Chapter 4: 03 | crazy; the look in their eyes

[they want to live at whatever cost]

——xxx——

Family was a difficult and cruel thing. 

People craved it, an inherent desire for a home, belonging. Somewhere they could return to. Sometimes, people were born into families that lived with hatred, that yelled and shouted, that were everything that an ideal family should not be.

Lucas Silvius was lucky enough to be blessed with a fortunate family. 

The silver ring that hung around his neck was marked in his mother's legacy, a representation of his heart and soul.

But when things were perfect, tragedy hit in such more terrible ways. 

Because his world shattered in an event that took mere moments to announce their death, stealing away their life, for good. A forever farewell that he never had the change to say. And everything changed. 

Broke.

Mourning could be loud, but it could also be subtle.

He was the former, and his brother was the latter. And perhaps it was that clash of emotions, familiar yet portrayed in such different ways, that drew them apart. 

Lucas, always quiet and subtle, a daydreamer whose singular hobby was to doze off and imagine strange scenarios, spontaneously stopped showing up at school.

Getting into fights, rebelling against his class.

He joined a gang, rose to the top and had his name feared among the streets. And then he cut ties with his sole family, a reminder of what he'd lost. A person who wore a matching ring, belonging to their father.

Lucas sighed, stepping back to mix with the crowd of people, tugging his hood further over his cloudless eyes. Weaving through the gaps in between, something gleamed in the corner of his eye and he turned, before following the glass heels that clicked on stone.

He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, miss."

The woman stopped, large green eyes blinking at him, glancing around. "Me?"

Lucas smiled a faint, melancholic smile that seemed to be a mirage. 

He lied through his teeth without flinching. "I'm sorry to stop you. You're beautiful, and I had to call out."  

He took a page out of one of the gang members terrible flirtation techniques that always seemed to work.

She flushed. "Oh dear, you couldn't possibly be referring to me."

"I'm a shoe designer, and I noticed how beautiful yours are, along with your dress."

"Ah, this? It was something I found stored away, nothing important." Her eyes sparkled with light flattery—Lucas noticed immediately, tilting his head.

"I've been looking for a similar pair for a while now."

"Really? It's really nothing—"

Lucas took a step forward politely, shaking his head as he lowered his relaxed eyes. The glass slippers were necessary to leave, and he would do anything to obtain it—his gaze seemed to sparkle with that greedy thought. 

"I hope I can find something similar." Then, he tilted his head to a nearby stall, and gestured towards a delicate, elegant boot. "Won't your feet hurt soon?"

"Ah, really, it already does, but what can I do?" She sighed helplessly. "I need to return soon, so it must do."

He glanced at the shoe seller, raising his hood slightly to show a wisp of his identity. "I don't have money, but if you send a bill to the palace, I can pay you double. Let me buy that boot."

The seller widened his eyes and nodded quickly, pushing the leather to him.

He picked it up and turned to place it at the girl's feet. "If you want, walk around with that instead."

"May I?" A smile bloomed on her lips. "Why, how lovely, thank you! In return, um, perhaps would you like these glass slippers? Although it may be strange to offer when I've worn them myself..."

"I'll accept your gift with gratitude."

They made an exchange, and Lucas carefully wrapped up the conversation before they parted ways. If he remembered correctly, there should be an item description. 

Wait... did he have to carry all the shoes by hand?

He shook his head, raising the shoe slightly. A row of text floated in front of his stare.

[Glass Slipper (common)

Description: A regular, useless shoe that isn't comfortable to walk on. Useful for tripping or harming other people's feet.

Additional: Added <foul-smelling> bonus. Stealing a shoe from a maiden whose already worn it? What is that called? Perverseness! However, her feet have added the additional affect of making somebody who smells it pass out temporarily. Good work!]

"....." He tucked it away into his belt loop temporarily.

By the end of the day, when night begun to fall, he already gained fifteen shoes through careful speech and sly flattery. He had to buy a bag to carry it back in, all carrying rather odd additional comments. 

It was too easy. Lucas sighed, and approached the area the carriage should've been waiting.

Nothing was there. Only tracks where it should've been, showing that it had already left. In fact, there was something there—a small note, pressed down by a jagged stone.

He crouched down, skimming over the bold strokes.

'I've finished my tasks, so I'm heading back first, Master. I'm sure somebody of your caliber can find another way back. Signed, Your Most Loyal Butler.'

Lucas stood up nonchalantly, before stepping on the paper and rubbing it into the ground with a frown. 

That irritating man... should he go back at beat him up? 

However, if they were to be living in the same area until the end of the instance, it wouldn't be a good idea. To directly beat him up wasn't a great idea, but...

First, he had to find a way back. 

It wasn't difficult when Lucas had a strange skill of convincing and manipulating others despite his indifferent stare, a strange sort of charm that compelled people to him.

When he arrived, the skies were painted in pitch. He stepped off the cart he'd stolen a ride in, and stared at the carriage that innocently stood at the gates. 

