Disclaimer: Death note is owned by Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi. I own the OC.

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July 7, 2008

Author's notes: The reviews have truly delighted me, domo arigatou everyone! (wide grin) It pleases me to know that you have enjoyed what I considered to be a passing whim, and the reception is all I needed to know that I should continue onwards. Meanwhile, I will try to live up to your expectations while enjoying myself at the same time. Kambate! let's all have fun! ;D

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Chapter Summary: Near takes the first step to disprove his own self… With Near's sudden thoughts concerning his own future and the contradiction of his beliefs, he has now decided that he must be capable of living all by himself without anybody's help in order to prove the thoughts—or rather, himself, wrong. Whatever caused the thought to come alive didn't matter at the very least, because he was determined to win. Seeking the help of a trusted acquaintance, Near knows just what he has to do to earn his victory…

Half broken memories

A fiction created by Hideki Tensei

Chapter 2:

Greetings

April 24, 2013

A day after the commencement of the investigation with the Russian research institute, Near boarded the private jet owned by the Wammy's and took the flight to England.

07:13 am

-Inside the private jet-

As Near watched the drifting puffs of cloud rolling past outside his window, he was certain Roger was the only one he could count on for this problem.

Since all the SPK members were already booked for the investigation by the time the thought assaulted him, they were out of reach at this point. And it was suicide to call them back for the sake of asking them to handle this "problem". It was obviously personal… That compared to the dire situation of the case, the case weighed far more. Besides, the scope of the SPK's duty stretched only until work. Near knew it must never be mixed with his own issues.

And so far, this was the first time he had encountered a personal problem of this magnitude.

It felt like an obligation to solve it first hand, like learning to tie his shoe laces before walking. And it had to be taken cared of before he did stepped in deep to solve the case. At this rate, with his mind's rigid defenses broken down and vulnerable, he had to set grounds where he could still stand and face himself without knowing he failed, and having that failure chase after his waking moments.

Details and instructions were already given to the members, along with reporting immediately after they have gathered crucial information.

It was the least he could do. Because, right now, he had pressing issues to handle with himself first. If he doesn't take care of this before anything, he doubt he would be able to think straight with the new thought taking over his mind every once in a while, reminding him just how self-reliant he is. That wouldn't be too good for the outcome of the case.

08:15 am

-The Wammy's House-

Winchester, England

It was an ordinary day in the orphanage. On a Saturday like this, the orphans were given all the free time of their lives to play outside and do everything they want, so it was especially noisy outside.

Inside its walls however, in Roger's office, the distractions outside didn't seem the least to bother the old man, who was currently worked up with the news he received just that morning. The tension was high in the air, constricting it with an underlying sense of panic and anxiety.

News of Near's upcoming arrival was immediately connected to Roger, the new director of the orphanage, much to his alarm.

"Near is coming this morning?!" he rasped at the agent who brought him the news, staring at him wide-eyed .

"Yes." the stocky-built agent replied, unperturbed, "The private jet was used without notice early this morning at around 4 am. The plane is scheduled to arrive at 6am, today."

Roger hastily glanced at his watch, then cried out loud in shock, "It's 8:15! He should be here—"

Without further warning, the door creaked open and in came Near, dressed in his usual attire of white long sleeves and trousers, except that he had a denim jacket on. He took this off sluggishly, to which the agent nearby readily received and hanged on the coat hanger.

Roger could only stare at the visitor.

The least he expected was for Near, L's successor, to come and pay a very abrupt and uncalled visit to the orphanage.

He always dreaded it when he receives abrupt news; just like the report of L's death. It was made via cell phone, and it had bothered him until now. L didn't show his face much in the orphanage so he was pretty much considered to be physically absent but mentally present, like he can keep tract of the people inside the orphanage even when they don't see him. It was amazing but the fact is, Roger felt creepy about it. L's death had hit him like an impact, and from then on, any abrupt news he received regarding the geniuses made him pale. It probably had to do with his dislike of kids.

It didn't help that Near was suddenly back here after a long time. And to add to his appall, the young man didn't inform him of coming and just stepped in lightly like he was some guest. Good lord, but he was Near! L's successor! His mere appearance could give him a heart attack; at least he should have some care! Didn't he know he was about to consider him dead after being gone for so long, only to return? Young men these days…

But maybe... something was afoot to make him come like this so unannounced.

"I came to discuss about my future." Near said as though in answer, his tone physically blank and emotionless.

