Luciel had been acting strangely pleasant for the last four hours.
He'd wandered around the cabin with a sick smirk planted on his face, announcing something about going scouting around the Mint Eye to see if they could visually find any entrances.
You'd initially brushed your worries away, but when you walked into the kitchen to see Luciel washing your dress, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Luciel...?" Your voice was timid.
"Yes, (Y/N)? Oh," He looked down at the fabric between his hands. "I figured, since we're going out and all, that you should wear your dress. But it was a little dirty, so I washed it!" The redhead flashed you a smile, and you felt yourself step backward.
"Why are you being so..." Creepy. "Friendly to me? I thought you were upset with me?" You bit your lip, unsure of the response you'd get.
"There's no point holding on to the past, wouldn't you agree?" Luciel said, staring at the magenta satin. "Hey, why don't you shower? It's been almost a day since you've come here, so I'm sure you're dying to get clean."
Luciel ushered you out of the kitchen, saying, "Your dress will be dry when you're done, so take your time."
As you stood under the water that poured over your head, though, you couldn't help but feel suspicious. In the time you'd known him, Luciel had gone from cold and blunt at the Mint Eye, to friendly and charming up until you made out with him. He'd been passionate as he kissed you, but had depicted more anger than you'd ever seen in a person when he came charging at you afterward. Then he had grown distant, ignoring you almost as Saeran had, but now he was being friendly again?
You shuddered.
No.
Luciel wasn't being friendly.
He had the same look in his eye that people at the Mint Eye got whenever the Savior promised them something. His golden irises looked darker, no longer shining proudly like a king's crown but glistening darkly, like the diadem of the king's evil brother who was plotting something horrible from the shadows.
You tried to wash the sick feeling in your stomach away, rubbing your body all over with extra soap, trying not to wince as the flavored shampoo came into contact with the cuts that littered your body from when you fell off the ladder.
It's only been sixteen hours since then, but it feels like it's been weeks.
You frowned, staring at your white hair as you lathered shampoo into it. The artificial color was a contrast to your skin, looking unnatural as it clung to your shoulders, wet.
You closed your eyes, pretending for a moment that you were in the Mint Eye. It wasn't hard. The strawberry-scented shampoo that Luciel had thrust into your hands was the exact same type the Savior had asked you to use. The smell brought you back to the Mint Eye, where, you realized, you truly were happy.
It was the night before your second commitment. The night before your life fell apart.
Saeran was dancing with you, pulling you with him as he slowly waltzed with you across the floor.
The two of you were silent, not needing words to communicate when you could let your actions speak for you. Your head rested comfortably into the crook of Saeran's shoulder, and Saeran's loose grip around your waist was all the two of you needed to know that everything was okay.
He took a step back and raised his arm, spinning your body around and then back into him where the two of you resumed what would be your final dance together.
It was a peaceful moment, forever frozen in your mind as the perfect image of happiness. Your bliss, and his, intertwined in such a way that they were one: a snapshot of what life had been for you in the Mint Eye before you had renounced the magenta.
You sighed.
Those days were gone. Long gone.
You took a step backward, turning off the water after double-checking that your whole body was clean. Drying yourself with a fluffy towel, you observed the satin fabric of your dress cautiously as if Luciel had hidden a knife in it, meant to stab you as soon as you put the clothing on.
Finding nothing, you pulled the material over your body, finding the way it fit familiar. Almost comforting. You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a damp and tangled mess, but the rest of you looked as immaculate as you had been in the Mint Eye.
You turned your body and twisted your neck, staring at the tattoo Saeran had placed on your back. You'd never admired it before, but as you stared at it, you realized more and more how even the lines were and how objectively perfect it was.
From the angle you were standing at, you realized that you didn't look like yourself at all. It was as if a filter had been placed over you. Even your untouched skin was faded to a grayed down version of your previous skin color.
A knock broke you from your thoughts. "(Y/N)?" Luciel's sickly sweet voice called. "Are you done in there?"
You opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom while Luciel observed the dress. "Everything looks good...but what about your hair?" He pinched the damp strands. "Do you need a comb? I think Vanderwood has hair ties lying around somewhere here..."
You put a hand up, stopping Luciel. "I can't."