He stared at it a little longer before crouching down at the wheels in the dead of night, his curled up figure sneakily tinkering with the wheels.

He crudely snapped a few pieces underneath and between with the heel of one of the slippers until he felt like he'd broken enough.

Satisfied, he went to his room and dreamed bountiful dreams. 

Well, in fact, Lucas Silvius dreamed of blurry monochrome, of shapes and sights he could not remember. He wasn't even sure if they counted as dreams, when they were more black and white visuals, sometimes pure black that passed in a blink of an eye.

The day started with a sickening greeting.

<Good morning my wonderful characters!>

Lucas groaned, sleeping like the dead. He murmured a soft 'shut up' before comfortably pulling his pillow closer. His eyes remained shut, oblivious to the voice.

<Wake up!>

He settled further into his blankets (silky-soft, made for a prince) and fell into quiet breathing.

<Hey, hey! I can't continue my ever so important speech if you are not all listening. And I can be very, very grumpy if people don't listen... mn... should I keep my no killing rule...?>

Lucas snored softly. Almost mocking, even in his sleep.

<.....> Cinderella hadn't predicted that a Character would be able to sleep so soundly in this terrible situation where their lives were put at risk.

Then, the door slammed open, kicked by a pair of long legs that calmly strolled in. 

The man, hidden by a mask, glanced at the piece of unmoving stone on the bed, raising his eyebrows in amusement. He walked over, staring at the flutter of lashes, then moved down to lift the blanket up.

He grabbed Lucas' ankles with a firm grip. 

And dragged the dead-weight off the bed effortlessly.

Lucas slid against the floor, gradually opening his eyes, and yawning indifferently before peering around at the cold, carpeted ground (pretty comfortable, actually) and then up at the man. The impact had no affect to him.

"What the hell do you want?"

His irritating butler stared at him in disbelief before tapping his ears.

<Ahem, ahem. Now that you're all finally up, pay attention!>

Lucas scowled, rolling over. "You woke me up for something meaningless?"

<...I said, pay attention! Now! The ball will occur tomorrow, and this [Story] shall play out the duration as the original tale. Your shoe collecting deadline will be soon! And now, let me tell you a little fun fact,>

A giggling smile laced her voice, excited.

You are reading story Of Everlasting End at novel35.com

<Of the 96 of you in this instance, only 67 are still alive. Oh my, oh my~ What happened? The dead can't play!>

29 dead. 

In the span of one day. Lucas sat up, furrowing his eyebrows as he carefully listened to the high-pitched child's voice echoing in his mind.

<Here's a daily reminder. The aim of this Story is to collect as many shoes as you can. Please aim to find a hundred, at the very least. Otherwise the consequences.... Hehe... It's a very easy task, all you need to do is find, steal, take. Good luck, my sweet characters~>

Then came silence.

Lucas and the masked man shared a look, before the man started to walk away. Lucas quickly called out, "If you're using the carriage, wait for me this time." 

There seemed to be a pitiful, scolding look in the crouching prince's eyes.

The man laughed. "Should I?"

"You should." said Lucas, slipping into a change of clothes once again to follow the usual routine.

The man said nothing, but left when Lucas was done with a slight wave of his hand. However, he wasn't disturbed and calmly walked over to the balcony, where he had an overview of the entire property. 

Lucas lazily stood in the careful wind, pale gaze watching.

He watched as a particular person walked, then got into a certain carriage that he had seen the previous night.

It started to move as it always did, and Lucas turned away indifferently. On the way out of his room, he bumped into a maid, who bowed her head and apologized profusely. From an outsider's perspective, everything seemed normal.

But red dripped onto the floor.

Lucas slowly lowered his gaze at his hand, wrapped firmly around a knife handle, a mere breath away from supple flesh. 

Pain seared into his hand, and he lifted his eyes to stare with a terrifying calm. Darkness lurked in his gaze, a temperament gained from years of chaos.

"What," He yanked his hand forward, twisting the metal out of her shaking hands. "Do you think you're doing?"

Her body shook violently, words coming out in choked spasms. "I-I..."

Lucas paused, narrowing his eyes. His sensitivity to emotions was something he had confidence in, and what this woman radiated could not be fear. 

Not shame or humiliation. 

Her shoulders didn't shake out of horror and what she'd done—they shook out of laughter.

"Hey, you—"

"Hahahaha!"

He stepped back as she lunged to grab the blade, hysterical. "Too bad! I thought I might be able to do it too, but it looks like I've severely underestimated you! Really, I only meant for one quick stab."

The maid clawed at her face, wide eyes peering at Lucas through a hazel frenzy. Her slender fingers wrapped around a strand of golden hair and tugged, hard. It fell at her feet, spread across the ground softly to reveal soft, dirty-blonde curls cropped short at the ears.

They cleared their throat, a grin spread from each corner. It was deeper, carrying the same soothing and tinkering tone it did originally, now corrupted with insanity.

