"This was where we saw her last." Azalea stated solemnly.
"We'll ambush her here, then." Lucilline nodded.
They were in front of an abandoned two-story building; its surface rotting and on the verge of complete decay. Chips of the bricks and stones were broken off, leaving hollow scrapes on the rough surface. The building was surrounded in solemnity and gloom, making one hesitate to enter.
Rather, it had the atmosphere of a cemetery.
Lucilline held his spear tighter.
"Go inside?" A slender finger tickled his palm. The black-haired nobleman was stunned, and he turned his head. He found Azalea, who was guiltily light-heartedly tickling his hand.
The white-haired boy blushed, and hurriedly retracted his hand.
"Yeah, um, as I was talking about... let's go inside?" Azalea laughed, trying to miserably cover up his earlier embarrassment.
Lucilline blinked.
He found the male lead's actions quite amusing. A smile crept onto his lips. No matter how hard he tried to push it down, his lip would unconsciously curve upwards. "Well, let's go inside." The black-haired nobleman loosened his hold on his spear. I didn't know that Azalea had such a comforting and cute side to him.
They pressed near the wooden door. It was unlocked.
There was no sound from inside.
"Stick near each other." Azalea whispered. His amethyst purple eyes lowered, appearing a bit glum at the thought of separation. "The closer we are to each other, the safer."
Lucilline agreed.
Hearing his agreement, Azalea's violet eyes had brightened, regaining a tint of light.
The black-haired nobleman pursed his lips, "On the count of three." He placed up his hand, gesturing them into a "zero" position. Silence endeavoured the surroundings, and the sound of his heart throbbing in his throat seemed louder than ever.
A finger stuck up, meaning "one".
Azalea understood immediately. He held his breath.
Two fingers.
...Three...!
In an instant, Lucilline swung open the door. Inside the abandoned building was an empty hallway, filled by the odd smell of horrid dust. Immediately, his eyebrows furrowed. He could sense that something wasn't right...
"Lucilline—" Azalea hurriedly pulled the black-haired nobleman back.
Thankfully he did so.
In the next second, a flurry of books had dropped...! They landed dextrously onto the ground, leaving a cloud of dust on its trail. If Lucilline had continued to stand there... then those books would have stabbed into his head...! He would have been dead.
"...thank you, Azalea." Lucilline gave a wry smile.
The white-haired boy nodded solemnly. He will always make sure to protect Lucilline.
"Let's continue." Azalea added. His gaze turned grim, "Be careful."
They both nodded at the same time. In the next second, Lucilline and Azalea raced inside of the building. The smell of dust was still strong, like a fervent odour permanently clinging to the walls. Cobwebs strung in between corners, softly webbed like gentle strands of cotton.
But they did not have enough time to focus on the details.
Down the hallway was where it ended. On the end, two staircases curled upwards to the second floor. The railing smelt of pungent dust. In between the two staircases was a chandelier, with the candles lit in a row of burning flames.
All of a sudden, a dart flew right past them—nailing directly into the cobblestone floor, forcing it to crack due to the pressure.
Lucilline's eyes flashed towards where the dart came from... upstairs.
He noticed the figure of a woman—Gira.
She saw that her dart missed, but did not panic. Instead, she pulled out a bunch of more darts, balancing them in between the joints of her fingers.
Lucilline and Azalea quickly rushed down the hallway.
They avoided the many darts aimed at them, which all had fallen and nailed to the floor. Their two figures flashed like lightning, already beginning to run up the stairs.
Gira gritted her teeth.
She ran out of her darts, and resorted to using her dagger. The tip of her dagger shone a mysterious purple metal, which subconsciously made one's eyes avert to it. It must be dangerous. Lucilline and Azalea shared the same thoughts, as they arrived on the second floor.
"You both aren't afraid of death...!" Gira was murderous.
Her short hair flung in the air, as wild as a hawk taking flight. She swung her dagger, the weapon leaving behind a long violet line of its afterimage.
Azalea flipped back, avoiding the deadly strike.
Lucilline ducked, with only one strand of his hair chopped off by the swing.
Seeing that her strike missed, Gira went for another assault. However, Lucilline's spear reached her first. Time seemed to slow down. The women noticed the swing of the blade heading for her throat, as her eyes widened exponentially.
This villain is really trying to kill me...!
Though it was expected. In these medieval times of royal forces, thieves were expected to be executed with their heads on a silver platter.
Gira held her breath.
Time resumed. She instantly leaned backwards, her back falling down in a full curve, like a bridge. The blade merely skimmed past her face, slicing a small cut into her cheeks.
Gira felt the soft pain, with blood oozing out of that shallow wound.
She bit her mouth, trying to distract herself with more pain.
Lucilline retracted his spear, readying for another swing. Meanwhile, Azalea backed him up by also swinging his sword acutely at the reincarnator—
Gira did not let them.
She climbed unto the second floor's railings, then jumped down...!
