Lucien vs. Lucien: The Grim Reaper

"Are you sure, Mr. Moreaux, that you don't want to contact Ms. Solace anymore?" Shan asked, a question mark practically visible in his eyes.

I let out a deep breath before answering, the weight in my chest pressing harder. "Isn't it better this way? That night, I realized how different our worlds truly are. If I involve her into mine any further, it'll only endanger her. Sooner or later, the people who want me dead will target her too. And I won't always be there to protect her."

I looked into the distance, pain weighing heavy on my chest.

Why? I asked myself. It should've been just a minor crush… nothing more than that. I patted my heart gently, as if trying to soothe it.

Shan noticed the hurt in my eyes. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Mr. Moreaux, you've changed a lot… become more sensible. Before the accident, you were this cold CEO- carrying a murderous aura around you. Always stone-faced. But now…" He paused, his eyes softening. "Now, you're more human. Your eyes even have humor in them. Maybe a near-death experience really does change people."

He let out a quiet chuckle.

But then the moment broke with a sharp ringtone. Shan answered his phone, listened briefly, then handed it over to me.

"It's Starry Night."

After a short conversation, I hung up and returned the phone to him.

"Clear my entire schedule for the day," I said, handing it back. "We're going to our usual place. Get the car ready. And make sure it's been checked...everything. I don't want any surprises."

Yes, at your command, President," Shan replied and left the room immediately.

Alone now, I stared at my phone screen. Arno's name blinked softly on my WhatsApp list. I'd saved her number the last time we met… right before everything went sideways.

I opened our chat window… but couldn't bring myself to type anything.

She must hate me by now. And she has every right to be. She got hurt because of my negligence. I failed to protect her.

I looked up at the clear glass pane, my reflection staring back at me- sharp jawline, hazel eyes. This Lucien was such a handsome man… but I let out a soft, bitter growl.

I don't even know who I am anymore.

And then... tut... tut... tut... there it was again.

A system notification bar appeared out of nowhere… and Pokolo popped into sight.

"Did you miss me?" she grinned.

"You still have the audacity to show up?" I narrowed my eyes. "In every other story, the system helps the protagonist gain world power. But mine? It doesn't even show up when I need it the most in a critical situation! What's the use of a system like that? I want to terminate our contract."

Pokolo sighed, then grinned slyly. Ah, I knew it. She was about to coaxed me. I know that look very well.

"Babe, sorry… the system had to go through some maintenance. We're back now. Next time, I swear this won't happen again," she promised, holding up her three tiny fingers.

"I'll let it slide this time. But there won't be a next," I warned.

"I know, I know! But to show how sorry I am…" she said, fishing something from her pocket, "I brought you a gift."

I looked at the tiny object in her hand. "A ring? What is this, a proposal?"

"I want to smack some sense into your thick head," Pokolo huffed. "I'm a divine being. You're a mere human. Besides-" she blushed, "I have a fiancé, hehehe…"

I scratched my hair. "Fairies get married too? Huh. Anyway, what's the deal with this ring?"

"It's a space ring," she replied. "Last time you were ambushed, we couldn't help. So this is a gift from your host. You can store items in it. It's not always possible to carry a gun, right? But now, you can hide whatever you want in this ring and summon it whenever you need."

"Okay. How do I activate it?"

"It needs your blood. Once it recognizes you as its master, it'll bind to you permanently."

Without wasting time, I grabbed a pin from the desk, pricked my thumb, and let a drop of blood fall onto the ring.

Suddenly, it glowed red… then returned to normal.

"Wow," I murmured, genuinely impressed.

"So… how do I store things in it?" I asked.

"Hold the item near the ring. It'll absorb it. To retrieve it, just summon the item in your mind. It'll appear in your hand."

I tested it with a pen. It vanished into thin air. I summoned it—and it popped right back into my hand.

I was impressed again. "This will come in handy."

Pokolo proudly thumped her chest. "Told you!"

Another chime. A bright notification hovered in the air. "Oooh!" Pokolo clapped. "Your first task! Open it!"

