Lost Memories: Lies

Danny scanned the front of the gas station, his hand resting near his handgun, ready to draw if necessary. Twenty-five men sent by Gion were on their way to the motel—armed and ready for something dangerous. Whether it was an assassination, a kidnapping, or something else entirely, one thing was clear: their intentions weren't good.

Behind Danny, inside the mini-mart attached to the gas station—600 meters from the motel—Etienne and Charles sat at a small dining table. Etienne stared blankly, lost in thought, his mind elsewhere, completely inattentive to Charles's instructions.

"Etienne?"

Detective Baxter snapped his fingers in front of Etienne's face, snapping him back to reality.

"Oh, sorry… what was that again?"

Charles exhaled sharply, irritation flickering across his face. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to be patient, knowing he would have to repeat himself from the beginning.

"Oh, my deepest apologies, Detective," Etienne interrupted, pressing a hand to his chest in mock remorse as he launched into his theatrical speech. "Forgive me for not being born with a built-in murderer detector! And for being just a tiny bit distracted by the fact that my maybe-killer of a lover is out there risking his life… for my damn phone."

"So you're still confused about who Byron really is?"

"Yeah. But I'm not sure you're the best person to clear that up." Etienne's tone was silky with suspicion, his sharp gaze studying Charles like he was trying to peel back his skin to see what was underneath.

"Mr. Bellamy, you need to understand—this guy is dangerous. He harasses people—"

"Who?" Etienne cut in, his eyes flashing. "Who has he harassed? You're a detective, aren't you? You should have proof to back up your claims, shouldn't you?"

Charles slammed his palm on the table. "I don't need to give you details. If I can't trust you, I'll replace you with someone else."

"Oh, really?" Etienne smirked. "Well, good luck with that, because right now, he already has his mind set on me. Replacing me is easy, but I'm not so sure Byron would take the bait a second time."

Charles released a chuckle. "Funny how you actually believe he's the loyal type." His voice dripped with irritation. "That man loves nothing more than throwing his money at brothels everywhere he goes! Did you know that on every planet he visits, he leaves behind a child? One child, one planet—multiple women!"

Etienne let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand on his chest. "And that's why you're so jealous!" His voice was thick with mockery. "Why can't he be loyal to me? Oh, my big eggplant…!"

Charles's face turned bright red the moment the word eggplant left Etienne's lips. His stomach twisted as realization hit him like a freight train—he had saved Byron's name with an eggplant emoji.

"I don't know who did that! Must've been Danny!" Charles stammered.

Before he could pull away, Etienne grabbed his wrist, his smirk fading into something serious. His grip was firm, his eyes sharp.

"Now tell me the truth, Detective, and maybe I'll agree to work with you." His voice was low, almost dangerous. "But if you don't, I swear I'll run away with Byron. Because let me tell you something—I've dealt with a lot of men in my youth. You know what that means?" He leaned in slightly. "I've dealt with a lot of big liars. And I can smell lies from miles away."

Etienne's fingers tightened slightly around Charles's wrist. "So be honest, or I walk. Is Byron really a sexual assaulter? Or are you just jealous?"

Charles exhaled slowly. His jaw clenched.

A few seconds of silence passed before he finally gave in.

"Alright," he nods, "I'll be honest with you."

Charles shifted his chair, moving from across the table to sit beside Etienne. Leaning in, his voice dropped to a whisper.

"I know how it feels to fall for a man like him." His tone was low, almost hypnotic. "He's handsome, in great shape, has a nice smile. Confident. Charming. The moment he walks into a room—male or female—no one can resist him. Not even you. Not even me."

Etienne's expression didn't change, but something inside him twisted.

"And the most annoying part?" Charles continued. "He's fun. Unpredictable. So when he gives you his full attention, it makes you feel special, doesn't it?"

That hit the spot.

Etienne didn't respond. Charles had him hooked—he had just perfectly described exactly why Byron was irresistible.

"And when you talk to him, oh boy..." He smacked his lips. "He's sharp. Intelligent. He listens—really listens. He just knows what to say to make you feel like you're his entire world. And then? He charms you with that romantic dream of his. Voyages, exploration... the endless sky."

Etienne tensed. That was exactly what Byron had told him just a few hours ago—when they were naked, sweaty, and satisfied, lying together in bed. Byron had whispered about leaving everything behind, painting a dream of drifting through the uncharted void, exploring unseen worlds, and sleeping among the stars.