"Azalea, now!" Lucilline stopped in his movements, whipping his head back to urgently call his companion's name.
Hearing his name, Azalea felt a strange satisfaction. "Yes!"
He did not need to be told twice.
His white hair dashed handsomely, with the light of the chandelier's candle illuminating his smooth and sharp face. A strange determination was lit aflame in his amethyst purple eyes, with his lean figure directing the swing of his sword...
Clang! In an instant, Azalea cut down the chain, separating the chandelier from the ceiling. The sound of metal breaking had echoed in the building.
Gira's eyes had widened. "Not good...!"
The chandelier had crashed right onto her falling figure. There were crashing candles, with the fires toppling straight into her skin, aiming to burn her alive—
Azalea's eyes widened.
Just before the chandelier crashed into Gira, the latter had whipped her dagger crazily into the air...! The blade shone brilliantly, soaring as fast as an eagle. It almost seemed to cut through space and time, arriving before a black-haired nobleman's forehead instantly—
"Get down!" Azalea called, but his body moved faster than his words.
Lucilline's delicate golden eyes dilated.
He had no idea how it all came down. One second he was expecting victory, but the next second, blood splattered all over himself... just like what happened a decade ago.
Nausea lurked in his stomach, as his heart lurched out of his throat.
"Azalea...!" He cried. The white-haired boy had thrown himself in front, with the deadly dagger inserting deep into his abdomen. Crimson red liquid stained his white shirt; luxurious petals of a twirling rose had spilt unto a plain canvas, painting the blank space into a devilish portrait.
The male lead grunted.
His face paled, and his body let out a wavy shudder. Azalea couldn't help but squint his eyes in pain. It hurts much more than being impaled by a boar...
CRASH!!!
A spurt of fire arose from the first floor. The sorry figure of a burnt women had crawled out from the shambles. Gira coughed out ashes. Her body was covered in horrible burns, her skin scalded and blood dropped down from the wounds. She stripped her leather jacket off, then covering it on top of the fire on the floor, thoroughly extinguishing it.
If the fire were to continue to grow, it would burn the entire abandoned house down... then cause a lot of trouble for her. In fact, if the Royal Knights notice her, they might arrest her...!
However, even if she were to successfully escape, she would never be able to heal completely.
Gira shot Lucilline a murderous glare. She hurriedly limped out of the house, leaving a trail of ugly blood footsteps behind.
Lucilline couldn't care any less about her fleeing.
He turned down to look at the male lead. Azalea had collapsed over, blood completely soaking his clothes. The sticky liquid made Lucilline delirious. This is real blood. This is not a nightmare, nor or a hallucination created by a dream demon.
This was real blood.
Lucilline carefully laid the white-haired boy onto the floor. He hurriedly tried to cover up the bleeding, but nothing seemed to work.
The white shirt was completely drenched, as if doused in a river of red water. Lucilline tried to remove the blade from Azalea's abdomen, but the latter tensed up. His face was scrunched in pain, and the black-haired nobleman did not dare to move any further.
"...Azalea... I'm so sorry..." Lucilline's voice became weak like a mosquito.
If only he was stronger... if only he was able to dodge that deadly blow...
"I'm not dead yet," Azalea retorted. His face was coated in a layer of cold sweat, as pale as a ghost. He curled his hands into a fist, then coughed, "Just pull it out. Don't care about me."
Lucilline's hands around the dagger had trembled.
Slowly, he pulled. Every single second lasted for eternity. The feeling of the blade gradually skidding out of the mushy flesh... with blood overflowing the handle and staining his slender fingers... it all made him nauseous, as if a strong force sucked all of the oxygen out of him.
"There you go..." Surprisingly, Azalea was the one to comfort him.
Despite being injured, Azalea persisted.
At last, the dagger was pulled out from his abdomen. Lucilline hurriedly torn a piece of cloth from his suit, pressing it against the wound. He must avoid letting any more blood spill...!
"It was a shallow wound," Azalea analyzed, "I think I should be fine..."
His voice derailed.
He noticed a layer of mist glossing over Lucilline's delicate golden eyes, giving the latter a frail appearance. The black-haired nobleman pulled out his own handkerchief, pressing it onto the wound. More blood coated his hands. The sticky liquid squelched, as he urgently pressed onwards.
His head was spinning on the spot, as if someone kicked it in circles.
"Don't cry..." A hand wiped at his eyes.
Lucilline subconsciously closed his eyes, letting his tears drop onto a pair of calloused fingers.
Azalea diligently wiped away his tears, caring for the black-haired nobleman more than his own deadly wounds. He couldn't help but laugh weakly, "I thought that nobles don't cry."
"Well, this one does." Lucilline choked out.
The white-haired boy laid weakly on the ground. He wanted to reassure his friend, but his body suddenly lurched... He spat out a mouthful of dark pungent blood.
Lucilline held his breath.
"The... dagger had poison laced." He struggled to stop his voice from trembling.