Roger, feeling like a giant gong was just banged in his head, had time to show his feelings of shock and bewilderment combined, "…C-Come again? I'm afraid… I don't understand what you mean…" he said narrowly, afraid more than confused what he might say will change Near's next words.

Years of dealing with delinquents made him keen to these kinds of implications, and he knew the moment Near asked what it is he wanted and stalled for an excuse.

As if it could do anything. Roger hated to accept what it is he was thinking, but the young genius said it anyway.

"My future. I want to create a stable future." patiently, Near explained. Although his voice was as blunt as ever, the faint hint of annoyance was jarring its surface, to which the old man noticed.

But instead, he refused to acknowledge the implication. "…For the SPK members? I understand. Insurances were already handed out to their families and their bank accounts, not to worry." he didn't realize he was already rambling.

Near stared at him, his expression edging near annoyance.

Roger, noticing this, felt a tired sigh escape his lips; it was no use. Near knew he knows. Of course. If possible, he would even accept the fact that the 22 year old lad already knew what he was thinking. He sighed again, adjusted his eyeglasses, and uttered, "You mean your future?" he said quietly.

Near nodded.

Momentary silence met his gesture. Roger tried to pick up the pieces of himself while thinking hard…

L's successor had just proclaimed he wants his own future. Even L had not done that.

But Near is not L. If they were the same in many ways, this one aspect made them different, he thought.

The director of the orphanage knew the obvious truth behind the "future" he wanted, but instead asked, "Do you want to choose a successor?" trying to play dumb and not knowing what he wants. If there was still chance to change his thinking, he would take it. Roger cannot believe the orphanage's protocols would have to be overrun by him and tried again.

But Near, unshaken and wholly determined, shrug his head firmly, "No. I want to secure my own future… By learning what I don't know." he concluded.

From the corner of the room, it was a good thing the agent had shades on so his expression can't be seen. Except for the twitching of the corners of his lips and the bridge of his nose, he looked as impassive as ever…which was good, the old man thought. This conversation was turning more personal by the moment. Near didn't seem the least to notice it.

Roger, however, had a greater reaction. He had arched his graying eyebrows at the young prodigy, at last accepting his answer as his final decision.

"Are you certain of this, Near? …Do you wish to abandon detective work?" he nearly whispered at him.

"Yes." No hesitancy there. Not even a pause of uncertainty or doubt. None... Near knew what he was talking about.

He was serious.

Near sure as hell was determined to "secure his future"… He should have known the lad would not say anything he was not sure of. He knew he had no choice but to abide. Policy rules.

"Alright then." He sighed wearily, "If that is what you wish… What do you want for your future?" his tone had now switched from callous to that of a counselor. The person he's talking to is still a growing up orphan, and as the director and adviser of the orphanage, it was his task to be of help and guidance to his subordinates and herd them in the right path.

Now it was Near's turn to be silent. He couldn't think of an answer. What did he want for himself?

Throughout the years, all he ever wanted to do was solve puzzles and mysteries out of pure whim and hobby, but choosing those for a future isn't too clever. He has to think of something concrete, something that would allow him survival if he's left on his own…

"…I want to…learn everything I can." he finally said, the first traces of emotion in his voice, "I don't know dealing with people or cooking a meal for myself." he said bluntly, remembering L's love for sweet foods. If he doesn't know how to cook, how will he eat? The fact decided for him.

"I need to be taught." He finally said, his straight-forward voice was without any sign of shame.

Standing here before me is a man who is not afraid to tell his misgivings, the director thought. How Near had changed..! But why? He could only guess…and help.

"Hm, you want to be taught? Very well…" Roger reached for the telephone on his desk and began to dial when he paused and looked back at Near. He couldn't help noticing he was already grown up and past his teens… Near was already 22 years old and for all those years of having known the lad, Roger still cannot tell what was going on in his mind. Yet, there was something about him right now faintly reminded him of a child yet to step outside the world and make himself known.

They talked of his future, his social status, and what to do with his life like a counselor to a patient. He discussed these things normally, whereas a man of his age and equivalent social knowledge would be very embarrassed and ashamed. It just tells how much Near needed to learn, and Roger was suddenly determined to help him. It was his job.

"Do you truly wish for this Near?" Roger inquired one last time. He has to be sure, and if it would help, he will ask him again just to make sure he wasn't having any doubts. But Near knew what he wanted.

"Yes." The same answer was filled with conviction, stronger than before, "I wish to be taught." The words were clear and firm. If he had any doubts, he would have seen through it.

