Chapter 89. My Family is Human

Author's Note: istg, the day I had motivation and decided to write—Wattpad began giving me internet connection issues. Anyways, I believe that Lucilline's villain arc will soon be over in a few chapters. I can't wait to see the normal Lucy! This villain Lucy is kinda scary ngl 🤧

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The next morning, Lucilline was thrown into prison.

His body felt haggard, as if a thousand stones pelted across his distorted figure—like a puddle of darkness swamping in shadows. The black-haired villain allowed himself to sink to the dirty cobblestone ground, the rugged stone scraping his knees.

He already knew the outcome of his actions.

The judges settled for "life imprisonment", and it was determined for him to stay behind the black lines of prison bars eternally.

Quite frankly, the black-haired villain did not have the appetite to care anymore. Lucilline slumped at the wall, feeling the minuscule rough edges scratching past the fabric of his clothing, and venturing deep to stab into his skin. The black-haired villain's face was pale to the point of appearing ghastly, as if he was a ghost sneaking out at the midst of midnight.

His cheekbones protruded out from his skin—he hadn't eaten for a long time.

Lucilline remembered the sight of his crimson red eyes reflecting upon Willow's mirror. He chuckled to himself. I really am a demon. That appearance of himself was unsightly—it was inhumane.

He was able to slaughter countless individuals without mercy. Perhaps he deserved to rot in the jail cell for the rest of his life.

Not a single sound permeated in his ears.

Even his copper bell lost its lustre. Its sweet and bubbly sound had faded away, becoming rather dull and weak.

At nighttime, the torches would extinguish, allowing darkness to seep into every crook and cranny.

Lucilline trembled. It felt as if he'd been burrowed six feet below ground, with the suffocating laughter of silence strangling his throat in their hands. It reminded him of that madman—his uncle, Orion—relentlessly stabbing a blade straight through his mother's chest, blood flooding the chamber and clogging his every shortness of breath.

He thought to himself: even death would be better than this.

When there is endless darkness, it allows room for imagination. The beaten villain found himself curled in a weeping fetus position, his fingers and toes numb cold, while clutching onto his aching stomach. He was akin to a starving child wandering about the frozen streets, the lone child of Christmas Eve.

A spark of fire drew his attention to a lit window.

The child peered in, witnessing a splendour of extravagant meals and feasts. His mouth watered uncontrollably, and the rumbling in his stomach trampled over his pride. He found himself sinking past the window glass, nearing the turkey platter placed centre, and reached out a hand—

Lucilline woke up to the sound of a hushed whisper.

"Lucilline, get up."

His groggy eyelids threatened to fall back down, but he persevered and stretched them awake. The jail cell was horridly cold. Lucilline wished that he hadn't awoken, so he wouldn't have to experience such a sensation.

"Lucilline. Lucilline Rubius." An old woman's voice croaked out from the other side of the cell.

The black-haired villain faltered. He recognized this voice.

"It is not your fault." The mind demon soothed. "You are not evil."

"Liar." Lucilline's voice came out ragged and rough. He remembered the demonic look of his red eyes—at that very moment, the crimson blood pierced through the glass pane and burned his retinas. He could never forget it.

The mind demon sighed, as if at a loss. "You're not a villain, Lucilline. You are not at wrong."

The black-haired nobleman clenched his fists, feeling his nails sink into his palms.

"That's not true!" He snapped, "I... I hurt people. I also killed..."

"You only killed those guilty." The mind demon continued talking, unperturbed by the tension rolling in the black-haired nobleman's throat. "They killed your family. They ruined your life. Why is it that they're allowed to kill, but you aren't? What gives them the right to murder your loved ones, but you cannot to them?" The old woman's voice began growing louder, becoming a harsh ring at the nobleman's ears.

Lucilline felt his legs tremble against the cobblestone ground.

He could sense his morality shaking as well.

"No... you're not..." you're wrong. I killed an innocent little boy. I killed all the Holy Church followers. I killed all the priests. I am a villain. I am a murderer—

A cold hand grabbed onto his shoulder.

Numbingly frozen nails pricked his clothes, biting his skin and flesh into a frozen land of glacier. "Why are you lying to yourself, Lucilline?" The mind demon's hand did not move an inch, despite the nobleman's struggling figure.

He tried to shake off her hand, but she persisted.

"The Holy Church murdered your family, but why aren't they called murderers?" Her voice made the ceiling tremble, and the torches fall from the walls. "ARE YOUR FAMILY NOT CONSIDERED HUMAN?"

Lucilline was still in her grasp.

The old woman dressed herself in a cloak, with a long hood cascading over her face, only allowing shadows to appear. Her chest heaved, as if burning from anger, but then settled down afterwards. "Forget it." She snapped, "I will return later. I anticipate you choosing the right answer, Lucilline Rubius."

The cold hand on his hand slithered away.

Then, the old woman disappeared into the shadows.

Lucilline could still feel the cold temperature sinking in his skin, embracing his every bone and marrow. He turned to face the wall, his trembling back towards the bars.

He allowed himself to fall back into dreamland.

