Shirley stood motionless, staring at Jason’s lifeless body. His blood pooled around her feet, warm and thick, soaking into the earth. The scent of iron filled her nostrils, mixing with the acrid smoke of the fire still burning behind them.
Her chest rose and fell with deep, shuddering breaths. Her fingers twitched at her sides, still sticky with blood. It was over. He was dead.
And yet, the weight of Lumian’s gaze remained.
She turned, slowly.
He stood just beyond the fire’s glow, golden eyes gleaming like embers in the night. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, his posture relaxed, like he had rely been an amused spectator, not the orchestrator of everything that had just happened.
A slow smile tugged at his lips. "That was quite the show."
Shirley swallowed, her throat dry. She should have felt relief. She did feel it, sowhere deep inside, but it was buried beneath sothing else, sothing wrong.
She had killed Jason.
With her own hands.
And Lumian had just... watched.No. He had done more than that.He had made sure it happened. Shirley’s hands clenched into fists.
"...Why?" she asked, her voice hoarse. "Why did you do that?"
Lumian tilted his head. "Do what?"
"You could have just killed him." Her voice shook with lingering adrenaline, with confusion. "You didn’t have to... make it like that."
Lumian humd, stepping forward. "Didn’t I?"
Shirley stiffened as he approached, but she didn’t back away. She refused to.
"Tell sothing, Shirley," he murmured, his voice soft, almost gentle. "Would it have felt as good if I killed him for you?"
Shirley flinched.She opened her mouth to deny it. To fight him. But she couldn’t. Because he was right.
The mont Jason’s blood coated her hands, sothing inside her had snapped. She had wanted it. She had wanted to feel his life drain away with every stab, every cry, every pitiful plea.
And Lumian had given her that.
His smile widened, as if he could see the realization dawn on her face. "You’ve never been free before, have you?"
Shirley’s breath caught in her throat.
He reached out slowly, deliberately, and wiped a stray streak of blood from her cheek with his thumb.
"Now you are."
Shirley jerked away from his touch, her heart hamring.
Her mind scread at her to run. To get as far away from him as possible.
But where would she go?
She had nothing. No one.
And Lumian had been right about sothing else, too.
For the first ti in her life, she was ’free’
She turned her gaze to the fire, watching the flas dance in the darkness.
Jason was gone.
Her past was gone.
And her future...
She glanced back at Lumian, his ever-watchful eyes gleaming with sothing unreadable.
She had no idea what she had just stepped into. She was no longer the sa girl who had begged for an escape.
Now, she had taken her own fate into her hands.
And Lumian was still watching. Still waiting.
Shirley took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Then, finally, she t his gaze.
"...What now?" she asked.
Lumian’s smile widened, sharp and knowing.
"Now?" He chuckled, stepping back into the fire’s glow.
"Now, we begin."
He turned on his heel, stepping over Jason’s cooling corpse without a second glance. His boots crunched against the dirt as he walked into the darkness, the weight of the night pressing down on them.
Shirley hesitated for a mont, still dazed. Her hands trembled, her breath shallow.
Instead, sothing else lingered in the pit of her stomach—sothing foreign, sothing dark. It slithered through her veins, coiling around her chest like a heavy chain.
It wasn’t guilt.
No, guilt had no place in her heart when it ca to Jason.
It was sothing else.
Sothing she didn’t understand yet.
But Lumian did.
He always did.
Shirley forced herself to move, her legs feeling heavier with each step as she followed after him.
They walked in silence, the night swallowing them whole.
Then, after what felt like forever, Shirley finally found her voice.
"What now?" she asked, her throat hoarse.
Lumian didn’t slow his pace. He barely even acknowledged her words, his golden eyes focused ahead.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"This is just the beginning."
His voice was calm, even, but there was sothing underneath it. Sothing hungry.
Shirley frowned.
She had expected Jason’s death to be the climax, the final act in the nightmare of her life.
But Lumian... he spoke as if they were only getting started.
Shirley hesitated. "What do you an?"
Lumian stopped abruptly.
Shirley nearly stumbled into him.
He turned slowly, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim moonlight. A sharp, knowing smile tugged at his lips as he stared at her, appraising her like an artist admiring an unfinished masterpiece.
Then, without a word, he activated his Corruption Skill. He didn’t need touch to trigger it anymore.
The air around them shifted.
A thick, suffocating pressure wrapped around Shirley’s body, making her shiver. Her vision blurred for a mont, the world twisting at the edges.
Lumian’s voice beca sothing else, sothing deeper, sothing that dug into her mind.
"How did it feel?" he asked.
Shirley blinked. "What?"
"To kill him."
