Gilbert thought he'd protest against all of these horrible things he had to do for the Nightray dukedom. But he didn't, and it wasn't just because he couldn't. It was also because he no longer cared. He was constantly overwhelmed by anger and grief and confusion, unable to comprehend why Oz wasn't standing beside him. And if all this crime was the price he had to pay to get Oz back…

So be it.

Gilbert had just killed someone, which sounded horrible, but was no longer anything significant to Gilbert. He did it all the time now. The Nightray dukedom trained their children to become assassins starting at ten, and then they made their children do their bidding. The Nightray dukedom was greedy, cruel, and farther into the darkness than they probably should have been, but so what? Gilbert would do whatever it took to get Oz back. His life meant nothing until the moment he got to see the blonde-haired, green-eyed boy again.

Sighing, Gilbert wiped the small amount of blood from his hands to his shirt. He was wearing all black, as was the norm for him now, so the blood would probably be disregarded as water or some other type of harmless liquid by people passing by. He'd learned not to get his hands too dirty, but usually he got at least a little bit of blood on him.

The teenager recalled his orders and walked towards a carriage. The carriage was owned by the noble he had just murdered a few minutes ago, Randall Loxyn. The Nightray dukedom had been having some serious problems with the Loxyn family, and so it was only normal for them to silently and hastily take down the head of the Loxyns. Randall had immediately panicked upon seeing a child of Nightray approach him, and he was one of the few that had the sense to. Gilbert had met—and killed—many people since being adopted by the Nightrays, and many of them didn't think twice about a Nightray boy with a gun in their presence. Most of them figured that Nightray boys carried guns and such weapons everywhere, even when they were being friendly. Ridiculous assumptions, but popular ones all the same...still, Gilbert couldn't quite figure out how they could be so stupid.

He took out his gun and pointed it towards the window of the carriage. His orders had been to shoot through Randall's carriage and steal a jade ring, which was the prized possession of the nobleman. It was also something incredibly important to the Loxyns, and having it stolen would surely throw them into disarray.

A day in the life of Gilbert Nightray was a day of murder, theft, and brutality. This had all seemed mortifying to Gilbert at first, and he couldn't believe anyone could be so dark. But now, this was normal. This was what Gilbert went through constantly, almost daily. The Nightray dukedom's ways were a lifestyle.

It wasn't like Gilbert actually agreed with the way of the Nightrays. He hated it, he did, and he knew it was completely and utterly wrong. Inside, Gilbert was actually very caring and loving, and he was kinder than most people in the world. He was just a very angry boy ever since he lost the love of his life. He'd turned aggressive and cold and reserved, but if you went deep within him, you'd see the boy he once was—the boy he really was. It was simply hidden.

Gilbert shot mercilessly at the carriage, shooting through the window easily. He climbed through the window effortlessly, as if he was a gymnast, and his eyes swept the carriage for the jade ring. He frowned when he didn't see it, only to notice a slight sparkle coming from the slightly-open hidden compartment.

He opened the compartment fully and took out the jade ring triumphantly. Then he climbed back out the window and all the way back to the Nightray manor.

None of this was difficult to Gilbert. The Nightray children were trained to do this.

…

Gilbert was sitting down on his bed, finally enjoying some alone time. As a son of Nightray, he didn't get very much alone time, and when he did, he took the time to brood and be miserable. A pitiful waste of time, Break said, but Gilbert didn't care. He needed this.

"So, Gil, did you kill the Loxyn man…?"

With the sound of his little brother's chilling voice, Gilbert's alone time was over. Gilbert tensed as he turned around to face fifteen-year-old Vincent, one year younger than him. Vincent was mentally trying in a countless number of ways, and despite the charming act he put on in the public that flattered the women, Gilbert had always suspected he had quite a bit of hatred within him.

"Yes," Gilbert replied, trying hard to keep the irritation and nervousness out of his voice.

"Gil, I know you hate this…don't you?" Vincent gave Gilbert an expectant, patient smile. There was something behind that smile that Gilbert couldn't catch, though.

