Chapter 20: Never After (part 1)

Illumi noticed the way Psyche tensed as he effortlessly spoke her brother's name without hesitation or remorse. Her twin brother Eros and his death. He noticed the way she guarded herself, softening that quiet joyful smile he'd grown affectionate towards as it molded into one of wariness and trepidation. He was blunt, it was the only way to grasp what needed to be pried away from the dark. He could never claim to read minds, but he could easily read the signs. Her eyes—they revealed everything. A cruel satisfaction grew within him, confirming his own beliefs. Psyche's eyes dilated softly, barely noticeable, but behind them he gauged an emotion that threatened to have her run from the savage truth confronting her. Fear, cautionary and primal. She has something to hide. Silence stretched as his training overran his senses, becoming a cold observer over miniscule details rather than playing the role of an empathetic mourner. Watching as her hands slowly curl into fists, arms beginning to tuck inward around her waist, like a fragile animal preparing herself from potentially falling apart, awaiting the ravage thralls of a spiraling storm and the onslaught of questions and doubts and judgments.

There was none of that. Illumi knew where to begin. He smiled. "Well done."

Though well composed, the words startled Psyche. For a fraction of a moment, her fear made itself known to him—something shuddered within her when her beloved congratulated her of unspeakable cruelty. A tension held so tight unnervingly coiled around her body, bracing for a fight when there was none to be met. Yet. Psyche, his darling wife, despite being the type of assassin to take pride in her kills, who lovingly tendered and nurtured revenge in torn apart and withered hearts, couldn't help but turn away. Ah, so she doesn't believe she deserves any praise. Only guilt. Why is that?

"Everything we do, we do for them." Illumi said this as if she didn't know. He cherished family above all else, and he willed deeply for the revulsion he felt towards the Moiraio's—siblings turning against their own blood—to be quelled until he heard Psyche's truth. For her sake, he hoped there was a shred of sound reason within its insanity. "If any harm were to befall my family, even a war that was waged within, it goes without saying what my response would be to that kind of act. But death?" Illumi tched. "The punishment should be equal in severity to the crime. Though I can't imagine how it was anything but a terrible burden to carry out. Personally, I don't think I would have the stomach for it. But you do."

Psyche exhaled. "Illumi, there are a lot of things I don't have the stomach for, like the just world hypothesis, social inequality, poaching of endangered wild animals for auction, mondays, the bourgeoisie, capitalism, overdue library books, and this conversation. Let's talk about something else."

"Of course." Illumi continued. He hated Mondays too. "That necklace. It's very pretty."

"Thank you."

"It belonged to Eros, didn't it? Is that your token from him?"

Psyche unconsciously reached up to the gold chain around her neck. "I've known assassins who steal tokens–personal possessions–that belonged to their targets to keep for themselves—usually I can refrain, but I'm really no better. Scraps of clothing stained in blood, locks of hair, coffee napkins, grocery receipts, jewelry or whatever else to serve as a reminder, a collection to showcase the taxing labor of our skills. On one hand, it isn't wise to stash away our own evidence to be used against us, but it's not like we can openly take pride in our craft, so we have to hide our accomplishments with the smallest and most insignificant pieces of our greatest works. This…I'd never seen Eros a day without it. Whenever I envision him, it's always a part of him. It was like he was made of gold. No, it was more like gold was made of him."

Illumi wondered if this token was something Psyche coveted for years, already thinking of possessing before murdering Eros. Whether from pent up envy or a warped sense of protectiveness that he would always remain hers.

"Mother disposed of all his possessions, she said she couldn't bear to look at them out of grief, and that may be partially true but I know her and I know she just wanted to erase any trace of him from our lives. This chain…it only felt right to keep. I had to hide it within my own shadows just to keep it hidden. Once I was tempted to consume it, but that's a little extreme. I wouldn't have considered it if Mother wasn't so good at finding things. Though it may be a token like all the others, it isn't to remind me of his death, but his life."

"It makes you feel closer to him. Bonds are strong like that. Despite any good intentions your mother may have had, love—and all its memories—can seldom be erased. No matter how hard one may attempt." Illumi knew that the stronger the bond, the more unbreakable it becomes. Eros, even after death, lives on in his sister's heart. Illumi envied that kind of infinite love. "He may be gone, but the love you have for him isn't. It's still there. Love can be…painful when it has nowhere to go. It's something that was never meant for people to bottle up. I can tell you to polish it regularly, it has a brilliant shine. Your care over it, that is a way of your love for him manifesting."

