"So, Sweetheart, how do you like it?" Fresh stood in the doorway, leaning against the wooden doorframe and smiling.
Fresh took me to a room that's somewhat like his own, except cleaner, smaller, and tidier. Those details I recognise secondhand - right now my eyes are open in awe as I gaze around my new bedroom, taking in every detail about the place. The bed was just like Fresh's, a four poster bed with a pile of soft pillows that sank under your hand when you pressed it. The bedcovers were soft and thick, with a fluffy blanket that I instantly fell in love with the moment I laid down. There was a White stuffed bear resting on the cloud of pink, waiting patiently for me to just pick it up and shower it in cuddles. There was a dresser in the corner, much like Fresh's own one. The curtains were black, though it may seem to be more for aesthetic purposes since the sky outside was a constant dark murky sea. However, my room itself was lit by a mini chandelier the size of a yoga ball dangling from the ceiling.
"You like it? It's where you're gonna sleep, can't have you sleeping in my bed forever."
'I love it!' I responded, grin reaching from ear to ear. The warmth in my heart has returned again - I didn't want it to leave.
I turned to face him "Thanks Fresh-"
I was interrupted by a single pink rose in my face. Fresh smiled sheepishly, like he was shy, and bowed slightly when he presented it to me.
"There's a garden nearby, thought you'd like it.
'You went down and picked it yourself?' I felt my voice breaking as all sense left me - the only thing left in my heart was a feeling that was hard to process and even harder to describe. It was like embarrassment, but not quite, I enjoyed the feeling. I could feel a tightness in my chest, I loved it.
"Well, if I sent a Corrupted down there instead, that'll take the whole point away, right?"
I took the rose in my hands, and when I did, my pinkie finger brushed against his index finger. The touch seemed to widen his smile a little bit, though I didn't pay too much attention, I was far too engrossed in the rose. It was the first time anyone had given me flowers, I wanted to save it. The rose itself was just as pink as Fresh and all of the other Corrupted, while the stem itself was black. It was a beautiful contrast, from the bright, beautiful bold pink and the dull, obsidian, silent black. It gave off a romantic perfume that immediately charmed me. Nobody had done anything like this before, Fresh was the first, and possibly only, one.
"Thank you" I whispered.
'My pleasure.' He smiled back.
Soon enough, he had to leave the castle for business of some sort, leaving me alone. The fire in my chest that was the thrill of receiving such a lovely gift had died down into embers, but they were still warm and hot. I wanted to keep it, to preserve it, so I called a Corrupted with a bird on her headphones, asked for a flower vase of any kind, and she came back with a curvaceous glass flower vase. I filled it up with water from my bathroom sink, and placed the rose in it. It looked so peaceful, and I wanted to preserve the moment so I took my phone and took a picture of it. And as much as I adored the picture of Dumpling sleeping on a gigantic cushion, I set the home screen to that simple picture of the rose.
I smiled widely and collapsed in my bed.
After a while browsing through Tumblr (Even though there weren't any new posts for obvious reasons), a Corrupted servant knocked on my door. Shortly afterwards, the Corrupted who entered was none other than Mordecai himself.
"Wassup" He greeted me.
'This dick.'
"Glad to see you're still (Y/N)."
'I know' I smiled. 'C'mon, sit here, we have loads to talk about.'
"I'd love to, but Fresh told me to come get you for dinner.
'Oh, great, I'm starving.' I smiled, hopped off and followed Mordecai. The halls were already familiar to me at this point, and I could probably find myself in the dining room by myself, but having Mordecai, a familiar face, around me seemed to make me feel at home. I wanted to talk to him after Dinner, it felt like ages since we last laughed together.
Even thought it really was just a couple of days since the last time we spoke, the last time I saw Mordecai he was uncorrupted with his ebony skin and purple hair, but that still felt like forever ago since we see each other just about every other day.
As we approached the door, Mordecai was just about to open it when I gestured for him to stop. Fresh was talking to someone behind the door, though I don't know who, but his voice was stern, quiet, and angry. A complete 180 from the Fresh I talked to beforehand.
"I want to see them dead, what did you fucking think? If you thought that I was gonna show mercy to those pieces of shit, then you are horribly, horribly wrong. I want their heads as trophies. I want their blood on my hands. I want to see them suffer, Johnathan, I want to see those fucks beg for me to kill them like the animals they are. They made me like this. They turned me into this fucking monster. This abomination. How could I forgive them? They were fucked the moment their laid their dirty, sinful fingers on me."
The moment I heard those words coming from Fresh's mouth, I froze. Mordecai was the same, looking right at me, both of us shocked beyond words. There was a coldness, a demon-like Ire, a sting in his voice that immediately made me shrink in fear. Who was he talking about? Was it a group of people? And why did he show such resentment and bloodlust towards them? After seeing Fresh be so kind, forgiving, comforting and generous, this hatred in his voice sent shivers down my spine and made my palms sweat. It wasn't me he was talking about, no, so why am I so scared? And what does he mean by "They turned me into this monster, this abomination"? I thought to myself for a moment: "Was his hatred justified?" Mordecai all of a sudden pulled me away, and a Corrupted walked out without noticing any of us. We both looked at each other in shocked silence.