I tapped the glowing screen. So this thing worked like a private phone only I could access.

**Mission: Send Arno a bouquet of sunflowers.**

I blinked. Closed and opened my eyes again. Was I hallucinating?

"Is the system broken again?" I asked, deadpan.

"Probably not," Pokolo shrugged. "The system is helping you get a girlfriend. Be grateful."

Then another message popped up, along with a mysterious voice from the void:

**Complete the task to earn 50 points. Your host will earn 100 points. Points can be exchanged for exclusive system rewards, upgrades and abilities.**

"I see…" I turned to Pokolo. "What does the system gain from helping us?"

"I don't know," she said, unsure. "Maybe it's just being… nice?"

"How many points do you need to level up a tier?" I asked.

"1,000 for the first tier," she replied. "But the higher one go, the more points that person will need."

"And what happens if I refuse to complete a mission?"

"You can't refuse," Pokolo replied firmly. "You're under contract with the system."

"…I see." So either way I've to complete the task...

Yes, Pokolo sighed!

---

By the time Shan and I reached the outskirts of the city, dusk had already begun to bleed into the sky. The abandoned house stood there like a ghostly soul, weather-beaten, cloaked in silence. But, inside it was always awaken.

I walked straight to the rusted bookshelf, pulled out the hollowed "War and Peace," and let the retinal scanner hidden behind it do its thing. The air pressure shifted. A faint hiss. A mechanical click. Then the floor beneath us groaned open, revealing a set of stairs descending into darkness.

Shan followed silently, the sound of our footsteps echoing against the cold concrete. Halfway down, Starry Night was already waiting. My left-hand man stood straight, dark eyes sharp under the harsh red lights that flickered like a warning.

"Report," I ordered.

He bowed his head slightly. Boss, "Six assassins dead on arrival. Three swallowed cyanide the moment we breached. Only two were captured alive. A woman and a man. We've secured them in separate holding cells."

I gave a curt nod and continued forward, the air growing heavier with every step. The underground prison stretched ahead...sterile, silent, suffocating. The stench of blood and rusted metal clung to the walls like mold.

No more dilly-dally.

I stopped at the first cell, where the woman sat slumped against the wall, her wrists chained and expression unreadable. Across the hallway, the man glared at the floor, jaw clenched, eyes dead with defiance.

"Who sent you?" I asked, my voice cold, devoid of pretense.

Neither of them spoke.

I stepped closer. "Answer me. Who's your boss?"

Still nothing. Just that smug silence. The kind that thinks it holds power.

"You can kill us if you want," the woman finally said, her lips barely moving. "We don't know who hired us. Everything came through the network. Coded drops. Even if we knew, we wouldn't say" she let out a bitter smirked.

"Convenient," I muttered, motioning for the tools.

Shan hesitated beside me. Even Starry Night went unusually still.

But I didn't flinch.

The man refused to look at me, so I made him.

The hours that followed blurred.

There were screams, first defiant, then ragged, then hollow.

Neither I scream nor raise my voice.

But my hands... they worked like master craftsman.

It was strange. The methods came naturally. Efficient. Clinical. Like muscle memory- except I didn't recall ever learning this.

At one point, I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the polished scalpel I held. My expression was disturbingly calm.

Who am I?

I felt something stir inside me.

Recognition?

This wasn't the soul of Lucien Chakma, a man who once cried over a squashed mosquito in his youth. No. This… this cruelty… belonged to Lucien Moreaux.

A flicker of memory flashed in my mind which was probably not my own.

Chains. Screams. A shadowed figure dragging answers out of trembling men. Someone whispering, "You're not a man. You're a Grim Reaper."

And then… darkness.

I snapped out of it, breathing heavy, drenched in sweat but not remorse.

The man finally caved. "We were paid in crypto. The drop point was in Sector 12… that's all I know, I swear!"

I stood, wiped the blood off my gloves, and looked down at him. "You should've said that an hour ago."

He whimpered. The woman was unconscious.

Starry Night approached cautiously. "President, you… are you alright?"

I didn't answer.

Because, I wasn't sure.

---