he about to die? Is this how it is, a person''s final moment? But the blade barely even touched his wrist!


    He crouched down next to the sink, put his face between his knees. He stayed in the same position for the next several minutes, just listening to the occasional dripping of water from the sink.


    And then, the unfamiliar voice spoke once again.


    "Open your eyes."


    "Whoever you are, please leave me alone."


    "Now isn''t the time to be foolish."


    "If you''re my conscience, guardian angel or whatever, then I fucking free you from your duties. Go whisper your nonsense to someone who actually cares."


    "Oh, please, don''t insult me. I''m anything but a fucking angel."


    Lucien found himself opening his eyes. All of a sudden, he was no longer inside the bathroom.  Instead, he was  trapped inside an endless, pitch-black darkness. The mirror was gone, the sink was gone, everything was gone.


    But this darkness was strange because when he held up his arms, he could clearly see his hands. In fact, he had a perfectly clear view of himself.


    "Welcome to whatever you''ve created."


    It''s that voice again.


    Lucien looked around frantically. "Who''s there?" he called out. "Whoever you are, show yourself right this instant!"


    There was movement and a strange sound coming directly in front of him. His knees buckled.


    "Could it be that you''re... Death?"


    A loud, guttural laugh sent Lucien''s body shaking, and the ground - or whatever it was he was standing upon - shook ominously. When he strained his eyes, he could make out a dark, wispy shape creeping towards him.


    "I''m more than just Death." The voice was louder and clearer now.


    A pair of golden cat-like eyes glowed in the darkness. It was inching closer and as it did, the air around him felt heavier and more stifling. There was a vague sense of malice hanging about.


    He shouldn''t have let go of that razor. He''d left himself completely defenseless. This is what he gets for wanting to die.


    "Oh, don''t get me wrong. I love cowards and weaklings. They have a certain... zing to them," said the voice lurking in the darkness. Lucien could swear he heard wicked licking sounds.


    "But I want them seasoned. You know what I mean? Let them age a bit more and they''re going to be oh-so-fucking-scrumptious."


    "S - Show yourself. Show yourself right now!"


    Just when he said this, a tall shadowy figure materialized before him. The pair of golden orbs that once appeared to be randomly hovering about, turned out to belong to a wolf - and a monstrous one at that. Lucien let his reflexes take over and took a step back, almost losing his balance.


    "I can smell your fear from here, boy. Please, you''re making my stomach growl," said the voice that seemed to be coming from the wolf.


    Lucien could see the creature slowly wagging its tail from side to side. He expected to see gigantic paws emerge from the shadows at any moment, but he blinked in surprise when instead, a pair of finely polished black dress shoes came into view.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The wolf disappeared along with the thick shadows, leaving a tall man wearing the finest double-chested suit Lucien had ever seen.


    The blackness of his suit nearly blended with the darkness, combined with black furs resting around his shoulders. But the paleness of his face, neck, and hands were in perfect contrast to where they stand.


    But what''s truly appalling was how undeniably attractive this person is. A critic might have found fault with those seemingly jaundiced eyes, but they have an unnatural glow to them. From the looks of it, he''s in his late thirties or early forties. But from where Lucien stood, he could see long grayish hair that appears to be perfectly natural, offset by flecks of  silver strands that shimmered in the dark. It flowed over his shoulders and down his back. His brows were slightly thick and gray, just like his hair. He has perfectly straight nose and a fine line drew down to reveal a deep Cupid''s bow above his lip.


    The strange man stood with a meaningful smile on his face, highlighting alabaster teeth and square jaw. But there was something close to sinister in the curves of his thin lips.


    "Alright, you can stop gawking now," the man said cheerily, breaking the silence between them. "I know I''m incredibly good-looking." He let out a faked sigh and placed a hand on his temple. "This is the look that gets all the boys and girls swooning and sinning."


    Lucien shook himself out of the hypnotic trance. "Quit the lousy theatrics. Who are you and where am I?"


    The man looked at him, his expression changing from surprise to one of amusement. "Ah... You impress me. Normally, they''d just run away and scream."


    He walked closer towards Lucien, enough for him to realize their stark difference in height. The man was nearly two feet taller than he is! Everything about him was unnatural.


    "Alright, then. Let''s skip the pleasantries. First of all, my name is Mammon, Lord of Avarice, one of the Seven Princes of Hell," the man said matter-of-factly, followed by a smile and a bow. "Very pleased to meet you."


    Lucien wasn''t sure he heard it right, but whatever it was, he had to suppress a laugh. "Yeah, right. And I''m Daenerys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the -"


    The man raised an eyebrow. "I''m your father."


    Lucien froze. This must have been what Luke Skywalker felt when Darth Vader dropped that bomb on him. But he''s having none of it.


    "Bullshit," was the only thing he could say.


    The man who called himself Mammon, replied with a shrug. "Alright, then. I don''t want to waste my time convincing you, anyway. Let''s just get that out of the way, shall we? Now, let''s get down to business -"


    "What makes you think you''re my father?" Lucien bellowed. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.


    There was a triumphant spark in Mammon''s golden eyes. He was sure Lucien had taken the bait.


    "Your mother is Leticia Montgomery, who committed suicide just yesterday."


    "Anyone would know that by now. Mom''s no stranger to stalkers and reporters."


    "You were born in Newark, in a little cabin by the lake."


    "Basic information. You looked up our family."


    This time, Mammon smiled from ear to ear. "When you were born, you had no heartbeat. You weren''t even breathing. You were dead, yet alive. But when you turned seven, you finally began to breathe and have a pulse. Your mother was elated, she almost thought you''re human."


    Lucien''s hair stood on end. If he had a deep, dark secret, this would be it. It was supposed to be something only he and his mother knew of. Unless...


    "You''re definitely one of mother''s hardcore stalkers."


    "Ugh." Mammon heaved a deep sigh as he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You''re a tough cookie to crack. You definitely got that from me."


    Before Lucien could even open his mouth, Mammon placed a forefinger in the middle of his forehead and pushed him backwards.


    Lucien almost yelped in shock but the next thing he knew, he was floating in midair.


    "What the fuck! Put me down right now!" Lucien screamed as he thrashed and kicked into nothingness. Just an arm''s length away from him, Mammon was laughing in delight, although he was upside-down, standing perfectly straight.


    "Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show, my boy..." Mammon told him with a seemingly deceptive smile. And then, he disappeared like a wisp of smoke.


    What was once a dark room of oblivion, lit up and transformed into a space filled with moving reels and flat-screen televisions that were playing random images. But the images and voices were all too familiar for Lucien.


    They were not random at all. Lucien was watching a montage of his mother''s life.


    <hr>


    It began on the day his mother ran away from home. She just turned 19, fresh out of high school. Life had been difficult for a family of five, but she was a dreamer and she had big dreams. But with an alcoholic father and a mentally unstable mother, things proved to be difficult.


    The dark bruises under her left eye and on her lips were her father''s farewell gifts. She endured for so many years, and it''s time to put a stop to the suffering.


    For most of the year, she lived with a friend while working an assortment of odd jobs. But when things fell out with her friend, she had found herself in a homeless shelter, living off freezer meals, granola bars, and applesauce.


    And just when she thought the worst had come to pass, the country headed for recession and she ended up losing most of her jobs.


    She didn''t want to end up selling her body for money. She''d rather die than become a hooker. She was considering going back home but pride took over and she fell into a chronic state of depression.


    It had been over a year since she left home but once again, she found herself in a place she didn''t want to be. As she crouched in a dark alleyway, soaked to the skin in the pouring rain, she thought about ending it all.


    They say that when you''re down, there''s no other way to go but up. But she could be losing her mind now, because the adage is taking on a different meaning for her. Her life was a living hell, so maybe it''s time to go someplace else.


    "If you''ve been looking up and nobody''s answering, perhaps it''s time to look down," said a deep voice in the dark.


    At this point, Lucien knew who that voice belonged to. And when that person emerged from the dark, he realized he had never aged a day.


    On that fateful night, the Lord of Avarice appeared before Leticia Montgomery, heeding her silent plea for help. For the archdemon, he only had to take advantage of this fleeting moment of desperation. She was the perfect embodiment of fearlessness and hopelessness.


    Mammon could have eaten her soul there and then but as he said, he likes his meals seasoned.


    "Let''s strike a deal, my damsel in distress," he said to her softly as he reached out a hand to her.


    She looked up at him, her face flushed. She took his hand, held it firmly. He was right, she was not afraid. She knew perfectly well who he is - an old friend who, all this time, had been by her side.


    "I can give you whatever you want, in return for a simple favor."


    "And what would that be?" Leticia asked, biting her lower lip.


    "You might think this too cliche, my dear. But there''s nothing else more valuable to me than what you''re just about to forfeit."


    Leticia placed her hands on her chest. "You mean my..."


    Mammon smiled softly and nodded. "''One person''s trash is another demon''s treasure'', or so they say."


    "So... whatever I want, in exchange for my soul. Is that what you''re saying?"


    He formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger. "And oh, there''s one more thing."


    "Of course there is..." Leticia muttered under her breath.


    "You must bear my child."


    She pulled a face and blinked. "Well, that''s unexpected."


    She ruminated for a moment, but the Lord of Avarice had all the time in the world to wait for her answer. And surprisingly, it wasn''t a long wait at all.


    If she becomes rich, rearing a child would not be a burden. And anyway, she likes the idea of having a child of her own. She doesn''t want to be alone in all this. But she had one problem.


    A deep gloom fell over her face, but she didn''t even have to say it. Mammon knew what she was thinking, so he immediately put her mind to rest.


    "I only have this to say: That only happens in movies."


    He took her hands and pressed them gently, trying to reassure her. "You will have the most beautiful child you''ve ever laid eyes on. Rest assured, it''s not going to be some horned, red-skinned monstrosity with sharp teeth and claws. That is just too stereotypical."


    Leticia let out a soft chuckle and for a moment, she was surprised with herself. No person in their right mind would find anything normal about this conversation they''re having.


    But this was no prank. This is actually happening. It''s her new reality.


    She looked at him straight in the eyes and nodded. "Alright. I will. I''ll do it."


    "That''s my girl..." Mammon smiled with malicious glee, his golden eyes giving off an even brighter glow. And then, he stooped to kiss her hand.


    On the spot where he had planted the kiss, a strange sigil appeared, glowing and searing Leticia''s skin.


    <figure>


    </figure>


    She pulled her hand away from his grasp, shaking it as she shrieked in pain.


    "It''s the proof of our contract. Don''t worry, the pain will disappear any moment," he reassured her.


    "When will I get it?" asked Leticia, tensing up under the impact of the sharp pain. "Y - You better keep your end of the bargain!"


    "You need not remind me," said the Lord of Avarice. "Get today''s daily newspaper and turn to the classifieds. The ad on the second box will be in need of what you will have. Tomorrow, head to the building next to the hotel you used to work in. There, you will meet a man who will grant you a deal. Accept it."


    Leticia made a quick mental note of everything he just said. "But why go through all the trouble? Why can''t you just give what I want now?"


    The archdemon guffawed. "You expect me to make it rain money right here, in a place littered with thieves and thugs? Oh, please. I want to see you keep your end of our bargain, too."


    By now, the rain had stopped completely.


    "Remember, I will keep a close eye on you, Leticia. I am everywhere."


    It sounded more of a warning than a reminder.


    Like smoke, Mammon disappeared right before her eyes. Leticia looked around frantically, gathered her things, and ran out into the street and down the subway.


    She nearly forgot about the pain. In fact, it''s completely gone - even the weird-looking sigil on her hand. But she knew it was there, and it''s never going to truly disappear. She had been marked, and there''s no turning back.


    That was the deal that sealed Leticia Montgomery''s fate. Material wealth in return for a favor that, at the time, seemed so easy to bargain with. She thought it wasn''t too much of a price to pay if she takes into account what she would get in return. So she agreed almost without hesitation.


    But in the eyes of a demon, she was a mere child. Easy to take advantage of. Easy to manipulate.


    Regret always comes last.

 Chapter 3: Schadenfreude

    The man Mammon had promised was a young and extremely talented software engineer who was confused about which career path to take. Alone yet optimistic, he had spent a good eleven months developing an application he thought would be pivotal in certain large-scale businesses.


    He was right, it was a cutting-edge project - but only in the eyes of the right people. And so far, those people are nowhere to be found.


    His name was Louis Balfour, and he had been hopping from one office to another, only to face an endless stream of rejections. That day, he promised himself it would be his last stop and if his project gets declined, then it''s destined for the bin.


    He did get rejected and he had never felt so forlorn. But as he stepped out of that dingy office, an auburn-haired lady with the bluest of eyes was standing waiting for him with a sunny smile.


    "Hello there, my name''s Leticia Montgomery. I''m a startup project coordinator and I''m here to offer you a proposal," she said without pausing to breathe. "A little bird told me that you''re looking for a home for your project. I think I may have found the perfect place for it."


    Louis Balfour cleared his throat. "H - Hi, and may I know who this ''little bird'' is -"


    "Oh, that''s the least of your worries, mister...?"


    "Balfour. Louis Balfour."


    "Mr. Balfour. Can I call you Louis?"


    He replied with a silent nod.


    "Okay. So here''s the thing, Louis. A cancer research center is in dire need of a wide-scale system to help ease their workload and boost their global impact."


    The night before, she bought the daily newspaper as per Mammon''s instructions, and turned to the classifieds. Once she read the ad, she absorbed whatever information she could get. She then practiced her lines for the rest of the night, cooking up ways to sound convincingly professional.


    So far, she''s doing great. She gave herself a mental pat on the back.


    "From the looks of it, you have the very software they need. They''re willing to pay 35 million dollars to the right person and -"


    "Hold up," Louis Balfour said, his voice shaking. He closed his eyes and put a hand on his forehead, feeling light-headed all of a sudden.


    When the dizzy spell was gone, he looked at Leticia. This time, with a determined expression on his face.


    "Can... Can I get you a coffee or something? Miss..."


    "Leticia Montgomery. You can call me Letty," she replied as she grabbed his hand and shook it. "And uh, there''s a Starbucks on the next block."


    Like a valuable possession, she didn''t let go of his hand as they crossed the street and made their way towards the cafe.


    Louis followed her without objections. Whether or not it''s true, he had nothing to lose at this point.


    "The thing is, my proposal got rejected just now," he said with a weary smile. "It was my sixteenth rejection."


    "Well, Mr. Balfour, it''s their loss," Leticia replied as she turned her head to him and beamed. "But hey, today''s your lucky day!"


    <hr>


    Two months after Leticia Montgomery and Louis Balfour met and tied up loose ends with the research institute, they have officially become millionaires. They agreed to a 30-70 split, favoring Louis. After all, it was his application.


    But for them, it was just the beginning of something even bigger and grander.


    It so happened that the research institute is backed by a well renowned pharmaceutical company. So when they were able to deliver favorable results, the company CEO agreed to not only hire them for future projects, but to also recommend them to their partners. At this point, not only did they become instant millionaires, they were also served up with a platter full of potential clients.


    From a two-man startup team, they built a tech firm comprised of 50 employees. Leticia stood as the CEO and was in-charge of finding clients and patenting projects; while Louis was the COO and chief software engineer, deciding and supervising every software and machinery being developed by the firm.


    It was the perfect partnership. But Leticia knew all too well it''s not because of sheer luck. With every deal that gets closed smoothly and almost without hurdles, she knew some otherworldly force was pulling the strings in her favor.


    As the business grew, so did Leticia''s belly. By the time they leased a much bigger 3-story building for the company, she had been 6 months pregnant with Lucien.


    Between Leticia and Louis, this was the elephant in the room. At the time, Louis didn''t dare ask who the father is. Leticia always seemed to be avoiding the topic and anyway, she never introduced anybody to him - not even her family.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    That was where the line was drawn between them, and it remained that way for several years.


    <hr>


    Sometimes, Leticia would see a large black dog staring back at her. It usually appears at night. Sometimes on her way home from work, other times when she''s left with her own thoughts in the middle of a big crowd.


    With the company''s whirlwind success, the thought of it often slips her mind. That''s the good thing about keeping herself busy. Because when she is, she gets to spend all her time and energy on the work at hand. By the end of the day, she would be so exhausted that she would no longer have time to think about anything else.


    But the Lord of Avarice would always find ways to remind her and it sours her mood. She knew she was always being watched. It was unnerving at first but eventually, she got used to it. It was Mammon''s way of saying, ''Enjoy it while it lasts''.


    In just two years, Leticia and Louis have built an empire. They named the company, ''Wolfvision'', which was Leticia''s suggestion. She fabricated some silly story about a wolf visiting her in a dream, who told her to take a leap of faith on the day she met Louis. It was a popular story among the employees and she almost believed her own little lie.


    She couldn''t possibly tell them that she owes all this prosperity to the demon of greed, could she?


    The only truth was that she found a trusted partner in Louis Balfour. Her relationship with Louis was what she''d consider special - almost romantic? Despite some questions that were left unanswered, they formed a strong bond throughout the years.


    But fate has a way of intervening in people''s lives.


    It''s been a fruitful five years since they''ve met, but just when Leticia was about to confirm her feelings, Louis met an accident.


    According to the investigation, he had been driving in heavy rain and as he was about to turn to a bend on the road, a pickup truck slammed right towards him, throwing the car off a cliff with Louis in it.


    The heavy downpour did not stop for another two days. The search and rescue immediately became a search and retrieval effort. When they finally retrieved Louis'' body, he was already beyond recognition. It was a closed casket funeral.


    For the first time in a long time, Leticia cried her heart out. Everything just seemed so anticlimactic. There were no signs, no foreshadowing. They did not even get to say their good-byes. Her feelings were buried along with Louis Balfour.


    But she knew better than to wallow in despair. Because the moment she made that deal with Mammon, she knew that everything about her life is preordained and that there''s no such thing as a random accident.


    All her doubts were confirmed when after the funeral, the sigil on her hand lit up and Mammon appeared before her.


    "He fulfilled his purpose," was the first thing the Lord of Avarice said to her.


    "Well hello to you too," Leticia said, resentment palpable in her tone.


    He pretended to look shocked. "What, are you mad at me now? He played his role quite well. It''s about time he steps off the stage."


    Leticia clenched her fists. "This is all just a game to you, isn''t it?"


    Mammon shrugged and held his hands up in surrender.


    "Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you."


    "I know. I''d fuck me too."


    Leticia flew into a rage and screamed at the top of her lungs, enough for even the Lord of Avarice to take a step back. And then, she slumped to the ground in tears. It was a haunting cry, cathartic, a wail of heartache for someone whose sliver of hope fell apart.


    Mammon stared at her for a moment, grinning. "Are you for real right now? You seriously fell for him?" He cackled. "Shit, I can''t believe this. You really had it bad!"


    She sobbed for a good five minutes and when she finally calmed down, Mammon stooped down to take a good look at her face. He lifted her chin with a curled index finger, forcing her to meet his eyes. But Leticia moved her head to the side and averted her eyes from him. She knew that he was mocking her grief.


    "Jeez, don''t be so uptight." Mammon sighed. "Just so you know, his life supposed to have ended the day you met him."


    Her mouth opened slightly and her expression changed from one of anger, to bewilderment.


    "He''d been trying to kill himself many times over and if you hadn''t shown up that day, it would have been his last straw. You see, he had you to thank for his long-overdue life!"


    He gave her a pat on the shoulder but Leticia quickly slapped his hand away, disgusted. The way he is always straightforward yet cold and indifferent made her even more exasperated.


    "Look on the brighter side, dear Letty!" He said with contemptuous ridicule. "You actually saved a good soul that would''ve been destined for Hell. Well, not that he was worth that much, but that''s one point for Heaven!" He said this as he shot his middle finger upwards.


    Leticia slowly got up to her feet, wiping off her tear-soaked face.


    "Did you breach your contract with him in my favor?" she asked, flustered.


    Mammon was quick to shake his head no. "There was no contract to begin with. Well, he could''ve enjoyed a longer life had he accepted my proposal. But he didn''t. Instead, he ran away screaming. Can you believe it?"


    At this point, Leticia couldn''t tell if she was angry, afraid, or just resigned.


    She turned her back to him. She no longer has the energy to argue. Besides, there''s no point to it. With a devious creature like the Lord of Avarice, it would be like talking to a brick wall.


    Mammon furrowed his brows and placed a hand on his chin, pretending to look stumped at the way Leticia was behaving.


    "What are you sulking about? You should be celebrating! See, you have the company all to yourself now. Between the two of us, this is fair trade. ''Told you I''d keep my end of the bargain."


