12#6

It was like walking into a room that was a mix between a library, a shipwreck deck, and a pigsty.

Many things were scattered on the floor.

Parchments with obscure inscriptions, glass tubes with cracked surfaces, and even pieces of clay that seemed to have once been pottery or ornaments.

I picked up one shard of pottery.

It was shiny. Carefully polished. I'm sure this was once an expensive, aesthetically pleasing item.

But, what's more striking here is the smell.

The sourness of sweat. The stench of rot. And the biggest smell of all: hopelessness.

Among the mountains of junk furniture that resembled ancient ruins, Lucian was still engrossed in another piece of parchment - in a brighter colour, I guessed this one was new - and a new glass tube.

"Nope," he said briefly when I told him what I was here for.

This time, surprisingly, he willingly flips his chair over just to refuse the request. "Sis. What trick are you playing now?"

Huh?

Lucian just grinned.

That irritatingly calm smile again. But, this time he was blatantly condescending. "Since when did you know, hm? Yesterday? Last month? Or even since the beginning?"

What was she talking about?

"I know what you're planning. But unfortunately it won't work." She turned around and started to get busy on her own again. "Nah. You better go back to your room and sleep. You still have class tomorrow. You don't want to make Dad angry, do you?"

What the hell was she talking about?

Plans? Do you know? What do you know?

I came here to ask for medicine.

But, I can't go back empty-handed. At the very least, I need to play the game first. "Are you sure?"

"Hm?"

Hah! She's getting interested again. "Are you sure that it won't work?"

"How would it work? It's not like you don't have proof, Sis. "Lucian shrugged. "Isn't that what you're doing now? To get that evidence."

Although I still wore an unwavering look, my years of experience in dealing with bigger jerks sniffed out something odd.

Weakness. Lucian's eyes for a glimpse implied caution and fear.

And again, I was starting to pull the strings here.

The reason why Lucian insisted on not handing over the medicine.

The reason why my damn twin brother is making things complicated.

The drug was just evidence for a bigger incident. A more heinous incident.

From his gestures and the uncomfortable-sickening romance I kept feeling when I was alone with him, I finally had a definite conclusion:

This bastard abused his own sister.

Yeah... what else is a more reasonable guess?

A smile that seemed domineering and intimidating. Forced affection. Parental favouritism.

Well... Sometimes, people can do crazy things just for the sake of it.

It's some kind of sleeping pills. Or tranquillisers. Or stimulants. Or even a combination of all three.

And the reason why Rachel lost her memory recently was... because she was traumatised. Stressed. Bipolar. Depression.

Ah... whatever you call it, I'm not a medical graduate, you know.

What rubbish!

These two.

If you want to drag someone into this troublesome matter between you two, find someone else.

Not me.

It's very troublesome.

"You're so sure, bro." I smiled. As confident as possible. "What if I'm just here to ask for confirmation, hm? What if I still have the evidence?"

Lucian snorted with amusement. "Wow, sis. You're a good actor. I almost believed you. But, yes, things that don't exist will still not exist."

I can hear Lucian saying this silently.

Wow! Apparently he's already got more preparation. I'll bet that long before I even got here, he'd have sent the servants, or gone himself, to rummage through my room.

"Have you really searched?" This time it was me who grinned. "Tell you what, big brother. It's said that every woman has a secret. And, when revealed, it's more shocking than you think. Well, in my case, my secret has to do with space. Specifically, hidden space."

The smile was gone. Lucian's face turned hard and cold "You're just bluffing."

"Maybe." I shrugged. "But, maybe not."

After that, silence crept in for a while.

Amidst the dim lighting that an ancient era like this could provide, I seemed to be able to see the seepage of beads of sweat.

Is that nervousness?

Or is it just my imagination?

Nope. This time, I've won.

Lucian suddenly burst out laughing. So loud and excited that he coughed.

What was he doing? Crazy, huh?

"Then. Hm... look, sweet sister, let's assume that you really have one. So what?"

Huh? She's not aware of her position, is she?

"Well, I heard some unpleasant news this morning. About you and Count Carrington's only daughter."

Lucian smiled. "And I don't think anyone would believe what someone who ... um ... what do you call it. Ah. Right. Less sane."

Wow!

Of course she would know about that. But, this has gone too far to back down.

And if I show a defeated look for even a second, I'll really lose. "Yes. Indeed. People wouldn't believe it if it came from my mouth. Well... it's a good thing that I've made some pretty strong friends lately. Influential."

Lucian's face crinkled again. But, this time, he wasn't too fazed. "Who?"

I showed him the bracelet. A piece of jewellery given to me by the Prince of Devon as a token of apology.

Finally, this worthless object had a use.

Even Lucian wasn't stupid enough to ignore what it meant. "You... wouldn't dare." The man was now almost on his feet.