The old man sighed, "Very well…" dialing numbers on the phone, he waited then after a few moments was answered. His expression was gay and bright as he exchanged friendly amenities and agreements with the other end, looking every bit like he was enjoying every moment. At that point, Near concluded he must be talking to someone he was very well acquainted with…which was probably good. It would make the transaction a lot easier.

And as the director of the orphanage replaced the handle of the ancient phone back to its receiver, Roger had already hired the best teacher in socials, economy, livelihood, business, health and every other field imaginable.

"The instructor will be arriving in a few moments after I have arranged the private jet to fetch her. You can take this time to think about your decision, Near." The old man tried to persuade him again.

But Near was undaunted. His decision was final and irrevocable. "I have already made my decision. I'm going to learn." He said firmly, then left by the double doors.

Roger sighed wearily again as he sat on his seat. This meeting had thoroughly depleted him, he was almost keen to believe that he was aging by the moment.

--

11:09 am

-inside Wammy's House, waiting room-

The clock ticked by, silently echoing around the empty waiting room. Outside the windows, the Wammy's House was filled with the vibrant laughter of the children as they play tag and hide-and-seek. Each year, the orphanage always brings in new child prodigies to breed so it never seemed to run out of merry and playful inhabitants.

There were no idle moments in the orphanage. Except for those few who yearned for their own solitude, the orphanage was actually a very conducive place to learn and grow. Roger had undoubtedly been a fitting replacement of Quillsh Wammy throughout the years. Testimony of his enhancements was apparent even on the grounds and maintenance of the orphanage.

He was a good man, Near knew. But he was too reluctant for comfort.

Near can understand why he reacted so. L's successors were not reserved with a future of their own, he realized. The task expected of them was to carry on L's job and goals, not to think about anything else.

But Near had a more pressing issue right now. He was on a mission to quell the voices in his mind which was already driving him nuts. Because his own self was contradicting the beliefs he had held on for most of his life. He had to prove it wrong—prove to himself that he can live on his own.

Only then can he ever hope to return to his usual way of living…

That is, if he can survive through this.

Near glanced at the polished grandfather clock sitting on the corner of the room; its hands revealed 11:09 in the morning. Roger told him the instructor was supposed to arrive at 11am, but why weren't they here? The first strings of annoyance were starting to fray on his humble self.

--

11:00 am

-outside the orphanage, entrance-

The gate of the Wammy's House opened wide to welcome the black limousine which careened into its gravel pathways along the entrance and stopped in front of the mansion.

After a moment, the elegant doors of the limousine out front opened and out stepped a pair of high heeled austere executive shoes along with a matching pair of white stockings. The owner of the shoes stood up fully outside, her whole dress immediately unruffled and elegant, adjusted her fedora demurely, then held her bag on her other hand while scanning the entire length of the Wammy's House with a practiced eye and a professional smile on her pretty face.

"Don't you think this is just lovely, Vera?"

From the other side of the limousine emerged another woman, tall and elegant in her attire of cerulean and navy green two piece suit. She seemed dazed and disoriented as she watched the other woman, then glanced at the mansion.

The abrupt call and long travel had clearly taken its toll on her. She squint her emerald eyes to take a good long look at the structure as it was basked by the rays of the sun.

It was a beautiful sight to behold. The golden light had magnificently captured the reflection of colors from the tall antique windows, seeming to bring it back to time. The walls, although old, had a dwelling look of a castle serenaded by hundreds of colors which the sunlight had provided. Overall, an ordinary passerby would have been enthralled.

But not her. She kept her standards erroneously high.

"Perhaps." She said dismissively in a heavy British accent, turning to glance at the playgrounds on the far corner where the children played. The gravel floor was covered with dried leaves, the iron bars and see-saw rusty and shabby from years of continuous use, and the once bright cornflower paint on it had chipped off in some areas and dulled into the color of wheat. But the children didn't seem to mind as they happily played along.

It irked Vera Nieve Rothschild in some unfathomable way though.

"How can they be so happy with those kinds of playthings?" she thought.

"Vien, you're frowning. That's not good for a first impression, you know." reminded the woman who was dressed extravagantly.

Sighing, Vera shook her pert little head, "Anne, will you look carefully? It is this very environment which allows children to go along living in a carefree place with no one to guide them, making them grow up spoiled and uncultured. Their parents are gone, who do you think guides them around here?" she asked, rather mildly speculatively.