    Leticia twisted her lips into a wry smile. "Are you done? Now, please see yourself out."


    Her voice was hoarse, devoid of emotions.


    Mammon shrugged, the smug little smile never leaving his face. He turned around and made his way to the door.


    "Oh, alright. Let''s save the Dom P¨¦rignon for later, then. And oh, kiss our little boy for me, will ya?"


    Leticia wanted to curse at him one last time but before she could even open her mouth, the Lord of Avarice was already gone.


    When she was finally alone in her room, Leticia covered herself with a blanket and bawled her eyes out once more. The once-empty void inside her was filled to the brim with guilt and resentment.


    She let her guard down and Mammon just knew when to strike. The archdemon is cunning, convincing her that she had brought this upon herself.


    But that''s it. That''s the last time Mammon is ever going to outwit her.


    After Louis, Leticia Montgomery developed a fear of intimacy. From that day on, she had become extremely cautious with making connections with people, afraid that they might have something to do with Mammon or that she would eventually bring misfortune upon them. She promised herself not to get attached to anyone else besides her son.


    Since then, the idea of real, lasting relationships is alien to her.


    Leticia reaped what she sowed, and she had to learn to be satisfied while she has it. She always knew she''d be led down this path and that she had nobody else to blame but herself. Like a maggot-ridden apple, she was slowly rotting and being eaten up inside.


    But she was fine with that notion. She should at least make sure the archdemon won''t be served up a well-seasoned meal.

 Chapter 4: Contract

    As Lucien watched the final figments of his mother''s past slowly fade before him, the once-bright room dimmed and he once again found himself in a dark abyss.


    He realized he was no longer floating in midair but was standing straight up, face-to-face with the demon lord.


    "The moment your mother gained her fortune, it''s a done deal," Mammon said after a long silence. "I had no hand in the events that followed. It was all up to her how she''d play the rest of the game."


    For a split-second, Lucien thought he sounded remorseful and sentimental. But he was quickly reminded of what Mammon really is - a deceitful, lying, vile creature who treats others as mere pawns.


    Lucien shot him an accusing look. The archdemon didn''t seem the least bit agitated, but there was a baffled look on his face, as if something was troubling him.


    Lucien didn''t care to be inquisitive. He didn''t want to add any more to his heap of unanswered questions.


    "You... You could be lying about many things. In fact, I''m afraid you''re still lying about everything."


    Mammon looked vexed. "This again?"


    "Mom told me that Louis Balfour is my father. I knew the guy from the pictures she''d shown me when I was a child. Even told me stories about him. She would never lie to me about that."


    The Lord of Avarice was sizing him up but as always, he knows he has the upper-hand.


    "Oh, come on. How in the world could she tell a boy that his father''s a demon, without ruining his life? If you''re still persistent, we can do this all day. And while I''m still being nice to you, would you care to see more proof? I can show you how we made you -"


    Lucien groaned loudly. "No, thank you!"


    If there''s anything he didn''t wish to see, that would be it. Truthfully, he was thankful they skipped that part of his mother''s past.


    Still, he was in denial. He was ashamed. He was overwhelmingly terrified to see the truth.


    "If there''s anyone here who''s lying, that would be you," Mammon said, concealing his chagrin.


    "You''ve always known, you just didn''t care to admit it. All this time, you knew she lied to you. You were afraid at the thought that you might actually be the kid of some random guy she hooked up with. You''ve always had this delusion in your head that your mother''s a saint - pure and innocent, veiled in white. Well, let me slap reality in your face, boy. She made so many  wrong choices in her life. She carved her own path and there''s no turning back from it. And you know what? She enjoyed every step of the way."


    Lucien could feel his heart tremble and his legs weaken. But despite all the shocking things he''d seen and heard, he settled to know the answer to one question.


    "Did... Did Mom ever love me?"


    There was a look of repulsion on Mammon''s face when he mentioned that word: Love.


    It''s a vile word humans keep spouting carelessly that oftentimes, becomes hollow and meaningless. And for Mammon, who has devoured tainted souls for an immeasurable time, love is often a human''s facade for greed.


    But up until the end, Leticia Montgomery was full of surprises. One of the things the Lord of Avarice hadn''t expected is that the woman, who used to only covet material wealth, actually knows how to give love.


    Mammon''s lips curled in disdain. He didn''t want to answer such a mundane question but if he doesn''t, the deal would be over before it even started.


    "If it finds you solace," he said in a way one would if they''re choking up blood, "then the answer is yes. Leticia did... love you. After all, you''re the living testimony that there''s still humanity in her."


    It felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted off Lucien''s chest. He was so horrified by his own indifference since the moment he laid eyes on his mother''s cold, lifeless body. But for the first time, he felt immense grief. His eyes welled up with tears. It finally dawned on him that she was never coming back.


    Mammon didn''t speak for a moment. Somehow his words of comfort left a bad taste in his mouth.


    "Where is she now?" Lucien asked, his voice shaking.


    He immediately regretted asking such a stupid question, but Mammon was quick to indulge him.


    "Hell, of course. Where else could she be?" the archdemon replied, matter-of-fact. "Right now, she''s probably in a place called Gehenna prior to her judgment."


    And then, he flashed a smile. "Rest assured, she''s destined for the Fourth Circle - my turf."


    Lucien paused for a moment before opening his mouth.


    "What... What are you planning to do to her soul?"


    "Well, she will have to push a huge boulder up a steep hill, but one that would come crashing to her time and again. Leticia wouldn''t mind this endless routine, right? Then again, she made a deal with me, so I might just spare her from eternal damnation and devour her soul instead."


    Mammon smacked his lips with delight, like someone looking forward to a meal that could satisfy even the most jaded of appetites. It''s disgusting and it horrified Lucien at the same time.


    "When are you doing this?"


    It was probably another stupid question, but it''s worth a shot.


    Mammon sighed. "Think of her as a meal being delivered to me by a rather sluggish food delivery service. In Hell time, that''s about an hour. In human time, that would be... thirty years from now."


    He wasn''t kidding when he said it''s sluggish.


    And for the first time, the archdemon''s face turned pensive. "Listen. Your mother''s a lost cause. Not only did she trade her soul to a demon, she took her own life as well. That''s two strikes. She''s out."


    "Hey. If that''s a reference to baseball, then you need to rack up three strikes before you strikeout -"


    "Whatever. My turf. My rules." Mammon interjected. This kid just knows how to tick him off.


    "Your mother''s fate has been sealed a long time ago. Deal with it."


    The thought of his mother''s suffering even in the afterlife pains Lucien to a great extent. And the more he immersed himself in those morbid thoughts, the further he pushed his sanity to the edge.


    It''s time to make a decision.


    "I''m aware that our meeting is not a coincidence. You appeared here because you need something from me, and you know I''ll be needing something from you."


    At this, Mammon''s eyes lit up like fire. This was the right moment to use his trump card.


    "Well... There''s one more way to put her in a less hellish situation."


    Everything the archdemon had shown him, it was all leading down to this moment. Lucien wondered what role he''d play in this sick game and now, Mammon is about to show it to him. He all had this planned from the very beginning. Push him to the brink of desperation until he thinks there''s no other way but to strike up a deal with the devil.


    <hr>


    Lucien was about to find out what was troubling the Lord of Avarice. He watched the archdemon as he fixed the hem of his suit and sat down on a chair that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. At this point however, things like apparition no longer give him the heebie-jeebies. He was more surprised by the fact that he was quick to be desensitized from all these supernatural crap.


    Mammon crossed his legs and rested his chin on one hand with graceful elegance. Lucien wondered if all demons look as deceivingly good-looking as he is.


    The archdemon''s voice quickly brought him back from the momentary trance.


    "As you may already know, I''m a rather busy demon. Busier than the rest of my brothers, in fact."


    Lucien raised his eyebrows like one would when they''ve heard something over-exaggerated.


    "But among many things, your mother''s case was very... peculiar. I simply couldn''t resist wanting to get to the bottom of it."


    Lucien hated how he keeps holding up information from him.


    "Get on with it."


    "Your mother losing all her fortune in such a short period of time was something that''s never supposed to have happened."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Mammon wouldn''t dare show an inkling of it but as the Lord of Avarice, this situation was a big blow to his ego.


    Lucien gritted his teeth. "But it did anyway, didn''t it? So then why? You must have had a hand in all this - just like what you did to Louis Balfour."


    Mammon frowned. "Careful with your accusations, boy."


    "You''re an arch-fucking-demon. Lying and deception are your tricks of the trade."


    "Well yes, that much is true," Mammon replied with no qualms, "but what I''m trying to say is, something had pulled your mother''s little wheel of fortune in the opposite direction."


    "Human language, please," Lucien demanded, not having the faintest idea what the other was talking about.


    Mammon''s nose flared. There must be a limit to a mortal''s simple-mindedness. "Must I really spell everything out for you? What I''m saying is that someone put a hex on your mother!"


    He pressed his fingers to his forehead, looking irked the more Lucien pressed him on.


    "Wolfvision was a highly successful company that only had good things going for it - as long as your mother is alive and breathing. Even I invested a lot of time and effort on that shitty deal. But when things unexpectedly turned for the worst, and at such short notice, I realized there could only be one possibility. I can''t imagine, for the life of me, who your mother has provoked in her mortal life for them to cast such a potent hex against her... It''s unimaginable."


    Lucien struggled to process everything Mammon had said. But one thing''s for sure: Even the demon lord was gravely concerned.


    Hex? What is this bastard on about?


    Mammon rested his elbows on the armrests, lightly tapping the tips of his fingers together as he ruminated.


    "Even worse is that whoever cast it on her is no ordinary fucker, since they slipped right under my radar. You can''t possibly cast a powerful hex and use a concealment spell at the same time, unless you have a death wish. Shit like that drains a lot of life energy."


    Lucien pulled a face. For a moment, he was at a loss for words.


    "I won''t be surprised if it''s one of your underworld buddies, you know."


    Mammon replied with a chuckle. "Well, you better bite your tongue now because not a single known demon can use life energy. We have none of it to begin with."


    Lucien abhors how the archdemon speaks in riddles but finally, this shed a bit of light to the mystery.


    "So... they''re a mortal being."


    "Well... yes and no."


    Lucien clenched his jaw. "So to put it simply, someone got the better of you. The Lord of Avarice, bested by a not-so-ordinary mortal casting spells and hexes."


    Lucien could see Mammon''s face turning red with concealed rage, veins throbbing in his temples. He clearly touched a sore spot.


    The Lord of Avarice then let out a deep and audible breath, straightened his tie and smoothed his hair. If it were another human talking back to him the way Lucien did, he would have blown their head to bits a long time ago.


    "So let me get this straight. You''re here because you want me to fix this mess for you. Tell me I''m wrong."


    ''Well, this halfling isn''t so dumb, after all,'' Mammon thought to himself, smiling.


    "Tell me again why we''re wasting time over trivial things? You seem to already know what I''m here for."


    Lucien shook his head weakly. "What if I say no? I don''t have the time to roll in someone else''s pile of shit. I already have enough of it as it is."


    For the first time, Mammon had a morose expression on his face. He uncrossed his legs and fixed his eyes on Lucien. "You''re no good to me dead, boy. My blood runs through your veins and it''s not something that should be wasted on senseless death. Do you think killing yourself now would change anything?"


    There was a long pause as he carefully thought what to say next.


    "You seemed to be so desperate to save your mother''s soul from damnation. But once you drag yourself to Hell, you''re just going to end up in the pit of my stomach. The same goes for your mother."


    "Then tell me what I should do to save her!"


    "You can no longer save a soul that pledged itself to me willingly. However, there''s still a way to ease her suffering. Strike a deal with me and you''ll know."


    Lucien couldn''t believe he''s falling for the words of a demon. But it only shows how desperate and utterly hopeless he was.


    Slowly, he walked up to Mammon, casting away all the fears left in him.


    "There''s one more thing I need to know before I make this deal with you."


    "I''m all ears."


    Lucien took a deep breath and crossed his arms. It felt great to look down on the Lord of Avarice from where he stood.


    "I''m well aware that whoever was behind this hex, definitely hurt your pride. You just couldn''t accept the fact that they outwitted you," he said, at which the archdemon frowned. "I''m also aware that you couldn''t care less about Mom''s demise. I don''t see any point why you need me to retaliate for what they''ve done to you. Why can''t your vindictive ass just go and kill them now?"


    "You really are your mother''s son." Mammon countered, laughing mockingly. "''Why can''t you just give me the money now? Why can''t you just kill them now?'' You lot are always so demanding yet brainless. Hey, if harvesting souls were as easy as killing humans before their time, then I would''ve wiped mankind off the face of the Earth eons ago."


    Lucien''s eyes widened in surprise. Who would have thought that there still are lines that should not be crossed, even among the vilest creatures?


    "Huh. You can''t do it yourself."


    "There''s no such thing as free lunch, boy. Especially in Hell. And with a mystic being involved, things are even more complicated. They''re an especially elusive prey among us demons."


    "If the Lord of Avarice couldn''t handle something so untouchable, then what makes you think I can take them on? Besides being a pulseless, breathless freak in my first seven years of life, there''s nothing particularly remarkable about me. If you want me to face some formidable, magic-casting foe, it would be like an ant fighting a spider. Why don''t you just call your friend, Dr. Strange or Scarlet Witch?"


    Lucien froze when the archdemon snarled like a wild beast, revealing razor-sharp teeth. That''s how far he could test the demon lord''s patience.


    "You. Are. A. Fucking. Cambion!" Mammon bellowed, clearly losing his temper now.


    "Human language!"


    "You are planetouched - half-human and half-demon. Only you lot can come into contact with mystic beings from this world." Mammon glared at him with sinister eyes. "Have I made myself clear now, boy? If you make this deal with me, you can exact revenge for what''s happened to you and your mother. You get to regain what you''ve lost, in return for that being''s soul."


    "You make it sound so precious."


    "Because it is. Such a rare and exceptional soul can satiate my hunger for a million years - the ultimate ambrosia for archdemons."


    At this point, everything has been made crystal-clear to Lucien. This was his purpose all along. To be born in this world, only to be his own father''s bait for a fish he wanted to catch. He had been bombarded with cruel truths in a single day that he could no longer tell which was the most painful.


    "I don''t care about the money or the fortune," Lucien said with a stoic voice. "If you help me get my revenge and I deliver this person to you, then you must agree to spare Mom''s soul."


    "All of this, for one measly soul..." Mammon mumbled. "The final judgment stands. But if you fulfill your end of the bargain, then I will make her part of my Legion. Consider it the safest place for her in my Circle. At the very least, there will be no steep hills and boulders for her to lift and get crushed on for eternity."


    "So then... what do you want me to do, exactly?"


    Mammon heaved a sigh of relief. He could almost see the end of this long tunnel.


    "You can find the troublesome caster in that place your servant had mentioned. I suspect it''s an old soul - an ancient one at that. So I expect they wouldn''t be so easy to find. But they''re cunning creatures. They could be hiding in plain sight."


    He could see the look of dismay on Lucien''s face the more he described what he was about to encounter. But of course, he''s a master of persuasion.


    "You are a Cambion. You are of age and soon, your powers will awaken. It may take time but once you discover them, you need to hone and use them to your advantage. If you put them into good use, you can even bring that company down to its knees."


    It seemed incredulous. Even then, the fact that he''s half-human and half-demon hasn''t really sunk in yet, much more the possibility that he possesses preternatural powers. It''s the stuff of fiction - or so he thought.


    Mammon rose up from the chair and walked up to Lucien to give him a light pat on the shoulder.


    Lucien gently shruged off the archdemon''s hand, trying to hide his contempt. If there''s something one should trust the least, it would be a demon''s words.  But what else can he hold on to at this point? If someone else could offer him a fighting chance, then surely he would take it at the drop of a hat.


    "Once this deal is over, you know your soul will be bound to me," Mammon uttered. It was not a question, but a declaration.


    "Whatever," Lucien replied dryly.


    The fact is that Lucien didn''t think much beyond fulfilling his revenge. He didn''t care what would happen to him, as long as he could save his mother''s soul. He failed to do so when she was still alive but now, he was given the chance to redeem himself and do what he was supposed to do a long time ago.


    If only it''s not yet too late...


    Mammon smiled his usual sinister smile. "Don''t worry, I''ll treat you nicely. Rest assured, you won''t end up on my plate. And who knows, you might even get to see Leticia again. We''re going to be one big happy family."


    For Lucien, every word that comes out of Mammon''s mouth is demoralizing. He wished he would just shut up and get things over with.


    "This is going to be the best decision you''ve made," the archdemon said in a business-like manner. "''Might as well do something with your life first, drag someone with you to Hell, and end it with a bang!"


    Lucien bowed his head down, avoiding the piercing gaze of the other. He wasn''t at his best, so surely this is not going to be his best decision, either. It''s do or die.


    "My precious ambrosia and your soul," Mammon proclaimed, making it clear to Lucien for the last time, what he wanted out of their contract.


    "As long as you spare Mom''s soul while I''m still here doing your dirty work, then you have a deal."


    Once again, there was that fiery glint in the archdemon''s eyes. The same ominous fervor Lucien had seen when his mother sealed that deal with him.


    "So then, let''s shake on it," Mammon said in a trembling voice, hardly able to contain his excitement.


    A part of Lucien refused to take the hand that was reaching out to him, but a much stronger motive compelled him to do otherwise.


    "From here on in, I will guide you along the way," the archdemon said, as Lucien took his hand.


    The moment their hands touched, a symbol appeared on Lucien''s right palm. It was the same sigil that appeared on his mother''s hand.


    The pain was excruciating, like skin being seared with a hot branding iron.


    "Looking forward to our next meeting, my dear son..."


    That was the Lord of Avarice''s parting words to Lucien, who was crouched on the ground, waiting for the pain to subside.


    Mammon disappeared like a gust of wind, bringing with him the miasmic darkness that enveloped Lucien. At first there was a ringing sound in his ears, followed by the familiar sound of water dripping from a faucet.


    The next thing he knew, he was back in his own bathroom, lying sideways on the floor.


    Lucien lay unmoving for god knows how long. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to cry, he wanted to lash out - all at the same time. But there was no time for any of those, because the cogs have started to turn on him.


    <hr>


    Perhaps in the eyes of others, history has repeated itself. But Lucien refused to turn the cogs in the same tragic direction. If there was something he should thank Mammon for, it would be for indirectly saving his life. And while there''s no question that one of his feet is already stuck in Hell, he promised to put on a show of a lifetime for the demon lord who claims to be his father.


    It was on that fateful night when Lucien decided to press the reset button once and for all. From then on, it''s a new lease on life and a renewed purpose.


    Naturally, one of the things he needed to put behind was his identity.


    The truth is that he was not always a ''Lucien Salverson''. In fact, it''s not even his real name. It''s just one of the many questions he wanted to ask his mother once they reunite. But for now, he sought comfort with the thought that perhaps it was his mother''s way of mocking and rebelling against Mammon. Because she named him after the Angel of Death and Safe Passage: Azrael.


    And so, in order for his plans to work, Azrael Montgomery had to leave his past behind - or set it aside for now. After all, it''s impossible to stab someone in the back when they know you are coming after them.


    One thing''s for sure: Come hell or high water, this man who is destined for Hell, is going to come out victorious. But revenge sounds nefarious, which is why he prefers to call it ''returning the favor''.


    And boy, is it going to be sweet...

 Chapter 5: Infiltration

    If there''s something Lucien Salverson had overlooked, it would be the fact that revenge - or "returning a favor" as he calls it - is no cheap feat. Even more so when one has to put on a completely new identity.


    It''s been 4 years since he sealed that contract with Mammon, the Lord of Avarice. (Lucien still refuses to acknowledge him as his father.)


    After his mother''s funeral, Lucien quickly set his plans in motion, like one would when their days are numbered. When the last servant had left and all remaining debts were paid, he sold the 10-acre estate he once called home for much of his life, along with one of his mother''s remaining luxury cars. He left the most desirable (and arguably the most expensive) car for himself - the Ferrari 250GT California. Not only does it command tremendous respect from onlookers, Lucien believes it perfectly blends in with where he''s about to go.


    There weren''t really a lot to leave behind after that. He didn''t even have much to lose if he were to disown any living relative. Perhaps they also feel the same way when he suddenly disappeared from their lives without a trace...


    The new name also came with a new appearance. Lucien was born with raven-black hair - so unlike Leticia who was a natural redhead. And when he met Mammon, he doubted himself all the more. Biology sure is wild, especially when you''re supposed to have a demon lord for a father.