"Hate what?" Gilbert asked, pretending not to know what his brother was referring to.

"All of this. The Nightray lifestyle…Gil is kind and I know Gil could never really be one with this kind of life, could he?" Vincent answered mysteriously. "So why do you keep doing this? Is there something you wish to gain…?" His smile grew even more cryptic. "Is this all for your beloved master who was dragged into the Abyss two years ago?"

Gilbert scowled. "Of course it is. Who else would it be for? I would never have chosen this path on my own." His voice and expression were both getting darker, and he knew he was about to start losing his temper. And he knew it was beyond his control. "This whole thing is ridiculous. This lifestyle revolts me, but I have to stay, you know? I joined the Nightray dukedom for a purpose."

And a conflicted look crossed Gilbert's brother's face at that moment, one that looked slightly hurt knowing that purpose wasn't him…and one that looked slightly amused.

Vincent was, by far, the hardest person to understand that Gilbert had ever come across. Not to mention at times the most disturbing.

"And that purpose is your master." Vincent said after a few moments, that infuriatingly ominous smile returning. "Think, though, Gil. Is he really worth all this?"

"Well, it's not like I can leave." Gilbert growled, feeling himself losing it. His heart was beating fast and blood was roaring in his ears and his whole body felt hot with rage. "I have nothing, do you understand me? This is my family now. This is the only family I have, even if this isn't my family and never will be."

Vincent met his older brother's golden eyes evenly. "But if you could leave, wouldn't you? Isn't this too much for you? I'd imagine that by now, you'd want to quit. Your master is long gone, you know."

"Yes, okay? I want to quit! Of course I want to quit! But I never will—not until I get Oz back." Gilbert's eyes had become angry storms, his voice the prowl and roar of a lion. "And even if I could leave, I wouldn't. Do you know why? Because Oz was everything to me, and when I lost him, I vowed to do anything to get him back. My life is worthless without him!" His voice had been rising in volume the whole time and he hadn't noticed. All of a sudden, he was shouting. "My life is worthless! It has no damn meaning, Vincent!"

"Really…?" Vincent had a curious look in his eyes that also looked a bit sad…and also had some disguised annoyance that Gilbert didn't notice. "Is that how you see life now that your teenage master isn't around? How much…how much did he mean to you…?"

"How much did he mean to me? Hell, Vincent, I thought you'd be able to answer that question on your own!" Gilbert yelled. The fury was just ripping through him now. "Oz was my life. He was my whole Goddamn universe. He was beautiful and kind and amazing in a way that you could never understand, and when he disappeared, I died. That's enough to summarize it. And if you think I can just give up trying to get him back, stop talking! You could never understand what it feels like to lose the one person you love more than anything else!"

Gilbert stormed out of his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, leaving Vincent behind. He didn't look back.

…

Gilbert had gone and walked several laps around the Nightray manor after that troublesome encounter. He was stressed now, and regret was washing through him like a toxic wave. All those things he'd said to Vincent…he hadn't really meant to say them. He hadn't expected to break that easily. But he had, and now he couldn't take them back.

The worst part, though, was that he'd meant what he said. He knew it had probably hurt Vincent, but he meant every single word. Gilbert did feel as though his life was meaningless now that Oz was gone. The only meaning left was getting Oz back. And he was angry and depressed and had so many feelings that he hid. He should have just lied to Vincent, said that it was his obligation to save Oz since the Vessalius boy had been his master, but instead he had to say all those other things. All those other things that Vincent probably didn't want to hear. All those other things that Gilbert had never expected to say.

Once he was done doing laps, he went back inside the Nightray manor, cautiously opening the door to his bedroom. He exhaled in relief when Vincent had apparently left it. He bit his lip, praying to God that he wouldn't have any more interruptions—if he did, he'd probably be even worse than he was before. He just needed to be alone. He closed his door quietly so that the likeliness was that no one would hear and sat down on his bed.

