“Fucker you’ve been babbling shit for a while! Just watch, the old geezer’s going to spill your bullcrap.”

“Pfft. What the hell is he going to say? That Ash got taken over by a monster? Just another drunken old geezer’s ramblings.”

The dark haired boy crossed his arms triumphantly with a haughty smile on his face. Smiling from ear to ear as if he had done something amazing Jackson regarded his much smaller fingers with a little hum. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that his exposure would lead to any consequences.

—

“Someone who claims to know the location of your son.”

“Yes, Corvina. In the young master’s body, there is another being that dwells there.”

“...that’s…then what happened to the young master?”

Corvina bit her nails hard as she nervously awaited for answers. The young master was gone? That couldn’t be. She wouldn’t accept it…he had acted exactly as he always did in the morning…

“According to the voice, Ash is still present in his body.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, the maid’s tense shoulders relaxed a little. The thought that her precious young master, that she had painstakingly raised until his teens…that her little idol that represented the center of her universe was gone was too much to bear. Ash was hers. His eyes, his love, his lovely spirit. The thought that someone had almost taken him away was a horrific thought. But now that Ash was still there, she would be fine. She would have to protect him even more. And in order to do so there was a matter of utmost urgency.

“I’ll report to our liege right away. Along with the other pieces of information you discerned from that unknown being.”

With a relaxed demeanor, Corvina responded calmly with a small smile to her co-worker.

“After all, the mirror tribe has a wonderful gaze that discerns the truth.”

Hubert’s marine eyes glimmered in the cover of the night. Despite being in a tribe known for their abilities to uncover the intentions of those around them, their numbers were few and far between. As of such there was little she knew of the elusive tribe members despite the countless beast specter tribes she had studied.

“You praise me too much. Although I can discern ‘lies’ the truth fails me. In the end there is a limit to all abilities of my tribe members.”

Corvina smiled painfully.

“There’s no need to be perfect. All we need to do is what we can.”

Corvina was concerned for the assassin that seemed to fade a bit more each day. But with the new information he gained…although she was cautious against the unknown being she couldn’t help but hope that the poor man would receive his answers soon.

Regardless, the count needed to know immediately. Only then would he be prepared for any upsets this new presence would dictate.

“The master would be glad to know you trusted his opinion. I’ll let you know what he’ll say next. Until then, continue as you will.”

With a light nod in response to her words, Corvina turned around quickly and allowed the amicable smile to fall from her face and fade into worry. There was a flurry of complicated emotions that tumbled out of control inside her heart. She had no idea what this unknown being wanted from Ash, what he was trying to accomplish through her liege, or even the methodology behind his presence in his body. Her head was whizzing with questions, but it would be brash to throw all her cards down now in front of this new presence so she found herself with her hands tied.

However, to have told Hubert of his presence and secrets so easily, without even warning the assassin against doing so…Corvina smiled a little to reassure herself.

Arrogant men were always easier to handle than cautious ones.

—--

Ash was sleeping well in the morning. On top of his comfortable mattress at the Kurton manor, the youth was snoring away before he suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine.

With his eyes wide open in a split second, he lunged his upper body forward in order to observe his surroundings. But it was far too late. The first sensation that came to him was the cold metallic touch of a knife against his throat.

The breath of a man behind his back, with one of his hands touching his shoulder came immediately afterwards.

“Euk? What’s going on?! Wait, when did we switch off?!”

The nosy bastard screeched inside Ash’s head.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Good morning. Your senses are sharper than I thought.”

The old geezer was as nonchalant as ever. There was a shred of fear in Ash’s state of mind but it was drowned out in the injustice of having a blade on his neck first thing in the morning.

“...Oi bastard. Get the fuck out of my face.”

In an angry tone, Ash stated his usual first words of the day of cussing.

“This time, it's the young master.”

The old geezer had a hint of relief in his tone.

“Uwaa…that’s mean…”

Ash was a little happy at knowing others found the scriptor hard to deal with, and decided to revoke his first impressions of this aforementioned assassin.

The old gee– Hubert lowered his knife and rigidly gave a bow. He was dressed in the typical knight uniform of the Kurton Household, excluding the haggard state of his clothes that suggested the man wasn’t the kind of person that cared much for appearances. He scowled at the thought that this annoying geezer walked into his room in with all that dirt on him…but no matter.

“Young master Ash. Let’s begin your training immediately. As agreed with Jackson, I will start training you at once.”

“Good luck, little protagonist! Grow up nice and strong and win a few medals for me alrighty~”

“What the fu–”

With a bewildered expression on his face, Ash was grabbed by the back of his collar and dragged out of his bedroom like a hunter’s dead prey.

Panting like a crazed animal and slumped against the ground, Ash felt his muscles screaming in agony as the old geezer out ran him by another lap on the training field.

“You can do it! Good luck mini protagonist…harder, harder!”

Inside his mind, the noisy quacking duck was cheering hard while flailing his arms around.