    Perhaps halflings are made to look gloomy and ominous. He used to grow out his hair past his shoulders too, but the overall villainous look had to go. He chopped it off until he finally achieved a clean look that would match his new persona. He even went as far as dyeing his hair ash brown and bleaching his eyebrows, which was a complete nightmare for the first month.


    Lucien used to not care about getting fit, either. He used to wolf down whatever he wanted to eat without having to worry about gaining weight, and that''s all thanks to his incredibly fast metabolism. But it''s exactly because of that, that he was more on the skinny side. That, too, had to go.


    He regularly hit the gym, got himself a fitness trainer, and started paying more attention to his diet. By the end of the first year, he got exactly what he wanted to achieve. A body that was once all skin and bones is now hard, well-defined muscle. And to further achieve the Clark Kent look, he switched from contact lenses to prescription glasses.


    The rest were much easier to achieve. For the most part, he had to thank his cancelled company debut. Otherwise, he would have been just a Google away to getting his cover blown. He paid extortionate amounts to find and hire a rather furtive "forge mistress" from the Philippines, who got him fake documents - from college diploma to passport.


    Now, Lucien Salverson is officially the complete opposite of Azrael Montgomery. A self-made man - literally.


    Watch out, ladies and gentlemen! The real Clark Kent is here and he''s hiding a deep, dark secret!


    <hr>


    From the cold and gloomy North Dakota, Lucien moved to what was once (and perhaps will always be) his least favorite place on Earth - sunny Florida. Why can''t a big-name tech company just settle in Silicon Valley or New York City? Why does it have to be in Miami? It baffled him to no end.


    With his pale skin, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, his current position in the company required him to wear a suit for most of the week. He should at least leave a trace of North Dakota in him. Right?


    There was more than enough money left for him to buy a decent flat in downtown Miami, where he has a scenic view of the coastline. He used to not like the ''in-your-face'' radiance of this view but he eventually learned to appreciate it, especially when stress and depression are starting to creep in.


    And now, as he is about to enter his fourth year as Lucien Salverson, he found himself sitting by the windowsill, a cup of hot coffee in hand, quietly watching passersby as they go about their early-morning activities. It took some time, but he managed to immerse himself in this entirely new environment and culture.


    Oftentimes, however, he feels he doesn''t deserve this seemingly devil-may-care life - simply because the devil does care.


    When Lucien left Fargo, he only brought a couple of suitcases with him, which barely even filled the trunk of his car. On the passenger''s seat was a brass cremation urn where he had placed his mother''s ashes. He decided to bring her with him, after all. It''s quite pretentious, but he just needed to feel a sense of security - that he is not alone in this journey. A small, inanimate object containing what was once his mother is a good enough company.


    But as it turned out, he had to carry with him extra baggage - an excess one at that.


    <hr>


    As he took a sip of his coffee, he fixed his gaze on a large dog, sitting vigilantly on the pavement opposite the apartment complex where he lives. It was a German Shepherd but with ebony black coat - an unusual color for such a breed.


    Just a few meters away from the beast was a lone man shouting something barely audible from where Lucien was. He was waving around a big cardboard sign that read: Fight in the war against AIDS! Your change can make a CHANGE.


    He had been on the same spot for three days now, attracting plenty of attention from the locals. According to the neighbors, the "volunteer" claims to be a member of the International AIDS Society.


    Lucien could only respond with a raised eyebrow. He didn''t buy any of it.


    A lot of people have accused him of being a cynic, a skeptic, and a non-believer. It would have been easy to dissent from those accusations but the thing is, they''re right.


    He took another long sip from his cup, scanning his eyes from the fundraiser and back to the large dog, who now has its eyes fixed on the small crowd gathering around the other. Lucien subtly raised a hand, signalling the dog to be patient and wait.


    Unlike the days before, the man attracted quite a crowd today. One woman gave him a box of donuts and a cup of coffee to go with her donation, and another donor even handed out a check. Lucien thought how nice it would be to still have a reason to restore one''s faith in humanity.


    The only problem is that kindness is often being taken advantage of.


    After half an hour, the crowd around the fundraiser had dwindled. Lucien already emptied his cup by the time the last fundraising donor had left and the man was once again alone in the street.


    He turned his attention back to the black German Shepherd, who seems to be eagerly awaiting his command. When he leaned his elbows on the window ledge and rested his chin on one hand, the dog''s ears perked up.


    "Such a rascal you are..." Lucien murmured, before smiling and nodding his head.


    That moment, the dog rose up on its feet and vigilantly made his way towards the man, who was still waving around his big cardboard sign and shouting, "Your change can make a change!". The dog must have snarled then, because the man flinched and took a step back, clearly agitated by the dog''s sudden show of hostility.


    The dog bared its sharp teeth, the fur on its back and neck raised. It clearly means business. The man tried to shoo it away with his cardboard sign, but the dog barely even flinched. And then, when it was just about a few feet away from the man, it let out a loud growl before lunging towards him. It grabbed at his legs and feet and finally caught his right foot.


    The man let out a loud shriek before falling to the ground, the dog''s teeth clamping into his shoe. He shook the dog free but it continued to jump at him, refusing to let go.


    "Don''t get too excited, you moron. Make sure not to hurt him too much," Lucien hissed.


    The man managed to free himself from the dog''s tight grip, his right shoe stuck in its mouth. That was when he got the chance to get back up to his feet and run as fast as he could, leaving behind his now-mangled cardboard sign and the box containing the day''s donations. Limping, the man cried for help while shouting profanities to the dog that seemed so eager to tear him apart. It chased him all the way to the next block until finally, they were out of Lucien''s sight.


    Lucien couldn''t help but laugh uncontrollably. It''s been years since he last laughed until his stomach hurt.


    "Man, I''ll get sued for this," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "You can come back now, Pye. That''ll teach him."


    Barely a minute later, Lucien heard a soft thud coming from the living room. He turned around to see that the large dog was now sitting by the front door, panting, eyes fixed on him.


    "That was hilarious. I almost thought you''re going to bite his leg off," Lucien said whimsically, amused at what he just witnessed.


    Just when he said this, the dog licked its paw and slowly opened its mouth.


    "Well, I almost couldn''t help myself," the creature spoke in a mellow tone that completely contrasts its vicious appearance.


    This dog happens to be Lucien''s excess baggage. And this excess baggage is no ordinary dog.


    As the giant beast bowed down its head and front legs, the sound of bones cracking and crunching reverberated throughout the room. The beast would growl and groan in pain from time to time, as its legs bent in and broke in unnatural ways. Its sharp fangs drew back, replaced by a set of less threatening human-like teeth, the paws replaced by hands and legs, its tail and fur melting away like butter.


    Just like his new life in Miami, Lucien was already accustomed to this grotesque sight. In fact, he headed to the kitchen and helped himself with a second cup of coffee during much of the beast''s transformation.


    By the time he got back to the living room, the dog was gone, leaving a stark naked man crouched down in a pool of blood, and melted skin and fur, right on his precious Flokati rug.


    The mysterious man slowly sat up, stretching his shoulders and cracking his neck until there was a loud pop. For a few moments, he sat unmoving, waiting for the lingering pain to disappear.


    If Lucien were to describe this beast-man, it would be that he''s a living work of art -according to human standards. His physique is the type that strikes the envy of men and admiration of women:  Honey-brown skin, and taut and muscular body. The strong, almost perfectly symmetrical face would stop someone in their tracks. His lips were pale and thin, with slender and rounded nose. The prominent jaw gracefully curved around, and the strength of his neck lined the twining cords of pure muscle shaping the rest of his body.


    But no other feature makes this beast-man so otherworldly than his eyes. They are grey but not the kind of shade that''s easy to describe. It''s almost as if they are both grey and blue at the same time, with blue creeping in around the edges.


    This man is too good to be true ¨C just like anyone else Lucien had met that''s not from this world.


    <hr>


    Shortly after his mother''s funeral, the black dog appeared before Lucien in the middle of the night. His initial reaction was that of fear ¨C heart racing, but legs refusing to do the same thing. With the beast''s large and threatening frame, Lucien could only stand still. But the dread quickly dissipated when the beast began to speak human language. Somehow, he was quick to get used to all these peculiarities ¨C giant talking dogs included.


    "Greetings, Master," said the dog curtly, bowing his head to Lucien. "I go by the name of Pyewacket. I was sent here by Lord Mammon, and I am to become your familiar."


    Lucien expected as much. The hills have eyes but for him, it came in the form of a hellhound.


    He quickly shrugged off the fear and shock from his system, as he carefully approached the formidable creature.


    "You''re just a spy masked as a pet," Lucien said coolly. "And if you want to stay with me, you shouldn''t talk like some Victorian butler. Nobody talks that way anymore."


    Lucien''s familiar, Pyewacket, was conjured by the Lord of Avarice and was tasked to be his "aide" ¨C a poor excuse for someone who was sent to be the archdemon''s eyes and ears in the mortal realm.


    For the first several months, Pyewacket was every bit the "excess baggage". He would suddenly show up in places Lucien would hang out in, often attracting people''s attention ¨C sometimes striking fear and awe ¨C which he did not like.


    But eventually, he learned that he could be a pretty low-maintenance pet. For one, he no longer requires obedience training. When you tell Pyewacket to be discreet, he''d be as restrained and low-profile as you''d expect him to be. And when you ask him to cover up for your mistakes, he would willingly take the blame and beating for you. No one dog or cat can do that to their master, and Lucien soon took advantage of that.


    The familiar didn''t even take up a lot of bed space. At first, Lucien forbade him from entering his flat because for one, he hated anything with a fur and a tail. Pyewacket would often stay outside and keep guard like a faithful dog would. But this didn''t sit well with the neighbors. After several complaints  and a trip to the city dog pound, Lucien was forced to let him in. However, he was also quick to get acclimated to this setup, like an owner taking care of a pet dog for the first time.


    Best of all, he didn''t even need to spend extra money to feed him. Pyewacket can go on for over a week with just a single drop of Lucien''s blood. Who wouldn''t want to keep a loyal, obedient, low-maintenance pet from Hell who can keep you company and be your servant ¨C all at the same time?


    Besides, now that Lucien got promoted and needed to do more work, he needed Pyewacket all the more - but for a different reason. After all, he''s high-ranking enough to have his own secretary now...


    <hr>


    Lucien grabbed a robe hanging from the rack by the door and tossed it to Pyewacket, who immediately covered his nakedness with it.


    Lucien finally noticed the mess on the rug, and let out a loud groan.


    "That takes ages to clean, Pye. When will you learn to clean up after yourself? The bathroom''s just a few steps away, for god''s sake," he said, vexed.


    "I''m sorry. I will send it to the dry cleaner later today."


    Lucien clicked his tongue. "That thing looks like you''ve wiped off a melted human on it. If you don''t want to rouse suspicion, then I highly suggest you clean it up yourself."


    Pyewacket carefully picked up the stained rug and headed to the laundry room quietly.


    "Where did that idiot go off to, anyway?" Lucien asked as he headed back to the windowsill and stuck his head outside.


    "Took the bus. The old lady from 62B was right across the street and almost saw me. It would have been big trouble. I think I should lay low for now."


    "Well, as long as that prick''s not coming back here anymore, then it''s worth an old lady''s nagging."


    By the time Pyewacket had emerged from the laundry room, he was already wearing a fresh set of clothes.


    "Are you sure it was the same man from across the company building?"


    "Without a doubt, Sir," his familiar responded. "Two weeks ago, he claimed to be a volunteer for a local feeding program. I looked into it as per your instructions, and found out that there is no such program. Not in Florida nor in any other states."


    "What do you know about the man?"


    Pyewacket sat down on the couch.


    "Ansel Johnson, 42 years old from The Bronx, New York. Former gang member who went by the name, ''Babyface Ansel''. Multiple counts of assault, possession of illegal drugs and paraphernalia, theft, and fraud. Moved to Florida two years ago and began a new string of petty crimes shortly after completing his parole."


    The familiar said this, as if reading a document in his mind.


    Lucien heaved a deep sigh. "Once a fraud, always a fraud."


    He rubbed his eyes as if trying to get rid of some invisible dirt. "These eyes never lie. But sometimes, it can be really inconvenient. You end up doubting everyone, even those with good intentions."


    Mammon wasn''t lying when he said Lucien would gradually gain preternatural powers from his being a Cambion. One of the first he discovered was the ability to see a person''s aura - a field of energy unique to mortal beings. At first, he thought his vision was deteriorating but soon he realized he only ever sees the strange light on a person''s face, like a transparent mask.


    Sometimes they''re glaringly radiant, other times they''re so dark he could barely make out a person''s face.


    It took some getting used to, especially when he had to figure out what the different colors and brightness meant. But with a bit of help from his familiar, he learned that a bright aura often meant a person has a pleasant personality. On the other hand, a dark aura signifies deep and strong emotions brought about by unreleased resentment and other impurities in the soul.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    In the case of the ostensibly hardworking Ansel Johnson, he has an aura as dark as a storm cloud. As long as people like him exist in this world, Lucien couldn''t help but become a cynic, a skeptic, and a non-believer.


    "People are too brazen these days," Lucien said in disgust, "they probably think they can always get away with their lies. I guess that''s what happens when the lies continue to be fed, right? It just keeps going and going, until it grows and you hope to god nobody cuts it down for you."


    Lucien turned to his familiar with a bewildering look. "Hey, tell me, Pye. If you desperately needed help yourself, would you rather put other people''s needs first before yours?"


    "If it''s for you, Master, then I will be honored to sacrifice my ¨C "


    "Be honest for once, will you?" Lucien cut him off mid-sentence. "What if I''m not in the picture? What will you do then?"


    Pyewacket dropped his gaze to the floor, a hint of a smile touching the corners of his lips. "If I am drowning together with another person, and there is only one life jacket, then you know what my answer would be, Master."


    Lucien chuckled as he took one last sip of his coffee and put the cup down on the table.


    "Perhaps that is the reason saints are worshiped and revered in this world. They are such rare gems. If all humans are as irreproachable, then Hell would run empty of them."


    "Right," Lucien replied sardonically as he walked past Pyewacket and into the living room. "Well how about that, you seem to have done something good today."


    "I will take that as an insult, Sir," Pyewacket replied with a chuckle. "Lord Mammon will not be happy."


    Lucien replied with a grunt. "Of course. I almost forgot you''re his minion," he mumbled. "Well, get yourself dressed now. We''re leaving in ten."


    "I will see you downstairs, Master," Pyewacket said curtly.


    Before Lucien went to get changed, he headed to the study room and stood in front of a glass display cabinet where he had placed his mother''s urn.


    Leticia Montgomery''s soul had already gone to a terrible place, where she could already be experiencing an unspeakable suffering. But while it seems pretentious and nonsensical, Lucien needed an outlet to share his repressed emotions with.


    "Today''s my first day as a management director, Mom. Would you believe it? I''m now one step closer to getting into the C-Suite. Just a little more push..."


    He touched the urn and stood silently for a full minute. For Pyewacket, who is already accustomed to his master''s routines and behaviors, this is one of those rare moments when he''s saying a silent prayer ¨C whoever it''s addressed to. The best thing Pyewacket could do is to leave him alone in his solace.


    <hr>


    That day, Lucien wore his best suit and had the car washed and polished. Pyewacket stood by the driver''s seat, looking as dapper as ever in a pinstripe suit, his hair slicked back to make him look even more intimidating. A number of passersby and neighbors stole a glance at them, failing to hide the look of awe on their faces.


    "I''ll take the wheel today, Master," the familiar said as he walked around the passenger''s side to open the door for Lucien, who said a quick thanks before hopping in.


    "You should probably take the bus or train from time to time," Lucien mumbled, trying to avoid the curious gaze of onlookers. "We shouldn''t be seen together like this."


    Pyewacket nodded silently as he started the engine, the million-dollar car revving and jerking away from the now-busy streets of downtown Miami.


    "Do you remember everything I''ve told you, Pye?" Lucien shouted, wind howling through his ears. He tried not to sound too agitated as he put on a pair of sunglasses and tried to keep his tie in place for the umpteenth time.


    "I''m Philip Menendez, 26 years old, from Arkansas. We met through a social function and my former employer who retired last year, recommended me to you."


    "Eyes on the road, please!" Lucien yelled as he held on to the door handle as tightly as he could.


    Pyewacket muttered an apology as he shifted his gaze back to the road.


    "Don''t wait for me. I might work overtime today so just go on home without me," Lucien instructed, his hand still tightly gripping the door handle.


    "I''m afraid I can''t do that."


    "We can''t afford to be seen together after work. At least try to be discreet if you want to keep following me around."


    "Like I always do, Master."


    "And stop calling me ''Master''."


    "Agreed."


    "And stop talking so formally."


    "... Okay."


    What''s normally a 20-minute drive only takes 15 minutes or less whenever Pyewacket is behind the wheel. Sometimes, Lucien regrets teaching him how to drive because he seemed to have awoken the speed racer in him.


    By the time they arrived at their destination, Lucien had to fix his suit and hair again. He seriously needs to consider installing a convertible top for his car, if he still wants Pyewacket to drive for him.


    This time, the parking lot assigned to him was on the third floor of the building ¨C a pretty convenient spot just a couple meters away from the nearest elevator.


    Before Pyewacket stepped out of the car to open the door for him, Lucien grabbed him by the arm.


    "When was your last meal?" he asked, as he looked around cautiously before sticking out his right index finger to his familiar.


    "Nine days ago."


    "Why didn''t you say so? You need to remind me about these things from now on."


    Pyewacket nodded silently as he took his master''s finger into his mouth. Lucien winced as a sharp prick of pain told him the familiar had sunk his fangs deep into his skin.


    Pyewacket could feel Lucien''s hand trembling slightly, so he held it steadily with his own. Sometimes, his master would indulge his cravings. This is one of those rare moments. He savored every drop of it, the warm blood tasting sweet on his tongue.


    Lucien would always turn away whenever the familiar feeds on him. This time, however, he couldn''t help but fix his gaze on Pyewacket, the way his lips and tongue wrapped around his finger with such need.


    To have someone''s life wrapped around your finger... It feels good in all the wrong ways.


    He shrugged off the evil thought as he gently withdrew his finger, careful not to be grazed further by Pyewacket''s fangs.


    "Like I said, tell me whenever you''re feeling hungry," he said as he pulled at his sleeve, took the key out of the ignition lock, and stepped out of the car.


    With his index finger, Pyewacket wiped the blood off the corner of his lip and licked it clean, making sure he hasn''t wasted a single drop of it. He took one last look of himself in the rear-view mirror, fixed his hair, and hurriedly grabbed Lucien''s leather briefcase from the trunk of the car.


    <hr>


    If there''s anything that isn''t fabricated, it would be that Lucien has the necessary academic background to leverage his influence and position in the corporate world. In fact, getting the job he''s aiming for was easy, thanks to his academic record.


    As Azrael Montgomery, he studied in one of the most prestigious business schools in the country, where he earned a degree in corporate finance. With that, he got to tick a few boxes in his list without much effort.


    He started off as a department supervisor but barely 6 months later, he was promoted to Assistant Vice President of Finance, after the previous VP was assigned to the company''s Asian branch. A year later, after having won over a major deal for one of the biggest gaming software and equipment companies in the world, he was promoted to Senior Vice President. Being in the said position was just as transient as the ones before it, because he was quick to climb up to becoming the Chief Project Manager for the main branch when the former manager, who was about to retire the following year, passed away unexpectedly due to a heart attack.


    Of course, just like his mother, he knew better than to assume it''s all sheer luck and pure hard work. Not even the most hardworking human beings in the world can propel themselves on top of the corporate ladder this fast ¨C in barely 5 years.


    They call it ''devil''s luck'' and it couldn''t be more true for Lucien Salverson.


    Pyewacket once mentioned that most of the Cambions he''d encountered in the past, have in some way, the natural ability to charm and beguile humans according to their will. Lucien may have unknowingly used this innate ability along the way. He spent an entire day contemplating this. The hiring manager, the panel from his job interview, his former boss, the director from the gaming company... He may have heedlessly used his power on them.


    But what about his boss'' early retirement? The untimely death of one health-conscious old man? Certainly, something ¨C or someone ¨C else could have done them.


    But he didn''t dare push for confrontation. In fact, if only he had an option, he didn''t want to see them ever again...


    But now, as the doors opened for him, Lucien could not help but smile. He stood there, absorbing the sights and sounds before him. People in suits milling about, minding their own business, completely unaware that someone like him had infiltrated their little paradise, like the Trojan Horse.


    He looked up and stared at the giant LED screen splayed on top of the third floor''s main hallway. For many years, it kept flashing the same words, in bold golden letters: Carmichael Tech. Empowering People.


