Chapter 80. Reach for the Stars, Jump

Trigger warning x2! Mentions of graphic violence, such as self-harm.

The next day, Anderson declared that his elder brother; Orion Rubius; would set foot outside of Lydia Kingdom to pursue forgiveness for his misdeeds and adultery. The announcement was all too sudden, catching the entire Capital City by storm. Adultery in noble households were common, though always frowned upon by society.

However, none of the civilians understood why Orion received such a punishment—out of all things? It was almost as if House Rubius refused to acknowledge this eldest son of theirs.

"Have you seen off your elder brother, son?" An old voice croaked in the bed chamber. Seated by the large velvety mattress, Anderson nodded. "I sent him off. Though he was reluctant to leave, the decision had to be made." His weight on the bed made it sink down, though the old man laying there did not notice.

"...that Orion... hah, what can I even say about him?" Duke Rubius sighed.

His wrinkled silver eyes gazed at Anderson's, brimmed with fatigue. "I definitely did not make the wrong decision... choosing you, my perfect son, as the heir."

Little did he know, Anderson's thoughts were brewing up a storm. No, you did make the wrong choice.

*****

A loud cough bombarded the bathroom. The strained gurgle noises washed down the toilet, but a desperate gasp for air made the temperature drop. Lucilline grabbed onto the edge of the sink, his limp body weak and helpless, but the drool and vomit at his mouth tasted strong.

"...Young Master, do you feel any better now?" By his side, a strong arm strung him together.

Willow's brows furrowed tight, leaving almost no space between. "Young Master?"

No matter how much Lucilline threw up, he could still taste the residual blood of his mother, staining the walls of his vomit-coated mouth. His locks of black hair had sweat damping them, the strands sticking to his pale forehead. Lucilline Rubius' appearance could be described as a porcelain doll. Cracks had already begun splitting across this beautiful figure of glass.

The eight-year-old boy hung onto the sink, as if his life was on the line.

The news of Orion Rubius' departure from Lydia was false. It was merely lies strung by his father to disguise what truly happened.

He saw everything unravel.

A sickening look was displayed across Anderson's handsome face, like a dark mist distorting his expression. He had walked forwards at that time, easily grabbing his elder brother by the collar, then turned him into a mutilated corpse. It was a hideous sight, the smell no less pungent than if a plague swept across a city.

"Lucy, don't look," At last, Scarletta and Zephyratt rushed in the underground basement, their warm palms falling before the boy's eyes.

They were quite late though.

Those scarring images had long ago etched into Lucilline's mind.

To present, Lucilline hung on the toilet. He moved a hand to yank open his lips, rubbing the edges of it wine red. Slowly, he stretched a finger down his throat, the knot on his neck bobbing. The boy felt a rush of adrenaline, as he threw up more down the toilet bowl.

Willow could only pat his back in silence.

Only when sun began setting down the horizon did Lucilline stop. His lean chest heaved up and down, desperate gasps gurgling out from his throat.

"I will get dinner for you, Young Master." Willow bowed. Her fleeing steps spiralled across the hallway, and her silhouette gradually faded away in the distance. Little did her Young Master realize, the silver-haired maidservant quickly wiped away her tears, afraid to let them show.

Lucilline ate dinner like a starved animal. He wolfed it down, drool sliding down his delicate skin. Willow wiped the trail with a handkerchief.

When she left to wash the dishes, Lucilline returned back to the toilet, resuming his vomiting business. The taste of pungent blood was still strong in his mouth, burning the walls of his lips like acid. This time, he threw up food instead of saliva.

The eight-year-old wobbled back to his feet.

His entire body felt weak.

That night, Lucilline was laid to bed. The thick blankets covered from the bottom of his feet to the top of his shoulders. Slowly, he sunk lower, allowing the fabric to envelope his whole puny figure. He suffocated himself in silence, feeling the heavy layers crush him. A small smile fell on his lips. He imagined the thick blankets to be the hand of a god, pinning his mere fragile body into land, his figure imprinting unto the ground. Once the weight was too much to handle, he will immediately go splat.

