Lucien's mind stalled, jammed, and locked itself into complete and utter disarray.
Sella was on top of him.
Her fingers dug into his arms, tight, desperate, trembling. Her breath was warm against his skin, uneven and ragged, carrying something primal and urgent, something that didn't belong in the cold, calculated mind of a Black Chapel zealot. He felt the delicate brush of her lips, featherlight yet deliberate, just before—
Her teeth sank in even deeper.
Lucien's fingers tensed at her waist, gripping instinctively as something inside him screamed that he should have already thrown her off, should have already retaliated, should have burned her away with the power now buried in his bones. But his body betrayed him, locked between action and paralysis, the sensation of her mouth against his pulse sending a disjointed mix of heat and disorientation through his nerves.
His thoughts tangled and crashed like an avalanche. 'What the hell is happening? What is…she doing? I can feel my body acting limp…like I'm getting tired already. What's gotten into this woman?! She was just threatening me a while ago…and now…?'
He was no stranger to pain, no stranger to wounds, but this was different. This wasn't an attack, wasn't an assassination, wasn't a strike meant to kill.
'This is something else.'
Sella's grip on him tightened, the tremor in her fingers revealing a battle he couldn't see. Her body pressed closer, almost subconsciously, as if she were fighting some instinct she had never known before, something deep and inescapable crawling under her skin. Her breaths, broken and irregular, hitched between every pull of his blood, every moment of restraint she still barely clung to.
Lucien swallowed hard, muscles tensing beneath her touch. His pulse pounded against her lips, hammering in his ears, each beat a reminder that she wasn't stopping, that she wasn't hesitating, that this was real, that it was happening, that he wasn't imagining the way her body reacted, the way she shuddered against him as if something inside her had cracked open.
And that's when the real fear started to creep in.
Not fear for himself.
But fear of what this meant.
Because this was Sella.
The woman who had spent every waking moment training to kill him. The one who had sworn herself to the Black Chapel, to its doctrine, to its laws of purity and extermination. The one who should have gutted him in his sleep if she had been given the chance. And yet, here she was, drinking from him, not as an act of violence, not as a calculated move, but as if she had no choice.
And he felt it, too.
A pull. A connection. Something neither of them should have ever had.
His hands twitched at her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her trench coat, the heat of her skin beneath it. The realization struck him like a hammer to the chest, like an unseen dagger slipping between his ribs. This wasn't an act of dominance or power—this was need.
Lucien's breath came out sharp, controlled, but his patience was already unraveling.
'I gotta get her off of me! Should I just put a few rounds in her head and be done with it—?'
Sella let out a slow, exhaled moan against his throat, her body shuddering as if drinking from him sent something deeper through her veins. Her nails dug into his arms, the tension in her frame wound so tight it felt as though she would snap at any second. She wanted more. She needed more. They both looked into each other's eyes, faces mere inches apart.
…
….
That was enough.
Lucien moved.
His hand shot up, fingers wrapping around her throat, firm but measured, severing the moment instantly.
Sella barely had a chance to react before Lucien threw her.
Her back slammed into the wall, the impact shaking the entire room, cracks splitting up the stone behind her as dust rained from the ceiling. She let out a sharp gasp, the force knocking the breath from her lungs as her body staggered to catch up with reality.
Sella was breathing heavy, mostly from the throw, but also from what the hell she just did.
'This can't be happening…it can't be..! I drunk his blood?! Forgive me, Exarch…'
Lucien sat up, hand gripping his own throat, fingers brushing over the fresh mark she had left.
"You…fucking bit me? What are you? Some street rat?" His breathing was uneven, his body still processing the shock of it all, still trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened. His skin burned where her mouth had been, a ghost of a sensation that refused to fade, and he clenched his jaw, forcing it out of his mind.
His gaze flicked toward her, standing against the wall, her body rigid with something between shock and horror.
"What was that?" he muttered, his voice raw with exhaustion, confusion, and something he wasn't ready to name.
In the dimly lit corner of the room, the summons huddled together, their movements speaking louder than words ever could. The Queen, ever the dramatic one, had both hands clutched to her chest, swaying slightly as if she might faint. The Jack was pointing aggressively between Sella and Lucien, his head bobbing in a silent demand for an explanation. The Joker stood still, arms crossed, his entire stance radiating judgment.
The King, of course, remained completely unfazed, utterly still, seemingly uninterested.
Then, all at once, the silent tension shattered as the Queen collapsed against the Joker, the Jack spun in aimless circles, and the Queen threw her hands up in the air, flailing wildly.
Chaos. Pure, silent chaos.
Sella's fists clenched, her breathing ragged, her throat dry as the weight of what she had done fully sank in. She couldn't justify it. Couldn't explain it. She had never felt something like that before, had never felt something crawl through her veins like hunger, had never lost control so utterly.
Her jaw locked as she ripped her gaze away from Lucien.