Psyche nodded. Was she going to cry? "Even removing all traces of him at home, the absence of him grew bigger and more suffocating. Sometimes I forget I even have his necklace on at all. Other times it's heavy, when I need it to be. If that makes sense—After hearing myself say all of this, I'm coming across as a kleptomaniac." She forced a bright laugh.

Illumi hummed. Psyche was only a girl grieving, not a bloodthirsty killer with a penchant for fratricide. Good to know. "Not at all. We each have our own proclivities, but I do think that our parents bear some responsibility in raising us to be somewhat of kleptomaniacs. You should see my room. For years I've had a glass box under my bed that I'd fill with teeth, my dad even encouraged it—he even gave me a few teeth of his own–oh not his teeth, his first kills I mean, it was still very thoughtful of him—to get my own collection going. I passed it on to Kalluto."

"I know. You've shown me." Psyche giggled.

Illumi didn't remember that. "So I have. But what about Mochi's tooth?"

"Oh how could I forget! I honestly thought you were teasing me when you told me dragons were real or that your grandfather had one as a pet!"

"You didn't believe me. That hurt my feelings."

"It made me start questioning more mysteries of the world. What else is real? Beasts of legends, fairies, cryptids, that kind of stuff." Psyche said dreamily with sparkles in her eyes. "You have no idea how impossible it was for me to explain in words how much it blew my mind to know that dragons exist beyond myth. It was amazing."

Illumi always soaked up Psyche's enthusiasm. "That sounds about right. When I first took you to see our dragon, I think you screamed." Zeno named his dragon Mochi because when Mochi was little, and it's been years since she dwarfed Mike, she could easily fit into the palm of Zeno's hand and would curl up into a ball in what resembled a little sweet rice cake. A rice cake that bites back, breathes lightning bolts, and swallows all its meals in one bite.

Psyche covered her mouth with her hands swiftly as if she was reliving the moment over again. "I still feel bad about that." She squeaked quietly. Mochi hardly seemed bothered, as if all dragons were accustomed to people screaming at them from terror or delight. "About Eros…No one stands between us, if that's what you're worried about. We're free to live happily together."

"Let me be very clear. That isn't what I'm worried about. You and I both know that neither of us would leave this room failing to take notice of the inevitable. This is what I wanted to discuss with you earlier back home, but time got the best of me. Did you think I was going to condemn you, for what, protecting your family against an all out threat? If that was what you're wondering, then you should feel nothing but relief. I'm not a judgemental person." Psyche looked like she wanted to say something from the latter, but refrained from doing so. Oh, she saw right through his lie. "Eros was a threat, a threat you undertook alone to eliminate to protect your family—our family." He waited for a response, but there was only silence from her end. "Oh how can I say this, ah yes, to put it in your own words—someone like him deserved to die."

"...Yes, that's something I would say." Psyche said solemnly.

"That is your response?"

"You hold your family in the highest regard. And for you to know that I committed a crime that even you wouldn't forgive. So yes, I thought you would. Hold it against me, resent me…or in my own selfish way thinking you'd refuse me, our marriage. But everyone approved of us, our families were so happy, though a part of me was afraid you wouldn't know who I am anymore, that I'm no longer the girl you once knew. Can you still love me if I'm no longer her, even if that same girl never once stopped loving you? You can be honest."

Illumi breathed out slowly. He knew Psyche for a very long time, that she made up the most softest parts of his childhood and he was thankful to have had that. "You know who you're supposed to be—my wife." Illumi's voice wasn't gentle, as if it seamlessly coiled around her body only to catch her quick like a wild hare in a snare, there was no escaping the contempt that dripped from his voice. She didn't even bother to struggle. "Tell me the rumors aren't true."

Psyche deserved scorn, it was a cherished punishment that was long overdue. "Rumors never bothered me. I stopped caring for them for a long time now." She said, "Neither should you."

"True." Illumi knew that rumors were dangerous but had enough weight to be used for one's benefit. A kernel of truth was all it took to spin a shield of protection, a warning sign to keep enemies away, or a scary story to delight and thrill clients. Which was it for Psyche? A girl who killed her dangerous brother to protect herself and the rest of her family, or a girl desperate to cover up something outside of her control? "Then humor me. Why is your mother requesting we send her a fleet of our butlers? Oh yes, I already knew, your mother made that request to my father on our wedding day. I have to admire her though, she never hesitates to make haste. What, or more accurately, who do you need protection from? My father would consider it, but only if he knew why."