    Lucien shoved the car key deep into his pocket and made his way towards the elevator. But just as he did, he froze in his tracks, remembering his briefcase that he''d forgotten in his car.


    "Mr. Menendez, I''ve ¨C"


    He heard a woman squealing. As he turned around, there were papers and folders flying all over the place.


    "I''m ¨C I''m sorry! It''s my fault, I wasn''t looking," said the woman, her face flushed red as she crawled around the floor frantically picking up the papers.


    "Let me help you with that," Pyewacket said apathetically as he knelt on the floor to help.


    "God, what is it now?" Lucien muttered to himself as he walked up to Pyewacket, trying to hide his impatience. "Mr. Menendez, we''re a bit behind schedule and need to get moving."


    "Please go on without me, Sir," Pyewacket replied, barely looking up at him. "I''ll catch up to you in a minute."


    Lucien was frustrated with his familiar''s seemingly nonchalant attitude. He clicked his tongue then turned his eyes to the lady, cheeks flushed beet-red now as she kept stealing glances at Pyewacket.


    By now, Pyewacket is probably already used to this kind of reaction ¨C the sudden pause in a person''s expression when they look at his face, followed by a lingering gaze and a weak smile. Of course, the blush is always a dead giveaway. It didn''t help that his familiar is so modest with it ¨C or just plainly dense to even notice it.


    Day one and you''re already such a lady-killer, Lucien thought to himself as he rolled his eyes and fixed the rim of his glasses, annoyed.


    He grabbed his briefcase from Pyewacket''s grasp. "Stop messing around and hurry up," he said as he stepped into the empty elevator and pushed the number to his floor ¨C 18.


    Pyewacket heard the elevator ding and when he looked up, he saw that the doors were already closing with Lucien inside it. His master clearly looked upset and he knew he''s in for some serious scolding.


    <hr>


    Just a week ago, Lucien was on the 17th floor ¨C one of the busiest areas in the company. But now, he''s taken over the next floor, a place where people are much less engaged in fieldwork and more on paperwork. It''s where overtime and burnout are pretty commonplace.


    For four years, he''d been staring at the same elevator fixture with its bright, orange-colored numbers and symbols. Looking at it now, he''s indeed come a long way in such a short time. From Floor 5, he''s now made it Floor 18 like a master-class RPG player that''s closing in on the Boss Level.


    The boss happens to be on the 20th floor.


    He wondered when he''d make it to the final level. Two years from now? Next year? A month later? Only Mammon''s patience can tell.


    But what makes Carmichael Tech particularly unique is that, unlike most other companies, only a handful of its workforce have actually seen and met the bigwigs. In fact, many of them only know the CEO by her name, and the occasional candid shots from paparazzi who are eager to get a scoop for a business magazine.


    Audra Breslin, a fierce-looking woman in her late 30s. She has lavish, sunset-gold hair that cascades gracefully over her shoulders, walnut-shaped green eyes, dainty nose, and a prominent cheekbone. Lucien had never seen her smile in any of her pictures, yet she looks so warm and gentle.


    Is she really capable of doing such unspeakable things to his mother? Humans can be so deceptive indeed.


    Once again, Lucien was transfixed by the button for the 20th floor. But unlike the other buttons on the fixture, this one has no number etched on it. Instead, it has an odd-looking keyhole. Apparently, only authorized personnel have access to the 20th floor.


    He bit his lip. Just one more floor and he will have that key in his hand. Just a little more push, so he can move forward with his plans.


    The ding of the elevator brought him back to his senses. The elevator doors flung open, telling him that he''s arrived at his destination.


    As he slowly stepped out of the elevator, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed his arrival. The hallway was oddly quiet but not a muted silence, because he could hear muffled talking further down on the direction where his new office is. Cautiously, he made his way to the end of the hall.


    "It''s nepotism!" cried a husky voice that belonged to a man. "He clearly has connections from up there."


    Lucien stopped in his tracks as he tried to make sense of the conversation.


    "You''re just jealous, like everyone else. How can you even call it that? It''s pure hard work. And he seems like a sweet guy. Really good-looking, too," said another voice, a woman''s.


    "Oh, I''m sorry, Des. I didn''t know we''re hiring based on people''s looks," the man said bitterly. "Look at the bigger picture, will you? A director in less than 5 years? It''s unprecedented!"


    This time, Lucien was sure they''re talking about him.


    "You better stop running your mouth now, Quentin. The boss will be coming here any minute."


    "Seriously, he even owns a vintage Ferrari. A vintage Ferrari, Des! Do you even know how much those shit cost? Definitely worth more than what we''d earn in our lifetime! Hey, even Ms. Breslin doesn''t come around flaunting a luxury car. I heard she drives a Chrysler."


    Lucien flinched when he heard the sound of a hand slamming against a keyboard.


    "I mean, who the heck does he think he is?" The man continued his tirade.


    "Your new boss, is what he is," the woman replied, her voice sounding tired. "You better hope to god he''s not here listening to your loud-mouthing."


    "Hmph!" the man interjected, followed by the sound of a swivel chair being pulled away.


    One of Lucien''s many problems is that he never learned to see things from another person''s perspective. He used to not care much about what other people think of him, as long as he gets to do whatever he wants. But in the process, it became his blind spot.


    This time, the truth was slapped right on his face, and he honestly did not know how to react to it. He wanted to walk away, find another route to his office ¨C but he figured that''s the coward''s way out.


    He grasped his briefcase as tightly as he could, his knuckle turning white. He decided to let his anger get the better of him.


    Be nice. But don''t be too nice. Gain their trust, but don''t get too attached. Unless you want history to repeat itself. That''s always been his mantra.


    Just as he was about to storm into the conversation and lash out at his backstabber, a voice called out to him from behind.


    "Mas ¨C Mr. Salverson!" Pyewacket called out.


    There were sounds of scampering and papers rustling from the cubicles where the voices had come from.


    "Oh great, you''re here. ''You done flirting?" Lucien said mockingly as he tried to regain his composure. He shoved the briefcase into Pyewacket''s chest.


    "You told me not to act too familiar with you when we''re out in public. I just did what you said, Mas ¨C Mr. Salverson."


    Up ahead, Lucien could see an open office almost a block long, with blue cubicles lining the left wall, and three rows toward the back. Each cubicle had a name on it ¨C unfamiliar ones that he would eventually know. He could see a few heads popping up from behind the workspaces.


    "So, did she give you her number?" Lucien asked in a deadpan voice, his eyes scanning the faces of his new subordinates who flitted out of their respective cubicles to greet him.


    Pyewacket had a quizzical look on his face, but it was quickly replaced by a meaningful smile.


    "Master, it was just an accident. It wasn''t necessary to ¨C"


    Lucien stopped in his tracks and raised a hand to Pyewacket. The familiar quickly closed his mouth shut as he looked at the line of men and women gathering in front of them.


    "Welcome to Section 18, Chief Salverson!" said the bubbly lady with curly brown hair and a dreamy look on her face. She walked up to Lucien to shake his hands. "The name''s Greta Thorne, Staffing Team Leader. Very pleased to meet you, Sir."


    Lucien smiled warmly, shaking the lady''s hand a couple of times before letting it go. "Good morning, Ms. Thorne. I''m Lucien Salverson, your new management director. This here is my secretary ¨C "


    "¨C Philip Menendez. Nice to meet you all," Pyewacket cut in as he walked to Lucien''s side and beamed at the staff.


    Lucien''s eyes wandered, subtly scrutinizing each of the employees'' face.


    Come on, Quentin. What happened to all that machismo? Talk! Lucien said to himself, eager to find his backstabber.


    Another staff, a young lady with mousy-brown hair, stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, fingers fidgeting in trepidation. "Uhm, my name''s Desiree Camper. Liaison Officer for Section 18. I''m in-charge of handling communication and coordination efforts. I will relay all messages and instructions to Mr. Menendez... V ¨C Very pleased to meet you, Chief!"


    Lucien immediately recognized her voice. She''s the lady who''s been telling his backstabber to shut up. She''s on his side, for sure.


    "Just call me Lucien, Ms. Camper," he said cheerily as he took her hand and shook it.


    His eyes then shifted to the man beside Ms. Camper, eyes downcast, beads of sweat dripping from his temples.


    "Room too hot for you, Mister...?"


    "... Wahlburg."


    Lucien turned his ear to him. "I''m sorry? I didn''t catch your name."


    "Wahlburg. Quentin Wahlburg. Customer Care Representative. N ¨C Nice to meet you, Mr. Salverson."


    Lucien forced a smile, clenching his jaw, trying his best to keep it together.


    "Mr. Wahlburg, a pleasure to meet you," he said through gritted teeth.


    He reached for Quentin Wahlburg''s hand. After a moment''s hesitation, Quentin shook them with caution.


    "This department seems to have a lot of time in their hands for idle chatter," Lucien said as he shook Quentin''s hand and gave it a tight grip. He could feel the man tense up as he spoke. He then withdrew his hand from the man''s grasp, and made his way towards his office.


    "Why don''t we all get together one of these days, so we can get to know each other better, hmm?" he said with a wolfish smile.


    Greta Thorne clapped her hands in excitement. "Great idea, Chief! I will have it scheduled at the end of the month."


    Desiree Camper covered her mouth with a paper folder as she shot a knowing look at Quentin Wahlburg, whose face turned as white as a sheet.


    "He definitely heard you," she whispered to him as the rest went back to their respective cubicles.


    "Like hell he did," Quentin Wahlburg shot back as he dragged himself back to his cubicle, looking sullen.


    "Ms. Camper?" Pyewacket called out.


    Desiree walked up to Pyewacket, feeling a bit awkward.


    "Did something happen while I wasn''t around? Mr. Salverson seemed a bit..." Pyewacket shook his head before continuing. "No, never mind."


    Desiree pulled out a sheet of paper from the folder she had been holding, and handed it to Pyewacket.


    "Uhm, it''s a memo from the executives. Please hand it to the chief today."


    "Thank you, I will," said Pyewacket as he ran his eyes over the memo before making his way to Lucien''s office.


    <hr>


    Lucien dropped his briefcase on his desk and slumped down on his swivel chair in frustration.


    "Of course I won''t fire you. Never." He said to himself as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the bottom drawer. "Instead, I''ll make sure your life here would be a living hell. Then you''ll wish you never should''ve crossed me at all."


    He placed a cigarette between his lips as he rummaged in his suit pocket for something.


    The door slid open, letting Pyewacket inside.


    "You''re smoking," his familiar said in a solemn tone, as he looked at his master with mild surprise. "You only do that when you''re stressed out."


    "Barely five minutes in and someone''s already getting on my fucking nerves," he muttered as he produced a lighter and lit the cigarette, a curl of smoke slowly rising from it.


    "What''s on your mind?"


    Lucien took out an ashtray from the drawer and tapped the cigarette''s ash into it. "You want one?"


    Pyewacket shook his head no.


    "Then don''t mind me," Lucien replied. He stared at the paper in Pyewacket''s hand. "What''s that you''re holding?"


    Pyewacket laid the paper neatly on Lucien''s desk. "It''s an executive memo. I suppose everyone else already knows about it."


    Lucien put the cigarette out on the edge of the ashtray, then took the paper. As he read it in silence, a malicious smile slowly lit up his eager face.


    "A quinquennial corporate event? I thought they were just joking about it. So it''s true..." he said as he turned his swivel chair to face the window beside his desk, then tilting it back. He looked out for a long moment, pensive.


    "What does it mean... ''quinquennial''?" Pyewacket asked with utmost curiosity.


    Lucien turned his attention back to his familiar. "The fabled once-in-five-years event I''ve been hearing about. ''Turns out this company loves to mingle with their employees, besides the regular annual parties."


    "What makes this event any different?"


    Lucien slid the paper back to Pyewacket, running his finger on several words written on it.


    "It says, ''celebrate, enjoy, and connect with colleagues, employees, and bosses''. Bosses, Pye. The C-Suite folks will be at this party."


    Lucien could barely hide his excitement.


    "Ah... I see what you mean now," the familiar said as he took the paper and carefully read its content.


    Pyewacket already understands that when Lucien says ''C-Suite'', he meant the corporate bigwigs, whose identities are mostly shrouded in mystery. The CEO, the COO, the board members, their secretaries... Many of the employees call them ''The Illuminati of Carmichael Tech''.


    Lucien couldn''t quite grasp the idea but as he recalled his first meeting with Mammon, the archdemon did mention he''s about to face an "ancient soul". But that was it, no specifics. For many years, Lucien has been haunted by the thought that they could be some sort of witch, a wizard, or worse, a blood-sucking life-draining vampire.


    Could someone like Audra Breslin be a witch and a vampire? Do such creatures even exist? He didn''t dare ask Pyewacket. At least not yet.


    "What''s your next plan?" the familiar asked, snapping him back to his senses. "It says here that this year''s theme is... jungle party."


    "I know. Tacky. Someone''s probably desperate to unleash their wild side on this one."


    Pyewacket scrunched his face. "Is this like the ones I see on TV where people dress up in animal costumes and onesies?"


    "Pretty much."


    "You will wear a onesie?"


    Lucien scowled. "You just don''t get it, do you?"


    He took one last, long puff on his cigarette before plucking it from his mouth and grinding the rest into the ashtray.


    "This is my only chance. It''s about time I come face-to-face with whoever''s behind Mom''s hex. Once I do, it''ll be much easier to get on their good side."


    "Well, then. We have two more weeks to prepare, Master," Pyewacket said with a smile, as he made his way to the door. "I will be at my desk. Please call me if you need anything."


    Lucien barely noticed him leave. He pulled out another cigarette and put it between his lips. It dangled unlit from the corner of his mouth, until the filter was soaked with saliva.


    He gazed out the window overlooking the city. Down below, streets were filled with throngs of people milling in all directions, like ants.


    It''s a million-dollar view from a million-dollar business tower. And he certainly would take delight in seeing it all crumble.


    "I will never let this opportunity slip away..." Lucien whispered to himself, hands curled to fists inside his pockets.


    All these years, he learned when and how to fight his battles. And after so much scheming and preparation, he is confident this is a battle he would win over.


    For now, he could only imagine what would transpire in the weeks to come. Things have never been so exhilarating...

 Chapter 6: A Slight Blunder

    Lucien''s knowledge of Carmichael Tech''s top guns is pretty much like everyone else''s: Nothing beyond the names and the stolen shots circulating on social media.


    He had been working for the company for less than 5 years and in three days, it''s his first quinquennial corporate event. There are only a handful of employees left who have been with the company for over 15 years and in those two corporate events they''ve attended to, the theme has always been fairly the same: A tasteless costume-slash-masquerade ball that requires everyone to wear masks.


    "So much for meeting and greeting colleagues and bosses face-to-face," Lucien said, sounding disheartened as he fidgeted with his phone.


    He had just finished a rather unproductive 34-minute call with one of the chattiest ladies in the HR department, who bragged about knowing everything there is to know about Carmichael Tech. In the end, all that brown-nosing and kowtowing Lucien had to endure just to get on this lady''s good side, were all for naught.


    "Why is everyone so useless?" he mumbled to himself, realizing that he had wasted an entire week digging up information that only led to dead ends.


    He heard the sound of a key turning in the front-door lock. Pyewacket had come home after running several errands for Lucien, who would usually allow him to go out on his own during his days off.


    He walked in with a big grocery bag in one hand, and a small red-and-green colored plastic bag in the other.


    "God, you''ve never looked so domesticated," Lucien quipped as he rose from the couch to help his familiar. "Did you get to buy everything in the list?"


    "Yes, except for the cigarettes," Pyewacket answered as he took off his beanie and hung it on the rack next to the door.


    Lucien grimaced as he rummaged through the grocery bag and pulled out a box of tea bags. "At least you got the right brand this time."


    "I bought these, too," Pyewacket added as he placed the red-and-green plastic bag on the counter. Lucien stared at it for a moment before peeking inside.


    "I passed by the Year-Round Christmas Store on the way back and saw those. ''Thought you might need it for the party."


    "...Wow. How absolutely thoughtful of you, Pye." Lucien could not hide the look of dissatisfaction on his face as he slowly pulled out a reindeer antler headband made of felt cloth, with two small golden bells attached to each antler.


    "You only have three days left, Master. Yet I haven''t seen you prepare your costume."


    "Thanks for your concern, but I''d rather be in my birthday suit than to dress up as Rudolph." Lucien tossed the headband back inside the plastic bag and pushed it aside. "And anyway, I''ve prepared something for myself ¨C for the both of us, in fact."


    Lucien was right not to leave Pyewacket to his own sense of style. Otherwise, he''d be a walking disaster.


    "The party''s theme is tacky enough as it is, but it didn''t say the guests have to be as lame."


    Pyewacket chortled. "I''m sorry. All this time I thought you were too preoccupied with something else, that you didn''t have time to prepare for this party."


    The truth is that, Lucien would have cared less had it been just a regular company event. He didn''t care much about the annual parties. In fact, he didn''t even bother showing up at last year''s Christmas party.


    But after a long standstill, the upcoming event serves as the perfect ¨C perhaps the only possible ¨C opportunity to inch forward with his plans. And if he wants to attract the attention of the most discerning strangers in the room, then it only makes sense to look his absolute, attention-grabbing best.


    "Of course, I prepared for it," Lucien scoffed. "You don''t have to know every little thing, do you, Pye?"


    Oddly enough, Pyewacket felt a pang in his chest when Lucien said this.


    "I''ll just keep this in the storeroom for now," he said gloomily as he took the plastic bag and headed to the pantry. "You might need it for something else in the future."


    Lucien netted his eyebrows as he watched his familiar disappear into the pantry. "So uhm, the package will arrive later so make sure to receive it for me, okay?"


    There was no answer.


    "I''ll take your silence as a ''Yes''!" Lucien yelled, feeling vexed at Pyewacket''s sudden cold treatment. He grabbed his suit jacket and made his way to the door. "I''ll take the train today, so you don''t have to see me off."


    Still no response.


    "The fuck...?" Lucien mumbled as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.


    There is a first time for everything, alright. And this is the first his familiar has blatantly showed him the cold shoulder. All these years, he saw Pyewacket as some apathetic creature devoid of emotions, like a robot. But staying in the mortal realm for too long must already be influencing him.


    For now, Lucien could only hope he would not start throwing tantrums like a child, or there will be consequences.


    <hr>


    When Lucien arrived at the office, he was immediately greeted by Desiree Camper at the door. She had a look of mild surprise on her face as she saw him walking in alone.


    Just then, her hand came up and slapped her forehead. "Chief, good morning," she said as she hurriedly walked up to him and produced a clipboard full of papers and a pen. "I forgot it''s Mr. Menendez''s day off today. Here are today''s papers and invoice form you need to look into. This one is a bank permission to release funds to the printing team. This one here is for the excise tax that''s due next month. These are CVs from the three applicants you short-listed last week." She said these as she flipped through the pages one-by-one.


    Lucien fixed the rim of his glasses as he absently scanned through the papers. "And I need to turn all of these over today?"


    "Yes, Sir. You can just call me to get them once you''re done."


    Lucien turned away and let out an inaudible sigh. "Do I have a meeting scheduled for today?"


    "Uhm, do you want me to go through Mr. Menendez''s planner? I''m sure he left it on his desk ¨C "


    "No, never mind. I''ll just give him a call." Lucien said, shaking his head. He thought about asking Desiree to fetch him a cup of coffee too but dropped the idea right away.


    "Why does Pye have to have his day-off today, of all days?" He murmured as he turned on his heel to shut the door.


    "Uhm, Chief?" Desiree stammered as she poked her head through the door.


    "Yes, Ms. Camper?"


    "Do you... perhaps have any idea... what Mr. Menendez''s costume would be for the corporate event?" The lady looked visibly embarrassed by the question. "Oh! But if you have no idea, Chief, I''ll just ask him myself tomorrow. Excuse me ¨C "


    Lucien turned around to face her. "Why do you want to know?"


    "Oh, uhm... Someone from Section 17 wanted to know what he''ll be wearing for the party so they can uhm... pair up? Usually, some folks prefer to wear matching outfits, especially the cliques and the couples ¨C "


    Lucien''s eyebrows furrowed. "Pye ¨C Mr. Menendez is going out with someone from Section 17?"


    Desiree let out a small gasp and shook her head vehemently. "Oh no, no, no. You see, Mr. Menendez is quite popular among several departments. Actually, Chief Salverson himself is just as popular." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks turning red. "But a friend wanted to meet and hang out with Mr. Menendez at the party..."