"Don't blame me. I just want to survive! Cinderella can't kill us, but don't you know it's impossible to reach the quota? There aren't enough shoes for everybody! You need to kill, steal, take! It's not my fault, it's not!" 

The woman—now man—seemed to be convincing themselves, redeeming their crimes.

"If you're going to kill, take responsibility for the lives you took. It was your hands that murdered."

"I did it out of necessity!"

"You did it out of selfishness." said Lucas, sneering. Why was he wasting his time lecturing a fool? But this explained how there were so many deaths in this Story—it pitted humans against humans. "Don't make excuses, you delusional bastard."

"You don't understand."

"I do." He wrapped his hand around the knife, pointing it in front of him with eyes of unwavering steel. His voice was grave, layered with biting cold of undeniable honesty. "Because I also want to survive."

Slowly, the man raised his chin in taunting arrogance. "Even if it means I have to kill everyone."

The youth couldn't be older than twenty, mouth spread impossibly wide as he stepped back—pressed against an open window. The curtains flew around him, billowing in the wind. "I can't wait to see it then! Prove your damn resolution, Ghost!"

"...Ghost?"

The boy tapped his eyes, arms spread wide around him. "White eyes. Isn't that interesting, hah!"

Then he fell.

Lucas rushed to the window, and watched as the boy rolled onto the soft nest of bushes below, scrambling to his feet and dashing off. The man contemplated chasing after the troublesome person, but finally concluded that it wouldn't be worth it.

He arrived at the village market in a sorry mood, having been awoken then almost stabbed when the sun was hardly up. 

But it seemed that the youth's words were correct, when the map now pulsed with only a faint hue of blue. Most of the shoes had already been gathered into somebody's possession. He had 15 already, but another 85 were likely almost impossible.

There was something he was missing about this Story.

He reached out to pick up a rosy red apple from one of the stalls, distracted. A soft voice interrupted him. "Hello sir, I hope you have money to pay for that?"

"I—"

When he raised his head, he met Nora's joyful eyes. "I'm glad to see somebody I know. Thank god you're alive—I managed with my identity, as you can see, an apple seller."

Lucas got over the initial surprise at seeing her quickly. "I have the role of the 'Prince'. How many shoes do you have?"

"A rather large number away from the minimum, I'm afraid. I've managed to find 5 yesterday." She swallowed, sighing softly. "I do think that finding 100 may be an impossible task. I can't help but feel that there's something we're missing, though. Would they give us a task that can't be completed?"

She didn't even think about killing others to steal their glass slippers.

"They wouldn't. There's likely some form of manipulation at play."

"Well, everything seems to be mad under the guise of this simple story. Honestly, I'm still reeling in surprise. The amount that has died... and the incidents that are everywhere. Have you heard the rumour of a carriage this morning, near the palace? You seem to have just escaped it."

Lucas paused, placing the apple back down. There seemed to be a faint smile of satisfaction on his lips. "I haven't. I'm pretty lucky."

"That seems to be the case! Ah, yes, are you attending the ball, Lucas?"

"I am. You?"

"I found an invitation tucked away." smiled Nora enthusiastically. "I'll see you there, then. I feel better knowing there's somebody I know. There's also some things I've noticed... there's a journal that seems to have been written. My character seems to be searching for somebody."

"Searching?"

"Yes, I don't quite know the details, I haven't read through it completely. But everybody is this town seems to be oddly aware of my existence, careful not to bother me. Until you, not a single person, has approached my stall."

She stretched out a hand to arrange the apples and winced, a sliver of wood from the old stand piercing into her skin. However, it remained near the surface of her finger abnormally, as if refusing to dig any deeper.

Lucas frowned.

Suddenly, a shadow towered over his body, shrouding him in darkness. 

Danger screamed in his ears, and he hastily stepped to the side, peering at the cloaked man who examined the apples, stretching out a well-defined hand to pick one up.

There were a few cuts across the slender fingers. As if they'd crashed against the ground. Lucas narrowed his eyes cautiously, when the deep ocean eyes snapped to him.

A low chuckle. "Are my fingers so lovely to stare at?"

"The only lovely thing is that apple in your hand." replied Lucas immediately.

Nora's eyes widened at the damaged sight of the man's hands. "God! What happened to your hands? Should I grab you some bandages?"

"A little animal was playing tricks on me this morning."

"An animal?"

"I think I should correct that. A big animal." The man stared at Lucas, and the latter was certain that the other would retaliate.

However, the white-eyed man decided that he did nothing wrong. 

He accidentally kicked the carriage a little out of an emotional outburst. How could he be blamed for whatever incident occurred? 

It was completely unintentional. In fact, how would he know that anybody would steal that carriage away in the morning?

The masked man laughed and said nothing else, handing over payment (where did he get money from?) and turning to leave. Lucas stared at the disappearing back before looking away.

"Was he your acquaintance?" asked Nora curiously, her eyes trailing after the leaving figure.

Lucas shook his head calmly. "Never seen him before."