"He's the perfect man, great sex," Charles murmured, his gaze darkening. "He hypnotizes you with dreams..." He let the words linger for a second before finishing, "I know, because he did it to me too."

Etienne's smirk vanished.

His eyelids fluttered closed for a brief moment, as if the weight of realization was too much to bear. Why, God, why? Just when he thought he had found someone he could finally settle down with… Byron was nothing but a dream salesman.

Charles leaned forward, voice dipping lower—almost regretful. "So about the eggplant, yeah…" He exhaled. "Byron and I… we had a thing."

Etienne pressed his lips together tightly.

Charles reached for his phone, opening his photo gallery. "You think I'm lying? Fine. But let me tell you something—I was just like you. I thought he was different. I thought he saw me. I thought I was special."

Then, he turned the screen toward Etienne.

Photos.

Byron and Charles traveling together, as lovers.

Byron kissing Charles on the beach, the sunset painting them in gold.

The way Byron held him, touched him, looked at him—the same gentle lover Etienne had fallen for.

Charles's voice broke through the haze.

"I thought I was the one," Charles pressed his lips in regret.

Etienne didn't respond. He couldn't. Because what Charles just told him… was his own story with his first love. He was 18 years old, too young, too naïve. He had been here before. Believing. Hoping. Falling. Only to be left with scars.

Detective Baxter continued, his voice steady, but there was something fractured beneath it.

"But in time, people reveal themselves. The same hands that hold you so gently can be the ones that hit you. They lie. They cheat. The only reason Byron hasn't replaced me yet… is because I was the only fool who trusted him enough to leave the police department. I believed in his promise. He pulled me into his world… and destroyed me in it."

Etienne's chest tightened.

How?

How could Charles be so accurate?

It was as if he had read his life like an open book. As if he had dug into a biography that didn't exist. Because there was no biography. No public confession. No way Charles should have known any of this.

Yet… he did.

"And so, I learned…" His voice lowered, measured, stripped of any pretense.

"Love can blind us at first. But that's how we allow it to abuse us. Before we even realize it, we start avoiding mirrors—because they make us question ourselves, our sanity. And when it gets bad enough, we start hating our own reflection."

Charles's jaw tightened, his voice dipping into something barely above a whisper.

"That's not love. It's spiritual abuse."

Silence.

Etienne felt it in his bones. A feeling he thought he had left in the past was back again, clawing at his throat.

And the worst part?

For the first time… Etienne didn't know if Charles was lying.

What he also didn't know was that while he had been wrapped in Byron's arms, surrendering himself to the passion, Charles had already set his plan in motion.

Charles had instructed Remi, his most trusted partner, to hack into Etienne's phone—digging through his contacts, reaching out to people who knew him. Under the guise of justice, they had claimed that Etienne was involved with a dangerous man and that the police were trying to save him.

And people talked, they gave up Etienne's story, piece by piece.

There he is, Charles—sharp, calculating, always knowing what makes a man tick—absorbed every detail. Especially when it came to romantic fools like Etienne.

Because at the end of the day, Charles knew it all along; Etienne was just like Byron.

They would do anything for love.

And in that weakness, Charles struck.

Now that Etienne had taken the bait, Charles revealed the pictures. It was a picture of a room covered in blood, bodies strewn across the floor.

"He killed them," Charles said, his voice low and firm. "Look—women, children... What kind of human would do this?"

The photo trembled in Etienne's hands.

Charles didn't stop. He placed another image in front of him; A transwoman—brutally murdered, her naked body hidden among the bushes.

"She was his girlfriend," Charles continued. "He suspected she cheated on him… so he killed her."

A sharp pain shot through Etienne's chest. His tears fell, silent but heavy. His heart cracked open.

But Charles wasn't done. More pictures. More horrifying deaths. People slaughtered. Buildings burned to the ground. Every image shown—another piece of Etienne's faith in Byron, crumbling.

"This man is a harasser, murderer, thief, and robber. I don't care how nice you think he is—he is dangerous. And if we don't capture him soon, more people will suffer," Charles concluded, his tone firm and unwavering.

Etienne exhaled. Maybe he should thank Charles for the warning before he invested too much in the relationship. Because when he was with Byron—when they were that close—he could see forever with him.