The Void

The woman

She stood in the rain, sheltering my soaked form with her umbrella, leaving herself open to the sky's tears while clad in a mere evening dress.

"Would you like to come with me?" The blonde woman inquired as she swept her drenched hair out of her face. Everything was so blurry and dark that I couldn't make out even her general features.

I didn't respond. Part of it was that I just wanted to be left alone – I couldn't wallow in my sorrow at peace while at another person's presence. However, the colour of her dress was also at fault. It was exactly the same shade of red as the blood of the man lying a few meters away from us.

The man whom I killed mere minutes ago.

"Hurry up and make your decision." She spoke again. "I can't stand here for much longer."

Why was she in such a rush? There was nothing except for us two in this damp and dark alleyway. Well, apart from the dead man. Maybe she was disgusted by the body? The overwhelming smell of blood?

The noise in the back of my head grew louder. It was causing me a massive headache. It was such a familiar sound but I couldn't concentrate enough to recognize it.

"Don't you have anyone you care for?"

Those words shook me awake. Someone to care for? A reason for living? When was the last time I felt as if I had one? Was I even capable of remembering the last time I felt something other than guilt?

Finally, I recognized the sound. Police sirens. Coming closer with every moment spent talking to the woman next to me. In a few minutes, we will be trapped and neither of us will be able to get out without police involvement.

"Come with me and I will give you one. Your raison d'etre."

In quiet desperation, I took off my shattered sunglasses, threw them to the side and reached for the woman's hand. I wanted to suffer for the crimes I've committed but I decided to humour the stranger in front of me. She seemed kind and – though didn't need a murderer leaching off her – I didn't want to disappoint her by refusing the generous offer.

And besides, I could really find my reason for living if I followed her. One could never know.

I let the blonde woman usher me into the passenger seat of her expensive car. As she went to retrieve my sunglasses and the gun, which I used to take a man's life, realisation dawned upon me.

The same woman who came to this bar with the dead man and the same woman I flirted with over a glass of whiskey was now hiding the evidence linking me to the scene in her small purse.

... ∽∾●∾∼ …

As she gripped the steering wheel tighter while driving past a police car, I noticed the small flowers of blood staining her white evening gloves. How could she just sit there so calmly? In a vehicle next to us there were policemen with guns. And, above all, how could she act so relaxed while sitting next to a murderer such as myself?

For the first time since we got into the car, I took a good look at my saviour. Her clothes, even though drenched, seemed to be made from an expensive material. The ring on her finger and the necklace adorning her neck were worth ten times more than my life probably ever will. Why did a woman such as herself choose to help me?

... ∽∾●∾∼ …

It was only when we reached our destination – a huge mansion reminiscent of the castles in the stories my mother used to tell – it came to me that she might want revenge. Was he her brother? No, they didn't look like siblings. Maybe her lover? How didn't I realise this earlier?

For a moment I got scared. What was she going to do with me if she wasn't even afraid of breaking the law? Torture me until I beg her to kill me? Judging by the air of wealth around her, she certainly knew what strings to pull to cover a stunt like that.

Maybe it was for the better. After all, I deserved to suffer for what I did both to that man and Karen.

As soon as we entered the giant mansion, the blonde woman was surrounded by a flock of servants ready to tend to her every need. I was ignored by every single one of them. That is until the blonde pointed one of the maids to me with the order of showing me to the guest room and giving me something to change into.

... ∽∾●∾∼ …

I didn't see her for the next two days. When she finally showed up, she was once again dressed in a stunning dress. Though this time it was a blue wrap dress worn to accentuate her curves. She brought me a suit to wear, claiming that I have to fit in if I want to leave the guest room for short walks. Yet, she seemed to be against the idea of me leaving the room I came to lovingly call my prison cell.

After passing me the mentioned items of clothing, the blonde asked why I was refusing to eat the meals brought by maids and footmen. She claimed that they had complained, as most I ever took was only a bite and only when I felt like I could no longer battle my hunger.

She waited in dead silence, letting me not to answer the question. I was grateful for that. I didn't want to admit the fact that the guilt had overwhelmed me once more and I was set on making myself suffer.

"You have to at least eat the meals you share with me, then." She stated, full of confidence, though her eyes seemed more sad than cold.

I complied, and when the maid brought the two identical meals, for both me and her, I ate even though I couldn't stop myself from wondering about the anguish in her eyes.

Thoughts about the nature of her relationship with the dead man plagued my mind once again.

"He was my bodyguard. Not a particularly good man." She quietly, but confidently, told me, as if reading my mind.

We shared at least one meal every day from then on, though it was mostly dinners and at an extremely hour. She always wore an evening dress, as if she just came back from an upper-class dinner party and from time to time I wondered if she only lives by night.

Sometimes we ate in the guest room, but most of the time the meals we shared took place in her bedroom. Her luxurious taste just as perfectly reflected in the lavish décor of her room as her attire.

I never asked her name and she never asked mine, though she seemed to know it. More than once she called me Loke, but I didn't question her about it. Due to her immense wealth, I chose to call her princess, instead. Whenever I called her that she would laugh and that had been the most beautiful sound I had heard in a while.

I continued to call her princess and she continued to laugh.

She was a princess whose knight I killed, who was left vulnerable due to my foolish act.

So, I decided to become the knight, who would protect this princess.

AN: I don't really know how often I will update this fic, however, I hope the inspiration strikes me soon. It's my first time writing lolu, so I hope you will be forgiving. It's just I had immense trouble finding a noir lolu fic and I wanted to change that. Also, most of the time this is going to be snippets of their lives in a non-chronological order, however, the second chapter is probably going to be the night of their meeting from Lucy's pov.