Luke sat in a servant s room at the Von Fabre mansion. The war was over, Van had been defeated. Asch had survived, and was now living with them at the manor. However, there were changes in the Von Fabre mansion. Asch had replaced him as Luke von Fabre. Luke was now either you , it , replica or thing . He would smile politely and would walk away, but deep inside, he wanted to cry. He hadn t done anything. He didn t ask to be a replica. Van had made him. Why didn t anyone understand that?

Asch was living a wonderful life. Today was his birthday. The entire manor was decorated lavishly. The Duke and the Duchess had made a big fuss about it since they had not had the chance to celebrate his birthday properly for the last seven years. Of course, as usual, Luke was left out in the preparation, and he naturally assumed that he was not invited to the party and the grand feast that was to follow. No one would invite the person who ruined his son s life to his birthday fest.

Luke sighed and ran a finger through his long hair. He d gone to Jade and asked him to help him grow it back using specific Fonic hymns. Jade had grown it back in an instant. It was what reminded him that he was his own person, not a copy.
A light knock on his door broke his train of thought. Sighing, he rose and walked to the door. Hesitantly, he opened the door, hoping to find one of his old friends. When the door opened fully, his smile disappeared. In front of him stood a servant, holding what looked to be a set of black clothes; boots and a black sack that hung over his left shoulder.
The blue haired, black eyed servant strode into the room and dropped all the contents in his arms onto the bed. Luke watched curiously as he pulled out a long scabbard and sword. The hilt was small and delicate, made in a black metal. The blade was thin and was long, made of the same metal as the hilt. Engraved on the sword in lighter, silver metal were words he could not decipher, yet looked to be a verse of some sort.

The servant turned to face him.

"Luke-sama, the Duke has hatched a plan to kill you, as Asch is uncomfortable in your presence," he said. "Luke-sama, as I believe that you are innocent, I have decided to help you escape."

Luke was stunned. His own father was going to kill him, just because Asch felt irritated at his being? What had pushed the Duke so far as to order his death?

"Impossible."

"No, Luke-sama. The Duke had been planning from the start to kill you, but Princess Natalia begged in your favor." He said. "I have brought you everything that you will need in your journey. Please Luke-sama, escape now. He will come after you during the fest; no one will notice your absence."

Luke sighed. It wasn t as if anyone noticed his presence.
He looked at the clothes that the servant had brought him, and then looked toward the servant. Luke nodded, he still wanted to live. Luke didn t think that his death would bring back the first seven years of Asch s life.
The replica stripped down to his boxers as he watched the servant take black legging from the pile of clothes that he had brought with him. Luke took the skin tight, black leggings and proceeded to tug them up his legs. When they secured in place, the servant handed him a plain black t shirt, with a low V-neck. Luke put it over his head and pulled it down, finding that the shirt too, was nearly skin tight, yet not as fitting as the leggings. He was handed a black long coat. There was a hood, to cover his face. The hands were long and only the tips of his fingertips could be seen.

"Luke-sama, it is best that you continue to wear those gloves. Handling this sword is nothing similar to the old sword which you carried."

Luke nodded and pulled the coat in over his head. The only hole was for his head and for his arms to fit into the long sleeves. It was neither open in the front neither in the back.

The only way anyone could wear it was if they slipped it on from their head. At the end of the coat, which reached his knees, there was a small chain attached to a small, metal edged hole. It looped around a hole with a metal edge in the right-center of the coat. The chain went from the right-centered hole to the hole at the bottom.

Luke looked at the servant questioningly.

"Ah, that is no design. You must find its true meaning by yourself, Luke-sama. I wish you the best of luck." The servant sighed." I wish it wasn t so Luke-sama, but it is."

Finally, the replica pulled on two, knee high boots with four, one inch, evenly spaced, sliver buckles on the outer side of each boot. The boots were firm on his feet and were thin, with soft, sound- absorbing bottoms. He walked a bit with the boots to try it out and approached the bed. His eyes fell on the black bag.

Luke grabbed the black bag and pulled the drawstring open. Inside was packaged bread, a bottle of water, a blanket and some matches. Luke nodded his thanks. Grabbing his new sword and the scabbard, he slid the sword in and attached the scabbard to his waist, underneath the coat. The servant handed him another smaller blade, which was fixed inside the sleeve of his right arm. He only needed to flick his arm and the small blade would push itself out of the firm pocket in his sleeve.
The servant clapped his hands and Luke turned to see him holding papers in his hand. Confused, Luke took the papers from him and began to riffle through them.

"Luke-sama, I had papers made for you. Not forged ones, but real ones. You cannot survive if you were to be called Luke. I have registered only your first name. Whether you want to change your name or not is up to you." , he spoke, looking proud of himself.

The red-head went through the papers until he saw the papers of his personal details. His name was to be Dio, aged 19. Orphaned at year 4. Luke winced as he read through the rest of his papers; his past as written by the servant was pathetic, and very dramatic.

He muttered a soft thank you and put the papers inside the file and put the file carefully into the black, drawstring bag. He put the bag over one shoulder and strode to the window. With one last look at the servant who had helped him, he jumped from the window sill. Luke ran, faster than he had ever run in his entire life. Just as he jumped the walls of the mansion, the servants head rolled past the door of his old room, the eyes of the poor boy opened wide in fright.