[she only wanted her mother to return]

——xxx——

The man didn't respond to Lucas' provocation, observing with a leisure calmness. He was, in fact, indifferent to most of the matters in this Story and didn't plan to interfere.

The scowling person with arrogance flitting through his eyes was a little interesting—but that was all.

Therefore, he shrugged. "I don't have a weapon."

"You can fight without one," Lucas replied patiently. "Or do you want mine?"

"Are you that desperate to fight me?"

Lucas lowered his head in response, waiting. Determining that he wouldn't move until the man attacked, the latter sighed before lunging.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, and nobody could follow the movements. However, to the two taking part in the scuffle, it all played out slowly.

The man leaped forward. 

Fist held back to swing as Lucas deflected the hit with his sword, solemnly casting it to the side before kicking his legs around. 

He spun. Palms planted on the cold ground to support himself, before springing back up.

Who would've expected a flying attack to be waiting for him? His eyes widened as he sucked in a harsh breath, instinct moving faster than thought. Sharp pain shot through his body.

Jump.

Twist.

Dodge!

He was so taken by the energy that surged in his veins that the pain only further increased his heartbeat.

It narrowly missed the side of his cheek, grazing it enough to draw a line of blood before Lucas reached out to snatch the sword off the ground, spinning and slamming it forward.

The man attempted to dodge, but Lucas predicted the movement and restrained his movements, successfully knocking him back. However, the former stabilized his position, firmly grating his feet into the ground and stopping them both.

A hand hastily wrapped around his wrist, relentless. Lucas lunged to snatch the blade handing around the man's belt. It slid out, and he thrusted it at the tender flesh of the throat. 

Only inches away. He could see the other's breath, the way his skin pulsed with life.

Their movements stilled.

And what everybody saw was a remnants of a dangerous battle, more like a flurry of devastating movements. 

There was no winner between them.

Lucas, with a knife held to the other's neck, and the masked man, having stolen away the longer blade, held the edge near the hilt to the opposite side of Lucas' pale neck. A trickle of blood ran down, creating a vivid contrast that easily drew attention. 

Sweat layered over their foreheads in a faint sheen, shoulders moving from their hurried breaths.

They stared at each other silently, chest rising, hearts beating from adrenaline.

It went without saying. These two couldn't easily be messed with—and Lucas drilled the point he aimed to prove into everybody's memory.

Lucas lazily raised his chin, the corner of his mouth lifted so vaguely, it was hard to make out. "Are you convinced?"

"Without a doubt," answered the man carelessly, holding out the blade back to Lucas, as they exchanged their stolen weapons calmly. 

Lucas only raised his eyebrow in acknowledgeable, before turning to face the crowd irritably.

"Whether or not you believe me, I don't care. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm right. That's your gamble to make."

However, turmoil still mingled in the crowd and a woman rushed out, targeting Nora, who stood by the side. The woman's eyes widened as a blade gleamed, snatching against her arm and breaking the cloth.

She stumbled back, staring at the open area that revealed her skin. Yet no cut marked it, despite the knife connecting, sliding across with precision. Lucas quickly stepped in front of her, his dangerous, quiet gaze daring the attacker to make another move.

The woman who failed to injure Nora trembled and scrambled back.

Nora rubbed a thumb over her skin, frowning. "Are we going to investigate into Cinderella's history? Or is there something else you plan to do first?"

"We'll leave now."

There was nothing left for him to say or do about this bloodbath. Although the ideal situation would be for them to reach an agreement, he also knew that rational thinking was difficult when one's life teetered at the edge of death. 

Not to mention, to trust in a stranger within a group of selfish humans was near impossible.

Lucas didn't enjoy too much spotlight, and turned to leave without another word. The youth—what was his name? 

El... Elias? Elvis? Or was it Alex? Alistair?

Now, one couldn't assume that his memory was bad, in fact, it was outstanding. However, he considered names to be unimportant and subconsciously filtered them out of his mind.

The exception was for those he intended to continue speaking to, or those he (unwillingly) saw to the point he had to remember their name.

They arrived in front of Cinderella's stone mansion before long, an ominous radiating from the worn down house. Vines crawled along the edge, and divots and cracks ran along the path. The bushes were overgrown and not maintained, creating a desolate weight over the building.

"Is nobody inside, do you think?"

Lucas shook his head. "All the roles should've been given out to us, and anybody with a brain would be out searching for shoes, or participating in the chaos at the ball."

With that said, he mercilessly kicked open the locked doors, causing the grounds to shudder. Something scurried on across the ground, shooting over into a corner. 

Lucas immediately narrowed his stormy eyes, stepping over the fallen debris. When he got three meters close, a voice hastily cried out.

"I-I have no brain! I'm sorry!" The figure curled up further into the corner and Lucas' lips pressed together tightly, feeling as if he were playing a villain in the story.

Clearly, he was supposed to be the kind prince, right?

"...who are you?"

The person trembled violently. "Please don't kill me!"

"I'm not going to kill you. Who are—"

"I-I have nothing valuable, I play sports, you can use me as a meat... meat shield! Really! It's better not to kill me right away, I'm pretty sturdy!" 

The rambles only made Lucas' frown deepen, taking a slow breath before he crouched down a meter away from the person, going down to their eye-level.

"Don't eat me either! I don't taste good! You know, it... it's a fact that..."

Lucas faltered, entirely confused as he waited for the incoherent speech to stop, listening to the fearful pleading before speaking. "I'm not going to kill you. But unless you want to piss me off, shut up and answer my question."

Nora looked over in surprise, but the harsh manner of speaking didn't scare the trembling man, and instead reassured him, helping him regain a sense of sanity. The words cut through the shaking thoughts, rudely reawakening him to the current situation.

The young man slowly lifted his head, eyes peeking over with his frightened gaze. "I'm... I'm sorry."

"Who are you?" said Lucas again, somewhat impatiently, though he showed no movements of giving up on asking.

"My name's... um, it... it's Julian! Julian Faux. I have the role of Gus Gus."

"...the rat?"

"Yes!"

Julian nodded, with such enthusiasm at admitting his role as one of Cinderella's rats, that Lucas felt a little speechless again. Could they even give humans the role of an entirely different species?

His eyes wandered down, settling on a slender tail that he didn't notice either, then back up to the soft brown ears on top of bleached hair.

"....." He tilted his head. "Are those real?"

The youth followed his stare and nodded quickly. "Yes! They are!"

Lucas suddenly decided that his luck wasn't so bad, after all. Especially when the tail swayed, obedient and eager to answer his questions. A dog-rat-human hybrid? He didn't want to think about it.

"I'm here to investigate Cinderella's past. Do you know anything?"

The other had slowly settled into a cross-legged position at this point, no longer as scared as he'd been in the beginning. Although Lucas' eyes were terrifying and indifferent, they were also straight-forward and observant. There was a strange, comfortable air that surrounded the man.

Julian was still cautious, however, having seen several die before him in the short time he'd been in this Story.

He was a muscular and sunny man, a first-year university student who got a scholarship for football. With cropped white hair and sleepy brown eyes, he actually painted a rather fearsome picture. A hibernating bear that would sharpen its claws when provoked.

Unfortunately, Julian Faux was a coward.

Scared of dying, of pain, of almost everything. Football had been a way for him to overcome that fear, but it was only on the field that he could gain courage to shine with confidence.