    Lucien bit his lower lip.


    Damn, if I find out he''s dating someone, I''ll send his ass back to Hell right this instant!


    "Well, you have to ask him yourself, Ms. Camper," he replied as he walked towards his desk.


    And then, a thought suddenly came to him.


    "Ms. Camper? You mentioned something about cliques. Does that mean the C-Suite folks also dress up in matching costumes?"


    "C-Suite... You mean the executives?" Desiree Camper was lost in thought for a moment. "I''ve only ever been to one of these parties before, so I''m not sure myself. But it''s possible. A lot of colleagues I know have been planning out their costumes for over a month now. And, some of the folks here in our section have agreed to dress up in bird and bunny costumes."


    Lucien ignored her final remark about their section''s costume theme. "Hmm... So, it''s possible," he replied as he sank into his chair and let out a deep breath.


    Desiree gave him a puzzled look, then smiled.


    "If you don''t mind me saying this, Chief, this party is the company''s way of letting everyone unwind and enjoy themselves ¨C even for just one day. There are no labels like ''subordinate'' and ''boss''. Who knows, we might just get to share a drink or two with some of the execs, without even knowing it. And maybe even go home together?" She said suggestively as she let out a soft chuckle.


    Lucien gave her a piercing look. Were his intentions so glaringly obvious, or does this woman simply have a keen eye for reading people? She is the very type of person that keeps his guard up.


    "Actually, I do mind, Ms. Camper," he grumbled as he pored over the papers on his desk.


    Desiree flinched and put a hand over her mouth. "Oh, I''m so sorry. I didn''t mean to offend -"


    Lucien waved his hand, dismissing her anxiety. "It''s alright, you can go back to work now. I''ll send these over to you this afternoon."


    Feeling sheepish, Desiree hurriedly stepped out of his office without another word.


    When he was finally alone, he turned his chair towards the window and leaned back.


    "You can''t start whining now," he said to himself in frustration. "Nobody said it''s going to be easy. Remember your commitment, Lucien Salverson. ''Anything that''s worth struggling for will be hard work.''''"


    He heaved a deep sigh and covered his face with his hands. "But fuck it, don''t I deserve to get at least a single hint!?"


    <hr>


    Saturday. The day of the quinquiennial corporate event.


    Lucien''s two-week endeavor to fish for as much information as he could, has gone down the drain. However, it was not entirely an unlucky streak. The things he had customized and ordered online, have arrived just in time for the party.


    If he couldn''t hunt his prey, then he might as well let them fall into his trap.


    The night before the event, he opened the boxes that arrived by mail. They had been lying untouched since Wednesday, the day Pyewacket struck a silent war with him. While he did not attempt to reconcile (because he has no idea what had triggered Pyewacket to begin with), his familiar was the first to break the awkward 2-day silence between them. It could be that he either risks provoking Mammon''s ire if he were to continue ignoring Lucien, or that he was flattered by the party suit his master had bought for him.


    "Just so you know, this isn''t a peace offering," Lucien clarified as he carefully laid a black suit and what appeared to be a metallic half-mask the shape of a wolf''s head.


    Pyewacket smiled as he held the mask. "Or I could just go there in my canine form. No doubt I''d win the Best Costume Award."


    Lucien chortled. "Or you could just thank your master for his efforts and wear his present like a good boy."


    "So, it''s a ''present''."


    Lucien''s lips curled. "Fine, if you don''t want to wear it then I''ll just - "


    Pyewacket gently pulled the suit from Lucien''s grasp. "Thank you, Master," he said warmly as he swung the suit cover over one shoulder and put on the half-mask. "I''ll make sure not to disappoint you tomorrow."


    Lucien tilted his head and scratched the back of his ear as he watched Pyewacket disappear into the study room. "It feels weird, seeing this cute side to you," he said to himself, amused and bewildered at the same time.


    And tonight, as he stood side-by-side with his familiar, there is absolutely no doubt they are a standout duo that will turn heads.


    Pyewacket''s midnight black suit was exquisitely cut ¨C a perfect match for his mysterious personality. Meanwhile, Lucien decided to put on a leopard print suit, which is obviously something he would never wear on a regular day. But given the party''s theme, an outfit that would otherwise be too kitsch, could now easily put him on the spotlight.


    The wolf and leopard half-masks added an air of mystery and distinction to them but seeing as most other men in the room decided to ¨C unsurprisingly ¨C wear silly onesies and actual animal costumes, they are easily recognizable, especially among their associates.


    From the receiving area alone, they have attracted quite a bit of attention from the ladies.


    "Mr. Salverson!" greeted a blonde-haired lady wearing pastel pink feathered dress and a feather headpiece.


    It was Rose de Silva, a former workmate from Section 15. Champagne glass in hand, she was bubbling over with excitement as she walked up to him. "Welcome to your first quinquennial. So happy you could make it."


    "Looking elegant tonight, Ms. Rose," chimed Lucien as he took off his half-mask and kissed Rose on the cheek. "The party''s barely even started yet you look like you''ve already had one too many." He pointed to her nearly empty glass.


    "Oh, psh!" Rose waved her hand dismissively. "The party''s begun the moment the first guest arrived. That means you''re already an hour late, Sir." And finally, she noticed Pyewacket standing stiffly behind Lucien. "And who is this lovely creature here?"


    Pyewacket reached out a hand to Rose. "Philip Menendez, Mr. Salverson''s secretary. A pleasure to meet you."


    Rose took his hand in an eager handshake. "My, my. So, you have your own secretary now. And such a fine-looking man, too. The name''s Rose de Silva, Section 15. But I''m your little flamingo for the night. Care for some champagne, Philip?"


    Pyewacket shook his head and smiled. "I''d like to keep a clear head for at least a couple of hours."


    Rose took a sip from her champagne glass. "Suit yourself. Some lady friends and I will be over at the east side of the hall, next to the wine fountain. You can come join us if you want."


    "We''ll have to go and talk to a few people first before we settle in," Lucien cut in. "But we''ll see you later, Miss - "


    "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in! Mr. Salverson ¨C Oh, my bad, it''s Chief Salverson now, isn''t it?" Said a husky voice behind them.


    Lucien almost did not want to look back after recognizing who the voice belonged to.


    "Higgins," he said in a drab voice as he turned around and smiled curtly.


    George Higgins has been Carmichael Tech''s Chief HR Officer since Lucien joined the company. He is slender despite his years, toned and always held his head high. He has deep brown eyes and tanned skin like any other Miami local. But once he opens his mouth, it is with a New York accent.


    Whatever game this man is playing, he is certainly not accustomed to losing. But there''s bad blood between him and Lucien because for one, he was always on the losing end.


    "I could have sworn you''ve walked in to the wrong party with that ensemble," Higgins said in a tone that''s something between compliment and sarcasm. He looked at Lucien from head to foot, before shaking his hand. "A little too overdressed I think, but look at you, rocking it and dapper as always!"


    "Speak for yourself," Lucien replied as he scanned Higgins'' outfit: White tuxedo and a full-face rabbit mask that he had taken off.


    Higgins grabbed three shotglasses from a passing waitress and sloppily passed the two to Lucien and Pyewacket, which they hesitantly accepted.


    "Cheers, mates!" Higgins said in a whiskey-dulled voice as he took a long swig and let out a deep hiss.


    "Seems like everyone else is already tipsy," Lucien mused as he looked around.


    "Like, I said, gentlemen," Rose de Silva interjected, looking slightly exasperated after having been rudely interrupted by Higgins, "we''ll just be at the east side. Be expecting you!" She gave Higgins a stabbing look before making her way back to her table.


    Higgins either did not notice Rose''s hostility or chose to ignore her altogether. He put an arm around Lucien''s shoulders, ushering him inside the vast banquet hall of the Grand Salon Country Club.


    With its marble floors and the royal chandeliers sparkling above them, the foyer looked too elegant for an animal-themed party. The air inside was humid and a little too stifling for Lucien, given that it''s nearly jam-packed with over 300 guests. There were free endless drinks and food everywhere, making him feel as though he is right in the middle of an extravagant party from The Great Gatsby ¨C except that it''s much darker and people are looking less chic.


    He took a quick glance at his watch. It was barely even 9 PM yet half of the crowd looked drunk or tipsy. A few people are in clusters, some sitting around the overcrowded bar, while others are standing around high-top cocktail tables spread across the hall and outside the terrace, drinking and talking.


    "I don''t remember annual parties ever being like this." Lucien put the shot of whiskey to his mouth and drank it down as fast as he could.


    Higgins laughed as he patted him on the back. "Didn''t you get the memo? You''re in for a wild party, friend."


    They were lucky enough to find an empty table on the far-left side of the hall, just a few feet away from the bar and has a panoramic view of the dance floor up ahead.


    Higgins turned to Pyewacket, who placed his still untouched shot on the table. "Oh hey, Mister...?"


    "Philip Menendez, Sir."


    "Right. Hey, buddy, would you mind grabbing two more shots for me and your boss?"


    "No thanks, I''m good," Lucien snapped as he gave Pyewacket a knowing look, telling him not to move an inch. "We''ll just be here while you go get your shot, Higgins."


    "Actually, I don''t mind at all," Pyewacket countered, which took Lucien by surprise. He beamed at his master, who by now was giving him a piercing look.


    "Apparently, you don''t," Lucien glowered at him.


    Since when did he learn to disobey me? This rascal!


    "Thanks, buddy!" said Higgins as he gave Pyewacket a pat on the back before turning back to a brooding Lucien. "Such a nice fellow you have there. I wish my secretary could be just as assertive. Oh wait, I''ve no secretary! Ha!"


    Lucien slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes as Higgins laughed at his own joke.


    "So, Chief, how''s it going for you?" Higgins stammered as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.


    "Fine," Lucien replied dryly as he put his half-mask back on, eyes wandering as he studied the people and the surrounding hall.


    Desiree Camper was right, the guests that had come in groups and cliques have similar themed costumes, making it easier for him to spot familiar figures. But in this vast hall filled with people in masks, looking for a person you haven''t met before would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.


    "... But of course, my wife ¨C and you''ve met her before ¨C she would still nag at me about going home late on weekends, thinking I''m just -"


    "Hey, Higgins," Lucien cut him off from his long narrative. "You have access to the company roster, right?"


    Higgins guffawed. "''''Kind of stupid question is that? ''Course, I do! What do you take me for?"


    "So, you must''ve seen the C-Suite profiles, too. Yes?"


    "Uh... yes," Higgins replied, face stiffening. "But that''s confidential info, Chief." He zipped his own lips with his fingers.


    "Can you recognize any of them here right now?" Lucien pushed on, ignoring his remarks.


    Higgins briefly scanned his eyes around the hall, then back to Lucien. "Oh, I''m sure as heck they''re here. They''re all over the place."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Lucien figured now isn''t the time to be prudent.


    "Can you see Audra Breslin or any of her associates?"


    Higgins scrunched his eyebrows in disbelief. "Woah, slow down, cowboy. Aren''t we in such a hurry to get promoted? It''s barely been a month since you - "


    Lucien clenched his fist. "It''s not what you think. There''s something important I need to discuss with her. But getting an appointment isn''t so easy now, is it? This is my only chance."


    "To suck up to your boss? It sure is!" Higgins blurted. "I know you''re an ambitious guy, Salverson. But not to this extent. What''s making you so desperate? Aren''t you happy with where you are right now? Hundreds of people would kill to be in your shoes."


    "I told you, that''s not what I -"


    "I''m back," Pyewacket shouted from behind them. He dropped two half-full shotglasses and a plate of lemon onto the table. "Sorry, there was a long queue at the bar."


    Higgins grabbed one of the glasses and straightened up, looking more sober than he was just minutes ago. "Don''t push your luck, Salverson. If they come to you, then they sure as hell will come to you. You''re Mr. Popular, anyway. Right?" He took a big swig, draining his glass before walking away.


    Pyewacket''s mouth opened slightly as he watched George Higgins stumble his way towards a big group of young colleagues playing beer pong at the opposite end of the hall.


    "Did I miss something?" he asked as he turned to his master with a confused look.


    "Everyone''s so fucking useless," Lucien spat as he snatched the second shot and gulped it down in one go. "Except you, okay? Except you."


    Pyewacket moved around the table and stood next to Lucien. "Master, I know you''re a lightweight. It''s better to go easy on the alcohol or we''ll end up not doing what we''re supposed to do here tonight."


    "I know, I know," Lucien replied, the burning sensation of alcohol pouring down his throat. "Hey, Pye? Don''t you have any magical radar we can use to spot our target?"


    Pyewacket took off his half-mask. "There''s a limit to my powers, Master. But yours is virtually limitless, you just need to discover them. Perhaps now is the time to learn a new one."


    Lucien strained his eyes, fixed them on the crowd in front of them.


    "What exactly... should I be looking for?" he wondered, eyes still focused ahead.


    Pyewacket leaned closer to Lucien''s ear and whispered. "We''re looking for an ancient soul. The color of their aura must be something you haven''t seen before. Surely, it''ll be easier to spot them in this crowd. Or they could have no aura at all."


    Lucien could feel his head grow warm the more he tried to concentrate.


    "It''s time to put your power to the next level, Master. You need to be able to see right through a person''s soul."


    "I... I can do that?"


    Pyewacket nodded.


    "I''d like to learn that as soon as possible. Teach me how to ¨C"


    Just as he turned his head to Pyewacket, he felt something inside snap.


    "Master, your nose is bleeding," Pyewacket gasped as he quickly pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed Lucien''s nose with it.


    "Ah, shit. I think I''ve overdone it," Lucien cursed as he pressed the handkerchief closer to his nose to stop the bleeding.


    "Are you alright?"


    "A little dizzy but yes, I''m fine."


    "Let me go get you some water -"


    "Chief! Mr. Menendez! We finally found you guys!" shrieked a familiar voice from behind them.


    A flurry of fluff and feathers surrounded Lucien and Pyewacket, followed by loud giggling and drunken laughter. It was Desiree Camper and her flock of lady friends wearing bird and bunny costumes.


    "H - Hi, how''s it going?" Lucien stammered as he turned away from them.


    "Oh my god, Chief, your nose is bleeding!" Desiree cried out as she stooped down to check his nose.


    "Yes, but I''m fine now. It''s ''cause of the heat."


    One of the ladies grabbed Lucien by the arm and motioned him towards the nearest empty seat. "Here, you need to sit down and lean forward. Pinch the bridge of your nose and try breathing through your mouth."


    Lucien looked up at her and chortled. "Are you a nurse or something?"


    The lady put her hands on her waist, smirking. "I happen to be the company nurse, yes, but this is basic information, Mr. Salverson."


    "He looks like he needs a glass of water. Here," said another lady as she offered her glass to Lucien.


    "Thank you, ladies. But I''m feeling much better now. Really. It''s nothing serious."


    Pyewacket slowly made his way through the group of ladies hovering over Lucien and held up his hands.


    "Everyone, please. Let''s give Mr. Salverson some air."


    The ladies quickly took a step back, still looking at Lucien with an expression of pity and anxiety.


    "We uhm, we thought we could invite you two to come dance with us. The DJ will be on-stage any minute now," Desiree announced. "But you look like you''re better off staying at the gazebo, Chief. You''ll feel much better with fresh air." She pointed to the small turret-shaped pavilion outside the hall''s west end.


    Pyewacket held Lucien by the arm and slowly propped him up. "Great idea. I''ll accompany him there. If you''ll excuse us, ladies..."


    The ladies nodded and waved at them like forlorn parents waving off a honeymoon couple. As always, Pyewacket seemed oblivious about all this, but Lucien felt a pang of guilt that made him stop in his tracks.


    He slipped his arm from Pyewacket''s grasp. "You know what, I''m all good. You should go join them, Pye. Have some fun. Don''t worry about me."


    "Master, please don''t be stubborn. Just let me accompany you and - "


    Lucien turned him around and pushed him forward. "Jeez, stop it. I''m not a baby. Go, have fun."


    "But -"


    "I have a perfectly clear view of the dance floor from the gazebo. See? You guys just stay on the west side, so we can keep an eye on each other. Okay?"


    The ladies clapped their hands excitedly as they swarmed Pyewacket and dragged him to the dance floor.


    "Are you sure you''ll be fine?" Pyewacket protested, never tearing his eyes off his master.


    "Don''t be such a mom. Just go," Lucien blurted as he waved him off and leisurely made his way towards the gazebo.


    <hr>


    Sometimes, it feels nice to be alone. Lucien sometimes feels this strange longing whenever he is in a big gathering.


    As soon as the DJ stepped up the stage and started playing music, the guests flitted towards the dance floor, filling it quickly in seconds. When the dancing and raving started, he finally got the gazebo all to himself. He sat down on the edge and took off his mask once more. Sweat dripped from his brows as he brushed his hair back from his eyes. He could see Pyewacket sticking his head up to look at him, and he would look back at him with a frown.


    Thankfully, the blood had finally stopped flowing out of his nose. He dropped the stained handkerchief on the seat next to him and took out his glasses from his breast pocket.


    "Not gonna'' join in?" a deep male voice suddenly broke the silence, which nearly made Lucien jump to his feet.


    He quickly put on his glasses and looked to his right. There by the dimly lit pebble walkway, was a man looking statue-like in a neat pressed khaki suit, a half-full glass of wine in one hand. His eyes were hidden behind a nicely crafted lion mask, complete with faux mane hanging gracefully down his back.


    Lucien kept his guard up as the man slowly approached him.


    "Good evening," the man greeted in a low and soft voice. "Seems kind of weird to see someone moping around here while everyone else is having fun."


    "Same goes to you," Lucien responded jokingly.


    Now only a few feet away from him, he could get a much clearer view of the man''s face ¨C or at least half of it. He was clean-shaven and utterly serious, with a mole on the left side of his dimpled chin. But what was most striking was the silver piercing in his lower lip, which glistened in the dim light.


    "''Mind if I join you?" the man asked politely as he pointed to the empty seat next to Lucien.


    Lucien quickly grabbed the stained handkerchief and shoved it in his pocket. "Certainly not. Please be my guest."


    A suspended silence saturated the air around them.


    "So uhm... Do I know you?" Lucien asked with an awkward smile.


    "You''re about to."


    "Then... who are you?"


    The man chuckled as he sat down next to him. "Can''t you tell? I''m Mr. Lion."


    Lucien crinkled his nose. "Again, with the lame no-label rule."


    "Why, don''t you like a bit of mystery?"


    "Well, I do. But meh, whoever came up with that rule must be hiding something."


    "Oh, yeah?" The man snorted. "You''re reading too much into it, Mister..." he set his eyes on Lucien''s mask, which lay on his lap, "... Leopard." He reached his hand out to shake Lucien''s.


    Meanwhile, Lucien failed to hide the look of awe on his face as he set his eyes on the rune-like ring tattoos that ran along the man''s fingers.


    There''s something about this man that didn''t appear to truly belong.


    "You must be from the IT department. They''re far more lax over there when it comes to piercings and tattoos." He couldn''t help but comment on it.


    "Oh, these? I''ve had them since before I joined the company. They let me keep them. And anyway, it''s much harder and more expensive to remove tattoos. Right?" The man replied as he let go of Lucien''s hand and waved his own in front of his face. "I have them on both hands. See?"


    Lucien let out a low gasp. "I''m surprised that someone like you works for a company that''s obsessed about proper decorum."


    "You''re funny. Saying it as if you don''t work for Carmichael Tech yourself."


    "My bad," Lucien replied, chuckling. "I tend to speak my mind often ¨C and loudly. It gets me into trouble sometimes."


    He doesn''t quite know why he suddenly felt being talkative ¨C and to a stranger no less. This guy either has an unusual charm to him that makes him feel at ease or it could just be the alcohol that''s loosened his tongue.


    As his eyes darted back towards Pyewacket, he almost laughed to see him still fixing his gaze on him ¨C except that he looked more wary than ever. His eyes appeared to be glowing from under his mask, like a warning signal. He cast his eyes back on the man beside him, a good enough message that conveys he''s not under any threat and that his familiar should not be so uptight.


    "What I meant to say is that," the man continued, "it''s just for fun. Everyone just has to enjoy this moment before the company lets them work their asses off again for the rest of the year."


    "That''s a lame compensation, you know. I''d prefer a nice, juicy bonus over some grand party that barely even lets me meet my bosses."


    The man''s eyes lit up. "I see... So, you want to meet the bigwigs, eh?"


    Lucien''s mouth curved into a mischievous smile. "Nothing wrong with it, right?"


    "No, not at all."


