Red-Eyed Bull

Cayden sat comfortably in the dimly lit second basement lounge, settled on a large white sofa that snaked through the room, giving it an eerie yet fascinating aura. 

The surroundings seemed like a scene from a movie to Cayden, with shadows dancing across the walls, and Cayden couldn't help but feel a sense of amazement at the unusual ambiance as he observed everything in awe. 

"So, you're telling me you grew up in an orphanage?" Darcy asked, sitting across from him, her astonishment evident. She had previously assumed Cayden to be a pampered rich child, attributing his vulnerability and softness to a sheltered upbringing. However, reality was proving to be far more complicated. 

Cayden had indeed spent his entire life in an orphanage, a fact that contradicted Darcy's assumptions about his origin. He nodded, meeting her gaze with anticipation. It was clear he hadn't just come to discuss his background. "And now, the orphanage is being emptied for no apparent reason?" Darcy repeated his words. 

Once again, Cayden nodded, his expression more fervent this time. 

"Yes, the orphanage has been receiving ransom notes for the past year. However, our father, being strict and religious, refused to stoop low. Now, the people behind the notes are threatening to harm the children if we don't empty the orphanage," Cayden explained, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. 

The idea of the innocent children in the orphanage being at risk of abandonment or injury haunted Cayden. It was a weight on his conscience that he couldn't bear. 

Despite her efforts to remain composed, a subtle smile tugged at Darcy's lips. Cayden, a grown man who had likely distanced himself from the orphanage being an adult, still used terms like "our" and "we," which showed a deep emotional connection he still held to the orphanage. This added another layer to his nature and another reason for Darcy to find his personality intriguing. 

"So in short, you're seeking my help to rescue the orphanage you once called home?" Darcy inquired, crossing her legs and settling into her usual relaxed position. 

Assurance settled over her now that she knew Cayden was not directly in any danger. She could finally loosen up a bit. 

"Why should I help you?" She posed the obvious question, leaving Cayden momentarily stunned. Laughter erupted behind him, but Darcy swiftly silenced her subordinates with a stern glare, putting an end to their mockery towards the poor guy. 

Cayden stammered, attempting to reason for approaching her. "You— you are a nice person, you helped me—" 

But before he could complete his sentence, Darcy interjected with a dismissive tone, "Woah! Woah! Stop right there. I only helped you because I like your café. You guys make some bomb coffee, and my taste is expensive." 

Cayden sat there, dumbfounded. The Darcy before him now was not the same person he had encountered the past few times. She had been kind, aggressively so but kind. The version now in front of him seemed the opposite, almost as if she was mocking him. 

"You said to contact you if there was any trouble," Cayden mumbled, lowering his gaze to his feet. Darcy couldn't help but notice the small pout on his lips, an adorable sight that tempted her to pinch his round cheeks. She restrained herself, maintaining a serious demeanor. 

"That was also for the sake of your coffee shop. Look, Cayden, who do you think I am?" Darcy asked, her stoic expression returning. 

At that same time, Dominic returned from his errands with the assigned subordinates. Some of them bore bruises on their faces, though nothing too severe to be concerned about, suggesting they had done their job properly. 

"Darcy?" he mumbled in a faint voice, audible just enough for Darcy to catch. She chuckled merrily. While she attempted to project an air of nonchalance toward the poor guy, her subordinates sensed a shift in her usual behavior, casting a seed of doubt among them nonetheless. 

"And who is Darcy?" she asked again, tilting her head in amusement. Cayden fell into a silence, unsure of how to respond. 

"This is what I'm talking about. Don't assume things. Just because I fought those thugs doesn't mean it was for you; they just pissed me off," Darcy clarified, her words landing with a disheartening impact on Cayden. 

He stared at his feet, the weight of disappointment heavy on his heart. 

Darcy glanced at one of her underlings and subtly gestured towards Cayden with her eyes. "Escort our guest out respectfully, and by out, I mean out of the company, not to the dungeons." 

Cayden's eyes widened in disbelief. Dungeons inside the building? 

As he was escorted out, Dominic finally approached Darcy. He took a seat across from her, and she acknowledged him with a thumbs-up for completing his mission successfully. 

