Chapter 26: burns and cuts

7years ago

It was the 6th year after the launch of MS. Outside the building. Chants of activists and the press Calling for Lucien, like executioners waiting to put him on a guillotine. After all the world gained its joy from the downfall of those well made, their destruction a joy to the hearts of the empty, more so fulfilling when they are behind their own suffering. Meanwhile within the building of Arbitrators Inc. In the conference room where all deliberation was made. The now 9 leaders sat around the table, all on the seats with their respective numbers labelled boldly behind them, arranged as both The first seat and the second seat, was arranged to face opposite each other, with the other seats arranged in a line of 4 with the 8th seat empty, surrounding the table just big enough to cover all of them. Takeshi Ferranti Yatagarasu, with the alias Ichisaki was the 10 official leader, Bobby Fang Morgan with the alias Ego was the 9th official leader, Malik Ahsan Iskander, or Raji was the 7th official leader, Asbjørn Lars Sullivan also known as Rogue was the 6th official leader, Lucien Perceval Saint-Aurel or Reaper was the 5th official leader, Aiden Aamir Nasr or Fenris was the 4th official leader, Klaus Eirik Ziegler or Bloodline was the 3rd official leader, Leilani Winona Sullivan or Gen was the 2nd official leader, and the one who led them all, in strength, authority and Ranking was Issa Omari Adjei, Carrot, the 1st Official leader and the former CEO.

"In your foolishness you've led our company into a state of Limbo. The board is breathing down our necks to cut you off, the people are asking that we Lend them the knife that does it, and the controversy has become even bigger than the last one you caused." Fenris said, his voice loud and hard as he slammed his hands on the table. "We gave you this role because Issa had moved On, Winny grew weary, Bloodline would lead us to self death with his extremity, and Fenris wanted to train. You, with your title and your wisdom Was supposed to lead us through it all. Make us and keep us. And yet here you are being deliberated for the sin of Allegedly raping and leading a woman to death?" Raji said, his voice was calm and gentle but the disgust with his tone could be heard from miles away. He couldnt help but wonder what drove lucien to this extent. "You made your first mistake and we let it slide." Fenris continued, "that case of the burning home and the massacre in Villa nueva was buried under Multiple rugs despite all evidence pointing to you, all thanks to Daddy's money. But then you go again with no control of self and wisdom and you make the SAME mistake. Are you prone to disaster Lucien!?" At this point Fenris began to shout. His voice deep, aggressive, hoarse and crude. "Calm down Aiden, you know he hasn't done any of this." Issa said gently as he dropped the cup he'd been sipping from, "And you know Frederick is blaming Luca to cover up his tracks. Look at the evidence. The dates, the timing, we both know he couldn't have been here because all three of us weren't even in the country." Issa continued, his Face was bland, not as if it couldn't show emotion but as if it didn't want to. "Now I understand you grieve your brother dearly but this isn't something he nor us can handle or stop. And with him Cut off, from that "daddy's money" it's grown too big a scale for anyone to handle." At this point Issa was staring directly at Lucien, "You understand, dont you Lucien?" there was not much to deliberate but it was better to hold a formal briefing than let things take their course silently. Everyone here knew the truth. Lucien was foolish with his choices but he wasn't stupid enough to shoot himself in the foot with the way its been presented. The cctv footage was littered with deepfake, the quality too terrible to be questioned, the filed restraining order just before her death and her brothers rant about his involvement made things impossible tk reverse. Lucien was public enemy. Made in perfection to be crucified. A self made Billionaire, proud in his own right and Ceo of the biggest private Company in the world. It was perfect, to destroy him At this point without a second to consider or rethink. "It is settled then. Lucien will be stripped of his title, barred from the company and an official document rescinding and banning him from the games will be made public. You wikk remain As a worker with no pay until we can get everything sorted out. Is that clear?" Leilani said, getting up from her seat. She was as blank as Issa and had no intentions thinking through anything. She believed Luciens innocence but the image of the company stood more important than sentimental bonds.