    A waiter holding a tray with glasses of wine and whiskey passed by. The man motioned the waiter to approach, then took four shots of whiskey and two glasses of wine from the tray. He handed one to Lucien, whose jaw dropped at the number of glasses he took.


    "Oh no, thanks. I still want to live tomorrow," he remarked as he politely refused the man''s offer.


    "Nobody said you need to drink them all at once. And besides, the night''s still young," the man contended, still holding out the glass to Lucien.


    "Well... one more glass won''t hurt, right?"


    Trying to shrug off Pyewacket''s warning, he took the glass, then drank the whiskey down in one gulp. He slammed the glass down on the space between them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fuck, I don''t get why some folks like this shit-awful taste."


    The man finished his wine from earlier, before taking another glass. He twirled it by the stem, staring intently at the deep red liquid swirling about in a shallow funnel. "''Drink because you''re happy, but never because you''re miserable'' ¨C or so they say." He raised his glass to Lucien before taking a mouthful of wine.


    "You have a way with words, Mr. Lion," Lucien said with a lopsided grin. "Let''s just hope this isn''t some sort of temporary fun with permanent consequences."


    <hr>


    Between shots of whiskey and glasses of wine, Lucien and his strange company shared a rich dialogue all through the night. Their conversations were interesting, enlightening, funny, sometimes even intriguing. And so, their interests were captured with the passing of time. Before they realized it, two hours had already passed.


    After three shots of whiskey, Lucien Salverson was beyond tipsy. In fact, he felt a little drunk. Each time he closed his eyes, he felt dizzy. The man began to whisper in his ear and each time he spoke, he would let out a giggle. At this point, he barely had any clue what he was whispering to him. He just smiled and nodded. It''s crazy to think that this man could possibly be making a pass at him, but he didn''t mind at all. For the first time in a long time, he was feeling so good and wanted to enjoy every minute of it.


    He looked at his watch and noticed the time: 12:17 AM. The dancing and raving went on, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.


    Pyewacket remained in his peripherals the entire time although by now, his jacket was already slung over one shoulder, his tie loose, the top buttons of his shirt unfastened. Lucien had never seen this happy and carefree side of him before ¨C and he''s one hell of a dancer, too. It''s refreshing.


    Alcohol certainly does wonders, and it''s making him sentimental.


    But forget Pyewacket. He''s enjoying himself, too! Somehow, the thought of hunting his prey for the night completely slipped out of his mind.


    He leaned close to the stranger next to him, who appeared to be just as inebriated as he was.


    "Hey, it''s already past midnight, Mr. Lion," Lucien slurred. "I think I deserve to... at least see your face from behind that stupid mask."


    As he lifted a hand to reach for his mask, the man suddenly grabbed his wrist and pressed it gently.


    Lucien pouted. "That''s unfair. You''ve already seen my face. I can even tell you my name now, if you want."


    The man sighed, then looked cautiously around him before turning back to Lucien. He leaned closer and whispered, "I will, but not here."


    He stood up, grabbed Lucien by the arm, and whisked him toward the Grand Salon''s fire exit, leading to the back alley.


    Lucien had no time to resist nor panic, as he looked back at Pyewacket, who was too engrossed in the fun to have even noticed his master leaving his sight. Strangely enough, Lucien was not afraid. On the other hand, what he felt was a sense of thrill and excitement.


    He tugged against the man''s grasp, slid his hand to the other''s wrist, then twined his fingers with his. Still wearing his mask, the man whipped his head around to face Lucien, the corners of his mouth turning up as they held hands.


    <hr>


    Lucien and the stranger went down the steps toward an empty and dimly lit alley that ran behind the Grand Salon on the main street. It was quiet, save for the sound of hissing gas as steam poured out of nearby air vents.


    Lucien leaned his back against the wall, trying to catch his breath.


    "Ahh... I need to get back in shape," he said in a raspy tone.


    The man stood in front of him, one hand pressed against the wall behind his head.


    Lucien nibbled on his bottom lip and asked, "So... can I take it off now?"


    Without waiting for the man''s reply, he reached out and traced the edge of his mask before lifting it slowly. A cascade of long, lustrous golden-brown hair flowed out from under the lion mask, revealing a face that is far beyond Lucien''s imagination.


    He appeared to be in his early thirties. His eyes were a mesmerizing mahogany brown, framed by graceful light brown brows. He has a strong face, with prominent cheekbones and well-defined nose ¨C features that made him seem more authoritative than his aura already suggested.


    His usually playful smile etched its way back into his face as he took off Lucien''s glasses and stared deep into his eyes.


    "Such a shame to be hiding those beautiful eyes underneath these thick glasses."


    "It''s not just for show... I have very shitty eyesight and I actually need them," Lucien remarked, trying not to focus too much on the feeling of blood roaring to his face as the man drew closer, lips brushing his ear.


    With a deep voice, he spoke, "It''s Murphy."


    Lucien looked at him languorously, still trying to focus. "Huh?"


    "My name, it''s Murph ¨C "


    Lucien leaned forward and kissed him before he even had the chance to initiate it himself. When he did so, the man''s body tensed. He was too startled to respond at first. He pressed himself even closer, wrapping an arm around his neck as their kiss became more passionate.


    "I didn''t take you for the aggressive type," the man named Murphy said with a soft chuckle. Mouths still interlocked, he slowly moved his hands down and wrapped his arms around Lucien''s waist, pressing his body against his, up against the wall.


    Lucien could barely remember the last time he had been intimate with someone. He only dated twice before, and both were women. He could hardly even recall the ecstasy and sensual pleasure that came with sex. And now, with a man... It felt like his need for a deeper connection was stronger than ever before.


    Their hands wandered and caressed each other''s bodies, the chemistry between them suddenly a burning flame of lust and desire.


    Lucien opened his mouth as Murphy slipped his tongue inside, which he welcomed with eagerness. The tension between them was beginning to subside.


    "Murphy," Lucien whispered in-between torrid kisses, "you might regret this, you know..."


    "Never," Murphy responded almost instantly as he continued to kiss him fervently, leaving a trail along his jaw, his collarbone, and the strong curve of his neck. He paused for a moment, looking up at Lucien with needy eyes. "So, I''ll have to shoot that question back at you."


    "Don''t... give me a reason to..."


    Lucien arched against him, his breath quickening as Murphy''s fingers tugged at his shirt. First, he pulled back his suit jacket before unfastening the buttons of his shirt, one by one until it lay open. He gasped as he felt his lips brush across his chest, making their way down his mid-section before finally lingering on his belly, right on his happy trail where fine wisps of hair ran from his belly button down to his pubic region.


    Now kneeling, Murphy looked up at Lucien to see how he was reacting to his touch.


    "Murphy..." Lucien moaned his name as he pushed his hips up. He was visibly excited, failing miserably to forget his inhibitions. He wanted him to venture further down and make him feel what he was doing to him.


    "I know just what you need." Murphy beamed, but he took his time to oblige him. He dragged a fingertip along the edge of Lucien''s pants, dipping it underneath the waistband to tease his desire.


    Lucien watched him intently, wondering where his teasing would lead him. And when his breathing grew ragged, Murphy began to slowly unbuckle his belt and slide down his zipper. He undressed him the way a stripper would when in front of a crowd: Slowly, seductively, and with great anticipation.


    Lucien was growing impatient by the second, but it pleased him all the same. He had never experimented oral sex with another man before, so he wasn''t sure just how far he''d go.


    Murphy''s eyes glowed like a cat''s, finally finishing his task the moment he slid Lucien''s pants down his legs. Without warning, he dropped a hand down below his waistband, going further down until his hand covered his entire length.


    Lucien covered his mouth, stifling his moans as Murphy slowly moved his hand up and down along his shaft. He rocked his hips to grind himself against the man''s skillful hands. He then moved his hands into his hair, clenching it tightly.


    Murphy enjoyed teasing Lucien. He curled his fingers completely around him and gripped tightly. "Go ahead, let your voice out. Nobody else is going to hear you."


    Lucien closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation. He felt him sliding his underwear down over his hips and heard him sigh softly.


    "Look at you. You''re so eager."


    "It''s been a while."


    "How long has it been?"


    Before Lucien could even respond, Murphy grinned up at him. He continued to gaze directly into Lucien''s eyes as he playfully stuck the tip of his tongue out and dragged it up his entire length. The cold sensation of his lip piercing grazing his skin combined with the warmth of his mouth, sent shivers down his spine.


    "Fuck..." Lucien mewled.


    Murphy relished every bit of response coming from Lucien. He never gave him the chance to look away from his lust-filled eyes, not even when he sucked him deep into his mouth. Slowly, he bobbed his head up and down, his tongue swirling around, flicking against Lucien''s sensitive flesh.


    Lucien desperately wanted to let off some steam, and it did not help that this guy is incredibly attractive; not to mention that he has a very skilled mouth that''s extremely good at giving mind-blowing head. None of his exes were half as good. This guy deserves the Best Blow Job Award.


    This time, he rocked his hips against Murphy''s needy mouth, hands once again playing in his hair but gently caressing him as he worked his shaft. He could feel his knees buckle under his weight.


    Murphy got himself excited enough to moan against Lucien''s length, which completely shattered any shred of resistance he had left.


    "Stop," Lucien pleaded hoarsely. "Please."


    But Murphy sucked even harder. He wanted him to beg more. He didn''t want it to end so soon, so he tried his best to control him.


    "Fuck. Murphy, please..."


    At first, his strokes were slow and deliberate, then he picked up the pace until he could see he was getting to him.


    "I''m sorry, I''m so close."


    Although Murphy didn''t want to pull away just yet, that was the final warning he figured he''d get.


    Lucien drew down and bent forward, feeling his ejaculation hit Murphy''s tongue as he let out a loud moan and came into his mouth. He felt like his head was about to explode from all the different sensations going off like fireworks. His body shuddered as pleasure swamped him; so intense and shattering than anything he had ever felt before.


    Murphy sucked him down with eager anticipation, touching him everywhere he could reach until he finally pulled away, trying to catch his breath.


    "I need... a moment," Lucien muttered mindlessly as he arched against Murphy, his erection still hard, basted in his own fluid and Murphy''s saliva.


    When the pleasure gradually broke and when he was finally about to come back to himself, Murphy refused to allow it just yet. Instead, he rose to his feet, slid his hands along the dip of Lucien''s back, and cupped his bare buttocks.


    Lucien let out a gasp. He was still drunk with pleasure and more than a little dazed, but his senses were heightened, and his instincts kicked in. He wrapped a leg around Murphy''s lean waist, his arms around his broad shoulders. He pressed back against the wall for better leverage. He was there between his thighs ¨C blunt, big and hard. He had just come, but as Murphy probed his fingers gently at his opening, he couldn''t help but feel anxious.


    This man had been so unbelievably patient, so careful to ensure his satisfaction. So, he expected him to be impatient now. Rough and ravenous.


    Leaning forward until he could feel the heat of his breath right next to his ear, Murphy whispered, "Make me feel good, too," before pressing light kisses to his cheek.


    "The thing is ¨C" Lucien bit his lip for a moment, feeling embarrassed at what he was about to confess, "¨CI''ve never done it before."


    Murphy stopped what he was doing and pulled his head back to look at him quizzically.


    Lucien dropped his gaze. "With a man... I''ve never done it before."


    Just as he said this, the baffled look on Murphy''s face was quickly replaced with one of relief. He wrapped his arms around Lucien and heaved a sigh.


    "You scared me for a moment. I thought I did something wrong and you wanted me to stop," Murphy said as he planted tiny kisses along Lucien''s throat and jaw. "Then, perhaps we can compromise."


    He kissed him on the lips, not gently like before, but with a passion that seemed to possess him like a carnal force. Lucien tried to catch his breath as he probed his mouth. He could faintly taste his own essence mixed in with the bitterness of wine.


    As Murphy continued to invade Lucien''s mouth, he whispered, "Maybe this time, Storm would finally let me keep you."


    Those mysterious words somehow snapped Lucien back to his senses, like a spell that broke a curse. He bit Murphy''s lip, making him flinch and move away.


    "What did you just say?" jabbed Lucien, his nose flaring.


    Murphy winced in pain as he pressed a finger to his lip, bright red drop of blood oozing to the surface where Lucien had bitten him.


    Lucien hurriedly pulled up his underwear and pants. "Okay. Time''s up. Fun''s over."


    "W ¨C Wait. What''s going on? What did I do?" Murphy sounded confused and anxious.


    Lucien glared at him as he struggled to fasten the buttons of his shirt. "You''re a fucking cheater, aren''t you?"


    Murphy froze for a moment, then finally realized his mistake. "You mean ¨C Oh no, you''ve got it all wrong. I ¨C I got caught up in the moment, I''m sorry. But that''s really not what I meant. Storm, she ¨C "


    "Listen, buddy, I understand. Okay? You don''t have to explain," Lucien snapped as he fumbled around, groping for his glasses on the ground. "You got drunk, got curious how it''d be to fuck a dude ¨C and heck, almost succeeded with it, too! But you have a girlfriend, for fuck''s sake! Time to snap back to reality, okay? We''re done here."


    Murphy shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no. She ¨C She''s not... It''s... It''s complicated. If you could just allow me to explain ¨C"


    "Fucking right, it''s complicated!" Lucien glowered as he put his glasses back on and rose to his feet. He felt lightheaded and nauseous now. The sudden high of an orgasm and the lows of alcohol intoxication are finally taking their toll on him.


    Just then, he could hear Pyewacket''s voice in his head, desperately calling out to him.


    ''Master! Master, if you can hear me, please answer me!''


    Pyewacket. He completely forgot about him and now he must be turning the whole place upside-down, searching for him. It''s time to get this over and done with.


    As he made his way towards the fire exit door, Murphy grabbed him by the arm, looking more dejected than ever.


    "I wasn''t playing with you, okay? I... I really waited for this moment. It''s been so long. Please, just let me explain, Lucien. I can''t afford to ¨C "


    Shock overtook Lucien''s face when he heard him utter his name ¨C something he had not told him since the moment they''ve met. "So, you knew me all along! You scumbag!" He freed himself from Murphy''s grasp and scrambled to grab the door handle.


    "I beg you, hear me out!"


    Before Murphy could even get a step closer to him, Lucien''s fist landed a blow against his right cheek hard enough to make him drop to his back, hitting the ground hard.


    "Enough! Don''t you dare come near me again or I''ll report you to the Commission!" Lucien warned him one last time before he swung the door open and rushed back inside the Grand Salon.


    <hr>


    It was the first time Lucien had punched someone. He rubbed his knuckle, trying to ease the pulsating pain. He tried to fix his tie and jacket, but they were too wrinkled and disheveled, so he took them off instead. He brushed his hair back and slapped himself across the face, hoping it would keep him awake and alert for at least a few more minutes.


    He allowed a complete stranger to take advantage of him. He had been so reckless. So utterly stupid.


    "Stop screaming in my head, Pye. I''m here and I''m on my way back," he mumbled as he staggered his way back towards the banquet hall. He must be a complete mess now, and he could not recall where he had left his mask.


    "Shit disappears just when you need it", he spat as he finally reached the entrance hall from the west end, nearly losing his balance as he bumped into a waiter.


    ''Master, where are you? I''m at the fountain, near the bar.''


    Lucien finally found an empty chair next to a buffet table.


    "I can''t hold on much longer, Pye. Let''s go home. I''m near the dance floor, by the buffet table ¨C "


    "Mr. Salverson!"


    Pyewacket rushed towards him with a frantic look on his face. Lugging behind him was George Higgins, looking like a walking beet, red in the face and barely able to walk straight.


    "Wow, I never thought I''d see the day when Mr. Perfect would show up looking like a train wreck!" Higgins jeered, then placed a hand on Pyewacket''s shoulder. "You fool, you made this guy worried sick."


    Pyewacket knelt beside Lucien. He hurriedly removed his suit coat and draped it over his master''s shoulders.


    "Master, what happened? Where were you? I''ve been looking all over." His familiar implored.


    Lucien crouched by the chair, covering his face with his hands. "I''ll... I''ll explain it to you when we get home. Okay? Please, just... Let''s go."


    "Hey, Chief, that guy you were with earlier, where''s he now?" Higgins butted in as he placed his hands on his hips and looked around.


    He had a mocking expression on his face that irritated Lucien, who shot back a dirty look as he tried to stand up. "No idea. We just made small talk and he had to leave with some friends afterwards." Even talking was a real struggle.


    "He did?" Higgins'' lips creased up, trying to suppress a laugh. "Okay, I''ll have you know one thing before you guys head back home. I guess you were either too drunk or too ignorant to have noticed it, anyway."


    "Let''s just talk about it some other time, Higgins, m''kay?" Lucien pushed him out of the way as he tried to walk. Pyewacket wrapped an arm around his waist for support and assisted him to his feet.


    "I''m sure you didn''t get their memo, but most of the execs who came in tonight were wearing feline costumes," Higgins exclaimed.


    Lucien stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Higgins.


    Suddenly, a small group of people entered the hall from the west entrance. Some of the guests who were still sober enough to have noticed their arrival, looked up to see what the commotion was. There were three people in plain black suits that appeared to be bodyguards, closely following three other people who were rushing to get out of the banquet hall, away from the crowd.


    Lucien could recognize two of those people from where he stood. One was the person he so desperately wanted to meet that night: Audra Breslin, looking rather apprehensive and furious in a black panther leather costume. The other was Murphy, his face partly covered with his khaki suit jacket. Audra had him by the arm, practically dragging him across the hallway as he struggled to walk on his own.


    "See, you''re always one lucky bastard," Higgins muttered as he stood next to Lucien, who was too dumbfounded to react. "You actually got what you were asking for, huh. You got to meet one of them."


    The color drained out of Lucien''s face. His stomach began to heave in a sickly way, eyes swiveling towards the back of his head in a distressed sense of migraine. Suddenly, the world had started spinning like a carousel, slow at first and then gaining momentum. And like a balloon that inflated in his gut, everything he drunk and ate for the past several hours, raced to be expelled.


    Vomit. There''s vomit all over Pyewacket''s shirt, on his shoes, and on the floor.


    He didn''t know what was up and what was down. The world spun around him one more time.


    Higgins looked over him, his face looking red and contorted like the devil in his nightmares. "I sure hope you lived in the moment and took advantage of the opportunity, Chief. Otherwise, I''d give you the Idiot of the Year Award."


    Lucien''s final memory before blacking out was George Higgins'' insanely infuriating laugh. It did not make for a stellar ending to wrap up the night he had been looking forward to for so long.


    He could be terribly wrong, but the opportunity of a lifetime may have just slipped from his hands.

 Chapter 7: Lets Solve This Together

    The day after the disaster.


    Lucien opened his eyes to a dimly lit room, although it''s already 2:00 in the afternoon and Pyewacket did not open the thick drapes. He squinted and groaned, feeling as if an axe was deeply embedded in his head. His vision struggled to cope with the sunlight that peeked through the small window facing his bed.


    Besides the pounding headache, the nasty vomit taste in his mouth and the dehydrated feeling were a stark reminder that he had been heavily drinking the previous night. Both his tongue and throat felt like sandpaper. His body was aching all over and it hurt to move.


    Now he understood why they call it a ''hangover'', because it feels as if the darkest storm clouds are over his head, not intending to clear until late in the day.


    He lay unmoving for a few moments, struggling to recover from last night''s abuse. Even the idea of thinking is making his head crack. And then, without warning, the memories came flooding back into his mind, hard and clear. It was a convoluted mess of sounds, sights, and scents that overwhelmed him for a fleeting moment. At first, they came to him in trickles but as he sorted through them, they hit him like a maelstrom.


    Pyewacket had just arrived after a quick trip to the convenience store when the entire complex was roused by Lucien''s screaming.


    "Fuck! Fuck my life! Fuck everything!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.


    Pyewacket smirked and rolled his eyes as he coolly made his way to his master''s bedroom. He found him sitting down by the edge of the bed, face buried in his hands.


    "Please, earth, just swallow me whole..." Lucien whined.


    Pyewacket leaned on the door and crossed his arms. "You''ll disturb the neighbors," he said in a cold, sharp tone, interrupting Lucien''s monologue.


    "Why do I have to remember everything so fucking clearly? Why?!" Lucien slumped to the floor and groaned, resentment palpable in the air.


    "You''ll have to live with the consequences," Pyewacket chided as he walked past Lucien to open the drapes.


    "Damn it, Pye, do you really want to kill me? Keep it closed!" Lucien crawled his way towards the bathroom.


    "I told you to go easy on the alcohol. Now look what happened." Pyewacket trailed him to the bathroom. "I''m sorry, but I''m so upset with you right now."