Sooner enough, the lack of air forced the boy to leap out.

The blankets rolled off his shoulders, and his pair of golden eyes dilated in shock. Lucilline jumped down

from bed, his arms rowing wildly, pulling apart the curtains.

Through the window, he could see the crescent moon clearly.

It shone on his small body, droplets of sweat sliding down his pale skin. Why do I still yearn for air? Why is it that I feel the need to breathe? A low laugh fled from his mouth in a self-deprecating manner.

A sickeningly pale hand ran across his strands of black hair, his fringe stuck to his forehead from sweat. Lucilline walked around in his bed chamber, his soft footsteps clicking against the carpet like water droplets.

He stopped before a wood cabinet.

The drawer was pulled open, revealing a dagger. Beads of blood was drawn out from his left hand. Crimson red salivated out from his china white skin, the wound opening like a lips parting for air amidst in a never-ending ocean. The horizon seemed to have no beginning nor end. More and more slits across the white field, the clear ocean water fading into a burgundy fruit punch.

"It's not enough." Lucilline rolled his eyes, a mild annoyance ringing at the back of his head.

He threw away the knife, watching the red liquid soak into the bed sheets. It would be a pain to wash out later. But... Lucilline pondered to himself. It wouldn't need any washing if I'm don't sleep in it ever again.

The hallway outside his bed chamber was void of any presence.

As his bare feet clicked across the carpeted floor, Lucilline's nightgown casted a silhouette across the walls. Not a single candle was lit, but he could traverse fine. His golden eyes were the only illumination within the cold manor.

Lucilline climbed up to the attic, then popped his head up onto the roof.

His small body was almost blown off the roof from the wicked winds, the currents tugging at his sleepwear, as if trying to guide him to a place up above the clouds. The black-haired boy hung on his locks of hair, which were flapping in the wind, removing them from placating his eyesight.

It was freezing cold, the temperature numbing the tips of Lucilline's toes and fingers.

But the boy did not mind, rather he became more and more enthralled.

Lucilline spread out his arms, his legs as well. The wind bit at his face, but the smile etched across his lips cracked into a bizarre shape. When he looked upwards at the skies, there were small light fragments of stars. Lucilline fell into deep thought. "Are you watching me, Mom?"

That question sunk in the silence.

"I can touch the stars." He reassured himself, his toes nearing the edge of the rooftop. "Watch me touch them all."

Then, he jumped.

*****

When Lucilline awoke from his slumber, he found his body aching all over.

"...where am I—" His voice croaked, but he was immediately interrupted by a harsh embrace. Strands of mahogany red hair flew before his face. Scarletta hugged him to her chest, "YOU'VE FINALLY AWAKEN, LUCY!!!" Tears ran down her cheeks.

Another figure joined on the bed.

Zephyratt did not say a word, just silently holding onto his youngest brother's hand.

Lucilline took a while to gather everything. When he'd jump off the rooftop, his body accidentally collapsed in the bush of a tree. His arms were impaled, his ribs broken, and a shoulder dislocated. Nevertheless, the few minor cuts on his left hand paled in comparison. It was Willow who discovered him first. The silver-haired maidservant heard a loud crash in the middle of night, and was frightened out of her wits.

It was almost a miracle—saving the Young Master and all.

Most of the nurses believed that Lucilline wouldn't survive.

Sunlight peered through the curtains, shining briefly on the eight-year-old's face. His pale skin glowed brighter than any candle, like a luminous pearl unfurled from its clamped shut shell. "...I'm so glad that you're alive." A sob sounded by his ear.

Lucilline blinked in surprise.

Why? It shouldn't have been me who survived. His golden eyes reflected the drawn curtains, and the sight of his crying siblings. It would have been better if I died instead. That way, Mom would still be alive. The nighttime sky of stars had long disappeared.

"I don't want to lose a loved one again." Zephyratt mumbled in his ear.