"I wonder where (Y/N) is, she should be here by now" I heard Fresh say.
'Go' Mordecai whispered. 'If you don't, he'll get worried.'
I gulped, opinion of Fresh now changed, and walked through the door.
"Ah! Butterfly! There you are! I was starting to get worried." He smiled. There seemed to be stress hidden deeply in his face, but he expertly buried his emotions the moment he saw me, a joy replacing any anxiety and wrath he felt beforehand.
'H-Hey! Fresh, how's it going?'
"I'm good, yourself?"
'You sure?'
"What do you mean, You Sure?"
'W-w-well, you seem.... um... Tense?'
"Tense?" Fresh then laughed. "Butterfly, do I look tense to you?"
'Sorta?'
"Well, Sweetheart, I'm feeling just fine, come, sit here, I wanna talk to you."
I hesitated slightly before sitting down beside him. Now that he's smiling, looking happy and innocent, that... that monstrosity I saw earlier in the body of Fresh seemed even more scarier. I didn't know what he was thinking now. A nice steak dinner, or plotting the murders of whoever he was talking about.
"How're you feeling?" He always asked me that question whenever we saw each other ever since the rooftop incident.
'I'm feeling good, thanks' I lied. I wasn't feeling depressed or suicidal or anything like that, I just felt... scared. Tense. Unsure.
That dinner, I felt uneasy and nervous. I barely ate my food, and made up the excuse that I wasn't all that hungry. He seemed skeptic, but didn't question it, although he did say that it I was feeling unwell or if my appetite doesn't return for a while, I should probably see a doctor. He was worried about me? The entire time I was thinking deeply to myself.
Fresh is technically the "bad guy"
Think about it, what hero in video game, manga, and everything in-between tries to take over the world, Corrupts a vital part of what's protecting us from evil (Now that I think about it it might specifically be Fresh that the Tree of life is protecting us from) and turns people into mindless slaves?
But, if you look at my life, Fresh is a complete 180 from everyone else. He was so nice to me, treating me like his queen. And it's practically confirmed, by his own trusted Lieutenant, that he fancies me. Nobody else ever treated me like that before, and Fresh is possibly the only one to ever treat me so nicely. And his kindness is genuine, I can sense it, it's not like he's getting me on his side and then doing something despicable to me when my guard was down, no, that can't be the truth, right? He's too kind, he's too genuine. But yet, that thought still lingered in my mind, I'm not exactly sure if I should fully believe the man who calls himself Fresh. Speaking of which, even the way he introduced himself sounded ambiguous, like Fresh isn't really his name, Just call me Fresh. He even changed the subject when I pointed out the fact that it didn't sound like his real name.
Everything about him seems mysterious and sketchy, now that I think about it. I'm not 100% sure about his true intentions, the way he answers a few of my questions is really vague and evasive, and I'm still not sure if he's truly not mad at me for almost bashing his head in. During the initial seconds that followed that blow, he looked at me with a mixture of shock and rage and fear, like I had just turned into a werewolf right in front of him. Now that I think about it, with that expression after that blow, I'm not sure if the kindness he shows me is truly genuine or not. Normally if someone looked at me like that after I've done something horrendous, that same person would then have a fear, a hatred, a nervousness for me. So why would Fresh be any different? And I haven't even gotten up to the mysterious people he hated so much. Who were they? By the way he talked about them, I was thinking that his hatred was justified, but that could be just his side of the story. It could've been a massive understanding, but they could've done something utterly horrific to him. I don't know.
I don't know what to think.
I'm starting to contradict myself in some aspects, was it genuine or not? Was he a truly kind person or not? And, well, I just fell silent.
That night, I couldn't sleep. Those same thoughts that kept me from eating my food at the dinner table earlier that night were also keeping me awake, withholding the sweet embrace of sleep, no matter how exhausted I was. Then, when sleep finally came, it was fickle and indecisive. I fell in and out of sleep for unknown periods of time in an unpredictable pattern. At some point I felt something fluffy snuggle against me, which I then realise was Dumping. She seemed to sedate me a little bit, but after a little while, she leapt out of my bed and off to an unknown destination. I reached after her, not wanting her warm, fluffy comfort to leave my side, but I knew that it was futile. I rolled over, and tried to sleep. Then, an unknown amount of time later, late into the night or early into the morning, I don't know, I heard the peaceful melody of a guitar come from a couple rooms down. I don't know which direction, I was too tired to tell or even care, but the lullaby was soothing as the music danced around my room bouncing and leaping happily. It was a joyful song, though with a tinge of bittersweetness, almost as if it was written by a reminiscing songwriter who was missing home. It sounded like a lullaby, and it also sounded very old and medieval, like a folk song. As she danced, the Lullaby leapt into the air as a crescendo hit, then subtly twirling during the quiet, soothing parts. The guitar's lullaby comforted me as she kept dancing, singing her beautiful song with such a tender voice, before letting me rest my head in her lap as she sung me into a sweet, dreamless sleep.