I am aware Claus is a liability.
Frankly, he’s useless—dangerously negligent, and an idiot at best.
A disabled chihuahua of a man.
I only keep him around for one simple reason: he’s the easiest route to Luther.
So the logical question follows: why do I still keep him alive even now, when Luther is already here, and Claus is doing nothing but irritating ?
Why, when the last man I killed only had the misfortune of breathing too minty?
Simple.
I’m a businessman.
Yes, I’m a brilliant surgeon, a pioneering researcher, even a scientist on my better days—but those are the marks of an employee. A subordinate.
And I was not born to kneel.
The mont I let another living being command will be the mont I end my own existence.
So as a businessman, I maintain appearances.
Clean, polished, in control.
I can’t afford to have a hungry mutt sniffing at my heels, searching for weak points.
Not that I have those anymore.
If I were to dispose of Claus—my sponsor, my bridge to Luther—it would draw the attention of Luther’s father. My funder.
And that would be ssy.
I hate ss.
That is the only reason Claus interrupted my research and still lived to see the next morning.
So might say I’ve grown emotional with age.
Maybe.
But when he shattered the perfect web of trust I had spun for Luther—seconds before I could finally sink my teeth in—this leftover stain of his father’s j—z burst in and tried to play savior.
I could describe the pathetic little performance:
"I did it to save you" he croaked, all dramatic tremble and martyrdom.
But I’ll spare you the excruciating pain.
I’d rate it two out of a hundred. If I’m being generous.
He begged.
Sobbed.
Asked for my help to cover his trail, to keep Killian off his scent.
Incoherent. Wet. Snot-filled.
A grown man reduced to mucus.
So I made a deal.
I don’t give away services for free.
I wanted to be entertained.
So I played a ga.
I was sweet to Luther.
Gentle.
Curious.
I touched his hand carefully. Spoke like I cared. Then I changed the tone—casual, friendly, familiar. I ate beside him. Laughed, even.
Then dropped a bomb.
One sharp question.
Watched him unravel.
And I left.
A full week.
No food.
No laced water.
No voices.
No human contact for Parliant’s golden boy.
You might call it cruel.
I call it efficient.
When I returned, I returned with his father so he could see his son’s progress.
I am not a liar.
I simply implied that I could make Luther a true heir- an alpha.
So I put that idea into Claus’ head and he put it into the Pri Minister’s.
I don’t say it’s impossible for to do it.
It’s not.
After all, all the ogas in my basent collection were experints and practices of that very transformation.
The rate of survival is a whole other story.
But that is not a matter of my skill.
It’s a matter of how weak they are.
The important thing about that kind of second-gender change is the timing.
It needs to be done exactly at the mont of the climax.
That could get tricky as, if applied in a March of even one mont, it’s fatal.
At least I know I was never fooled by a fake release.
I need Luther alive.
A source of blood is useful as long as it can provide fresh blood.
Besides, I must admit that I enjoy Luther as an oga.
Which is rare.
Sadly Freud had his way into my mind like he did with the rest of the human population.
So, maybe out of craving a spack of affection from my mother, I borrowed her values.
One of which was -oga are the drainage of society.
So I lack respect for them despite my past.
But Luther... he keeps defying .
Provoking. Challenging .
And I keep getting pulled in.
Unprofessionally I would even say.
If I could describe the kiss we shared right in front of his father, I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.
I did my research and I know he released himself with other ogas.
So imagine my surprise when he just pressed his lips hard against mine.
No open mouth, nothing more than a very firm and trapping peck.
I even found it humouredly adorable the way I could feel the pulse of his heartbeat on his lips.
But the cherry on top was the expression he made when he learned nobody was coming to save him.
I cannot describe it. It is sothing just for to know.
But it made curious about what face he would do if he found out about his father sponsoring .
I watched him for weeks having night terrors about his father and, yet, every single ti he ended up sobbing, begging for another chance to make him proud.
Perhaps it’s the similarities that drags over the line of simple research with Luther. But that has no importance now.
"That little b-st-rd of Lucrezia’s is nipping everywhere for Luther. It becos a headache."
"Mister Wilkers", I address the tired sour old man, " I think it would be rather beneficial to include Killian at so point. Since they have a history."
He scoffed dismissively, letting a few stray drops of saliva spread as he talked:
"They have been on two dates. And, from what I’ve seen today, the boy would open his legs for everyone to buy him a al."
Tough remark about his son.
But useful data for to break Luther with.
"How long until it’s done?" he asked.
"A few months should suffice. As I told you, these things take ti."
"I thought you were the best."
"I am. And I could speed up, but that would put Luther’s life at risk. I don’t an to make assumptions, but even if your cum is working, the tabloids would be rather sharp about the Pri Minister losing a son and making another in the sa year. That is if your wife is still fertile. Because other woman entering the scene would end your political career."
"You’re sharp. I like you. If only that waste of air could use his brain half as you."
"That is rather personal, Mister Wilkers. This is a business office and a research lab, not a therapy living room."
He chuckled and left.
I can see why he is losing popularity polls. Arrogant jerk.
I need a change of scenery.
I destroyed Luther’s hope, but it’s worthless if I don’t strike the next step fast.
I need to give him the impression of him having an upper hand on .
A chance for him to manipulate into treating him better.
But how to do it?
Well, this project surely deserves so blood, sweat and tears.
I need to use the debt Claus owns .
"I need you to stab tomorrow"
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