What I Can Do For The One I Love (4)

I carefully opened the old iron door of the warehouse.

A loud, grating creak echoed through the night, sending chills down my spine.

Inside, the warehouse was tidier than I expected, surprisingly ordinary despite my nerves.

Just as I wondered if such a normal place could really exist on the Pacula estate, I spotted a stone staircase spiralling down into the basement.

A strange curiosity to explore somewhere I’d never visited before began to stir inside me.

I dimmed the lantern and descended the spiral stone stairs, winding like a snail’s shell.

At the bottom, a sliver of light spilled out from beneath a heavy door.

Through that narrow gap came the thick, unmistakable scent of blood.

My father’s back stood facing the door.

On either side of him, servants hovered, their faces drawn with horror.

Off to one side stood two young boys… Jayden, his jaw clenched, and Jacob, looking utterly bored.

In front of Father, a man was tied to a chair, his body covered in blood.

Father raised the whip in his hand and struck without hesitation.

The chair rocked with a harsh scraping sound, then toppled over completely.

Even then, Father didn’t stop.

He kept whipping, relentlessly.

The man didn’t even groan.

His body jerked from each blow, but it wasn’t a response to pain anymore.

The heavy, metallic smell of blood hung in the air, suffocating.

With one especially harsh lash, the fallen man’s face turned in my direction.

I saw his eyes… blue irises, stained with red blood.

That was all I could take.

I ran, escaping the warehouse as quickly as I could, breathless and panicked.

I didn’t want to know why there was a warehouse here or what Father was doing inside it.

I just needed to get as far away from that place as possible.

The cold night air soon cooled my burning skin, but the scent of blood seemed glued to the tip of my nose.

It was familiar, yet tonight it made me sick.

I finally stopped running, doubled over and gasping for breath.

When I glanced back, the warehouse wasn’t even that far away.

I’d thought I’d escaped, put enough distance between us, but I hadn’t.

No matter how far I ran, I couldn’t get away.

I just ended up circling the place, trapped in a prison with no bars.

“Ugh.”

I slapped my hand over my mouth and retched, dry and empty.

Despair wrapped itself around me, heavy and suffocating.

My vision swam and blurred at the edges.

The lantern in my hand squeaked and creaked as I gripped it tight.

I have to get back to my room. Quickly.

Just as I turned, determined to leave, I felt a sudden prickling sensation, the sense of someone watching me, cutting through my crumbling consciousness.

The wind rushed at me all at once.

I dropped the lantern and collapsed to the ground.

For a second, I squeezed my eyes shut.

When I forced them open again, I saw a blade glinting in the darkness.

“Die!”

Instinct took over.

I blocked the flying blade with my hand.

The cold steel sank deep into my palm, and pain exploded through me, sharp and excruciating.

My flesh split open, blood spurting out.

It hurt so much I could barely think, but even more shocking was the sight of my attacker.

A boy about my age, in tattered, filthy clothes, was glaring at me, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Who are you?” I managed to gasp.

“You monster, where is my father?!”

“…Father?” I echoed, barely understanding.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he gripped the knife’s handle with his other hand and shoved it deeper into my palm.

I bit back a scream.

The pain was unbearable.

He was really trying to kill me.

The murderous rage in his eyes was unmistakable.

“W-wait. Your father? Are you saying he’s here?”

“Die, you monster!”

He wasn’t listening.

Desperation and hate burned in his eyes, and I could feel his resolve through the strength of his grip.

I clenched my wounded hand around the blade, trying to twist it aside before he could drive it into my face.

His eyes widened in surprise as I forced his hand away, but he quickly recovered, fighting to bring the knife back to its original position.

We struggled, locked in a desperate, silent battle.

“Is your father really here? Are you sure?” I panted, trying to get through to him.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know! You killed my mother and my sister! Father disappeared after he went out searching for the truth. I know he came here… he’s being held here!”

His voice rang in my ears, trembling with rage and grief.

Tears sparkled in his blue eyes.

Blood dripped from the blade through my hand and down my cheek.

“Give me back my family!”

The boy’s blue eyes blazed with hatred.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

The vivid blue in his eyes, so bright, so stubbornly alive, looked so familiar.

Looking at his face up close, I was certain I’d seen it somewhere before.

But more than that, my instincts screamed the answer at me.

Who this boy was.

Who the man in the warehouse really was.

The prophecy was about the downfall of the Pacula family.

Father could never accept that fate.

In the end, he wanted to erase the source, the Riatrice family, who’d received the prophecy.

Father wasn’t mourning our family’s doom.

He was looking for an opportunity.

He set his plan in motion, hurting the Riatrice family’s wife and daughter, knowing the head of the family would come here for revenge, desperate for the truth.

Father waited for that chance, slowly coiling around them like a snake, ready to strike.

Why hadn’t I realized it before, even with Father so tense and on edge after the prophecy?

I knew he wouldn’t sit still, but I never imagined he’d try something so reckless as to wipe out an entire family.

It was out of character for him; the risk was just too high.

“…You can’t stay here.” My voice was hoarse.

This boy was in terrible danger.

If Father found him, he would never let him go.

He’d be tortured, slowly and mercilessly, just as I’d seen happen to others.

Father enjoyed crushing any hope his victims had left.

That was his favorite pastime.

Now I saw exactly where Jacob got it from.

This boy was the rightful heir of the Riatrice family.

If his mother, sister, and father were all gone, he’d be the only survivor.

And that’s when it hit me: I had to save him.

“How did you get in here? There should have been guards.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“I’m not! It’s just… the guards… Did anyone catch you? Was there any trouble coming in?”

There should have been guards at the entrance, servants everywhere, but the boy didn’t look hurt.

“Stop dodging and tell me where my father is!”

“Your father is…” He’s going to die.

It’s fate. Even if you go to him, you can’t save him.

But I couldn’t say that.

“…I don’t know why you’re looking here. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie! I saw him come here myself!”

“You’re mistaken. What matters is… you can’t be here. You have to leave.”

“Give me back my father!”

“I said I don’t know! Leave! Get out of here, now!”

I shoved him off me as I yelled.

His body toppled backward easily, and I scrambled to my feet.

He glared at me, panting, then frantically looked around for another weapon.

But there was nothing, his only weapon was the knife still stuck in my hand.

I stared at it, trembling, and slowly pulled it free.

The blade scraped against my flesh as it came out, and I bit my lower lip, swallowing the scream that wanted to escape.

Getting stabbed hurt, but pulling the knife out was just as bad.

You’d think I’d get used to it, but I never did.

It was the first time anyone had actually stabbed me.

The realization almost shocked me.

Sticky blood trailed from the blade’s tip.

I caught my breath and looked at the boy.

He was still on the ground, watching me with horror.

I checked him over; he looked filthy, as if he’d come through the woods, but there were no visible wounds or blood.

Was it really possible for him to get here unscathed?

It seemed like a miracle.

But I knew this wasn’t luck.

Meeting this boy right now wasn’t a coincidence.

God had answered my prayer.

Maybe it was God who brought this boy to me tonight.

“Hey, you didn’t run into anyone on your way here, right? Or… kill anyone? Did you? Tell me… I need to take care of the evidence, just in case.”

“What?” The boy frowned, glaring at me like I was speaking gibberish.

I felt a spike of anxiety.

There was no blood on him, but who knew?

Maybe he’d knocked someone out.

I couldn’t risk anyone discovering his presence.

There could be no trace that he’d been here.

“So what I mean is…” I stopped mid-sentence.

Someone was coming.