After the decision was made, they all parted ways, Lucien, without a single emotion in his eyes walked through the hallway, heading to the elevator that led to his car sitted in the underground parking lot. "I'm sorry Lucien, there are no hard feelings between us, we do not wish to make you the scape goat but there isn't much we can do, Frederick has tied our hands." Issa Said calmly as they both walked through the hallway leading to the elevator. Lucien remained silent as he pressed the button for the elevator. The doors slid open with a quiet chime, and both men stepped inside. The cool hum of the air conditioning filled the space as Issa leaned against the wall, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. "You know, it's funny," Issa mused, watching the numbers descend. "People always act like they're victims of circumstance, like the tides of fate have washed them ashore, helpless and desperate. But deep down, don't you think they make choices? Even when they pretend they have no options, they do. Frederick, he chose, didn't he?" Lucien didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the polished steel doors, his reflection staring back at him, unreadable. Issa chuckled softly, as if they were sharing some lighthearted joke. "He tied your hands, you say? No, Lucien, he tied his own. A man like him, so eager, so desperate to prove his worth, he overreaches. And when people like that overreach, they always leave something exposed. A loose thread. A crack in the foundation. I wonder…" He tilted his head slightly. "What happens when you pull at that thread?" Lucien's fingers twitched slightly, but still, he said nothing. Issa continued, his voice as smooth as glass. "But then again, you're a reasonable man. A man of foresight. Someone who understands restraint. You won't pull too hard, no. You'll let him squirm, let him believe he's won. Let him bask in his stolen moment of triumph." Issa exhaled, his tone almost pitying. "Because, in the end, men like Frederick? They undo themselves. They build their little fortresses, surround themselves with loyal dogs, but they never ask the important question." Lucien's voice was barely above a whisper. "And what question is that?" A slow, knowing smile curled Issa's lips. "What happens when the ground beneath them disappears?" The elevator let out a soft ding as they neared the underground level. Issa straightened, rolling his shoulders lazily. "I suppose it's a matter of principle, isn't it? You're not the type to seek revenge, after all. That's such a petty, emotional thing. No, you're a man who settles accounts. And what kind of man leaves a debt unpaid?" He sighed, as if he were speaking of some minor inconvenience. "Frederick has taken a great deal from you, Lucien. He's taken your name, your reputation, your position. And yet… I wonder how much he truly has to lose. What would happen if… say… he had no name to speak of? If his allies suddenly found him… inconvenient? If his family—ah, but I suppose it's cruel to speculate. Some things are inevitable, after all." The doors slid open. Issa took a step forward but then hesitated, turning back slightly. "It's an odd thing, power. People think they can hold it with force, with alliances, with titles. But the ones who truly understand power…" He let the thought linger before flashing Lucien a pleasant, almost friendly smile. "They know that real control comes when no one even realizes they've lost it." With that, Issa stepped out of the elevator, leaving Lucien in the dim glow of the underground parking lot, the weight of his words settling like a whisper in the dark.

Everyone knew. There were no illusions, no whispers left to decipher. His name had already been dragged through the mud, written in ink that could never be erased. Lucien Perceval Saint-Aurel was a murderer. Heloisa had died before she could speak, before she could tell the truth, before she could clear his name. And now, truth didn't matter. Only the weight of perception did.

Day 1 – The Sentence

The moment he stepped out of the elevator, the world had already changed. Lucien could feel it like a sickness in the air, the suffocating silence, the unspoken verdict in every gaze. He didn't have to hear them to know. To them, he wasn't just an exile. He was a disease. The valet hesitated before taking his keys, fingers barely brushing his as if contact alone would taint him. When Lucien reached for his belongings, the man flinched. A grown man flinched. Lucien said nothing.He wouldn't plead. Not to them. Not to anyone. But the real punishment wasn't in silence—it was in acknowledgment. People would look at him. Not out of respect. Not out of fear. But with that disgusting gaze, the kind reserved for vermin. He walked through the parking lot, each step dragged through judgment.

Day 2 – The First Blow

By the next morning, they had perfected their craft. When he arrived at the office, the first sign was his nameplate. Gone. Not stolen. Not thrown away. Just… removed. Like he had never been there at all. Lucien exhaled sharply. They were efficient. He pushed open the door to his office, only to find someone else sitting at his desk. The man looked up, uninterested. "Oh, they moved you." Lucien didn't speak. He turned and left, taking the elevator down, not up. When the doors opened, his new office awaited him. A storage room. A single desk, shoved between rusted filing cabinets. A flickering light overhead. The stench of paper and old ink.It was deliberate. Every step planned. Every cut placed where it would hurt the most. Lucien took his seat. He did not react. But inside, something sharp curled in his chest.

Day 3 – The Spectacle Begins

They didn't just cast him aside.

They wanted to make an example of him. In the cafeteria, they did not ignore him. They watched. Eyes latched onto his every movement, tracking him as if he was a predator in a den of sheep. When he tried to sit, the space beside him was abandoned in seconds. One by one, they left. Leaving their meals unfinished. He picked up his fork. His food was too clean. Lucien exhaled slowly. He stood, leaving his tray behind, untouched. The laughter and triumphant Cheers followed him out. They were enjoying this.

Day 5 – The Fear Sets In

The whispers had evolved into something far worse. People didn't just avoid him. They feared him. He saw it in their eyes, in the way their fingers clenched, in the way they moved back when he walked past. Even the security guards, men he had once spoken to, once respected, they now stood stiff when he passed, hands twitching near their radios. As if waiting. As if expecting him to snap. A chair was kicked in his path one morning, blocking the hall. Lucien stepped over it. He did not react. An assistant "accidentally" spilled coffee on his desk. Lucien wiped it clean. He did not react. A coworker passed by him and muttered, "Should have killed yourself instead." Lucien exhaled through his nose. He did not react. But they wanted him to. They wanted him to break.

Day 7 – The Loss of Legacy

Frederick had taken everything.He out himself in to rub it in and now the Projects, reputation, influence, it was his now. Lucien received an email that morning. An invitation to an event. One he had once hosted. Except he wasn't on the guest list. They had sent it to him by mistake. Lucien did not delete it. He did not respond.He only watched. Watched as they praised Frederick. As they called him the future. As they spoke of his work, his successes, as if they had never belonged to Lucien at all. As if he had never existed.