"Why, Roger Ruvie of course." Anne Beaumont piped in, meanwhile taking out the lacy fan on her bag and fanning herself daintily, "Sir Roger is a very kind and industrious man. He may be old and timid but he manages this orphanage very well." her tone was proud, to an extent.

Vera didn't mind her. She glanced at the mansion that was the Wammy's House once more, her finely curved brow arched in an unreadable expression. Annoyance? Disdain? It was hard to tell. Her stately background defining the way she sees things, this structure and environment wasn't enough in her eyes.

Before anything though, the mansion doors opened and out stepped Roger, wearing formal attire and appearing honorable in his stature. When he saw the ladies, a wrinkly smile lit up his face and seemed to lie about his old age. He came up to them with arms extended.

"Welcome! Pleasant greetings for coming all the way here in this orphanage. I'm confident the ride wasn't too rough for you?"

"No, not at all, Sir Roger." Anne was quick enough to put in, "Lady Vera here is fine as hay, weren't you Vien?

The woman looked at her companion's bright, shining eyes then understood. "…Yes."

"That is very well then!" he piped in with enthusiasm, "I can give you a short tour of the orphanage if you ladies aren't too exhausted. You might as well be acquainted with this place, don't you agree?"

"Certainly, Sir Roger." The lady beamed back a radiant smile, meanwhile hooking her arm to Vera's elbow to move her along. It was more of an effort to cover her unwillingness.

--

11:10 am

-Wammy's House, waiting room-

Near looked outside the windows, observing. Ten minutes had past since he glanced outside, and still, there doesn't seem to be any signs of visitors… until his sight drifted towards the entrance.

There in front, a limousine was parked. Its stark ebony color seemed to penetrate through the windows, and under the bright glare of the morning sun, it appeared harsh.

Why hadn't he noticed it before?

Near stared at the vehicle as though it were alien in his eyes, his heart suddenly pounding very loud in his ears. They had already arrived then, and right on time. He glanced at the double doors of the waiting room; any moment now and they will go through those doors.

The thought, although it did not make him panic, brought a tiny shred of uncertainty in his consciousness. To Near who was nearly unfeeling in anything about himself, this certainly was a marked improvement.

What will he do in their presence? This meeting was specifically made for him. For him! He will be dealing with people who did not concern cases or will solve help him solve the puzzle. They were ordinary people out to teach him. The thought made him unpleasantly damp.

There were a number of puzzle pieces and action figure toys lying on the far corner of the room where he usually leaves it. Resisting a maddening urge to go to the corner and pick up and meddle with his old hobbies, Near contented himself by repeatedly playing with a lock of his silver hair, trying to detach his attention from the objects of interest and focus outside the window. For good measure, he even dragged a big armchair from the sofa set, faced it towards the window and sat there in his usual way while twirling his hair.

It would be ridiculous to go back and play with his toys again, not when he accepted this decision whole-heartedly and admitted into rehabilitating himself willingly. He has to content with working with his mind for critical thinking process, and that alone.

To do anything else that would bring him back is like admitting that he had lost to his own self.

And that's something he will never allow.

Determined more than ever to see the end of this, Near sat, and waited. From outside the doors, different tones of voices resounded along the hallway.

--

-Outside the waiting room-

"So Roger, who is it you wanted me to teach? And what, exactly, do I teach him or her?" Anne inquired, rather off-handedly, glancing Vera's way every now and then. Vera stood by the corner, listening.

Roger stared at the woman and tried to smile good-naturedly, "Lady Anne, I'm afraid I cannot deal with specifics right now… You see, the client would prefer to have his decision regarding this. I think you should ask him." he ended timidly.

You should ask him

The way he said it made Anne wonder what kind of client she was going to encounter. If anything, Roger appears uncertain of hiring her in the first place. And what's with that tour? The old man had given them a "short" yet most thorough tour around the orphanage, showing them each of the quarters of the orphans, the wide dining and living rooms, the bathrooms, the servant's quarters, the outdoor gardens and other places given only in tours. He even showed them the guest rooms as though they had an untold intention to take lodge in the mansion.

This was starting to look like those horror movies she had seen of late, where the lady gets trapped in a haunted mansion and gets devoured by the beasts living there…

Well, enough with these thoughts. They can't be true, of course. Anne knew Roger as though she grew up alongside him, and through the years, they have become good acquaintances enough to ensure her that she was in good hands. This client may be mysterious but aren't they all? Wammy's House was offering the best salary pay she had ever encountered in all her hiring life that she couldn't possibly pass this up. They were doing good business here.