Lucilline froze. That's right. If he died, then Willow, Zephyratt, and Scarletta would have been upset. They would cry. He would hate to see that.

The Imperial Nurse brought out her notepad, reading off the notes written across. "Young Master Rubius should rest. He should be able to recover in within a week. Over that duration, we will have mages come over to have regular checkups." She furrowed her brows with a serious expression, "Next time, do not do such dangerous acts. If it weren't for your maid, then there would have been a whole different outcome."

Willow's purple eyes glistened with tears.

She softly held her Young Master's hand, praying that he would recover faster.

Lucilline watched everyone sob with a dumbfounded expression. The blankets on his bed chamber have already been washed, switched with another layer. At last, the black-haired boy looked out towards the window. Outside were hundreds of flowers flourishing in the garden.

These flowers were all nurtured by Rachelle's love and care.

If he died, then he'd no longer be able to see them again. Perhaps, it was for the better that he survived.

*****

The next day, Zephyratt sat in his chair with a distressed face. His brows furrowed, with his two calloused hands locked into a hold. The husband of Brielle Bellerose had been brutally mutilated by Anderson, his death becoming one of the many secrets in Lydia Kingdom. Following afterwards that night, Brielle Bellerose; jumped off a building.

Her body was found with maggots eating her in and out.

None of the nobles dared to move her, the pungent smell rotting away the entire street. In the end, the three Grand Duke Houses; Rubius, Delta, and Leinhart; worked together to dispose of her corpse.

They found out that Brielle had a eight-year-old daughter—her name unknown.

Anderson clicked his tongue in annoyance, and sent the girl to an orphanage out in the countryside. As for how she will fare without her parents anymore—none of the nobles cared for the life of a commoner. The words of Rachelle had rung in Anderson's ears, "Commoners... nobles... none of that matters. We are all human."

Her lingering voice only left stabs at his heart.

The next week, Duke Rubius passed away. The title of Grand Duke was inherited by Anderson. As a result of that, all the servants in House Rubius were fired.

Zephyratt tried to think of reasons as to why.

Perhaps Anderson grew afraid of having traitors in his faction. The new Grand Duke Rubius appeared like a mighty sword, but without his sheathe, his blade began to rust.

"I beg of you to not fire me!" A cry exploded in the office. Willow kneeled on one knee, her black and white dress scuffled into mere wrinkles. Her silver hair was tied back, but appeared rather disorganized, like a nest with strands of straw poking out. "Please allow me to continue serving Young Master Rubius! I beg of you!" Her purple eyes became bloodshot.

Anderson frowned while seating in his high chair.

His leather boots were polished to reflect the maidservant's desperate pleas. "I cannot make any exceptions for you. Leave."

A loud bang bursted in the office.

Willow slammed her forehead onto the carpet, not caring for any bruises that were to form. She curled into a kowtow, the floorboards cracking open slits. "I BEG OF YOU!"

All of a sudden, the door to the office slammed open.

A tired black-haired boy rushed in, his figure leaning forwards in fatigue. Lucilline could hardly catch his breath, his face ghastly pale, resembling a ghoul in broad daylight. "Father... please..." His chest heaved up and down as he wheezed. "Please let Willow stay." His fingers gripped on the edge of the wooden door, his knuckles burning white. "She saved my life."

Anderson remained indifferent. His cold face made Willow fall into deeper despair.

"I beg of you." Willow slammed her head back down. "I will never betray Young Master. I am willing to stake my life for Young Master."

"...No... Willow, that's enough." Lucilline's knees weakened. He slumped onto the carpet, his nightgown crumpled at the hem. "...don't hurt yourself..."

Out of nowhere, Anderson stood up from his seat.

"You said that you're willing to stake your life." His silver eyes was much harsher compared to Willow's strands of fluffy hair. "If you truly mean what you said, then enter a Sequence Contract with Lucy."

As those words set in, Lucilline dragged himself back up from the floor.

His strands of black hair stuck to his cheeks.

"But father..."

"I am willing." Willow deadpanned.