Luciel arched an eyebrow. "You can't what?"
"I can't...do my own hair. In the Mint Eye, it was always either Saeran or the Savior..." You turned away, painfully aware of the subtle question you were asking. Was it too much? Luciel seemed to be in a better mood, but you weren't sure what his triggers were.
The redhead sighed. "Fine, then." He pulled you into his room. "I'll do it for you."
~Timeskip~
The car ride was awkward.
Luciel had originally argued that the only ones who even needed to go scouting were him, V, and you, but Vanderwood was quick to say that he wouldn't let himself be caught dead alone in a cabin with MC. Of course, once it was decided that Vanderwood was going, MC had decided she didn't want to be left behind, so the five of you crammed yourselves into Vanderwood's old car, the four-wheeler bringing you all closer and closer to the Mint Eye.
You brought your thumb to your lips, chewing on your nail.
It was a bad habit you had developed when you were a child, only surfacing when you were nervous. Your nails had grown out nicely in your time in the Mint Eye, you never really needing to worry, but the stress of seeing the building grow close was difficult to cope with.
"Relax, (Y/N)," Luciel murmured, the sick smile present on his face once more. "Everything's going to be over, soon."
"What do you mean?" You regarded his words suspiciously. This was just a scouting trip, right? Why would anything be over?
Luciel didn't respond, the car silent before V instructed Vanderwood to pull over.
"Alright, everyone out," The brunette instructed, stepping out of the car.
Once you were out, you were surprised. "Are we going to split up?"
Luciel shook his head. "We'll wait here."
You didn't question it. Something didn't feel right, but then, when did anything related to the Mint Eye ever feel right? You ignored the pit in your stomach, instead opting to inspect your surroundings.
Vanderwood had pulled over beside a large stone platform, circular with strange carvings inscribed in rings around the center. You bent down and inspected the stone, noting that the carvings looked old, but not old enough to be crumbling.
The Savior must have had this built for the Mint Eye, you realized, recalling how every few months, the Savior would take a group of disciples and bring them outside for a series of rituals. The Savior had confessed to you that this was her favorite place, outside the Mint Eye. She had promised to bring you, once, but you had escaped before she took you.
You pulled your gaze from the stone, looking up to see V and Luciel discussing something in hushed voices by the car. MC had wandered off, and Vanderwood was the only one doing actual reconnaissance work, observing the Mint Eye through binoculars.
You saw him jerk up.
"Someone's coming!" He shouted, drawing the attention of Luciel. "Everyone in the car—dammit, where's MC?!"
You spun your head around frantically searching for her eye-catching blob of brown hair. If someone was this wandering around this close to the Mint Eye, there were very limited options on who it could be.
You sprinted to the car, hoping to get in, only for Luciel to stop you. "Wait," He commanded, his expression hard.
"The fuck are you doing, Luciel? We have a better chance of finding MC if we prepare ourselves and all get in the ca-" Vanderwood was all over the place, gesturing madly, and practically shouting whilst the redhead in front of him remained calm.
"Who did you see, Vanderwood?" Luciel asked, his words slow.
"That's what you care about?!" Vanderwood took a step toward Luciel, readying his hand to punch the younger agent.
You bit your lip, concerned for what would happen between the two when everyone halted, hearing a voice.
"He saw me."
You felt a quiver run down your spine, your bare back already chilly but now seeming to freeze as you felt a shiver of fear ripple through your very bones. The Savior, you realized, fearful. You stood rooted to the spot, and no one seemed to speak until the same voice called out once more, much closer now.
"Are the arrangements ready, V?"
You didn't move, but your eyes darted to V, where you stared at the man in horror. Arrangements? Had he known that the Savior would come here? Is that why he had Vanderwood stop?
"They are." Luciel said, answering the question for V. "You take (Y/N), we get Saeran."
Your eyes widened as you realized what had put Luciel in such a good mood this morning. It was an exchange. You realized bitterly, hating yourself for not seeing the truth sooner. I should have known.
"Of course, of course, but keep your voice down. I haven't told Saeran, yet. And by the look on (Y/N)'s face, it would seem you didn't inform her, either." The Savior said, her voice now directly behind you.