"You can't save anyone." A familiar voice spoke to him. It was the dream demon. His mind shook, as if a mountain sat on top of his head, crushing his head heavily. "You are so naive. Do you truly believe that you can save him? You couldn't even save your most loved one, so what makes you so confident?"
Lucilline trembled. No. I can do it.
A hearty laugh resounded through his brain. "You make me laugh! You cannot save anyone! You are doomed to hurt everyone around you. Look at yourself. You're shaking."
It was then Lucilline realized his actions.
He snapped out of the voices.
Azalea's body had begun to turn purple, with his veins popping out intensely. He resisted the urge to throw up blood, and lowly coughed.
Lucilline faltered.
"Umm... Lucilline," his name brought him back to his consciousness. The black-haired nobleman looked at Azalea, who called him.
The male lead laughed weakly.
His face was surprisingly serene and tranquil, and held a deep affection. Azalea seemed to have let go of the pain which set root in his bones, and smiled. His pale face was handsome, with the contours softened by his smile. "Could I call you Lucy?"
Lucilline: ???
"Huh?" He was completely speechless. Earlier, he was losing his mind to the dream demon... but Azalea, who was on the verge of death... was worrying about a mere nickname?
Azalea's pale face had suddenly regained liveliness.
He blushed in shame, "I mean, I overheard your older brother calling you by that nickname. So I was just wondering... if I could call you that..." Azalea averted his gaze, while his amethyst purple eyes lowered from embarrassment.
Lucilline had never seen the male lead so shy before.
He wanted to cry, "You can call me whatever you want."
Azalea's eyes regained focus. His lips curved upwards, with a look of absolute glee written across his face. "Then... thank you, Lucy."
The black-haired nobleman was taken aback.
Then, he pursed his lips. Could he possibly save the male lead?
No. His delicate golden eyes hardened. It wasn't a matter of whether he could do so. He had to save the male lead.
He lowered his head, merely a few inches away from Azalea's face.
The white-haired boy froze. He resisted coughing up blood, as he laughed nervously, "W-What are you doing, Lucy?"
Lucilline's eyes thinned. His delicate golden irises had stabilized, and all his fragility vanished to the wind. He lowered his head, touching his high-arched nose to the male lead's, "I am going to suck your poison out." He did not falter when stating so.
Silence overcame the second floor...
"HAH!?!" Azalea was shocked.
He almost gained the strength to directly leap up from the floor. "Wait, Lucy-" Azalea wanted to sit up from the ground, but the pain on his abdomen paralyzed him to the core.
At that point, Lucilline had lifted his handkerchief off from the wound. He raised Azalea's bloodied white shirt, revealing fine wheat-like skin. The male lead shuddered, with undeniable heat growing on his face. ...WHAT IS HAPPENING!?!
Lucilline lowered his head, pressing his lips against the wound—
"No..." Azalea groaned. An incredible pain gnawed at his abdomen. He felt his internal organs shake, as the poison circulating through his blood had halted. Lucilline's eyebrows furrowed, as he focused.
After a while, he withdrew then spat out blood.
The blood was mixed with poison. The black liquid slid down Lucilline's lips, but the latter did not care. Instead, he lowered down and continued sucking.
The black-haired nobleman spat out poison multiple times.
When he lowered his head to continue for the eleventh time, Azalea raised his hand, "T-That's enough!" His voice quaked. He pushed Lucilline off of his chest, then hurriedly readjusted his clothes. The wound was indeed shallow, but required fine attention.
He dressed his wound in torn clothes, then stood up from the ground.
"It's good enough, see? I've regained my strength already." Azalea persuaded.
Lucilline wiped the blood off of his lips, leaving some residual colour. It brightened and illuminated his lips, striking a hot contrast from the crimson red and his pale skin.
"Are you sure?" He pressed worriedly.
Azalea nodded multiple times. The blood rushed to his face, with blush adding colour to his pale face. "Mhm! Let's go continue following that thief—"
"No." Lucilline interrupted. "We won't follow."
His eyelids lowered in guilt, but mainly concern. "As much as I'd like to take back the Book of Revelation, we are in no shape to fight. Additionally, there are no leads in finding that thief. We can only return back empty-handed." Lucilline sighed. "However, Percival had captured that other thief. Perhaps, we can get intel out of him. Let's go back."
Listening to his explanation, Azalea found it credible.
He nodded. "Let's return."
Though his abdomen still pained, most of the poison was removed from his register. This allowed him to move.
Lucilline gave a weak smile.
All of a sudden, his hand was held gently. Azalea didn't dare to meet gazes, averting eyes. His amethyst purple irises shifted shyly, like a young maiden too afraid to see their crush.
Lucilline found it amusing.
He held Azalea's hand back. A pulsing warmth brushed underneath his skin.
Author's Note:
Ayo~ (ﾟωﾟ) this is the most spicy/romantic thing I've ever published so far(in this novel)