Illumi noticed Psyche's quick intake of breath and the slight twitch of a blood vessel in her neck, unnoticeable to untrained eyes. She was caught off guard and it told Illumi that even she was not aware of all her mother's plans, or how fast they were enacted without her knowledge. Still, she spoke calmly, regaining control. "You know that my family lives in New Bledel City, which has always been a hot spot for crime in the Mimbo Republic. Gang violence, theft, murder, including an influx of freelance assassins unassociated with the Bureau settled there like a melting pot and made it their home. Needless to say, competition between all of them is ever present and rampant. My mother always said New Bledel is only a few steps up from Meteor City. Crime is on the rise and she doesn't expect it to de-escalate anytime soon. Even we have to stay cautious. Help would greatly be appreciated, just so my family can adjust accordingly. My family does have one less assassin at home now—our numbers really are dwindling. Oh! On the night before I left home, we were ambushed by a horde of bounty hunters. My sisters easily dispatched them, but others have noticed and more soon, I suppose. My uncle, Jax Pierce–"

"Jax Pierce? I've heard that name before." Illumi pondered aloud, then truly found himself surprised. Jax was more than just an assassin. "Oh! He's the CEO of Heavens Arena. He always makes an appearance at the end of every Battle Olympia tournament congratulating the champion." The Battle Olympia tournament was the world's most famous martial arts festival and more importantly a very popular spectacle in the Zoldyck Family, especially with Silva. If they weren't watching it on TV at home, then they were seated in the VIP section of the tournament itself if tickets didn't already sell out first. It was weird watching Silva, contrary to his stoic self, jump out of his seat like a little kid and scream the floor masters names along with the crowd, as they cheered the victors and jeered the fallen. Cries of excitement melted into one magnetic uproar that Illumi himself couldn't deny the pull towards, always sitting beside his father, looking to the arena then back at each other echoing 'did you see that?' or 'he shouldn't have blocked that! DON'T WAIT, ATTACK!' It begrudgingly reminded Illumi that there were times he enjoyed spending time with his father.

Then Illumi burst out unexpectedly in a rather unusually upbeat voice than what was normally his own. "One year they had Taylor Swift perform during intermission and my dad was literally dancing his ass off to 'shake it off.' I have four other siblings and not one of them recorded it! I thought it would be funny if I sent it out to all his work buddies, as it turns out you can't count on anyone but yourself to get proper blackmail."

Psyche laughed. "Your dad's a Swiftie?! Well, that's Uncle Jax's extravagance for ya! He knows what the people want and he always delivers. Battle Olympia only started having celebrity performances until he became the new owner. More people started watching the tournament because of it."

Illumi gestured with his arms, almost unaware that one of them was broken. "Mom couldn't stop laughing, practically falling out of her chair, until dad dragged her from her seat to make her dance with him. Taylor got two new swifties that day! Y'know, just between us, when they're not all serious and scary and doom and gloom, deep down they're just big dorks like everybody else." Illumi chuckled, then immediately stopped. An awkward pause followed. "...It's not really that funny. Don't know why I brought that up. What were you saying about your Uncle?"

"Oh, right. He's usually so busy, but he made time to visit us the morning after the attack. He was upset that he wasn't invited to our wedding but wished us happiness. The timing was suspicious but he wouldn't want to actually hurt us—he knitted me a scarf as a wedding gift and came to drop it off."

"Because knitting is undoubtedly a sign of trustworthiness." Illumi started feeling light headed, but remained grounded until it passed. He was thankful Psyche didn't notice.

"You never know about these sorts of things. Him and my mother don't get along well. I know we only just married and already I'm asking for too much and this is the last favor I'll ask of you, but please Illumi, my family needs your help. Only for a little while."

Illumi knew all this already and none of this answered what he desired to fill in the gaps. "There is nothing you will want that I can't give. I will speak to my father about it, and see to it that we'll come to an arrangement. Even the sight of a few more staff on patrol will be enough to scare off any unwanted visitors."

Psyche was beaming as she leapt forward and embraced him. "Thank you thank you thank you! My family will love you forever! You're the best husband a girl can have!"

Illumi blinked, patting her gently on the back. He wasn't used to this many hugs or declarations of love in a day, but it was nice.

