Chapter 3.2 — Atlas

I wanted to get angry at him. I wanted to retaliate with biting words, but my voice failed me.

"Don't overstep your boundaries," I finally managed to say. "I have something to attend to. Let Wendy know I'll be late."

Augustus clutched my hands, halting my attempt to rise. "Atlas, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just—"

"I know you're worried," I smiled at him, though it drained more strength from me than putting up a fight. "Thanks for that. But I have something important to take care of. I'll meet you later for dinner, okay?"

Augustus remained silent. I'm still waiting for the day when he finally gives up, when he stops trying so hard. Wendy, too. I can't abandon them, but being near them drains my energy further.

"Alright," Augustus sighed, the kind of sigh that indicated a temporary surrender but promised a continuation of this conversation later. "Wendy keeps asking about you. Could you at least try to come home early tonight?"

"Some other time," I stood up, and so did Augustus. "I already told you I'll be late, so don't bother."

"You're not meeting Dawn, are you?" Augustus despised it when I got involved with lords, which made sense. Being entangled with a lord brings too many complications, but I can handle them on my own.

"Not tonight, I don't think so," I shrugged. Augustus had a level of stubbornness that was unmatched. I knew he'd keep pestering me until I caved in.

"Just in case, I'm telling you," I continued, meeting his gaze directly. "I might see him a few more times. It's only casual hookups. He understands that. You know I don't like to linger."

Augustus didn't respond, simply stepping aside so I could exit. I knew my actions were causing him pain, but I couldn't stop myself now.

By the time I stepped into the elevator, that guilt that had clung to my chest had vanished.

Dr. Nicole always claims that the size of someone's conscience determines the duration of this feeling.

But those words aren't true. They're tailored specifically for me. I believe her goal is to make me feel guilty for longer, to make me more "human."

"Sir Moon," the elevator halted on the fifth floor, and Jade entered. "I brought what you requested."

"Injection or inhalation?" I smiled, accepting the small bag from her hands. "Is this all? It won't even last an hour."

"Injection, sir. They added new components to prolong the effect. I also disposed of the needles as per your instructions and checked every patch for irregular substances or poisoning. Everything is clear."

"Thank you," I patted her head, my smile eliciting a rosy blush on her cheeks. "You did well. You're dismissed for now."

"Thank you, sir," Jade lowered her gaze, her smile evident. Among the entire gang, she's the only one I can truly trust with such tasks. "I'll be on the third floor. Let me know if you need anything." With that, she exited the elevator.

It was twelve years ago when I found Jade in the dark depths of the A3 district, battered by her abusive guardian and starved. She was just eight years old, yet she endured all that misery.

Back then, I wasn't a saint either. I had blood on my hands. I recall returning from a mission, covered in crimson, when I encountered a child and offered her bread, asking if she wanted to leave with me, a stranger.

The eight-year-old claimed that anywhere and anyone would be better than that place and her guardian. So, she took my bloodied hands, and since then, I've been taking care of her.

As time passed, Jade became an integral part of my life, and I found myself growing fond of her. Though I never openly admitted it, her presence brought a sense of warmth and purpose that I hadn't realized I needed.

I don't think she's aware of it, but two months later, I took care of everything legally, and now, Jade Morgenstern is my adopted daughter. Deep down, there's a paternal love that blossomed within me, even if I try to pass it off as a mere obligation or responsibility.

Despite the challenges I face and the demons I battle within myself, Jade's well-being and happiness remain a priority. Her presence brings a flicker of light to the darkness that often envelops me, and for that, I am grateful.

Jade is more than just an adopted daughter. She's become someone I deeply care for, someone I fiercely protect, even if I don't always express it. And perhaps, in her own way, she helps me confront those inner demons and reminds me that there is still love and compassion within me, despite the careless and confident facade I wear on the outside.