Ash’s stress levels rose exponentially when he thought about how Jackson was passively sitting around while he was overcome with exhaustion. As a result of being within the same body, Jackson occupied his personal space 24/7, driving his nerves further than ever before.

“SHUT UP!”

“My dear protagonist, this is all good for you…imagine the benefits…”

Blah blah blah. For the sake of his mental sanity he decided to ignore him.

“You…damned old geezer! Why the fuck do you have this much strength!”

With his hand clenched tight in rage, Ash smashed his fist against the ground while cursing out the old coot. His exhausted body was limp against the ground like a carcass. Dragging his upper body across the ground, his leaden legs were useless despite his best efforts to get himself to stand. His muscles trembled and rebelled against his will, kindling the flame of rage that originated from the frustration of his inability to stand.

“Unfortunately for the young master, you have to build up your stamina first before we move onto the regimen.”

“Fucker…”

The poker-faced mercenary became Ash’s ‘enemy.’ For having pushed him to this degree, to have lost to this random bastard who waltzed around in ease, mocking him…Ash felt a burning sensation at the pit of the stomach. While gritting his teeth, the youth with burning eyes trembled to collect himself off the ground. There was a pile of dirt stuck on his chin and clothes, but the boy paid no regard to his messy state as he glared at the assassin with a raised chin.

With a small smile on his lips, Hubert watched Ash stare at him with those burning pink eyes.

“It seems like my student is more determined than I imagined. Having said that, I believe that we are done for the day. Go rest. Use that anger of yours wisely–and reign it in for your future lessons.”

Turning his head around, the mercenary nonchalantly walked off leaving Ash there with an incredulous look on his face. After a moment of pause where he lowered his head, Ash raised his head towards the training hall and opened his mouth widely.

“AHHHHHH! YOU FUCKER!”

“Hahahahaha…oh god, I’m really liking that old man!”

Several knights inside the training hall paused to stare at Ash kicking at the floor in unease and contempt. Hubert was utterly unaffected, humming a small tune with a glint of contentment on his face. But regardless, Ash continued his crazed tantrum as the wheezing of the Scriptor got louder and louder.

Ash sighed listlessly as he zoned out in his exhausted state of mind. He had just finished washing his face and rested on a nearby bench, desperately trying to gather his spirits with a small break. Unfortunately for him, a certain body hijacker considered it the perfect timing to make his move.

“Ueuk!”

With the last sound of pain, Ash keeled over and face planted onto the ground. His limbs dangled by his sides as if he were a doll. His eyes were rolled back like that of a zombie, with drool spilling out of his mouth and made a little lake of saliva that seeped into the ground.

In the distance, Gilleon cried out in panic after seeing the shocking sight and ran over. A black haired knight with golden eyes accompanied him with a tense look on his face.

In the midst of their journey however, Ash’s left arm shot out and lifted his upper body off the ground. Soon after his legs awakened–and Jackson had stood up confidently with a wide smile across his face.

“Perfect.”

Jackson spoke in a gloating tone that fully represented his victory.

“You– you bastard! Motherfucking son of a bitch! Fuck. Fuck!”

Another loss for the protagonist, another lazy win for the author. With a maniacal, triumphant laughter, Jackson stood there smugly as the two knights looked at Jackson, before looking at each other helplessly and backing off.

—

In the secret attic connected to the library, the count pierced his cold eyes through the remnants of the broken painting.

The silver haired man’s empty eyes bore a hole through the travesty of a mess for a solid second. A faint tremble of the hands could be detected in the otherwise nonchalant figure. After clenching and unclenching his fists, the count slowly bent down and held scraps of pink within his hand before gripping tightly on the pieces as if they were a lifeline.

In the darkness of the empty room, the only light within the attic was the harsh, transparent silver of Noah’s pupils. Yet they were soon engulfed into the night. The light silver of his eyes were tainted with a heavy grief that emptied them of his presence. Noah Kurton’s eyes faded into two voids as the man’s frame froze into place, the black room eroding him of his existence that was too much for the fragile man to bear.

He had not been fine. He had not been fine for many, many years. As of such…he allowed himself a moment of silence.

Pink lilies, foolish yet lively behaviors done in earnest, gentle smiles and laughters. The stubbornness of someone unwilling to let go of their dreams, the way they admired love and changed for themselves. The shifty gaze of someone with a guilty conscience– caught lying over a silly little thing, the ignorance of not knowing how beautiful they were. The heavy gaze of someone who had given up on everything and the way that hurt him.

Memories flitted through his mind. One after another they dragged him closer and closer to the past.

For what seemed like eternity to the count, he knelt in the peace of reminiscence and loss before the comforting sensation of nonexistence shifted into the casual indifference he always wore. Picking himself up, he grabbed the broken pieces and collected them within a box with a gentle hand. He closed the lid and carried the remnants close to his chest.

He already had a clear idea of what had occurred. He knew who wrecked the painting, someone who was filled with rage and acted out in a need to control their life. Caressing the box as if it were a precious gift, he helplessly stared up at the stairs that led to the library and thought of his son.

Regardless, this time too, he…would not be able to scold him.