He was hooked, too. Well, then, the process would be much easier. "Oh yeah? I'm even more curious. Gossip spreads fast. And it's even coming from a very reliable source. How will people react when they hear about this. The reaction of the nobles. The reaction of... Father?"

Lucian's earlobes turned red and now he rose up to me.

His face was like that of a knight about to charge into battle.

What is this? A sudden attack?

Huh! Did you think I wasn't prepared?

I tightly grasped the pottery that I had been hiding behind my back. Come any closer, and you'll bleed out, you bastard.

We're face to face now.

Lucian raised his hand. I was about to raise my hand too.

But suddenly he ... ducked. No, no. Prostrate himself.

Then, there was a roar. Sobbing. Pleading.

He was... crying?

"I'm... I'm sorry, Sis. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that at all. Please! Help! Oh, good sister, have mercy on me." He started wailing.

How annoying!

I thought I was going to face a tough fight, but it turns out I'm just fighting another loser.

Should I just told him lick my feet clean?

Ah, no. He'll get too excited-from my assumption, she's already too crazy, that would be a reward instead of a punishment.

"Dear sister, what did you ask for earlier, hm? I'll give you everything. The results of my research. My potions. All, Sis. Everything. So, please, I beg you."

I sighed. Crouched down. And, gently stroked the man's hair. "Brother, don't do that. It makes me feel bad."

I smiled lovingly. "They say friendship starts with sharing. We've already shared our secrets. I just want, with this, we'll be even closer in the future.

"Besides, don't you already know what I'm asking?"

*#*

Something went wrong.

I managed to obtain that wretched medicine.

I now also have control and loyalty over Lucian-although it's still questionable.

But, is this really the answer to my problems.

This thick purple liquid is disgusting.

I warned you before. If you still want to take it, it's at your own risk. Okay?

Okay. Granted, taking more than the recommended dose of chemicals is never good for the body, but... this?

Did someone die because they slept too much? Or because of an overflowing libido?

Yes... there are.

But that's a case with an improbability ratio of one in a million.

Am I one of those ridiculously rare exceptions?

Listen, sis. From the beginning, this was all your fault. You made me this way. You were the one who insisted. But, I really regret it. It's... you'll endanger yourself if you keep going.

It's useless.

Lucian's last statement I remember was just another ambiguous thing. If I ask for a clearer explanation, I'm afraid he'll get suspicious and everything will be ruined.

I think I should try it first.

It smells... um... normal.

How about that? It's like a mixture of half-stale grape juice and condensed syrup.

It's a bit nauseating, but all medicines do that, right?

Is it possible that he's giving me poison instead?

But... with that look and demeanour, I'm sure she wouldn't dare.

But... the character is based on a real person that I can't trust at all.

Oh well... what to do.

Cap, chip, cup.

One.

Two.

Three.

Never mind.

I drank it.

*#*

Rose is an arsehole.

Lucian is an arsehole.

Everyone is an arsehole.

A way out? I just found a dead end.

Do you know what happened that night? I got fucked over. Either by those two morons. Or by my own assumptions.

My body temperature rose dramatically, but I was shivering.

My joints were aching all over.

And there's one moment where it seems like I've seen heaven-if it exists, or if I can get there.

I think it's true that Lucian put poison on me. No wonder he panicked so much.

What a freak!

Poisoning his own brother to get his father's attention? Okay.

But, why did it have to be when I was inhabiting this wretched body, anyway?

"So... um..., what was your name, Miss?"

Well... at least, after a moment of meditation and reflection on my increasingly disgraceful life, I finally discovered a surprising fact: this story won't end so soon.

And, in order to ensure the continuation of my history here-which is already in shambles-I need one crucial component.

The factor that most humans need to survive.

Huh?

Food? Clothes? A home?

What year's curriculum are you studying?

Well, I can confidently say that nothing written in that book is true.

And those who still believe are just a bunch of lazy, easily brainwashed people - why do you think the state even bothered to provide free education?

What I need right now is support.

Relationships.

A medium that bridges emotional needs, guarantees a sense of peace, as well as the first alternative when I'm in trouble.

Ah, what do you call it?

Well, that's right.

Friend.

And, in the world, at least I know where to stand. "Rachel. Rachel Dawver, Mr Folkstein."

"So, Miss Dawver-"

"Hush! No need to be so formal, sir. Just call her Rachel." I put on my best smile.

For some reason, I've been playing with my expressions more and more convincingly lately-it's a waste that I work in marketing.

"Okay. Rachel. Are you friends with my daughter?"

"No."

Okay. That was a knockout blow.

But I never expected it. "Well, um... we happen to sit on the same bench. We have a match or two." Many, actually. And one of them is that we were both caught red-handed. "So... yeah, I guess? It just so happens that our houses are close by, so I thought I'd drop by."