Gilbert opened up a drawer and took out a framed photo of Oz. Just before running away from the Vessalius dukedom, Oscar and Ada had given it to him. They knew just how much Oz had meant to him, and just how shaken he was after Oz disappeared. That photo was Gilbert's most treasured possession, despite the fact that he didn't let anyone know he had it. Oscar and Ada knew, of course, and knowing Break, he probably knew too. But no one else knew. Gilbert had always been careful to keep the photo a secret from any and all of the Nightrays. They would get angry, because they had all been taught to hate the Vessalius dukedom. Gilbert could never bring himself to do that, no matter how many pompous lies he was told about the Vessalius dukedom's repulsiveness.

Well, Vincent might have a slightly different reaction than the rest of the Nightrays. Vincent was odd and always had been. He wasn't like the rest of them. In fact, Gilbert had never met someone even remotely like his brother in his entire life. But Vincent would probably be upset anyway. Not because Oz was a Vessalius, but because Gilbert was still holding on to Oz, because Gilbert hadn't gotten over someone who had already been gone for two years, because Gilbert hadn't decided to simply make do with his younger brother.

Gilbert was horribly aware of how much Vincent adored him, and about how much it bugged Vincent when he spoke about Oz. He was sure Vincent wanted to be the most important person in his life, even if he wouldn't admit it, and that he couldn't comprehend why Gilbert could love someone who wasn't even there more than him.

And Gilbert wanted to assure Vincent that he was the most important person in his life and that he did love him more than anyone else, but there would be no point. Why? He'd simply be spouting lies. It made him incredibly guilty, but he would never let go of Oz. Oz had been…different. Oz was someone in Gilbert's life that was irreplaceable. Someone Gilbert had loved with all his heart.

Gilbert would not rest until he got Oz out of the Abyss, and that was his top priority at all times. This definitely made Vincent mad or annoyed, but Vincent didn't matter. It felt so terrible to think this way, but it was how Gilbert felt in his heart. Vincent didn't matter. Well, he did matter, but not when it came to saving Oz.

If Gilbert had to choose between Vincent and Oz, he'd choose Oz in a heartbeat.

And maybe he was cruel. Maybe he shouldn't think things like this. Maybe he was supposed to be the big brother and tell Vincent he loved him and would always look out for him, instead of obsessing over a boy that everyone said was long gone.

But Gilbert would never accept that Oz was long gone. Even if there was doubt inside him, even if in a tiny part of him he believed it, he could never accept it. Perhaps it would drive him mad someday, but he'd try to rescue Oz forever if he had to. Even if everyone said Oz was gone or dead or anything like that, Gilbert would continue trying to get him back.

Perhaps he was crazy for thinking that way. Perhaps he really should just give up and move on with his life, appreciating that he was a noble instead of a servant now and that his family had more money than he could count. But no, that could never happen, because Gilbert couldn't give up now if he tried, and he wouldn't appreciate anything until he got Oz back.

Oz Vessalius was beautiful. Gilbert had always thought so. Oz was beautiful inside and out. He had flaws like anyone else, and there were certainly parts of him that were messed up and twisted, but Gilbert couldn't care less. He had never seen anything as beautiful as Oz. Oz, who was a precious angel. Gilbert was convinced Oz had come from the heavens themselves.

It hadn't taken long for Gilbert to fall in love with Oz. And that love never waned. It only got stronger the more he was around Oz. The more he was around Oz, the more he longed to be with Oz that way, the one way he could never be with him.

When Oz was dragged into the Abyss, that love remained, but in a different form—it came in the form of Gilbert's anger and depression and fiery determination to get him back. It was a far more destructive form than before, but Gilbert loved Oz.

Gilbert gazed down at the photo he was holding in his hand. It wasn't enough, but it was all he had. It was Oz in all his glory, but Gilbert wanted to see Oz right in front of him. He wanted to be able to touch Oz and hear Oz and see Oz move. This photo wasn't Oz; it was a frozen memory of Oz. And that wasn't enough. But Gilbert couldn't have enough anymore, not until he got Oz back, and who knew how long that would take. So the photo would have to do.

