This princess will not back down

chapter 24

Lockhart Family Heir Invents Revolutionary Voice Recording Device

In a groundbreaking development, Arthur Lockhart, the second son of the esteemed Lockhart family, has emerged as the inventor of a revolutionary voice recording device, as reported by sources close to the family.

This technological breakthrough promises to redefine the way audio is captured and preserved for future generations.Arthur Lockhart's invention marks a significant milestone.

With his keen intellect and innovative spirit, he has harnessed cutting-edge advancements to create a device that captures the essence of sound with unparalleled clarity and precision.The voice recording device is anticipated to have far-reaching implications across various fields.

As the man read the newspaper article detailing Arthur Lockhart's invention, a sense of bitter despair washed over him. The words on the page seemed to mock his own aspirations and dreams that now lay shattered at his feet. With trembling hands, he crumpled the paper and hurled it across the room, the sound of its impact echoing in the small, dimly lit space.

"That was mine," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he reached out to retrieve the discarded paper, as if by reclaiming it he could somehow reclaim his stolen dreams.

"My years of hardworking..." his voice trailed off, swallowed by the weight of his despair. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the ink on the page before him.

Feeling a surge of frustration and helplessness, he gathered the torn remnants of the newspaper and stormed out of the room, his footsteps heavy with defeat.

Outside, the streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of everyday life, oblivious to the turmoil raging within him. He made his way through the crowded thoroughfares, his heart heavy with grief and anger.

Arriving at the local authorities' office, he pleaded his case to anyone who would listen, but his words fell on deaf ears. The officials dismissed him with a wave of their hand, their indifference a bitter reminder of his place in society.

Defeated and dejected, he trudged back home, the weight of his despair crushing him with every step. But as he reached the threshold of his humble abode, a spark of defiance ignited within him.

"No," he muttered to himself.

he retrieved his keys and set off into the night, his footsteps echoing in the empty streets.

With what little money he had left, he purchased a small canister of burning oil from a nearby vendor, the flames flickering ominously in the darkness.

Arriving at his workshop, he wasted no time in setting his plan into motion. With precision, he stacked dry wood at the entrance of the shop, creating a makeshift barrier to ward off any unwanted intruders.

Gathering all of his blueprints from his working table, he held them in his trembling hands for a moment, his gaze lingering on the intricate designs that had once been the embodiment of his hopes and ambitions.

But now, they were nothing more than cruel reminders of the dreams that had been stolen from him.

With a heavy heart, he tossed the blueprints into the roaring flames, watching as they curled and blackened with each passing moment.

As the fire consumed his life's work, he poured the burning oil onto every surface of the workshop, the acrid smell of smoke filling the air.

With a final glance around the room, he closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering breath, the weight of his despair pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

And then, with one swift motion, he dropped the flame onto the oil-soaked floor, the fire erupting in a blazing inferno that consumed everything in its path.

When the flames arouse, he felt a sense of release wash over him, his burdens and sorrows engulfed in the searing heat.

And in that moment, he knew that he had finally found peace.

As the flames licked at his skin, the man braced himself for the searing pain of his impending demise. Yet, to his astonishment, he felt a cool sensation wash over him instead, relieving his body of the expected agony.

"Did I die before the pain of burning my skin arrived?" he mused aloud, his voice tinged with confusion and disbelief.

"No," a voice responded, breaking through the crackle of the flames. Startled, the man jolted open his eyes to find a young girl with crimson eyes standing before him, her gaze piercing through the veil of smoke and fire.

"What did you do?" he demanded, his desperation evident in his trembling voice as he searched for answers amidst the chaos.

"Are you leaving without a fight?" the girl countered, her tone cool and detached.

"What can I do? I am a commoner, my wife, my children, they all left me," he confessed, his voice laden with despair and resignation.

"What should I even live for?" he cried out, his words echoing in the empty void of his shattered dreams.

The man waited with bated breath for a response, but the girl remained silent, her enigmatic presence adding to the surrealness of the moment.

"Who are you anyway?" he finally mustered the courage to ask, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

"If you are going to die, then why know?" the girl replied cryptically, her words sending a chill down the man's spine.

"I'll give you a choice," she continued, her crimson eyes boring into his soul with an intensity that made him feel exposed and vulnerable.

"You can die here, just the way you wanted. I'll restart all the fire, or..." she trailed off, leaving the man hanging on the precipice of uncertainty.

"Or?" he pressed, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited her next words with a mixture of trepidation and intrigue.

"You can come with me," she offered, her voice softening slightly as she extended a hand towards him, her eyes shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

"Are you a devil?" the man blurted out, his mind reeling with the implications of her proposition.

The girl's response was unexpected, her expression morphing into one of genuine confusion. "Ah... what gave it away?" she quipped, her tone light and playful.

The man was taken aback by her nonchalant demeanor, unsure of how to proceed in the face of such surreal circumstances. Did his suicide attempt truly draw in a devil, or was this merely a figment of his fractured psyche?

"No, I..." he began, his words trailing off as he struggled to make sense of the situation unfolding before him.

"Just kidding," the girl interjected with a mischievous grin, her laughter ringing out like a melodious chime in the midst of the chaos.

"Have a seat," she beckoned, producing a delicate tea set from the depths of her cloak and placing it on the charred remnants of a table nearby.

"Let's talk, Mr Zachary. " she suggested, her crimson eyes sparkling with an otherworldly wisdom that left the man spellbound.

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To be continued...