You pulled on the car door once more, hoping that it would open, or that you could pull the door out and use it to shield yourself from whatever horrors the Savior was going to force you through, but the only thing that happened was a firm grip finding itself on your arm.
You were afraid to look down, as if seeing the hand around your wrist would make it more real. Instinctively, though, you knew who it was. After so many years with him, how could you not know the feel of his hand?
"Saeran?" You asked, turning around to meet the eyes of the boy you had once loved so much.
He hardly responded, though, the mint green of his eyes dulled by his blank expression. He pulled you backward, and unlike the touch of anyone else, you found yourself unable to hold back as he led you to the Savior.
She stared at you, the smile you were used to seeing on her lips no longer present. Instead, she rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm trading Saeran for a weakling like you," She scowled. "But it's okay, (Y/N). This will make you strong. Strong like me. Do you know what it was that made me strong?" The Savior asked.
You didn't respond, not wanting to hear another word from her lips, but she answered the question herself.
"It wasn't enough that the man I loved told me he didn't want me anymore. It was only when he showed me that I realized the truth. And that, my sweetling," Rika cooed, pulling at a loose strand of hair from Luciel's hairstyle on you, "Is what will make you strong as well."
The Savior forced you to your knees.
You wondered, numbly, what she was going to do to you.
What more pain could she force you to endure that you hadn't handled already? You watched, distant, as she crossed her arms and spoke with Luciel and V. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Vanderwood shaking Luciel, shouting at the boy, but for some reason, their words were inaudible to your ears.
They were yelling, shouting, practically screaming at each other. But the sounds were nothing but distant noises on your ears, your entire body focused on Saeran, and where he went.
And why he came back holding MC's hand.
He stared at the girl with loving eyes, his expression not blank the way it was when he stared at you but instead filled with affection. Is this what the Savior wanted me to see? You wondered, unable to help the scowl that formed on your face as you watched the two with envy. Saeran and MC, together, happy?
You pried your eyes away from the pair, gazing back at the Savior. Or did she want me to think about how, after this exchange, Saeran and MC are going to make out on the same couch I kissed Luciel?
You tried to shut your mind off, hating the very thought. You focused on the Savior's words, as she forced MC to her knees next to you and handed something to Saeran.
Pulling yourself from your daze, you forced yourself to listen.
"Choose, Saeran." She murmured, while Luciel watched from the side.
You made eye-contact with Vanderwood, who, for the first time, was unable to hold your gaze, crossing his arms and looking away. Even V, whom you had learned to be a voice of reason and ration, couldn't bear to watch.
"You know what this injection does," You heard Rika's voice continue. "And you know what will happen to whomever you pick. So, who will it be, Saeran? (Y/N)? Or MC?"
You dropped your gaze to the large syringe in Saeran's hands, noting the color. The same color as the Elixir of Salvation, you realized with a start. It's going to be injected into the bloodstream? You felt your heart palpitate at the very thought.
The Savior smiled at you, her expression cold as you understood the decision she was forcing Saeran to make.
Whoever he chose would enter a world of pain. No, not a world, an ultra-concentrated high-density galaxy of truly unendurable agony. You felt your heart beat faster, your eyes darting back and forth between the Savior's cruel smirk, Vanderwood, who was being held back by V, and Saeran, who was walking forward.
You and MC sat kneeling next to each other, barely a foot apart. Despite that, you knew as soon as Saeran took a step forward that he was heading toward you, not her.
You heard MC begging for Saeran not to do it to her, that she loved him and that she wouldn't do it to him. You opened your mouth, wondering if begging would save you for at least a minute longer, but you couldn't bring yourself to utter a single word as Saeran looked at you.
For the first time, his expression wasn't blank. Or angry. Or bored.
As he stared at you, whispering, "I'm sorry," you saw the look in his eyes: pure sorrow and remorse; but no regret.
That expression was the last thing you saw before Saeran plunged the needle into your neck, a new level of pain entering your body through your neck, spreading all over with no way of escaping.
Word count: 2.8k
Notes: Blehh I just got back from the conference today and I didn't do too well. I won an award but I feel like I could have done so much better if I'd prepared more and made some different choices. On the flip side - I have a renewed sense of motivation to do even better so that'll definitely pull me through this! :)
Comment & Favorite
Next Update: 2/20/20
I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.