Suddenly, Psyche's expression changed, with her brows arched downward, cheeks puffed red, her pretty diamond shaped face pinched with adorable fury, but fury nonetheless was written all over her face. Oh, perhaps Illumi wasn't as good at reading people as he thought he was. "If only you hadn't blocked me we could have talked about all this sooner."

Illumi held back his laughter. "If it makes you feel any better I call my brothers all the time and they just watch their phones ring."

"Do you know how worried I was for you?"

"No, but I like hearing you tell me. Each rendition becomes more exciting than the last. Oh! Tell me again about the part where I was going to be eaten alive. I always wonder if I'll survive it."

"Illumi, I'm serious!"

"So am I. Now, back to the present matter at hand. It's not a recurring thought of mine, but what warrants a little brother's death? Care to explain that to me, so I better understand." Illumi noticed the heat rushing to Psyche's cheeks, a pretty shade of pink. Ah, she's embarrassed, forced into the spotlight. Good. He hadn't hoped for anything less. She doesn't get to change the conversation.

"I don't want to talk about him." Psyche said, sounding irritated rather than remorseful.

"Mh-hm." Illumi hummed. He carefully noted that when his wife is provoked with honest questions, she becomes defensive. And when confronted with a sensitive topic, such as an accusation of killing her twin brother possibly in a fit of homicidal rage (Psyche needs to elucidate that further for him or else she will leave him no choice but to assume otherwise), she refuses to communicate any further. If Illumi didn't know any better, this was a red flag.

Psyche looked at Illumi's bruised arm. "You must be hurting. Let me get you ice for that." She remembered putting ice packs in the mini fridge and they were probably frozen by now. Though Illumi fixed his broken arm on his own, he didn't need to needlessly suffer afterwards. It still looked like it hurt. She got up to get one.

"Sit."

Psyche sat.

Oh dear. She was like a puppy. If he offered his hand, would she shake it? It was tempting whether or not he should play along with that. Fortunately, he resisted. "I suppose it was foolish of me to hope otherwise, then again, as was waiting this long for you to deny anything."

"My mother told your family everything, and they understood, but suddenly you don't trust me anymore?" She crossed her arms, bitterly. "You don't think I'm going to kill you, do you?"

Illumi apparently struck a nerve. She's insulted that he even had to ask. "Not at all, here I am thinking you'd be thrilled of someone advocating for your innocence. Though now I'm only wondering if I should wake up one morning and be surprised if there's drano in my coffee."

"I could make you coffee every morning. And it would be the best you've ever tasted." Wrong, she was an amateur in the kitchen, she made cheese explode in the microwave, she burned canned soups in saucepans, and once she was even diabolical enough to eat a quarter of a gooey brownie mixture before baking it in the oven. She was worse than an amateur, she was a menace. But for the survival of her marriage, she could learn how to cook, prepare various brews, and it's only coffee, the first sip of any drink in the morning is refreshing anyway.

"But what about the drano?"

"No drano—only cream, sugar and me."

Illumi didn't realize he smirked, then checked himself. "I look forward to it. But you're avoiding my questions. Miscommunication is one of the leading factors in dissolving relationships between married couples within their first year alone—among other things that don't apply to either of us, but you see what I mean."

Psyche was touched that Illumi did his research on married life. "Yes, of course, sweetheart."

"Clementine." He made her laugh with that one. "Here I am, very willing to communicate. But more importantly, communication and reciprocation go hand in hand. Unless, what I fear is happening, you don't trust me and you're projecting your mistrust of me as my own towards you. Just a thought."

Psyche looked more apprehensive now, as if she craved to speak her truth, but something within compelled her not to, no matter how much he reassured her. So instead she spewed….whatever this was: "I would put my life in your hands! And I had to after everything I did to get here, who does that? Certainly not any normal person, and definitely not psychotic, maybe I'm a little crazy, but just the right amount needed to get whatever needs to get done. But you know what I am? I'm a very dedicated person. To my family, you, my job, actually, scratch that, it really isn't my job at all, because money isn't my drive. Power? No. Fame? Nope. I help people. I do, and I'd do this for free because it is my vocation."

"Yes, I can see your halo shining."

"Through and through, I am a people person and I care deeply. My love language is acts of service. By the time I was twelve I had my own checking account and donated, which very quickly became a tradition in my family because of me, to the Mimbo Republic's National Center for Homicide Victims Christmas Fundraiser."

"A homicide murder advocate?" How ironic. "Hm, interesting, but how much time do you have left to help the orphans and the blind?"