Oz had golden-blonde hair and the brightest, prettiest green eyes. Some considered him to be short for his age. Oz was a very attractive boy, and if he was able to have more time in the public—and hadn't been dragged into the Abyss—Gilbert had no doubt that, when Oz was older, many women would gravitate towards him. In Gilbert's mind, Oz was perfect, and he refused to think otherwise. And he wasn't blind to Oz's flaws—he just thought Oz's imperfections were perfect, too.

Oz had that look about him that made him seem untouched and untainted, an angel made by God himself. And Oz was certainly not untouched or untainted. But Oz was still ethereal and gorgeous and more than Gilbert could ever have asked for in a master.

He didn't deserve him.

Gilbert had never thought he deserved Oz. Someone like him—a nervous wreck, an anxious coward, a weakling, a servant—didn't deserve someone as impossibly dazzling as Oz Vessalius. Sure, he was a noble now, but he was Oz's servant at heart, and his personality hadn't changed—not on the inside. But even he couldn't have Oz, even if he didn't deserve to have Oz, he'd continue loving him until the end of time. Maybe even beyond that.

Gilbert hugged the photo to his chest, broke down, and cried.

…

Gilbert didn't leave his room for the rest of the day, and when night fell, he began thinking about a memory. It happened a long time ago, two years before Oz disappeared. So that would make him…what…twelve? And Oz would have been thirteen.

"Young Master?" Gilbert said quietly. "I really don't think we should do this."

Oz gave his servant a childish glare. "Be quieter! And there's nothing wrong with this—it's just a little prank. Uncle Oscar will be annoyed for a minute, but then he'll love it, I promise you. And don't you think it'll be fun?"

"I don't know about fun…" Gilbert said unsurely. He always got anxious when Oz dragged him into his trouble—and that meant he was almost always anxious.

"Oh, come on. You're no fun, Gil!" Oz pouted and reached for a stack of papers that Oscar had been working on for the past couple of weeks. He hadn't the faintest clue what the papers were or how they were significant to Oscar, but Oz thought it would be a genius prank to steal them, only to give them back after witnessing his uncle's freak-out.

Gilbert gulped. "It's…it's not that, it's just…"

Oz rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. We shouldn't, Uncle Oscar will scold us, blah, blah, blah. Can't you let that go for a second and just enjoy yourself, Gil?"

Gilbert bit his lip. There was no helping it. Besides the fact that he was Oz's servant, there was no stopping Oz once he knew what he wanted to do. Oz was stubborn and determined and Gilbert was definitely not the more dominant of the two of them.

He and Oz slipped quietly out of Oscar's office and went back to Oz's room. Oz hid the papers under his bed, giggling adorably, while Gilbert blushed in unnecessary shame and embarrassment—also adorably.

"Oz and Gil…? Where are you naughty boys hiding?"

Oscar's voice sounded and Oz tried hard to suppress his giggles. He succeeded, but a mischievous smile remained. His servant followed him out of the room as they approached Oscar, who stared down at them with mock suspicion.

"We're right here, Uncle Oscar!" Oz chirped in a voice higher than his normal one.

"What were you doing? I assume nothing good." Oscar was glaring at them, but he was obviously biting back an amused smile. He adored the two boys, and although Oz was his nephew and Gilbert was just a servant, he treated them as his own sons.

"W-we weren't doing anything, Oscar-sama! N-nothing at all…!" Gilbert said breathlessly, stuttering like an anxious fool. Oz let out some more giggles and nudged him. Gilbert flinched and gained a look that suggested he was actually offended.

"Of course you weren't." Oscar replied, the suspicion beginning to creep into his voice. "Would you two boys happen to know where my papers are? I just checked in my office a second ago, and they weren't there." He tried to steady out his glare so that it actually looked real. "Those were important, you know. I've gotten quite a lot done. And I've been working on those papers for a long time."

"Wait, your papers are missing? I wonder what could have happened to them, hmm…" Oz put on his best seriously-thinking look.

"You really don't know where they are?" Oscar leaned down and pinched Oz's cheek.