Her stomach twisted. She averted her gaze. "I..."
Her fingers curled into her palms.
She wanted to say it was awful. That it was terrifying. That she had been horrified by what she had done.
But the words wouldn’t co.
Because they weren’t true.
She swallowed hard. "I don’t know."
Lumian chuckled. "Oh, but you do."
His gaze bore into her, sharp and piercing, stripping her bare.
Shirley’s throat went dry.
She had felt it. The thrill. The rush.
It had been intoxicating.
The mont the knife sank into Jason’s flesh, the mont his screams filled the air—there had been a spark inside her. A mont of pure, unfiltered satisfaction.
And Lumian knew it.
He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"There’s sothing about taking a life that stays with you," he murmured. "The first ti is always ssy, hesitant. But then it lingers in your mind. It calls to you."
Shirley’s breath hitched.
"The rush of it," Lumian continued, "the power of it—it’s sothing you’ll never forget. You’ll crave it. Because once you’ve had a taste of murder..."
He leaned in, his lips just beside her ear.
"You can never stop at just one."
A shudder ran down Shirley’s spine.
Sowhere deep inside, a small part of her scread that this was wrong.
That she should turn and run.
But she didn’t move.
Because another part of her, the part that still burned with rage, with hatred knew that Lumian was right.
She did want more.
She wanted to tear apart everyone who had made her suffer.
Jason was just the beginning.
She lifted her gaze slowly, her breath uneven. "I... I don’t understand."
Lumian smirked.
"You will."
He stepped back, his tone light again, almost casual.
"But you won’t just kill for the sake of it," he continued. "You have a reason."
Shirley frowned. "I do?"
Lumian tilted his head. "Tell . was Jason the only one who wronged you?"
Shirley opened her mouth, ready to say yes.
But before she could, Lumian spoke again.
"No. He wasn’t."
His voice grew darker, heavier.
"There were others, weren’t there?"
Shirley stiffened.
"The ones who mocked you," Lumian continued. "The ones who whispered behind your back. The so-called friends who turned away when you needed them the most."
Shirley clenched her fists.
"The people who saw what was happening to you who knew, but did nothing. The ones who treated you like filth. The ones who enjoyed watching you suffer."
His words sank into her like venom.
Every mory he described ca rushing back. The laughter, the taunts, the cruel, indifferent gazes.
"The teacher," Lumian added, voice sharp. "The one who should have protected you. The one who used you instead."
Shirley’s breath ca in ragged gasps.
The rage inside her boiled over.
"What do you think these people deserve?" Lumian asked.
Shirley didn’t hesitate this ti.
Her head snapped up. Her eyes burned with fury.
"Death."
A slow, wicked smile spread across Lumian’s lips.
"Wonderful."
Shirley exhaled sharply, her body shaking with adrenaline.
But then, her expression twisted in frustration.
"How?" she demanded. "How do I do it? I can’t just—"
Lumian held up a hand, silencing her.
"Co closer."
Shirley hesitated for only a mont before stepping forward.
Lumian opened his System Shop, his eyes flicking through the glowing interface only he could see.
"There it is," he murmured.
[Subjugation Mark]
But then, sothing else caught his attention.
[Power Slave Inscription]
A smirk crossed his lips.
He read the description, intrigued
[Once infused in the target, the host will be able to share his physical abilities with the target.
The more the host increases the percentage of power shared, the more the target loses their will and ability to act on their own, so at maximum percentage when even the host’s skills are shared with the target, the target’s would have beco an absolute slave to the host.
Note: Percentage shared can only be increased, never reduced.]
"So, this ensures I’m never undone by my own power. Interesting."
He made his decision.
Purchase.
The world returned to normal.
He looked at Shirley.
"Give your hand."
Shirley hesitated. But sothing in Lumian’s gaze made it impossible to refuse. She extended her hand slowly. Lumian grasped her wrist, turning her palm upward.
Then, the heat began.
At first, it was just a dull warmth.
Then it grew.
And grew.
Until it felt like fire was branding itself into her flesh.
Shirley gasped, trying to yank her hand back. But Lumian held her in place.
The pain intensified.
She scread.
Her knees buckled.
When it was finally over, Lumian released her.
Shirley collapsed to the ground, panting.
On the back of her hand, a strange, twisting mark glowed faintly before fading into her skin.
Shirley groaned, gripping her wrist. "What the hell did you—"
Pain slamd into her chest.
A sharp, agonizing force that knocked the breath from her lungs.
She shrieked.
Her body convulsed, then everything went black.
Lumian watched as she crumpled, unconscious.
He smiled.
"Rest well."
Then, without another word, he lifted her into his arms and disappeared into the night.
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