Being Bad For Good Sake

Am I falling in love?

"It's wonderful, no need to look so surprised. My room is on the second floor in the center. To my right, there is Luka's room, and to my left, there is Felix's room. You are free to choose any room that is still available," I announced, observing their reactions as they lowered their expectations. After selecting their rooms, they decided to go on a tour of the house, guided by Luka. Meanwhile, I had other matters to attend to, such as meeting with Damien.

"Hey, you're early," Damien greeted me as I arrived. "And you're even earlier," I responded. "Let's focus on our project. First, we need to choose a romantic book, thoroughly read it, and then illustrate our perspectives and understanding. It's simple," he explained, his tone reflecting his annoyance. "The only problem is that I don't read romantic books," I admitted honestly. In this day and age, who has time for cliché romantic novels anyway? "Same here, but for the sake of our grades, we have to read them. Let's go to the library and search for some."

Damien's POV - 

 We arrived at Gotham's finest library, which I personally own and currently have exclusive access to. "It'll be easier to work with fewer people around," I explained, justifying why we chose this particular location. We split up to search for the perfect romantic novel. After about an hour, I stole a glance in her direction. She was so engrossed in her search that she didn't even notice my gaze. Her lustrous blue hair, her elegant hourglass figure, and, most captivating of all, her deep bluebell eyes that could easily mesmerize anyone—everything about her seemed enchanting. And her lips... I quickly shook my head, scolding myself for entertaining such thoughts. She is my suspect, and I cannot allow myself to be distracted. I stepped outside the library to catch some fresh air, reminding myself to stay focused on my agenda.

Marinette's POV - 

It was strange to be alone in the library, but I had finally found the exact book we needed for our research. "Hey Damien, I found..." But Damien wasn't there. I had a strange feeling that someone else was in the library with me. Before I could react, I was suddenly pinned against a wall with a hand wrapped tightly around my neck. My heart raced as I saw a knife pointed at my stomach. How did they even know where I was? This situation felt incredibly dangerous and I couldn't understand why someone would want to harm me.

"M-May I kn-Know whom I off-offended this time?" I struggled to breathe, fear gripping my every word. The attacker sneered at me, revealing his contempt. "A Bitch, aren't you? Can't remember which one I am? Although, it's understandable. There are many people to shortlist." He paused, seemingly lost in thought. Then, a sinister smile spread across his face. "You know what? Let's play a little game, just like Rumpelstiltskin. I'll return in 10 hours, and you'll have that time to figure out my name. Fail, and I'll kill you."

His words sent shivers down my spine, but I tried not to show my fear. However, he wasn't finished. "But here's the twist," he continued, his voice dripping with malice. "Instead of you, I'll go after the people you care about, one by one, starting from the least to the most." The weight of his threat hit me like a punch to the gut. I had always believed that my family was a weakness, but now, the mere thought of them being in danger because of me filled me with dread.

Before I could gather my thoughts, he taunted me further, relishing in my torment. "Oh! Someone's coming here. Should he be the first one or the last one?" With a chilling farewell, he left the room, leaving a lingering peck on my cheek that sent shivers down my spine. His face remained concealed, and I couldn't identify him. As the reality of the situation sank in, I realized I was bleeding profusely. The pain and lack of oxygen overwhelmed me, and I succumbed to darkness, unaware of who he was or what had led to this horrifying encounter.

Damien's POV - 

I had to clear my mind and stop those strange thoughts about her. A cup of coffee seemed like the perfect excuse to step out, not wanting to disturb her. I left quietly, intending to give myself some space to process my emotions. When I returned, around ten minutes later, I saw her engaged in conversation with someone, but I couldn't see the person's face clearly from my angle. Suddenly, my heart sank as I witnessed him choking her, but a part of me hesitated to intervene. I rationalized it as an opportunity to understand her better, to gauge her reactions in moments of distress.

As the attacker's words reached my ears, filled with threats towards her and the people she cared about, I couldn't stand idly by any longer. I swiftly approached, hoping to scare off the intruder. He fled, leaving a disturbing peck on her cheek. From his actions, I assumed he must be some kind of deranged ex of hers. My attention turned to her, and that's when I noticed the blood staining the floor and a knife lodged in her stomach. Panic gripped me as I worriedly exclaimed, "Oh no, you are bleeding! Who was he? What happened?" She had lost consciousness, intensifying my concern. I needed to act quickly. Whom should I call? Should I remove the knife or leave it in? I realized I didn't even know her address.

I thought fast, realizing I had to contact my father for assistance. "Bring her here," he instructed. "I will call a doctor for treatment. Make sure she is breathing, hold her wound, control the bleeding, and do not touch the blade. You'll only make it worse." Following his instructions, I took care of her as best I could and transported her to my mansion. Carrying her gently in my arms, I rushed towards my bedroom, which was prepared for emergencies like this. I carefully laid her down on my bed, and the medical professionals sprang into action. The scene was difficult to witness, so I stepped outside the room, but I could still hear the flurry of activity and urgency.

"Father, is she alright?" The words escaped my lips, almost a whisper. It was the first time I had spoken since the incident. "Yes, she is," my father reassured me. "It could have been much worse if you were a few minutes late. I'm proud of you, son. You have no idea whose life you just saved today." His words filled me with a mix of relief and a strange sense of purpose.

I eventually mustered the courage to reenter the room. Wires and machines were connected to her, monitoring her vital signs as she lay on the bed, her condition fragile. I took a seat across from her, gently holding her hand in mine. The emotions swirling within me were overwhelming. Why did I suddenly care so deeply about her? Why was it unbearable to witness her in this state? It felt right, despite the chaos. Holding her hand brought a sense of calm and unity. It was as if the world faded away, and all that mattered was our intertwined heartbeats. Could it be that I was falling in love? Was this what love truly felt like?