"Volunteer work, charities." She sounded like she was listing off extracurriculars on her resume. "Y'know, during last summer, I undertook a massive but very successful endeavor to get Anomie and Chaotica to help me donate our old clothes, shoes, coats, and was able to convince them that, yes, even last season's winter line of stilettos can help the less fortunate."

"This sounds familiar. Mother Theresa maybe?"

"I am a good person! For god's sake, I read!"

Illumi held out his hand.

Psyche took it.

"Puppy." Illumi mumbled to himself.

Psyche blinked, confused.

Illumi mh-hmed in agreement. She's veering away, again. "I know." He sighed, "You don't need to persuade me, I know you are a good person." Well, Illumi knew that Psyche believed she was a good person. They both killed people for a living, goodness was relative. "Truthfully, I was shocked to learn of what happened, and if I knew what was happening I regret not being there to help you. Oh, I forgot to ask, how is Chaotica? I'm glad to see she is fine now after that explosion. Did you ever find out who planted the bomb?"

Psyche took a deep breath in, then out. Oh, this was getting serious. When confronted with a kernel of truth, people feel pressured to reveal everything, as if the accused could be saved before trapping themselves in a web of lies. Psyche stood up from the bed and went to the mini fridge, "At least let me get you an ice pack, it's important to apply cold compresses during the first twenty four hours of injuries, it's hard for me to watch you like this and do nothing." Illumi was surprised, she got more than just ice packs, but bandages and arnica gel too. She wrapped the ice pack in cloth before applying it directly to his skin, a barrier to protect him from the bitter bite of the cold. She was always so careful when it came to other people's needs.

Psyche still couldn't look at her husband. Her voice was soft, yet refused to break. "...I wasn't there when it happened, but yes, a bomb was planted underneath her car. It was Eros's doing. It went off while they were both off on a job. Anomie was in charge of the assassination, while Chaotica was in the car outside, spotting for bystanders, and waiting for Anomie to be done so they'd both make a quick getaway. If not all four of us together, we always worked in pairs. That's the way it's always been. Anomie and Chaotica, Eros and I." Psyche said, reminiscing of when it was just the four of them. It was a time when the past seemed brighter, but she was no longer foolish to think so, because now she had learned to recognize all the hurt that went ignored and disguised under good intentions all those years ago. "I like working alone now, I prefer it that way. Y'know that my sisters used to get along with Eros, teased and hounded him no more than they would me. Wait, no I'm wrong. Chaotica once chased Eros around the house trying to get him to wear an electric dog collar which led him to climb up a chimney and hide on the roof just to escape her, because she thought it was funny." Psyche made sure to apply ice equally onto all parts of Illumi's arm. "It was. Anyway, just as Anomie was finished, that's when she heard the explosion from outside. Anomie found her. Her whole body was burned, charred beyond recognition; she could barely be told apart from the heaps of scrap metal from the wreckage. They could only tell her apart because there was something shaped like a body on the carseat. She suffered for much. I don't…blame her feelings toward Eros. She was in so much pain. It took Mama months to heal her wounds with nen, and even longer for the pain to go away. It's why I think Chaotica lives so confidently, so selfishly now, that's one thing I admire about her. Because she knows it's a miracle to even be alive. She still gets some pains, once in a while, but she's 95% healed, or so she says. On the plus side she's really into homeopathic medicine.

"Eros was more than my twin, he was my best friend. But slowly, he changed, gradual at first. Something was wrong and I knew it, so I tried to help in ways that I thought could. It didn't help, and then one day…"

"He snapped and set out to kill you all."

Psyche nodded. "He planned for both Anomie and Chaotica to die in the bombing. He told me so, before attacking me, and you know the rest. Everyone else already does."

"Tell me, were you angry with him?"

"It isn't so black and white like that, but I felt very…numb. I didn't want to, couldn't, believe anything he was saying, and was about to brush it off as delirium, it wouldn't have been his first episode of it, but his mind and mannerisms were so clear, and…both of us already knew how the night was going to end if I didn't fight back. It's hard to recall as a lot of things were flashing through my head, not including my brother's searing light that blinded me for weeks afterwards, his parting gift to me, when he went berserk. There is still something wrong with my left eye, so I guess that's permanent now, I hope it isn't, but I'm lucky enough to mostly be able to see out of it."