Day 10 – The Theft of Words

It wasn't enough to erase him. They had to rewrite his story. By the tenth day, Lucien's name was no longer just tainted, it was a curse. He was the villain in every conversation.

"He was always like this."

"I never trusted him."

"It was only a matter of time."

History itself was changing, warping beneath their words. And Lucien let them speak. Because history only mattered to those who thought it was set in stone.

Day 14 – The Collapse

Lucien sat in his apartment, drenched in silence.

It was deafening. Suffocating.

His world had been shattered, his name carved into the grave of his own making.

And yet… He was still here. Lucas had crumbled under this weight. Lucien had not. But survival wasn't enough.They thought they had won.They thought this was the end.Lucien knew better. He inhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair.

They wanted a villain?

They wanted a monster?

They wanted justice?

Then he would give it to them.But on his own terms.Not today.Not tomorrow. But soon. And when he was finished, There would be nothing left of them.

The first punch landed hard against his ribs. It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last. Lucien had stopped counting how many times he had been beaten. How many hands had reached for him with the sole intent of breaking him. But today was different. Today, he barely had the strength to stand back up.

Exile. It began with his eviction. He had woken up to find his belongings scattered across the pavement—his suits, his books, even his watch, cracked from where it had been stepped on. The landlord didn't even meet his gaze.

"Take it up with the courts." Lucien laughed. What court? Justice was an illusion for men like him. So, he had taken what little he could carry and walked. Where? He didn't know. There were no doors left for him to knock on. His name was already carved into every wall, every street. Murderer. Rapist. Filth. Lucien Saint-Aurel was not allowed to exist.

The supermarket was supposed to be safe.

Public. Neutral ground. That was a mistake. The moment he stepped inside, the whispers spread like fire. The cashiers fell silent. The customers stiffened, their hands tightening around their carts, their bodies shifting away from him. Lucien kept his head down. He picked up a bottle of water and a pack of bread, the last of what he could afford. The first hit came as he was walking toward the exit. A shove. He stumbled forward, hands catching the edge of a shelf. Then, another. This time, a fist. It cracked against his jaw, sending him reeling backward. He barely had time to breathe before the next blow came. A knee to the ribs. A fist to the stomach. They didn't stop. They dragged him out into the street and kicked him like an animal. His vision blurred. The world spun. His ears rang. Someone spat on him. Someone else kicked his ribs, and Lucien heard a crack. Then, they left. Just like that. Like he wasn't even worth the effort. Lucien lay there on the pavement, staring up at the sky. No one helped. No one even looked.

The Only Hand That Reached For Him. It was Asbjørn who found him first. Lucien had barely managed to get to his feet, one arm clutching his ribs, his body shaking from exhaustion. The voice cut through the haze. "Jesus Christ, Lucien." He didn't have the strength to respond. A hand settled on his shoulder, steadying him before he could fall. "Come on," Asbjørn murmured, voice softer than it had any right to be. "Let's get you out of here." Lucien flinched at the contact but didn't pull away. Because Asbjørn was the only one who still touched him like he was human.

He lost what little he had left three days later. The fire spread faster than anyone could have anticipated.

His mother's house.

Gone.

She wasn't inside. But they didn't know that. They had burned everything she owned, everything she had built. And on the walls, in bold, jagged letters, they left their message:

"Tu es une mère ratée."

Lucien stood in front of the ruins, the smoke still thick in the air, ashes clinging to his skin. And for the first time in his life, he felt nothing.

Not anger.

Not grief.

Just... emptiness.

Because this was it.

This was the point of no return.

The journey back home was silent. Lucien did not knock. He did not ask permission. He stepped through the gates of the Saint-Aurel estate and walked inside. The guards did not stop him. They knew who he was. And more importantly, who his father was. When he entered the study, the man was already waiting.

Khristianin Saint-Aurel.

The 2nd head of the Aurelius Syndicate. He did not rise. He did not speak. He only watched as Lucien knelt before him. "Forgive me, Father." The words burned. But he meant them. For the first time in his life, he truly meant them. Khristi exhaled, setting his glass down. "You missed your great-grandfather's funeral." Lucien's stomach twisted. Saint Aurelius. The greatest assassin in history. The founder of an empire that ruled the underworld. His legacy was legend.

And Lucien had disrespected him in death.

Khristi leaned forward. "You know the price." Lucien nodded. He did.

Two choices.

Two punishments.

Two paths that would seal his fate.

Two years of confinement.

Or—

Lucien exhaled slowly. His hand did not tremble. He already knew his answer.

The Choice of a Dead Man was The ring finger. The ring finger of his dominant hand. The one that symbolized commitment. Oath. Legacy. Lucien did not flinch as he placed his hand on the table. He did not move when the blade came down. The pain was secondary. Because in that moment, as blood stained the wood, as his father watched without a flicker of emotion, Lucien Perceval Saint-Aurel ceased to exist.

And something else took his place