"Very well. But we keep talking about the client and I haven't taken a glimpse of…him, yet." The woman cleared suggestively, "Where is he, may I inquire?" her tone was innocent enough. She was eager to know what this client looked like—enough for the orphanage to be agreeable enough to pay her a very decent amount in behalf of his teaching.

"To hire private tutoring as soon as possible when he could've gone to school and learn… He must be the secret heir of a duke or the king to be kept in private like this…" she thought, her mind immediately procuring images of handsome and gallant knights in shining armor and dining on silver plates while courting ladies.

"Yes, you haven't. He is in the waiting room, right this way, ladies…" Roger motioned for them to follow him and finally led them to a closed door at the middle of the carpeted hallway. Then he stood beside it and waited.

"You're not coming?" again, Anne had to wonder why the old man seemed so timid and reluctant with this hiring.

"I'm afraid not..." he sighed, "The client will be taking over from here on. I will come back later to see to it that everything is in order."

That seemed to relax both of them.

"Good. Then what are we waiting for? Let's go, Vera. Our client is waiting."

--

The wide waiting room was lined with tall windows facing the morning sun, and the heavy curtains draped only half of it so the sun was pouring in cheerily. Facing one of the windows, an armchair was placed, and sitting on it was the client. No doubt.

At first, with the bright glare of the light facing them as they opened the door, they could only see the client sitting on a high armchair with their back to him. But a longer look showed something else.

From the tips of his silver, curly hair showing through the head of the armchair, Anne instantly concluded it was an old man. The sudden realization appalled her. In that span of time as they walked in and saw the client's back, she had time to be disappointed.

"And here I was thinking of a boy or a young man, not someone old enough to be my grandfather… I think I'll be having a difficult time dealing with this." she thought.

She was an unusually flirty young woman, always preferring to be surrounded by young men and flaunting her beauty whenever they were around. The thought of teaching a possibly retarded and disease-ridden wrinkly and senile old man made all her defenses crumble, and as much as she wanted the high salary, she was tempted to decline. She had never felt more insulted in all her life.

"I think I'll be heading for the rest room now…" she blurted as though extremely nauseated and dashed towards the open door outside and swung it shut without another word to Vera, who stood staring after her departing.

Vera looked at the door, then to where the client was sitting.

The silence permeating inside the room seemed endless, she nearly wish she had left just like Anne. The client seemed to have reached the end of his old life.

"Sit down." a command suddenly issued from the sitting client, so abrupt that it threw her off.

That voice…

It sounded old yet full of authority and confidence she had no right to deny.

Vera walked over to the long couch at the corner of the room, right next to the high armchair, meanwhile taking furtive glances at the client's back. From her viewpoint, it was hopeless to see anything that would reveal his face, so she did as was told and sat meekly.

After a while, the silence returned, but it was short-lived when the client talked again, almost imposingly this time.

"How should I address you?"

Once again, she was baffled at the turn of events. But she felt no alternative but consent.

"Vera… Lady Vien if you wish. You are…?"she asked tentatively but was immediately cut off.

"You may reserve your questions at the end. Right now, you have to obey me. No questions asked." the curt reply came, and then added, as though an after thought, "My true name doesn't matter." the impossibly full yet mysteriously cold voice spoke, then commanded again, "Sit on the couch facing the wall."

Vera did as she was told. No sooner did she do this when a blindfold was abruptly slipped over her eyes from behind. From that point, when all her reflexes screamed to remove the blindfold that was so unceremoniously and callously placed over her eyes and of which insulted her very dignity, she resisted after much effort, and instead remembered the client should have—no, must have a reason to behave like this… Based on what she has heard, there should be something behind this action, although every instinct in her rejected it and labeled it as suspicious.

God, but it sure was irritating just allowing him to place blindfolds like that… and to a lady like her! Even keeping up with the fact that she had willingly allowed the blindfold on must make her seem pretty submissive.

Oh right, that's just cool. Our little auntie Vera came to play. hum. She sighed or inhaled in an effort to still herself.

This old man was certainly unruly... Vera almost envied her companion Anne for having escaped this puny, senile game.

But, even though she considered the behavior to be very child-like to be appropriate and utterly discourteous for her taste, she chose to be silent and abide willingly. She wasn't about to throw her efforts to the fire just because some—old man with the bearings of a mischievous kid was playing tricks on her. Even if that might sound repulsive in itself… After all, she had no idea what to expect from him.