However, the remaining warmth had disappeared. The lit window of the winter night had vanished, leaving behind only a dark tunnel of void. There was no turkey, no Christmas Eve dinner, no torchlight to shine the path before him bright. The black-haired nobleman went silent, his silhouette fading into the darkness.

When he'd awaken, there was the disgusting feeling of cold water poured over him.

"Who'd think that the youngest son of House Rubius still wets himself in bed?" A malicious sneer snapped outside the cells. The prison guard set down his bucket, which had been rid of the water—the water in question drenching the black-haired nobleman.

Lucilline slowly blinked, droplets of water hanging from the curtains of his eyelashes.

His prison clothes of a torn brown rag was soaked through.

"Here's your fucking food." A piece of bread had dropped right outside the cell, with the bars blocking in between. The prison guard relentlessly stomped on the bread, scraping particles of dirt unto the squashed surface.

Lucilline's breath hitched, but his expression remained unfazed.

Thus, the prison guard kicked the stomped bread inside the prison cell. After directing an ugly sneer at the black-haired nobleman, he marched away.

Lucilline stared at the disgusting-beyond-form bread.

There was no way he'd willingly eat that.

However, he hadn't eaten for who knows how long. The feeling of starvation clawed at the fleshes in his stomach, as if wailing and trying to climb out from within the bloody pool.

He outstretched a hand to the bread—

"Don't eat that." A familiar voice spoke.

The mind demon stood outside the prison cell. It was unknown when she'd arrived and more importantly—how she managed to arrive without alerting the guards.

The elderly woman figure frowned. "Take my hand." Upon hearing that sentence, Lucilline noticed an old and wrinkly-skinned hand sticking through the bars. His dull golden eyes were written over by a layer of mist, and he did not react to even the most humiliating scenes.

"Take it," the mind demon spoke, "and you will receive every single desirable thing. You will repay those humans' every evil with tenfold."

Lucilline stared lifelessly at her wrinkled hand.

The mind demon became more and more impatient. All of a sudden, two new voices popped up from behind her. "Nineteen, are you done yet?" A woman with blonde curls and crimson red eyes examined the black-haired nobleman, her gaze full of complications. Beside her was a short girl dressed in a black cloak, but without fail of disguising her purple hair and eyes.

Lucilline recognized those two. "Miss A. and November."

The two new companions directed their gazes at him. Upon looking at him, Lucilline instinctively knew that they were demons as well.

His cold body shuddered. The water drenched over him seemed to slather across his scalp, tightening its grip and attempting to crush his head in its hold.

"Come with us, Lucilline Rubius." Nineteen—the mind demon—spoke. Her voice was gentle, unlike the times she chattered endlessly on and on in his mind. "We have the power to crush thousands of ants beneath our feet. We will give you the revenge you rightfully deserve."

Lucilline peered at her.

He then sneered, "You don't actually care for me like you pretend to, right?"

Nineteen flinched at the sudden comment.

"You said that I'm not a villain—that I'm not evil." Slowly, the black-haired nobleman climbed up from the cobblestone ground. "You don't actually mean that, I can tell." His scraped knees and torn ragged clothes smelled of rot. "But you asked me if my family are considered 'human'." A flare lit up within the dark conundrum of his golden eyes.

The dull gem was polished into a shining star.

"Yes, they are." Lucilline took a step towards the jail cell. "I know better than anyone else what my family is like." The faces of Scarletta, Zephyratt, Anderson, Rachelle, and Willow flashed before his eyes.

"Lydia has given up on their lives." He gritted his teeth, "Lydia has also given up on their heir." Another step forwards, "so I have given up on Lydia."

He was angry, no. He was always angry at this world—at this kingdom that knows no bound for misery and despair. Even when the innocent were howling cries at the skies, the Goddess Lydia never granted them her graceful beauty, and never bestowed them her gifts. All they received in return were more sadness and welling torture.

Lydia has truly given up on her people.

Lucilline felt the old demon's hand in his. "I also learned that... I always was a demon." All of a sudden, in between the contact of their hands, a malevolent heat scorched. Nineteen's face morphed into confusion, then fear. She tried to pull away, but the nobleman's grip on her was tight. "H-how is this possible!" Her face contorted into an indecipherable imagery—

Before everything about her melted into liquid mercury.

The silvery liquid rushed into Lucilline's body, then dissolving into invisible air.

Both Miss A. and November gasped in shock.

In the ancient times, before Lydia Kingdom was developed, demons fought against one another for survival. The stronger one would devour the weaker one, thus obtaining the defeated demon's power as well. Thus, the Demon Lord—who had devoured over 10,000 of his own specimen—had incomprehensible power, unimaginable to the human kind.

His children inherited his power. The Royal Demons who shared his bloodline were all known to be undefeatable.

Nineteen was a Royal Demon—though incomplete—but how could she be devoured by a mere human!?!

Lucilline raised his head, the shadows veiling his expression tearing off. "Even a weak demon can devour the strong in a moment of mishap."

"Could it be...!" Miss A. suddenly remembered something. "The Grand Houses... you're all descendants of those three traitors—!"

The last thing November and Miss A. witnessed was those beautiful golden eyes—morphing into a velvety colour of crimson red.