"Don't you think that last joke was a bit too much for him? We have no dungeons in here," Dominic commented, a hint of bitterness in his tone. Darcy's behavior towards Cayden had struck a nerve with him. The idea of the same guy getting Darcy's help in the club and now ending up in the basement seemed utterly ridiculous to him. 

"It doesn't matter. It's not like we don't have dungeons at all," Darcy stated matter-of-factly, and Dominic nodded, his thoughts still revolving around Cayden. 

Darcy pointed to one of her female subordinates. "You," she said, prompting an immediate "Yes, boss" from the girl. "Do some digging on this Cayden guy. I can't have people like him coming to my base like this." 

"Yes, boss," the female subordinate replied as Darcy stood up, making her way back to her private area. 

Meanwhile, Dominic kept his eyes fixed on Darcy, squinting in suspicion. There was an unspoken tension in the air, and as he mulled over the recent events, a nagging feeling told him that there was more to Cayden's presence than met the eye. 

... 

"Tell me, what did you find?" demanded the man sitting in the dimly lit room, puffing on a cigarette as smoke enveloped him. 

"Apart from the usual, there seems to be a guy involved with her. He has been constantly seen around her in the past few events, and we suspect there is something going on between them," the other man, dressed in a black suit, reported, his eyes lowered in respect. 

The man on the sofa scoffed. A knife lay beside him, and he seized it, swiftly sending it flying towards the man standing before him. The other man knew better than to move; the knife, could have been directed at his heart, but to his fortune, it was meant to just graze his cheek, leaving a long but superficial cut. 

"Suspecting? Is that what I keep you here for? You useless pricks, find out something solid that I can use against her. I will make her bend on her knees and beg for forgiveness," the man with the cigarette raged, his frustration palpable. The subordinate bowed, acknowledging his mistake, and exited the room, holding his bloody cheek. 

"Just you wait, Darcy. You will know who not to mess with," the man vowed, clenching his fist, his eyes burning with pure hatred. 

As he plotted his revenge, the room seemed to darken even further, echoing the intensity of his sinister intentions. 

... 

Darcy strolled through a sunflower-filled valley, her helmet held in gloved hands. The aroma surrounded her, delivering a unique sense of tranquility. 

Her subconscious yearned for this to be a regular occasion, but disappointed, she knew it was merely a fleeting moment. 

Her subordinate only told her about the valley but Darcy did not know the valley was going to be an absolute piece of paradise. 

For the first time, Darcy left her bike behind, choosing to walk and immerse herself in the serenity of the place. 

As she continued to walk through the ravishing and entrancing scenery, she finally reached her destination. 

A smile graced her face as she gazed upon the grounds of the orphanage visible through the black railings of the giant gate. 

Children filled the space, laughter and joy echoing as they played without a care in the world. 

Was there a time she felt that carefree? Darcy couldn't help but ask herself, chuckling and shaking her head at the fleeting thought. 

Inevitably, the burden of losing someone dear hung over the orphans, just as it did for Darcy. Those children, despite their pasts, found joy in the simplicity of the moment. 

"They are stronger than me I suppose," she mumbled to herself, taking in a deep breath to calm her throbbing heart. 

Soon, Darcy found herself in the director's room, who supposedly was the father of the church as well. Not being religious, Darcy felt a twinge of awkwardness in her atmosphere. 

With her fabricated identity from the supposed child safety organization, she presented fake documents to the father, who believed her every word instantly, thinking one of his people must have approached the child safety organization on his behalf. 

"Can you show me the notes you received?" Darcy asked politely, her discomfort evident. The father warmly smiled, rising from his office chair and disappearing momentarily. 

Upon his return, he handed Darcy a stack of worn-out yellow papers. "And these are where they started to threaten us to evacuate the place," he added, presenting three more worn-out papers. 

Furrowing her eyebrows, Darcy scrutinized the notes. One thing became clear to her—the source of the threat. 

In the corner of each note was a drawing of a bull with red eyes. 

A smirk played on Darcy's lips as she recognized the mark, she could recognize that even in her sleep. "I think I can most definitely help you with this," said Darcy with sparks in her eyes as she was about to meet her favorite nemesis.