But by following him while he controlled the leash, she was subjected to feel the first strings of suspicion and something she had not bargained for: panic. It was all becoming a one-way trip to uncertainty, but right now, she has no choice but follow. After all, she did all this and nothing had happened to her, right?

Nothing yet, so far.

"In front of you is a low coffee table. Feel for it and you will find a paper bag lying there." the voice narrated.

Feeling stranger by the moment, Vera felt her irk and fear growing bitterly, the voice starting to sound like a thief robbing her of something unknown. She felt for the table in front of her and sure enough, her hands touched the crinkly surface of the paper bag. Instantly, she involuntarily withdrew back her hand as though she had touched something unpleasant and immediately regretted her action. The client didn't seem to notice, however.

"Now, reached into the bag." again, the affirmative voice allowed no room for refusal.

Curse him for being so commanding! Whoever he was, Vera was sure she'll give him a word or two after he had laughed his ass off due to her ridiculous escapades. And to the director of the orphanage, for that matter. At the very least, she had found a reason to reprimand Roger and how the teachings and guidance they were giving were inappropriate and severely inadequate.

But right now, she felt herself submitting. Slowly, almost with repulsion, she inserted her hand gingerly inside the bag, half-expecting to feel the rough, clammy skin of a cockroach, worm, lizard or tarantula… which would've been okay. She had developed immunity against the critters, it didn't frighten her. But to her shock, her fingers slid across a cold, metal surface…

The blood drained out of Vera Rothschild's face when she felt familiarity flush over her whole self as her hands examined and closed in on the metal object: it was a hand-cuff.

"Take out the hand-cuffs." the voice commanded again, this time sounding like the voice of an evil man who knew exactly what he was doing.

From this point on, Vera knew the game had turned. She wasn't playing with a senile old man with the mind of a kid.

This was worst.

Earlier, the panic she felt was a tiny, piece of deadly substance that now grew to devastating lengths, threatening to overcome her. But she held on long enough, stay and listen to his next order. To her grim premonition, she had an idea what it would be.

"Get the hand-cuffs… and lock your hands in it."

Now, it was in this moment of struggle with her own hold as her logic told her it was not yet too late to cry out for help and take out the blindfold, rush outside the door and ran like mad. That she can still save her dignity and return to the way it was. That she can live her normal life without caring for her brother who was stupid enough to do the things he did and dump this old man who was playing tricks and making her look like a fool. For all she knew, he could be a homicidal psycho with intents to do something malicious to her. She had seen enough of it during her travels.


There were always times when Vera had chosen to be submissive and impassive to the things happening around her. Her wealthy and very successful family was enough testimony of her well cultivated personality and impeccable manners. She was always willing to be the underdog, as long as she can have her way in the end.

Yes, she loved to gain the upper-hand of situations if it would benefit and please her. It didn't matter what she did to acquire it, just so she has it in the end.

Now the moment has come to determine the extent to which she would follow orders. Locking herself in cuffs would mean not being able to do what she wants, and that means forfeiting any upper-hand situations she has left of escaping… then the only choice left would be to follow this man's every order.

A great risk. She was putting her whole self on the line, entrusting herself with the judgment of this man she never knew and had never set her eyes on.

But for her goals, it was worth the try.

There was something about this man… it was hard to put her finger on it, but she felt like she trusted him to some extent. Despite the fact that he acted every bit like a crazed psychopath, the tone in his voice reminded her of someone who was confident in giving orders because it was right. That's what made her go through all this, she realized.

It was the only thing that held her on long enough, so, submitting all her beliefs to this man, she knew she have to do it.

Exhaling deeply, Vera focused her hands, placed the cuffs in an upright position, then put her left hand into the semi-circle arc. With the other trembling hand, she picked the other end of the cuff and latch in the lock.

click click

The latch remained unlocked as though it was too loose to fit in. She tried again, to no avail.

Then it that split second, she realized it was not meant to be locked. This man intended it all.

When the client saw she had done as she was told till the end, a contented smile graced the corners of his lips. A rare smile, if one counted the times he ever revealed it in front of other people, especially strangers.

"Good. I'm glad to know you can follow orders, Lady Vien." Near said with a drawl that was strangely demure despite its freezing quality.

"Now we can formally start." he grinned.

--

End notes: So, the long chapter ends here. I will be revealing additional information regarding these lady visitors next chapter, which will probably be due in a week...or so. ;D

Please review!