    It took Lucien a good ten seconds to finally be able to get up to his feet. His hands grasped the edge of the sink as he tried to keep his balance. Then, he looked at Pyewacket in the mirror''s reflection, shamefaced and dejected.


    "I really don''t want you nagging at me right now, Pye."


    "Tell me about it, Master. Because there''s absolutely nothing praise-worthy about what happened last night."


    This was Lucien''s worst hangover to date. The pressure in his head was mounting the more he moved and talked. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to feel refreshed. He almost wished he could wash his brain free of the toxins and the horrible memories, too.


    The mirror showed the deep, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, his face pale and dull, lips cracked and dry. Gone was last night''s confident and zealous Lucien Salverson who thought he had the whole world in his hands.


    "I''m such a failure. Mammon can go ahead and eat me now. I don''t care anymore."


    Earlier that day, Pyewacket promised himself not to talk to Lucien for the rest of the day. But he was such a pitiful sight. He could not help but wonder why he easily gives in to his whims and woes.


    He took a deep breath as he walked past Lucien and into the shower enclosure where he turned on the shower. "Get in. This should make you feel better," he suggested as he motioned for Lucien to enter. "I bought Alka-Seltzer for your hangover. You need to eat too, so I''ll prepare you a light meal. I''ll call you when it''s ready."


    Lucien stared at him for a moment before taking off his boxer shorts and stepping into the shower. "You''re sounding more and more like a real butler the longer you stay with me."


    Pyewacket scowled. "I feel more like a caregiver, and I''m not happy with it."


    For the first time, there was no clapback or witty remark coming from Lucien. Pyewacket bit his lip, unable to say what he was really thinking.


    "... I''m sorry," Lucien muttered contritely, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "I know I''m always giving you a hard time. But if I expect my efforts alone to be enough, then I''d be stupid. You were always there to help me out."


    Pyewacket is not accustomed to being treated with kindness and sentimentality, especially by Lucien. In fact, this was the first time he said something close to a ''thank you''.


    He went back inside the bathroom, stood next to the shower enclosure, and leaned against the tiled wall. There was a long moment of silence between them before he spoke again.


    "What exactly happened last night, Master?" He queried. He could see Lucien''s silhouette through the shower curtain. He was standing still, head bent as the cold shower beat down over his shoulders.


    There was a pause before Lucien replied, "I drank more than I could handle."


    Not exactly the answer Pyewacket was expecting to hear.


    "That man you were talking to. Is it true, what Mr. Higgins said?"


    "... I don''t know. I''m not sure."


    "You''re always so sure about many things, Master. Why can''t it be this one?"


    "How the fuck should I know, Pye? We weren''t exactly wearing name tags last night, were we? And the stupid masks. And that stupid, useless no-label rule! God fucking damn it, that rule!" Lucien kicked and punched the wall, losing his restraint.


    Pyewacket pressed his lips together and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to fan the flame any further. "You guys looked like you had a good time. You could''ve just asked him."


    Lucien stuck his head out from behind the shower curtain. "He said he worked for the IT Department!" And then, it dawned on him that Murphy had neither confirmed nor denied it. He pulled his head back inside the shower and murmured, "God, I''m so stupid," to himself.


    Pyewacket sighed. "Did you get his name, at least?"


    "... I did."


    Another moment of awkward silence.


    "... I''m afraid I may have said too much. I might''ve blown my cover. I might get fired for hitting my boss ¨C "


    It was Pyewacket''s turn to get shocked. "You did what?" he demanded as he pulled the shower curtain aside.


    Lucien averted his eyes from him. "We... had an argument over something stupid. I... I don''t remember much except that we were both really hammered and the next thing I knew, I punched him on the face." He wasn''t ready to tell his familiar what exactly had transpired that night. He was determined to say only half-truths today, until he gets to fix the mess he created.


    Pyewacket''s mouth hung open in disbelief. "You... You really are a piece of work."


    He could not bring himself to say the words that would comfort his master. It was one blunder after another, and he was already beyond disappointed. For a moment, he stared blankly at Lucien, who was standing listlessly under the shower which had little to no chance of improving his mood.


    "Master," he mumbled as he turned away from Lucien, "please don''t give Lord Mammon the chance to accuse you of being incapable of leading the fight in this war. I believe you are much stronger than this but please... don''t prove me wrong."


    His words ate at Lucien''s chest, and seeing the disappointment etched on his face further darkened the cloud that was looming over him.


    "I''ll leave you to it. Let''s talk about what to do next once you''re feeling better," Pyewacket said with bitterness as he backed off and headed to the kitchen.


    <hr>


    Even after two days, the remnants of last weekend''s alcohol-soaked fiasco still made Lucien''s head pulsate and his stomach heave. The sunglasses he wore did not provide any relief, as the brightness of the early-morning sun made his eyes tear up. And while at the gas station, he was barely able to fill up the car with petrol without the fumes making his stomach churn. He was nauseous and liable to throw up at the slightest provocation.


    On the way to the office, he ruminated how much he remembered about his conversation with Murphy. As always with this kind of thoughts, the most horrible and humiliating ones were the first that came to mind.


    He was embarrassed about telling him his strong belief in horoscopes and blood group compatibility to find the perfect partner. He confessed about getting off to hentai (which is something Murphy had zero idea about, so he had to explain what it is which only doubled the humiliation). He even admitted he didn''t have sex until he turned 21. Now that everything has come to light, Murphy must be thinking he''s a complete nutjob.


    He cursed under his breath as he bit his left thumb, elbow resting against the car door. He could only hope the man doesn''t have a memory as sharp as his.


    But more importantly, he had been racking his brain for hours trying to think what personal information he may have divulged to Murphy. It was the very reason he had a sleepless night but after sorting out his thoughts, he was confident he did not expose his real identity.


    As for Murphy himself, he did find it peculiar that he always found ways to evade questions that were too personal. At the time, it did not strike him as strange but now, everything just makes perfect sense. No wonder he was too hesitant to take off his mask.


    The 20-minute drive to the office felt like a roller coaster ride. He should have asked Pyewacket to drive for him but when he woke up that morning, he found that he had already left ahead of him. He had no reason to complain nor to get mad. He deserved the cold treatment.


    He stepped out of his car cautiously, looking around to see if he would bump into someone on the way to the elevator. After all, he created quite a scene back at the party, so it wouldn''t surprise him that he''d be the talk of the town.


    Cleaning up one''s own mess sure is tough work.


    <hr>


    It''s time to stop dwelling in misery.


    Pyewacket''s words were a painful wake-up call to Lucien. The feeling of disappointment and of disappointing others was more than enough reason for him to follow through with his plan ¨C or the new and improved version of it.


    Instead of heading to his office, he went straight to the HR Department at the second floor of the main building. Lucien was thankful he only had to take the elevator to get there. Otherwise, it would have been another harrowing challenge, given his current disposition.


    George Higgins'' office was at the south end of the floor, so Lucien had to endure the curious looks and muted whispers of rumormongers who may have seen or heard what had happened to him at the party. This was one of those moments he wished he had the ability to teleport. Or a shortcut to his destination could have done the trick.


    "You reap what you sow..." Lucien muttered under his breath, as he braved his two-minute Walk of Shame.


    He knocked on the door and hurriedly stepped in when Higgins called for him to come in. With his back straight, he stood by the door, lingering for a moment before saying a word. He waited for Higgins to say something. He did not. He kept his face buried in his computer screen.


    The smell of cigarette, brewed coffee, and cologne invaded his nose, making him wretch and heave. He pressed a hand to his lips, trying to stop himself from gagging in front of Higgins. He summoned up a fake cough to call his attention. Finally, he glanced up at him before turning his attention back to the computer.


    "Man, you were so hammered," was the first thing Higgins said. He chuckled, but his humor sounded forced. He waved Lucien to a chair near his desk.


    "I''d rather not talk about it," Lucien replied sternly as he walked up to Higgins and remained standing.


    Higgins finally turned to face him. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Mr. Salverson?"


    Gone was the laid-back, unpretentious George Higgins from the quinquiennial party. The person in front of him now is the normal George Higgins that he loathed: Stiff, austere, and ready to make things hard for him.


    He cleared his throat. "I won''t be long. I just need to ask a tiny favor."


    Higgins gave him a scrutinizing look as he took a sip of his coffee.


    "I need more info on that guy I talked to at the party," Lucien said without waiting for Higgins'' response.


    "You know, if he''s a regular employee, then I''d be glad to help you out," Higgins replied as he put his cup down on his desk, looking at Lucien attentively. "But he''s not a regular employee. You know the rules about getting those kinds of information."


    Lucien pressed a hand to his temple. "His position. I can at least get that much info, right?"


    Higgins leaned back on his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. "I''ve heard rumors, Chief. What exactly did you do to this guy, hmm?"


    "What sort of rumor did you ¨C "Lucien shook his head, "Forget it. It''s not my concern right now. I just ¨C I just need to apologize about something I did, okay? Now, please."


    Asking for favors is not his thing and George Higgins is aware of that fact. He thought that if Lucien had come to this point, then it must be something serious.


    "You look like you''ve got yourself into quite a mess, Chief." Shaking his head, he moved back to the front of his computer, moving the mouse around on the pad. "Alright. Let''s see what comes up, then. Give me a name."


    Lucien bit his lip and scratched his chin. "... Murphy."


    Higgins typed out the name then looked over at him, waiting.


    "I only got his first name, okay?"


    "Unbelievable." Higgins muttered as he shook his head and chuckled in disbelief. "You can''t possibly expect me to go through with this, with only a first name..." His voice trailed off as his search came back in just seconds, with one matching result. "Well, how''d you know, there''s only one person in the company with that name."


    Lucien''s eyes gleamed. "So? Anything you can share with me?"


    Higgins sighed. "Sorry, Chief. I can''t tell you anything more than his name and position ¨C and even that could put me into trouble. See here?"


    He tilted the computer screen to Lucien''s direction, enough for him to see what is written on it. In bold, red letters were the words: ''Murphy Odenkirk. Board of Directors. Category 3 Information: Confidential. Server unauthorized to access material.''


    "Even I don''t have access to this information." Higgins shrugged.


    ''Fuck all these crazy rules!'' Lucien screamed in his head.


    Higgins turned to him again, this time trying to suppress a laugh. "Man, you''ve seriously pushed your luck this time. A member of the freaking board, of all people."


    Lucien straightened up, teeth clenched tightly together in frustration. "Then I guess there''s nothing more you can do. Thanks for your help. I''d better get going. Sorry for bothering you with this."


    Higgins silently watched as Lucien made his way to the door. But sure enough, the stark disappointment on his colleague''s face would leave him troubled for the rest of the day. And anyway, his curiosity has already been piqued. Just what could have riled up a person so unrelenting as Lucien Salverson?


    "Hold on," he spoke before Lucien could step out. "This may be a shot in the dark, but it might just help you iron things out much easily. You see, most of those folks from the top would come to the office on weekends."


    Lucien turned back at him, eyes sparking with hope.


    "I''ve seen it from the company roster before. Only Ms. Breslin and the COO would come to the office on weekdays, but the rest would only report on weekends. Very rarely on a weekday except when the monthly board meeting falls on those days."


    Lucien grinned from ear to ear. "That''s a big help, Higgins."


    Higgins picked up his coffee again and with the cup, did a mini-salute to Lucien.


    Lucien hesitated for a moment, and said, "Hey, uhm... I owe you."


    "You sure do, Chief. Make sure to let me know how it goes for you. Okay?"


    Lucien gave a weak nod and a smile before stepping out of his office. For a moment, he paused at the door, feeling glad that his efforts were not entirely in vain. The information he got from Higgins was enough to give him a good headstart.


    "Mr. Salverson?" A voice called out to him. He looked up to see two men in uniform approaching him. One was a front-desk security officer, while the other appeared to be a courier.


    Lucien glanced down at the security officer''s name tag, trying to rack his brain for a first name. He vaguely remembered the man saying it the first time they had a casual conversation, but that was almost half a year ago.


    Rick something? It started with an R and he was almost positive it had three syllables. Finally, it came to him.


    "Hey, Ricardo. ''Been a while."


    The officer beamed at him. "Oh gosh, Sir, you can just call me Ricky. And there''s mail for you. I saw you heading to HR earlier, so I told our buddy here to just give it to you instead of going all the way up to your office."


    The courier handed over several sealed documents to Lucien and made him sign a paper before heading off.


    "You look like you''re running late," Ricky said as he checked his watch.


    "Uh, yeah, I guess I am," replied Lucien as he shoved the documents into his briefcase and hurried towards the elevator. "Be seeing you around, Ricky."


    "Yessir." The security officer made a two-finger salute before returning to his post.


    Just then, an idea struck Lucien like a thunderbolt.


    Who''s a better person to turn to if you need to know all the possible entry and exit points in this building?


    Agitated, he bit his thumb and fixed his gaze on the security officer''s back until the elevator doors closed in front of him.


    He could hardly wait for this day to end.


    <hr>


    The trick is to gain friends in all places. You''ll never know when a friend could help you in times of need. And for Lucien, it''s important to take advantage of every possible opportunity, no matter how minute.


    Speaking of friends, things have been turning up for Pyewacket ever since the quinquennial party. Unlike Lucien who stained his reputation on top of potentially gaining a formidable enemy, his familiar had effortlessly gained new friends and a mini fan club of women who seem to be desperate for a hook-up.


    Normally, this would tick an envious Lucien but right now, there is only a remorseful Lucien who''s willing to take his pride down a notch and prove to his familiar that he''s still worth his faith and loyalty.


    It was 5:15 in the afternoon and everyone who is not working overtime had already clocked out and left the premises. At his office window he peered down the main building''s entrance, expecting to see Ricky in his post. He was a huge bear of a man, so it was easy to spot him even from the 18th floor. After a couple of minutes, he turned to gather up his things and put them in his briefcase.


    As he was ready to leave, there was a knock on the door. Pyewacket stepped inside his office, realizing that Lucien was scrutinizing him carefully.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "Should I drive you home or just take the bus?" he asked bluntly, avoiding eye contact. There was a tinge of coldness in his voice, enough to let Lucien know he is not ready to reconcile just yet.


    Lucien lifted his hand to adjust his glasses. "Wait for me at the parking lot. I need to talk to someone first before we head home. Give me 15 minutes." He reached into his trouser pocket and took out the car keys, then handed it to Pyewacket. He stepped outside the office without another word, leaving Pyewacket speechless and puzzled behind him.


    It took three minutes to reach the ground floor of the main building. Lucien stepped into an almost empty hallway, save for the receptionist at the front desk, a couple of employees sitting on couches in the lobby, and Ricky who was talking to someone over the intercom.


    Lucien walked up and stood beside the security officer, who quickly ended the idle conversation over the intercom.


    "Not pulling an all-nighter this time?" Ricky broke the ice.


    "No, thank god," replied Lucien as he pulled out a half-full pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He offered one to Ricky, which he politely refused.


    "Not allowed to smoke while on-duty."


    Lucien nodded and smiled. He pulled out a cigarette for himself, slowly puffing out little rings of smoke as he turned to Ricky.


    "Looks like you''ve got a long night ahead of you."


    "The relieving officer called in sick, so I have to cover his shift," Ricky said with a deep sigh.


    "That sucks," Lucien said, before adding, "Oh, that reminds me. I got these as credit card rewards but couldn''t find a way to use them. They''re due to expire next month, too. I''d hate to see them go to waste." He clicked his briefcase open, rummaged among its contents, and withdrew a thick bundle of vouchers. "Most of these, you can use to get discounts at the Lyon Caf¨¦ over there, at Building 3. There are a couple of vouchers for free pizza and some other stuff, too."


    Ricky couldn''t hide the look of surprise on his face. "No, I couldn''t possibly... This is too much, Mr. Salverson," he said with a half-suppressed smile.


    Lucien clicked his tongue as he shoved the bundle into his hand. "I insist. Like I said, I''ve no use for them. I rarely go out to eat, anyway."


    Ricky had no choice but to accept his offer. "Credit card companies and their silly promos, huh," he muttered as he folded the bundle and put it in his pants pocket. "Must be nice to have a wife waiting for you at home and cooking meals."


    Lucien snorted with laughter. The thought of Pyewacket wearing an apron while holding a frying pan somehow crossed his mind.


    "Yeah, well, it''s not too bad."


    "Is she the one going to pick you up today?"


    Lucien shook his head as he took a long drag on his cigarette. "My secretary," he replied as he checked his watch and started tapping his foot against the marble floor. For some time, he stood in silence, wondering what to say next.


    "Something wrong, Mr. Salverson?"


    He took one final drag before stubbing the cigarette out and tossing it into a nearby bin. "Say, Ricky, have you ever seen any of the C-Suite folks enter the building from here?"


    The randomness of the question startled the security officer. He was speechless for a moment, and then let out a chuckle. "Well... I''m not sure how to answer that myself."


    Lucien tilted his head as he noticed how Ricky''s aura had changed from a faint off-white, to a very pale blue. His question definitely riled him up, so he decided to push on.


    "Thing is, I met one of the board members last weekend. I needed to return something he''d left behind at the party, but I don''t know how to get in touch with him."


    Ricky rubbed the back of his neck. "Is that so? Hmm..."


    Sensing the officer''s reluctance, Lucien knew he was bound to fail. At this point, he only had one other option.


    "Maybe you can leave it at the Lost and Found Section and they can go retrieve it ¨C "


    "I prefer to hand it over personally," Lucien interjected as he stepped in front of Ricky, looked him in the eye, and said, "Reveal."


    <hr>


    Last month, Lucien had learned a new trick from Pyewacket: Hypnotism. His innate ability to beguile people is its much gentler cousin. And unlike the latter, hypnotizing requires a great deal of concentration and willpower to get the results he wanted. So far, he had only tested it on a decrepit neighbor who seemed to be exhibiting tell-tale signs of dementia. It was neither a failure nor a success.


    Being a Cambion, the ability to hypnotize should be tenfold easier. Pyewacket reminded him to always maintain eye contact with his target and once he does, a trigger word would put the person in a trance. Only then would he be able to get something out of the person ¨C whether they like it or not.


    Ricky had a blank stare to him, his mouth partly open as he followed Lucien with his eyes.


    His mouth curved in a triumphant smile. Pyewacket will be proud of him.


    He smacked his lips and cleared his throat appreciatively. "Tell me what you know about the C-Suite folks, Ricky. How do they enter the building?"


    There was a pause before Ricky said, "I... have only heard from a friend who works for the other agency they hired."


    Lucien swallowed hard and nodded. "And what did that friend tell you?" It takes a great deal of willpower not to tear his eyes off his target, and it''s doing something unpleasant in the pit of his stomach.


    "... Private people, some armed. Between the Main and Building 3, there''s an old warehouse that looks abandoned."


    Lucien''s eyebrows furrowed. He could barely picture what the officer just said, though he was sure he has a perfect view of it from his office.


    "The company bought it from the nearby junkyard ¨C made it look like it''s still part of it."


    "And did your friend tell you what''s in it?"


    "... Just a covered parking lot for the executives. It''s the only part in the complex that connects to the main building from the other side."


    Lucien bit his lip. "From the other side? How''s that possible, Ricky? You can only get into the elevator if you enter from the main hall."


    Ricky did not answer.


    "Is there an underground passage, Ricky? A teleportation pod?"


    Still no answer.


    A crackling noise burst over the intercom, followed by a voice announcing the day''s turnover of shifts.


    Lucien sighed as he muttered, "Reveal," and tore his eyes away from Ricky, who slumped to the floor.


    Ricky blinked and looked around in a numbed daze. He shook his head then looked up at Lucien, who stooped to prop him up against his chest.


    "What... What the hell happened?"


    "You fainted, Ricky, that''s what happened. Can you try and stand up?"


    "I... I think so. I feel a little..." Ricky pressed a hand on his forehead as he slowly hoisted himself upright.


    "Just take a deep breath and get your bearings, okay? When was the last time you ate?" Lucien looked over Ricky''s shoulder to see Pyewacket pulling into the driveway across the building. He raised an arm to get his attention.


    "It''s probably just the heat. I''m fine now."


    "Everything okay here?" Pyewacket slowly got out of the car, leaving the engine running.


    Ricky leaned against the podium by the entrance door and rubbed his eyes. "Yes, yes. I''m fine now. Don''t worry."


    "You look pale," Lucien commented. "Maybe you should go have dinner before your next shift starts."


    The security officer smiled weakly as he shook his head. "I don''t know what the hell happened but seriously, I''m okay. You folks better be on your way now." He waved his hand dismissively.


