A barren field in the dead of night. No houses in sight—only the pale moonlight spilling over the cracked, desolate earth. Once a landing ground for secret deals, the place now trembled under a cold-blooded purge.
A man knelt in the dirt, trembling—not from the wind that howled through the empty space, but from the presence of the figure standing before him.
Above, surrounded by a circle of subordinates, stood Lucian—the King of the Underworld. His gaze was as sharp as a blade, frozen and merciless. Every step he took echoed like a sentence being passed.
— "L-L-Lucian… Please… have mercy…" the man stammered. "I… I'm Karl. I didn't betray you… I've never done anything to harm the organization…"
He groveled, hands caked in dirt, eyes wide with panic as he looked up at the towering man before him.
Lucian said nothing. He extended a hand. A subordinate immediately stepped forward, presenting him with a sleek, silver-plated gun. The barrel glinted under the headlights of a nearby car.
— "You think… someone like you could actually hurt me?" Lucian's voice held no emotion—no anger, and certainly no forgiveness.
Karl shook violently, eyes wild with fear.
— "It… it was Travis! He forced me! I didn't act on my own—"
— "You chose the wrong man to obey." Lucian cut him off coldly.
BANG!
The shot rang through the night, slicing through the dead air. Blood spilled across the hardened soil. Karl collapsed, still on his knees—pathetic and foolish to the end.
Lucian stood still, handing the still-warm gun back to his subordinate. There wasn't a flicker of emotion in his eyes.
— "Clean it up. The useless don't deserve to exist."
His tone was as indifferent as someone discarding a broken object.
But just as he turned to leave, a rustle came from the nearby bushes.
— "Lucian, someone's escaping—his son, Travis. He ran," a subordinate reported, rushing forward.
Lucian didn't turn. His brow arched slightly, as if he'd just heard something laughable.
— "And he thinks he can seek revenge? Pathetic."
He raised his right hand. The gun was handed back without delay. Lucian fired a shot toward the bushes—swift and without hesitation, even knowing the boy had already fled.
— "He may escape tonight… but not his fate."
He tossed the gun back once more.
— "I'm not in the mood to chase rats."
His voice was light as a passing breeze—but colder than the night air.
Lucian walked to his sleek sports car. The door opened automatically, light from within casting across his face—expressionless, distant, devoid of humanity.
The car sped off into the darkness, leaving behind only the stench of gunpowder and death.
Far away, Travis was still running. His breath ragged, his youthful face drenched in sweat and tears.
— "Lucian… I won't let this go… I swear…"
But even he wasn't sure if he'd survive the night.
————————————————————
Deep in the underground cellar of Jimson Snake's residence, bluish-white light glowed over rows of glass jars filled with strange liquids—clear as water, pale yellow like diluted urine, and thick black like dried blood. The air reeked of dried herbs, crushed roots, and a faint metallic tang. It was not a place for any living being lacking knowledge… except for Aaron.
Today marked their third training session. On the table sat a small beaker containing a pale moss-green solution, releasing a faint vapor.
— "Not bad," Jimson said, lifting the vial and turning it gently under the light. "Hemlock and a drop of Datura sap… Well-balanced. Increase the dosage just slightly and it can cause full-body paralysis within ten minutes. Impressive."
Aaron scratched the back of his head, awkward under the praise, though he couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips.
— "Thanks… But compared to you, I feel like a guy swinging a machete to gut a whale."
He laughed, a little sheepish, but his eyes shone with admiration.
Jimson didn't respond. He merely nodded, placed the vial back in its rack, and let his fingers glide over a thick notebook nearby—filled with lines of Latin, chemical formulas, and intricate diagrams of toxic mechanisms.
— "That's enough for today. Take in too much at once, and the mind gets clouded."
He closed the notebook and locked the cabinet with care. "Atropa will take you back."
Aaron hesitated, eyes quietly watching Jimson as if trying to say something. When Jimson turned his back, Aaron finally called out, voice tinged with urgency:
— "Jimson… Are you planning to leave?"
Jimson paused. His smoke-grey eyes, cold as a winter lake, locked onto Aaron's.
— "Why do you ask?"
— "I just… have a feeling. Like you don't plan to stay here much longer."
Aaron rubbed his neck, fumbling with his words, as if afraid of what the answer might be.
Jimson didn't smile, didn't flinch. He simply let out a long breath.
— "Once you step into this world, Aaron… there are three things you must always be ready for: betrayal, separation, and death."
He spoke slowly, each word like a blunt blade carving into the heart. "Leaving—or disappearing—is part of the script. Sooner or later."
Aaron fell silent for a moment, then pressed his lips together and said firmly:
— "I won't let that happen. I don't know why, but since meeting you… I feel like Jimson isn't just a master of poisons. You're… someone I can't imagine being without."
For a moment, Jimson's lashes twitched—just slightly. But he didn't let emotion show. As Aaron reached out to take the vial again, intending to keep working, Jimson stopped him and caught his wrist.
— "I can protect myself," Jimson said, eyes locked with Aaron's. "But you… you need to understand one thing: no poison is more dangerous than blind trust."
— "What if one day Lucian can't protect you anymore?"
Aaron clenched his jaw. He had no reply.