"I'm not a kid anymore! Why are you still doing that?" Despite his annoyed words, Oz didn't look very bothered. Gilbert sighed internally. Oz could never really be put out during a prank.

Oscar pushed past Oz and Gilbert suddenly, going into Oz's bedroom. Gilbert let out a squeak of nervousness and maybe even a little terror, while Oz said, "No, don't, don't go in there yet…!"

Oscar grinned triumphantly, taking his papers out from under Oz's bed. All of a sudden, Oz began to laugh, as did Oscar. Their joyful laughs rang out, and Gilbert could do nothing but smile uncomfortably beside his master. Never had been one for mischief, Gilbert, but was always dragged into it anyway.

"If you naughty brats keep going down this path of crime, you'll be sucked into the Abyss someday!" Oscar was grinning, his voice joking and happy.

And that threat had worked on Oz and Gilbert once upon a time, but not anymore, because everyone knew the Abyss was just something made for fairy tales and to keep little children in line. So Gilbert continued smiling awkwardly while Oz was thrown into another fit of gleeful laughter.

Who would've known the Abyss was actually real? Gilbert wished that he and Oz and all of those other people had been right in thinking the Abyss was all for stories and making kids behave. He wished that the Abyss really was a made-up place created in some adult's obscure imagination. He wished that the Abyss wasn't a real dimension that warped time and produced demons called Chains, that it wasn't actually capable of sucking people like Oz in.

That threat had once been a joke in both Oz and Gilbert's minds, something foolish and silly—the threat of being dragged into the Abyss. But it was no longer a joke, nor was it foolish and silly. It was the cruel reality the people who knew about the Abyss had desperately tried to keep from their innocent children.

And Gilbert, who had once been one of the innocents, was now far from it. He was undeniably aware of the awful truths the world held, and he might have been one of them himself—that a kind, loving person like him could be easily turned into an assassin and a weapon. But Gilbert, he had a purpose. In the end, he really was still the kind, loving boy he had always been. He only wanted to save the person he loved more than anything. There were always going to be prices. Nothing came for free. The prices for getting Oz back were extreme, he supposed, but they were what he had to pay.

Gilbert recalled what the world was made out to be when you were a child. It was made out to be a place where light always reigned, where you could always tell who was good and who was evil, where every problem and solution was simple. And Gilbert wondered if these glitter-sprinkled lies were any better than just telling the children the truth. Was it really better to lie to the kids by telling them everything was cupcakes and rainbows? Reality was mortifying and dark and not something children were used to hearing, but would it be better if they did? Would they have a better understanding of what the world really was at an earlier age, without being shocked to death once they were older and faced with something their stories didn't prepare them for? Or would they just decide that if the world was evil, they could be, too?

What would he have turned out as if people had told him the truth?

He couldn't even imagine.

Gilbert had been, quite possibly, the very definition of innocence. He had been an otherworldly child who was so spectacular that he might as well have been the representation of purity and virtue. He had been told tales of heroes and villains and love and the triumphs of people who fought for good. Gilbert had never believed he could be a hero. It wasn't who he was—it wasn't his destiny to gain that sort of fame or pride. But he had always taken in the heroes and their motives and personalities and used them as his own base, as something to look up to and follow.

But who were the heroes? What was good? What was evil? When Gilbert had been thrown into the lair of the Nightrays—when his most beloved person in the entire world had been dragged into the Abyss for a sin that didn't seem to exist—everything he thought he knew had been thrown into question. Something told Gilbert that if the boys born and raised by Nightray wanted to hear fairy tales, they'd have to find them themselves.

And what was Gilbert? For sure he would have been on the good side, but now, doing all these horrible things…what was he now? Sure, it was all for a cause, all to save someone he loved dearly, but did this change things?

Gilbert had decided long ago—after Oz disappeared—that none of this mattered. It didn't matter what he was, because he might never figure it out himself. He wanted to save Oz, and he was paying the price.

Gilbert still remembered Oz's vivid green eyes, his exuberant smile.

And Gilbert would be the villain to get that back.