    "You sure?" Lucien asked again as he slowly made his way down the steps and stood on the sidewalk next to Pyewacket. "You should probably use one of those vouchers I gave you. Get yourself a nice, big meal."


    "I will, I will. Thanks again, Mr. Salverson." The security officer nodded as he watched them get into the car and leave.


    Lucien and Pyewacket drove for several minutes in silence.


    "What was that all about?" Pyewacket finally asked. "You didn''t punch someone again, did you?"


    Lucien frowned. "You better stop mocking me. FYI, Mr. Philip Oh-So-Fucking-Perfect Menendez, this was quite a productive day for me."


    Pyewacket shot him a questioning look.


    "Just so you know," Lucien started, his nose in the air, "a lot''s happened today. Yours truly made great strides with his plan."


    Pyewacket turned to the next avenue, the Ferrari wheeling the corner.


    "Alright, spill it. What did my Oh-So-Great Master do today?"


    Lucien smiled impishly and lifted his shoulders. "Glad you asked. Well, I was late for work today because I went to see Higgins first. You know, Mr. Beet from last Saturday?"


    "You must stop calling people names, Master."


    "The good news is that I got Murphy''s full name. It''s Murphy Odenkirk."


    "Murphy. So that''s his name..."


    "The bad news is that the guy''s pretty high up there. He''s one of the shareholders, so I think I''d be seriously fucked if we don''t get this settled soon. The even badder news is that his profile is confidential info. Not that I didn''t expect it, but I hoped for more details other than his name ¨C like his home address or something."


    Pyewacket ran his fingers over his chin, trying to hold back from saying something that would create a conflict.


    "But the other good news is that I was able to get more concrete information from Ricky."


    "And Ricky is...?"


    "The security officer from earlier. And oh, I managed to hypnotize him." Lucien wiggled his eyebrows waiting for a response.


    "Oh. Really?" Pyewacket did not sound convinced.


    Lucien frowned. "What''s with that dry reaction? I finally managed to hypnotize someone, like I told you I would. The least you can do is to smile and stop giving me the cold shoulder."


    He told Pyewacket everything that transpired at that point. And in his eagerness to set the wheels in motion, he spent a full hour sharing his plans with Pyewacket and devising ways to go about with it. It was such a rare and infectious enthusiasm that made the familiar forget he was ever upset with his master.


    <hr>


    That night, Lucien and Pyewacket sat side-by-side on the couch in the living room. Lucien helped himself to a plate of mashed potatoes and green peas, while Pyewacket watched and listened to him in silence.


    "... So I need you to keep a close eye on that warehouse for the next few weekends, both Saturdays and Sundays," Lucien instructed, wagging his spoon through the air. "I suggest you do it in your canine form, so you won''t rouse suspicion. Got it?" He took a mouthful of potatoes before continuing. "Speaking of which, I haven''t seen you in your other form, for weeks. You sure you''ll do okay in your current form?" He shoved another spoonful in his mouth as his eyes scanned Pyewacket from head to toe.


    Pyewacket replied with a shrug. "I''ll manage. I''m starting to like this human form, anyway."


    "Uh-huh..." A perturbed look clouded Lucien''s eyes, but his other concerns must be set aside for another time.


    Pyewacket leaned back against the couch and rested one foot on his knee. "I''m still waiting for you to tell me how this person looks, Master."


    "Oh, uh, right." Lucien absently built a small pile of mashed potatoes on his plate. "Well... he''s pleasant to look at."


    Pyewacket scratched his head. "You can do better than that, Master."


    Lucien pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pick out the details of Murphy''s face and body. Instead, his thoughts wandered off elsewhere, in the dimly lit alley where he shared and kept an intimate secret with the stranger.


    Now that was something he didn''t want to forget. If anything, he kept playing it repeatedly in his head.


    A slow tremor began in his stomach, gradually spreading down his body at the steamy memory. He shifted in his seat, pulling the plate close to his stomach.


    He cleared his throat. "He ¨C He has long hair. Yup. Long hair that flows down to his back, kind of like Legolas but thicker, slightly wavy, and light brown," he narrated, trying to banish the vulgar thought.


    "And who is Legolas?"


    Lucien gave him an incredulous look before shaking his head, and said, "Never mind. He has long, light brown hair. That''s it. You don''t always find guys with that kind of hairdo around here anyway, so he''d be easier to spot."


    "And what else, besides the hair?"


    "A mole. Right here." He pointed to the left side of his chin. He could hardly forget the mole because he found it cute. Beauty marks and freckles on faces are a personal favorite.


    "And oh, the piercing!" He pointed to the corner of his lips. "Over here. He has lip piercing. Kind of weird for someone in the company to be having those, don''t you think?"


    "Well that''s probably because he''s an exception to the rule."


    "Not to mention the weird tattoos," Lucien added, as he raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. "Tattoos on all fingers, Pye. Could it be that he''s a member of the mafia? Like a Russian mafia?"


    Pyewacket shook his head and snickered. "How could you nearly forget his most significant features, Master?"


    "What, the piercing and tattoos? But I was paying more attention to his face than ¨C " Lucien stopped talking abruptly and frowned. "Does it even matter? I''ve told you everything I could remember, anyways."


    "Long hair, mole on chin, piercing and tattoos... and a pleasant-looking face." Pyewacket looked at him derisively. "Looks like trouble to me."


    <hr>


    While Lucien and Pyewacket were nowhere near as good as Sherlock and Watson, they have spent their days subtly probing and investigating Carmichael Tech''s premises, based on the information they have collected from Higgins and the security officer.


    For one, Lucien was right about getting a perfect view of the shabby warehouse from his office. There is something about people not noticing or remembering a building or an object that has been there since the beginning. You expect them to just be there and only when it disappears, will people begin to wonder what had been there in the first place.


    Lucien would not even remember that a warehouse exists within the premises if Ricky hadn''t pointed it out to him. The people from the top probably banked on people''s tendency to ignore things that don''t matter to them and just expected everyone else to not pay attention to it. True enough, nobody cares about some ramshackle warehouse in the middle of a high street.


    Except for Lucien.


    There was no way to enter the warehouse if you were to drive a car into Carmichael Tech''s main driveway. Instead, you will have to go all the way to the expressway and make a sharp turn to a narrow street behind Building 3.


    Lucien had been keeping a close eye on that area for a week now. So far, he''d only seen two cars enter the street. But these cars were not headed for the nearby junkyard. In fact, the cars looked brand-new and far too expensive to just be salvaged for scraps. No. These cars were headed for the warehouse.


    Ricky''s accounts were starting to look credible.


    And the enigmatic entryway? It was surprisingly the easiest mystery to solve ¨C but only because Lucien discovered it by accident.


    Just like what Ricky said, the warehouse was adjacent to the main building. After days of careful rumination, Lucien determined that the only possible way to enter the building and up the 20th floor, is the elevator. After all, what was the special keyhole on the Floor 20 button for?


    Working late one evening, Lucien left his office to have dinner at a restaurant in Building 3. He went into the elevator and pushed the letter ''G'' ¨C ground floor. But on the way down, he felt a jolt, followed by the lights dimming. After a while Lucien realized that the elevator had stopped moving.


    Lucien isn''t one to panic, so he calmly rang the emergency bell.


    But no one came. He realized it was a Friday night and only a skeleton staff was working in the building. After 10 minutes with no sign of help coming, he decided to climb up the side of the elevator and banged open the trap door in the ceiling. But it''s not like in the movies. The trap door was locked.


    Lucien was already frustrated at this point. While he was aware it was dangerous to leave the elevator, he jumped back down and desperately prised the doors open to see if he could find a way out. As expected, the doors did not budge. Instead, he felt a breeze behind him, which sent shivers down his spine.


    He didn''t want to stay there any longer. Dismissing all grisly thoughts, he turned around and faintly saw his reflection in the mirror. No ghost. No ghoul. Instead, he could feel air coming in from a small gap between two mirrors.


    Lucien''s fear was quickly replaced by curiosity and anticipation. It was a long shot, but he placed his hands between the gap and tried to yank it open. As he wrenched it apart, he found concrete wall and a hollow space beneath his feet. He was somewhere between Floor 7 and Floor 8, but on the other side of the elevator.


    The side nobody knew about ¨C except for the people in Floor 20.


    All this time, the elevator was double-sided, with the mirrored rear doors made to look non-existent. One could only wonder why they had to go through all that trouble, but Lucien knew better. After all, big secrets require a big cover-up.


    This time, he had hit the jackpot.


    Thirty minutes later, without warning, Lucien felt a tremor as the elevator moved. The doors opened and he was welcomed by Pyewacket, an elevator mechanic, and a security officer.


    Lucien popped out of the elevator like a cork. "Pye, you don''t know what just happened...!" he raved as he grabbed Pyewacket by the arm.


    "Uh, sure we do," Pyewacket said anxiously as he looked at Lucien, and then to the mechanic and security officer. "Are you okay?"


    When he was out of earshot, he leaned close to Pyewacket and said, "I found the entryway, Pye. It was there all along."


    "Are you okay, Mr. Salverson?" asked the security officer as he watched Lucien and Pyewacket dart off.


    "Yes, I am. Thanks!" Lucien replied as they hurriedly left the building, leaving the officer and the mechanic baffled.


    On the way home, Lucien told his familiar about his discovery in the elevator. It just confirmed everything Ricky had told him, and he was more than ready to set the rest of his plans in motion.


    "Pye, you''ve got to tell me right away if there''s any progress on your end, okay?" He tapped his fingers on the wheel, trying to get his thoughts sorted out. "I have a good feeling about this. We''re definitely going to meet again very soon."


    <hr>


    But contrary to Lucien''s expectation, the weeks that followed were rather anticlimactic. The waiting turned out to be the hardest part and the longer it dragged on, the more it heightened his anxiety.


    Every day that passes without productive results only made him think of the worst-case scenario. It already came to a point that he dreaded the idea of going to the office, fearing that a letter of termination will turn up on his desk.


    No news may mean good news but, in this case, no news only made his stress level skyrocket.


    Two weeks had passed since that small breakthrough in the elevator. And the more Lucien thought about it, the less significant it became. The thrill and excitement had dwindled, and he found himself smoking far too many cigarettes the past few days.


    One Saturday night, Lucien came home tipsy from the bar after celebrating a colleague''s birthday. Lately he had been home alone on weekends up until late at night since he had sent Pyewacket out to survey the warehouse. He was running particularly late that night, perhaps because there was a heavy downpour all throughout the day, leaving some of the streets flooded.


    He would usually watch something on Netflix but that was a stressful and exhausting day, so he decided to go to bed. But because of the heavy rain, it was impossible for him to sleep in the noise. He got up to close all the windows, slumped down on the couch by the living room, and decided to wait for Pyewacket. Maybe he''ll come home with good news this time.


    He shifted to the edge of the couch and took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the drenched jacket he had worn earlier. He took out a bent cigarette, placed it between his lips and lit it. It was his eighth stick for the day and as frustrated as that made him, he was helplessly entrapped by the sight and scent of the rich smoke that wafted around him. He rested his head on the backrest of the couch, staring blankly at the cloud of smoke above him as he let his imagination escape from the reality of his situation.


    It is during these moments of loneliness when his thoughts would always go back to that dark alley on a humid Saturday night. The way Murphy Odenkirk looked at him with fire in his eyes, speaking to him, telling him things, suggesting things... Their heated bodies fused together, the warmth of his lips burning his... and the skilful hands and mouth that lit up fireworks inside him like the Fourth of July.


    The mystery of that night''s orgasm plagued his thoughts. The pleasure felt like a gentle wave at first, and then a violent surge the next. The pocket of ecstasy burst with so much energy, touching every portion of his being, sending tremors through every nerve and cell in his body.


    Many times, Lucien would touch himself just to get that feeling again. Other times he would reach a climax, but it can never quite surpass the one he felt that night with Murphy. So many climaxes. So many times, he let himself down.


    And then, there are times when the day demands a climax. This is one of those days.


    Sighing, Lucien ran his fingers through his hair. He took a long drag on his cigarette before pressing his fingers against his forehead.


    "You''re in a rut, Azrael Montgomery..." he mumbled to himself. "You''ve been able to endure it for years. Years, Azrael. Why stop now?"


    Many times, he would tell himself it''s just plain, old sexual attraction. It''s not something he can''t live without. But right now, the swelling in his pants is telling him otherwise.


    He desperately needed to release himself.


    Half-smoked cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Lucien laid back onto the couch, unzipped his jeans and slowly lifted his stiff member out of his boxer shorts. Forget hentai. Tonight, Murphy Odenkirk makes for the perfect fap material.


    Lucien ran a hand up and down his growing length. He lifted his buttocks up and with his free hand undid his belt and slid his jeans down his ankles. Now he could really go to town thinking about Murphy. He rubbed, moaned and groaned as he thought about their tryst in the alley. He went through the entire scenario in his head, seeing it like it was a television screen.


    As his breathing turned ragged, he stroked himself faster. But as the pressure started to build inside him, the thought that Pyewacket could be knocking on the door at some point, crossed his mind. He cursed under his breath as he pumped faster.


    Just then, he heard a loud thud coming from the front door, just a few feet away from him.


    "Master!" yelled Pyewacket, who had jumped out of a dark and twisted vortex that appeared out of nowhere. He was in his canine form, coat soaking wet from the rain.


    "Fucking sh ¨C!" Lucien bolted off the couch, his feet tangled in his pulled-down jeans as he went down and stubbed his toe on the edge of the coffee table. A glass ashtray had fallen from the table, sending cigarette ashes flying all over the place and onto his shirt.


    "Master?" Pyewacket''s tone had shifted from panic to concern.


    "Fuck. Stay there!" Lucien bellowed. He knelt and hastily shrugged off his soiled shirt. "Oh shit, the carpet!" He hurriedly stubbed out the remains of his fallen cigarette, which nearly ignited the carpet fibers.


    "I ¨C I didn''t have the keys. I kept ringing the doorbell, but you weren''t answering. I''ve been waiting outside for 5 minutes and ¨C "


    "Couldn''t you have just called?!" Lucien crouched down on the floor for what seemed like ages, struggling to pull up his jeans in an attempt to hide his erection. The folds of his jeans rubbed painfully.


    ''Why now? Damn it!'' he thought in shame.


    Pyewacket stared in astonishment. Still in his canine form, he quickly darted towards the bathroom. "Master, I ¨C I''m so sorry! I shouldn''t have been too rash! I didn''t expect you''d be doing it in the living room, so I thought ¨C"


    "Shut up, Pye!" Lucien crouched further, fighting back tears not from the pulsating pain on his toe, but from utter humiliation.


    <hr>


    Lucien checked his watch. He could still hear the shower going. It had been ten minutes since he first heard the water running. Even for Pyewacket, it was already quite a long shower. If anything, he''s wasting too much water. He decided to go to the bathroom to see what was up.


    "Pyewacket," he called out as he knocked on the door. He heard him turn off the shower. "I''m not mad, okay? So please, come out already."


    The bathroom door slowly creaked open, and Pyewacket stuck his head out. He was now in his human form.


    "Sorry..." he mumbled, feeling embarrassed as his face burned.


    Lucien dropped his gaze and chuckled. "What are you apologizing for? I''m the one who''s sorry."


    A moment of awkward silence.


    "Let''s just drop it, okay? Now come on out." Lucien sighed softly as he turned away and motioned his familiar to follow him into the living room.


    Pyewacket stepped out of the shower in a white shirt and black boxers, a towel slung across his shoulder.


    Lucien sat down on the couch, patting the empty space beside him. "Sit down." He hooked an ankle over his thigh and stretched an arm along the backrest.


    Pyewacket''s heart hammered. Is he about to get a serious scolding?


    Lucien studied his face for a moment before saying, "Hey, you don''t look so well. The last time you fed was almost a couple of weeks ago. And you''ve been shifting more often than usual. It drains a lot of your energy, am I right? You''re being careless again." He brought up a finger to Pyewacket''s lips. "You need to feed."


    The familiar looked troubled at first but after much hesitation, he held Lucien''s wrist with both hands, bent his head, and took his finger into his mouth. Lucien gasped as he felt the familiar pin-prick pain, followed by the slow ooze of blood from his finger.


    "... You''ve been drinking," Pyewacket remarked, giving Lucien a probing look before going back to his finger.


    "Well, if it''s you, it couldn''t be any different from drinking wine."


    Pyewacket drew his mouth from his finger, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "I don''t particularly hate alcohol, but I don''t like it either."


    "Aren''t they the same?"


    "I can''t be picky with my meal, can I?"


    "Then... I''ll make sure not to drink the next time we do this."


    "Or you should stop drinking indiscriminately altogether. We don''t want the incident at the party from ever happening again. Right?"


    Lucien chortled. "Got it, Mom."


    Silence permeated the air between them. The only thing they could hear was the murmuring of the rain through the windows. So much rain was falling that it blurred into one long, whirring noise.


    "Master, earlier, I... I''m sorry for barging in like I did," Pyewacket broke the silence as he got up on the couch.


    Once again, Lucien could feel his face burning with embarrassment.


    "Maybe you should go to your bedroom. Then you''d have a more private mo ¨C "


    "I mean, I was just trying to jack off!" Lucien blurted out suddenly. "Can''t you understand how difficult that is to do?"


    Pyewacket was startled by his words. For a moment, he just stood there, lips pursed. With a faint smile, he rubbed his nape and said, "You make it sound like a chore, Master. I mean it''s not difficult. I... I do it all the time." He averted his eyes from him. Lucien could swear he saw a slight blush across his cheeks and neck. It''s strange.


    "Wait. You do? Well, that''s news. I thought... I mean, I thought only humans are capable of feeling it."


    The conversation was taking an awkward turn, becoming even more excruciating the longer the other goes silent for too long.


    Pyewacket sank back down onto the couch. "The thing is, it''s actually fairly new to me. Perhaps it''s because I''ve been in the mortal realm for too long, and... it''s kind of like a side effect?"


    Lucien folded his arms over his chest and rolled in towards the backrest of the couch. "Aren''t demons always horny, though? Or maybe it''s just the books and movies."


    "Well," Pyewacket began, scratching the back of his ear, "before Lord Mammon summoned me here, he temporarily erased all of my memories of Hell."


    "Oh." Lucien was surprised at this revelation. Pyewacket rarely shares anything personal, if at all. It''s not as if they started out as friends. He didn''t think it mattered, especially when Pyewacket came into his life like some unwanted child he had to raise. But they have been together for nearly five years ¨C longer than any other friend he had in his life. And now, he thought it wouldn''t be too bad to know more about his ''afterlife''.


    "Like, no memories at all?"


    Pyewacket shook his head. "Then again, Hell isn''t exactly a place you''d miss."


    Lucien laughed. "''Bet you''re missing a lot." He paused, then said, "The sex, I mean."


    Pyewacket stifled a laugh, giving him a sidelong glance. "I... I wouldn''t know."


    "Well... I bet they always have wild orgies down there. But now, you have Mammon to thank for turning you into a celibate. You probably would''ve missed a whole lot of things if you retained your memories." Lucien shifted from the couch and moved closer to Pyewacket. "Either way, you''re back to being a virgin."


    Pyewacket didn''t know what made it happen. Didn''t know what made things change. But gazing up at his master''s flushed face, he could feel his body burning up.


    How did things end up this way?


    "Master, you''re just pent-up ¨C probably even drunk," Pyewacket snapped, trying to dodge Lucien''s attempts to seduce him. "I don''t want you to regret things once you''ve sobered up."


    "What makes you think I''m drunk? I''m completely sober."


    Pyewacket could feel the tension stealing through his body. He sat still, his whole body angled away from Lucien, even though they were now only inches apart.


    "Over here, you can''t do it with just anyone. It must be consensual. You need consent from the other. Understand?"


    Pyewacket swallowed hard, nodded, no longer trusting himself to control his inhibitions.


    Lucien cupped Pyewacket''s face in his hands, his breath no less steady as he stared down into the ashen gray eyes that gazed back at him. This was the first time he had seen the familiar''s eyes up-close; the icy gray beauty momentarily covered by the shield of soft-looking eyelashes. They looked as bewildered and intoxicated as he was.


    Gently, he took Pyewacket''s hand and placed it between his legs, making him feel his growing arousal.


    "Then... how about we make each other feel good tonight? Do I... have your consent?"


    This pleasure was completely alien to Pyewacket. It coursed from his groin to his brain, the sensational dizziness making his head spin. It was addictive and naturally, he wanted more of it.


    He cleared his throat and said, "If it''s you, Master, then I''ve no reason to dissent."