Illumi was aware that Eros was a transmuter, just like his twin. But while Psyche controlled shadows, Eros controlled light. He was saddened to know of her partial blindness. He noticed sometimes how she turned her head, and now he knew it was for her right eye to get a better look at her surroundings, assuming she lost some amount of peripheral vision in her left eye.

"I don't remember much of what I felt honestly, just very numb, and I don't think I can remember even if I tried. So I don't think there is a limit to the emotions I felt on that night when he tried to kill me, so no, I wasn't angry. It was an awful time for everyone."

Illumi only smiled, cooly. "I don't believe you." Psyche believed that everyone should be saved, but simultaneously understood the harsh reality that not everyone could. It pained her, this warped hero complex she burdens herself with. Which was why if she could help someone, in ways Illumi didn't quite understand himself, she would. Even if Eros attacked her, even if he was in a state of delirium or simply had her outnumbered in strength or speed or rage or despair or whatever internal force that compelled him to wage war against his own blood, Psyche wouldn't turn against him. She loved too deeply, which was why Illumi knew that Psyche could never hurt her brother, even if her twin forced her own hand against him. He knew there was more to her story, which he speculated was the case.

He tried asking nicely, but it didn't matter.

Psyche cocked her head to the side, confused, as Illumi removed one of the gold bulbs from his jacket. She was astonished as Illumi pulled out the bulb, it was not a decorative piece, but a single bulb connected to a very long and thin, silver—needle. He had needles plunged throughout his jacket and into his abdomen. Do all the needles puncture into him and how far? A wave of revulsion twisted in Psyche's gut. Then, he looked at her and she tensed. "Illumi?"

Illumi carefully wiped the needle off with a clean bandage. "If you're honest as you say and there's nothing to hide, then relax and hold still. Thank you."

He was holding the needle towards her head…did he want to prick her with it? Was this some kind of lie detector test? Psyche immediately found herself leaning away from him when he came a little too close to her forehead. "What are you doing?"

"You'll only feel a pinch."

Panic trickled through Psyche. He was literally trying to poke her brain for information. "Why are you so suspicious of me? None of what happened in the past matters anymore. I've moved on. Everyone moved on! I've worked hard, I've gotten better, to be good enough to get this far on my own, to be good enough for your family, for you—"

Illumi was fast, he was on her before she even realized it. He knew better than to indulge the twisted delight that awakened in him watching her reaction, just as he would with any of his targets and the still moments before implanting his needles, when both prey and predator knew who was in absolute control. Even after years of strict training and discipline, it still exhilarated him. It was a harmless though nonetheless nasty habit of his, but he only had one goal in mind—the truth and extracting it by whatever means necessary. He never permitted himself to entertain song and dance for too long. Time was unchanging—infinite and fixed all at once.

Psyche should have acted quicker, evaded capture, or at the very least been frightened, but she was only awestruck by Illumi. Marveling in this new self whom he has never shown her before. Strands of his black hair fell down around her face like a curtain, and she did not hesitate to raise herself forward and kiss him in this beloved darkness. This is what she wanted, to know and embrace all of him. Even the parts he rarely revealed.

A kiss awakened a dream within him, wanting more of this. A future of this. Lounging together under the shaded trees with her head on his chest breathing soft laughter as he played with the flowers woven into a crown adorning her hair. She taught him how to do that. Sky kissed blue hydrangeas crowned his own. Psyche was his summer, the only good thing in his life bottled up in the months of June, July, and August when he'd see her most. Reminding him that he surrendered on his knees to any scraps of love offered to him. He knew it made him weak, a gnawing need he refused to feed as the craving turned to hunger turned to caving starvation of want that never faded inside of him, only to binge her love all at once when he had her at last.

But now it wasn't enough.

Psyche's survival instincts overridden her senses as she attempted to free herself, only for him to grab both her hands and pin them together above her head, pressing them into the mattress, with only one hand—the other held the needle. Hovering ominously inches away from her head. It dawned on Psyche, how physically strong Illumi is. She couldn't even wiggle her hands in his grip. Instead, she used all her strength to raise her thigh and slam her knee into his chest and the impact rumbled throughout her body—but it did nothing to him as he gently shushed her and told her to relax.

Though still possessing the strength to never take her eyes off his own—he admired that and selfishly admitted to gorging himself off her resilience even when his eyes pinned her down under interrogation. Even now, after following him all this time during the hunter exam, never far out of reach as she struggled and fought her way to get here, he never left her mind—it filled him, that loyal devotion of hers, more than it was supposed to ever please him.