Jimson released him. His voice was raspy, but not cold:
— "Cruelty. Solitude. That's the essence of this place. The most potent poison I've ever made wasn't for killing—it was to test people. And most of them died before the poison even took effect."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with brutal truths. But then Aaron looked up:
— "I know. But I'm not going to die that easily. I still have a lot to learn from you."
He smiled, bright and sincere, defying the darkness around them.
Jimson gave a slight nod. In his eyes lingered something hard to define. A faint smile touched his lips—soft as smoke, but real.
— "Good. Then go. Lucian's waiting."
Aaron reached the doorway but turned back suddenly.
— "Oh, and Jimson… Don't die so easily, okay? Who else is going to teach me how to identify natural alkaloids or tell aconitine from batrachotoxin?"
Jimson paused, raised an eyebrow. Then let out a soft chuckle without answering—but to Aaron, it was a clearer promise than any hollow vow.
As the cellar door closed, the bluish-white light cast a ghostly hue across Jimson's face. His eyes lingered on the space where Aaron had just been.
Perhaps… in this world of blood and betrayal, he had just found something that wasn't supposed to exist—hope.
————————————————————
A luxury car rolled to a stop at the gates of the mansion. Just then, another vehicle pulled up a short distance away. The door opened. Atropa stepped out, his movements precise and silent. He walked to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door with a formal, almost ceremonial gesture.
Aaron stepped out, still rubbing the back of his neck as if recovering from an intense lesson. Atropa gave a deep, respectful bow toward Lucian, who stood waiting at the gate. His eyes never met the master of the mansion directly. Without a word, he turned and left.
The golden light from the gate lanterns cast a soft shadow across Lucian's face. When his gaze met Aaron's, the usual coldness in his eyes seemed to soften.
Aaron lit up, all signs of fatigue forgotten the moment he saw Lucian. He hurried closer, nearly throwing himself into a hug, but held back—trying to maintain a hint of composure.
— "Lucian!"
Without a word, Lucian reached out, slipping an arm around Aaron's waist and pulling him close. His scent was a mix of musk and faint gunpowder—dangerous and familiar, something Aaron had grown used to.
— "What did you learn today?"
Lucian's voice was deep and cool, but laced with a concern he couldn't quite hide.
Aaron shrugged, walking alongside Lucian, so close their shadows merged into one under the corridor lights.
— "Basic toxins. Classification of neurotoxins, cardiotoxins, hepatotoxins… I have to admit, Jimson is amazing. He explained how to break down alkaloids using nothing but temperature and time. I felt like a kindergartener standing next to him,"
Aaron laughed lightly as he spoke.
Lucian glanced at him, lips curving in a faint smile.
— "Someone like him… once he's curious about something, he'll chase it to the core. Be it poisons… or people."
— "But…"
Aaron hesitated. "He felt different today. Not as reckless as usual. Like… he's preparing for something. I'm worried."
Lucian paused briefly, then lifted his hand to gently ruffle Aaron's soft hair, the gesture tender and soothing.
— "Jimson knows exactly what he's doing. He's not someone who falls easily. Don't worry."
Aaron looked up at Lucian, as if seeking reassurance. Then he nodded slightly and leaned into him.
— "Mhm…"
Lucian looked down, catching the innocence and clarity in Aaron's eyes. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Aaron's forehead—soft and calming.
— "Where were you just now?" Aaron asked, inhaling lightly. "Still smells like gunpowder… I can guess, but I want to hear it from you."
Lucian smirked faintly, then took Aaron's hand. Their fingers laced together like a natural habit.
— "Just another boring purge. Nothing exciting. Now it's time to rest."
— "Okay…"
Aaron replied softly, letting Lucian lead him up the stairs.
At the top, Lucian stopped in front of their bedroom. He turned to Aaron, his eyes still cold, yet holding a gentleness reserved only for the one in front of him.
— "Are you tired?"
— "Not at all. Seeing you brought all my energy back."
Aaron smiled up at him and tiptoed to place a light kiss on Lucian's cheek.
Lucian said nothing. He tilted Aaron's chin, pulling him down slightly, then leaned in for a kiss—not soft this time, but deep and slow, as if trying to etch the moment into memory. His lips were cold, but they made Aaron's heart warm.
— "Lucian…"
Aaron murmured when they parted, his eyes shimmering like water stirred by a gentle breeze.
Lucian didn't respond. He simply pulled Aaron into a tight embrace, as though hiding something within that silent hold. Aaron didn't know, but Lucian did—he could feel the tides shifting beneath the surface of their underworld.
But tonight, he didn't want Aaron to know.
Tonight, there were only the two of them. And this fleeting peace was the small gift Lucian could offer to the one person who made his heart soften—in a world built on corpses and betrayal.
————————————————————
In the pitch-dark research room, only a faint glow from a desk lamp cast light onto the cold wooden table.
Jimson sat still in the chair, his body relaxed, gloves removed. Between his fingertips, a delicate purple petal slowly spun—dancing weightlessly in an air thick with the scent of chemicals.
Silence reigned.
His eyes, deep and unfathomable, caught the dim light, reflecting something that could not be named—calm, danger, and calculation.
The door behind him creaked open softly. Atropa entered. The atmosphere remained unchanged. Not a single word. Just a bow, then silent stillness as he stood behind Jimson like a shadow.
Jimson didn't turn. He didn't need to. He simply placed the petal on the table, beside a sealed glass vial—inside it, a pale blue liquid bubbled quietly.
EndofChapter21.