I don't know if he looked that pathetic or if Mr Folkstein was a typical ignoramus.

But the reaction I got was a loud laugh.

"Ouch... ouch .... Okay, Jean. Are you doing Dad's work again? Okay, then. I got it. But..., being friends with them... pffft-"

"I'd better get out of here." The next second, Jeanette was already up and out before I could stop her.

What the hell is this?

What a rude host!

"Hold on. Hold on. This friends-of-friends thing between you... right?"

I think I saw it wrong, or was it a mistake from the start?

The man in front of me, who I thought was just a muscle-brain who always had a silly look on his face, turned into a giant with a cold, bloodthirsty gaze.

Shit!

Did I make fun of him?

Hey! What's wrong with commenting on a beard like a muddy burnt forest (the exact description, you'd better imagine yourself, lah.)

"Can I be blunt? This isn't some sort of test or impromptu inspection, is it?"

"No, no, sir. Just relax." But I'm the one who's not relaxed here. Should I call the bodyguards inside?

"Okay then. But for the record, whatever I say next has nothing to do with my daughter. So if someone needs to be arrested, just arrest me."

I tried to chuckle as naturally as possible. "Sir, I think there's a misunderstanding in the-"

"First of all, I hate you."

Cih, let me have my say, Old Man.

"Not personally. And not just you. Tsk! What do you call it. The point is, I hate people like you. 'Upper' people who think that commoners like us will follow and bark if you throw bones-or gold. Or food. And, get slashed if you don't comply."

"I don't understand-"

"Well, you wouldn't understand. Have you ever been to a battle? People like you?" He shook his head. "Never, right? But I have. And I'm sure, you won't be able to hear the story about it."

What's this again? It feels like my story only got 'a little' bloody at the end. Little did I know that the setting would become more realistic like this.

"I've often heard about the greatness and noble sacrifices that you and the other officers made."

"Noble, huh?" Mr Folkstein snorted. "You know, it was supposed to be the last day. There was word from a 'higher' authority that we'd be allowed to go home. Turn back. Do you know how happy I was then? Jean was just born. She was still in my belly when I left. I thought, at that time, she would be an orphan.

"I... I never realised until the attack came. There was a momentary shootout. Blood. A lot. Lots of it. But, it wasn't my blood.

"There was one of my colleagues. He was young at that time. Fourteen, fifteen. About your age, lah. He said that after he came back, he would work on his father's farm. Propose to the girl he'd always wanted to be with. Build a family back home.

"But that never happened. He died. In front of me. In my arms. And I couldn't do anything at the time. Until now... she's been haunting me. Every night. I keep seeing his face in the mirror. In my own face." Mr Folkstein gave me a cursory look. "In the faces of people who can only receive a clean bill of health like you."

Hoamm!

Ouch. It's a good thing I didn't fall asleep.

I thought he was going to tell me about an interesting experience, but it turned out to be just fairy tales and delusional babble.

Heh, old man! If you have a mental disorder, you'd better... um... how does today's society deal with freaks like them?

Exile? Having their heads smashed in? Having their brains drilled out? Electric chair therapy?

I don't know. I'm not a history buff.

But, that sounds horrible; painful; and powerful-I swear, I wonder why it's not enforced anymore in my time.

"That... um... I really don't know. I'm sorry for your loss, and I hope your friend's soul is at peace-"

"Peace?" Mr Folkstein snorted. "What do you think he's hanging around for?"

It was a rhetorical question.

And I'm not that stupid either. My existence is no longer welcome here.

Just look at the way he looks at me like a stain on a freshly washed white shirt-when, in fact, he's the one here who should be the stain.

"Ah. In that case. Sorry to interrupt, sir. It's getting a bit dark, and-"

"Wait. I haven't finished talking yet."

I haven't either, you know.

You selfish cockroach!

"I hate you. I don't know what Jean thinks of you. I also don't know what foul intentions you're planning."

Mr Folkstein looked at me once more.

I thought I was going to get a more frontal eviction.

"But don't stay away from her. Don't get too close either. Just make sure she doesn't get lonely."

Huh?

"That kid... he inherited his mum's persistence and my stubbornness. But, he's a good boy. He's sincere. And he's willing to sacrifice anything for the people he cares about."

Yes, yes.

Can I throw up?

The third thing I don't want to hear besides skincare price hikes and downsizing announcements is overly positive expectations of people.

What is this? Have I ever thought so highly of myself? "I will, sir," I said as I got up and left.

"One last request."

What else?

"Please tell Jean that she doesn't need to worry. In the evening, he'll still get his food ration."

Huh? "I'm not nger-"

"This message is not for you. It's for him. Just give it to him. He'll understand."

I had no choice but to turn around and obey.