"Let me make one thing about myself very clear. I don't enjoy being lied to. Nor do I doubt there's truth to your story, you've suffered far more than your years, but there's more. I know you're withholding something vital from me and neither of us have the time to play silly little word games as problems continue to mount higher around us every day. Nor do I gather you enjoy telling lies, you've always been such an honest girl." He lightly dragged the side of the needle against the contours of her face, delicately like an artist painting on canvas. The needle was cold and made her shiver. "But above all, I hate being used. So, for both our sakes, if you are taking the blame for someone else's crime, someone you cannot speak out against, which I heavily believe is the case, then help me understand, if someone forced your hand or shoulder the blame on their behalf."

Psyche struggled beneath him. "I've told you the truth, Illumi. Please believe me."

"My family won't blindly protect yours if you're not being honest about using us."

"I'm not using you! Or hiding anything from you!" Psyche's voice wobbled. "I love you."

"If all you say is true, then there is nothing for you to be ashamed of hiding." Illumi said, and something in his voice softened. Barely. As if he too wanted to believe there was more goodness in her story. That good and evil were simultaneous forces battling for control in one being, that one could love and hate and still be the same. Cherish and loath. Admire and begrudge. Desire and disdain. That one could be pushed so far, beyond oneself, that the scales between those forces become irrevocably unbalanced—yet still possess immense heart. "There is love in your heart, so do not be afraid, open yourself up, and let me in." It was a statement made without fear, but with a lethal curiosity that had the potential to break all the vows they pledged to one another—now hollowed and echoed from the absence of true love's promises.

Desperation clawed within Psyche to convince Illumi of her devotion. "I've been in love with you ever since I've known you, and I've always known who I was supposed to be. I am Psyche Zoldyck, your wife. I made a promise to always stay by your side and it's your life I hold higher than anyone else's, even my own! Know that I would never bring you or your family any harm—"

All was quiet as the needle pierced her head.

Illumi's aura emitting from the needle petrified her as she could feel the dark tendrils of his nen rake through her mind like wind parting grass and snatched her painful memories like a viper's constricting grip, forcing themselves into her consciousness against her will. Her heart began to slow and her limbs became laxed, she feared this was what it felt like to be swallowed whole as prey staring into the eyes of its predator as it took the first bite. Those were his eyes bearing into her, savoring her petrification.

A memory unfurled itself in front of Psyche, as if she was reliving it again firsthand. Eros looked down at his sister, as she cried in pain from his attack. She could hardly see, only light and darkness, wispy shadows of the world as Eros towered over her, blinding her from his previous nen attack. She still remembered his voice, and it broke her. "You don't know me at all," Eros smiled as light—blazing and bright—began pooling in his hands. His voice finally snapped into lethal rage. "And you've wasted my time."

Psyche screamed, pleading for Illumi to stop, begging for him not to make her remember those awful memories. Still he persisted. He only had to push the needle in a little further and—

A shadowy hand grabbed his own, pulling against him, in a desperate attempt to free Psyche. The shadow was shaped like a girl, as if she was crafted in exactly Psyche's image. Psyche's developed her abilities since the last time he's seen her.

Illumi narrowed his eyes at the shadow, it was made entirely of nen. He eased his grip and the shadow did the same, plunging his needle back into his jacket. He brushed aside Psyche's tears, bent downward and kissed her forehead over the pinprick of blood. His kisses were cold.

Illumi only stared at her, as Psyche cried in labored breaths. There was no compassion in his eyes, no outstretched arms to hold steady her trembling aches with a warm embrace, no cherished whispers from lover's lips of overdue condolences to soften her broken heart. She was ready to break while he remained poised under her crushing grief. She was only met with an icy stare that burned colder than she ever wanted from him. He lifted her up, and surprisingly she accepted his touch, sniffling the last of her quiet tears.

Illumi spoke calmly, undisturbed. "As I thought."

Psyche's tears came roaring back. She held them back in her throat.

"Next time you'll finish the rest of your story for me, hm? I wouldn't have pushed you so far if you've done as I've asked, but promise me we'll be honest with each other from now on." Illumi brushed aside a strand of hair behind her ear. He tilted her chin up, facing him. "Do you promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Good. Now, close your eyes."

Psyche was hesitant.

"If you don't close your eyes you'll ruin the surprise."

Psyche did as he said, her body felt like it was on auto-pilot. She was told to hold out her hands and so she did. "Can I peek?" A little strained happiness came from her voice.

"No peeking."

Psyche felt a small piece of cold metal in her hands. She opened her eyes and there she held a gold key.

Illumi smiled. "You'll need your own key for our house."

"I say this with a heavy heart, Beans, but I think I am getting too old for this job." Netero sighed.

Beans shook his head, an anxious blur of green. "But you're so young!"

"So I am!" Netero burst out with laughter. "But I grieve for this younger generation and the world wrought of past generations' failures inherited from them. When you're young, you feel invincible and at times too oblivious to not appreciate how good it is. In part that is why I cannot abandon hope of the hunter exam. It's all youth and ambition and blind ignorance to danger in the face of attaining our most prized desires, reminding us what makes life worth living, unique to each of us. The applicants invigorate me and every year I admire their spunk, pass or fall. It makes me want to jump alongside them and join their crusade."

"Sir, you already do that. Every year you find some way to intervene."

"And I won't stop yet! Haha! When I had my health and my body, I could take on the world even on my worst days. I was unstoppable. But times are always changing. A little or all at once, things you never before paid attention to begin hurting as one grows older; aching joints, muscle pain, ringing ears, getting dizzy whilst pushing myself up from a chair, not to mention my back snaps, crackles, and pops like a bowl of rice krispies. These are the things no one can prepare you for and you only understand yourself and others once you experience it firsthand. However, I know more now than I ever did in my youth. Oh, I was so reckless and naive then! How did I survive it all? Youth makes you believe the world centers around only you! Haha. But that is what you need to get your life going. To be headstrong, gutsy, selfish, determined, and make vastly too many mistakes. It is the only way to learn, to grow out of our immatureness. While I feared the prospect of old age then, I now feel otherwise, it's a blessing to have made it this far. And farther I hope to go! So grow old and don't fear it. It has its perks too y'know. It is the only way for people across time to understand each other."

Beans hummed appreciatively. To Beans, Netero and the Hunter Association were so intertwined that neither could exist without the other and it even seemed improbable that Isaac Netero would ever die despite all that he said. The only way for death to claim him would be to sneak upon him in his sleep, otherwise there will be a fight between the two and the outcome would be in Netero's favor.

"Perhaps I'm thinking about all of these things because it's a tragedy…when someone so young dies before their time." Netero gazed down at the body of a boy no older than Zeno's oldest grandchild and waited patiently for the coroner to state the cause of death, which seemed sort of obvious, as there was a gaping hole in the boy's chest. The captain of the boat stated that the boy suddenly collapsed when they escorted the last group of applicants from the republic of Padokea to the Kukan'yu Kingdom for the hunter exam.

"I have the death settlement for the family already taken care of, sir." Beans said.

"Very good." Netero twirled the end of his beard, peering over the body. "Can't you see it, Beans? His body is riddled with nen. A curse perhaps? Looks nasty like one too! Though the remnants of its aura are fading, it is still seething with negative energy, malice, all the same. Emotion drives nen curses, the stronger the emotion the more powerful they become! Oh, the poor boy was probably dead long before he even stepped onto the boat. A pawn used in someone else's game. Dreadful, just dreadful!"

"What purpose do you think he was being used as a pawn for?"

"NO IDEA!" Netero chimed. "All the applicants arrived safely, so if the puppeteer behind the boy's death planned to use him in a foolish effort to stop the ship from arriving then he failed. In fact, they arrived right on schedule. Neither have any of the other ships reported an exam committee member's death—this being the only one. Their motivations remain unclear as they accomplished nothing. It was a senseless, meaningless death. Hm, did every applicant with an invitation arrive on the boat?"

"Yes. And every applicant departed when the ship docked at port. However, there was evidence of tampering with the surveillance cameras and I'm having our analytics team try to recover the missing footage."

"Good, good. But I think all the clues we need are right here. Come, look there. Do you see that?" Netero gestured to the corpse's head.

Beans stepped forward and immediately felt a wave of disgust rip through him. "Is that…?"

"It is." Netero said. "That is the source of the malicious aura. A nen manipulator stuck a needle in this boy's head and controlled his body after death."

A/N:

Psyche: I am a good person!

Me: Honey, curb your delusion.

Thank you for making is this far into my fic! I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter! Lemme know what you think, your reviews fuel my writer heart. The plot is finally plotting and things are about to get alot uglier and smuttier from here on out haha ;) See you in the next Never After chapters!