"I don't know," she muttered, the words tight in her throat. "I—couldn't resist. I fought it so hard..you don't have a clue. I don't know…! It all started when I saw you yesterday. Some type of weird hunger, a craving of blood. Even though I use Blood Soul Alchemy, it can't be connected to that. It never happened before!"
'If the Exarch finds out about this..!'
Lucien exhaled sharply. "That's the worst excuse I've ever heard."
Sella ignored him.
Her fingers darted to her belt, retrieving a ceremonial dagger, the gleaming edge catching the candlelight as she turned the blade inward, pressing the tip against her own sternum.
Lucien stiffened.
Then, she whispered the words of an old Black Chapel oath: "By blade and blood, by lips and sin—if one falters, one must pay in kind."
Lucien's right eye twitched. "Wait—"
Before she could press the dagger deeper, the summons exploded into motion.
The Queen, Jack, and Joker tackled her at once, their silent shrieks vibrating through the room as they pinned her to the floor, their flailing bodies twisting around her, preventing her from moving.
Sella thrashed. "GET OFF ME."
'Why are they trying to stop me?!'
The summons frolicked and flailed, the Jack spinning, the Queen throwing up her hands in frustration, the Joker dramatically shaking his head in disapproval.
The King just stood and watched.
Lucien, meanwhile, had turned to the mirror, aggressively rubbing at the bite mark on his neck, his expression darkening with every second.
"Oh, I'm gonna kill her sooo bad," he muttered under his breath, rubbing harder. The mark refused to fade. His eye twitched like a psychopath. his scowl deepened. The universe was mocking him.
Sella shouted in frustration behind him, still tangled in the mass of struggling summons.
Lucien turned, exhaling sharply. "Alright."
In a single motion—
He moved.
Sella barely had time to blink before Lucien was in front of her, his red and gold revolver pressed against her forehead.
The room fell silent.
His voice was low, steady, and dangerous.
"You."
The tension hung heavy.
His finger rested on the trigger.
Sella's mind was a storm, fragmented and relentless.
Her body still trembled—not from fear, not from pain, but from something far worse. Something she couldn't name.
'What have I done? What is wrong with me?! Will I get abandoned..forgotten like Lucien was? Was he right this entire time? No, he's wrong. He's always wrong. He's been wrong. Lucien is an anomaly. I'm not. The Exarch knows how much..I'm afraid of the dark. He won't leave me to be by myself again.'
She could still taste Lucien's blood, rich with power, a force unlike anything she had ever experienced. It had poured into her like liquid fire, like something ancient and raw, something that whispered to the very essence of her being. She had no desire to drink from anyone—not before, not ever.
The Black Chapel had trained her to suppress natural worldly hunger, to reject indulgence, to erase desire. And yet, when she felt the warmth of his pulse beneath her lips, when she felt the thunderous beat of his life force, something inside her snapped. A new hunger formed, far behind the world's natural hunger, the way everyone craves food.
Her fingers twitched at her sides as she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
'If the Black Chapel had seen me…They would call me an abomination. Just like they called him.'
The realization left her cold.
'No, get rid of those thoughts, Sella…!'
She had spent years honing herself into the perfect weapon, a hunter without hesitation. She had trained to exterminate those who strayed from the laws of nature, those who had become something beyond human. And now—what was she?
But with Lucien?
She didn't know.
'It scares me…now I really feel like I'm in the dark..'
Sella exhaled sharply, forcing herself to speak, keeping her tone even, controlled, unaffected—unwavering.
"If the Black Chapel saw this…" she murmured, her emerald eyes narrowing. "They would call me an abomination like you. But the Exarch, I know he'll understand. Maybe he can fix me."
Lucien's eyes flickered, his facial expression replaced by something sharper, colder. His revolver remained steady against her forehead, but his focus had shifted.
He tilted his head, voice laced with curiosity.
"I know I'm an abomination. I know I'm not right. I know I'm always at war with myself and this shitty hobby called living life. The Exarch hated the idea of me wanting to go out on my own instead of being tethered to the Black Chapel. Yeah yeah, I know it's deeper than that and all, but never once did I think about ending it all with a ceremonial dagger. Like you just tried to do."
Sella stiffened. "Don't worry about that. I wasn't even gonna do it anyway."
"Oh??" Lucien grinned. "What changed your mind? Hate pain?"
"No, fool. I was contradicting myself in my head. Worried about what would happen if they found out about this, or if the Exarch would get rid of me like he did you, or try and help since he said I'm his most cherished one."
Lucien leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something almost mocking. "Let's work out a deal then. I'll keep your little secret, Huntress." His smirk widened, his golden eyes gleaming. "But in return, you're going to help me track down the Exarch."
Sella laughed. "Manipulating me, aren't you?" Not a chuckle, not a smirk—but a full, genuine laugh of disbelief. "You really think you can just waltz in and kill him?" She shook her head, amusement laced with pity. "The Exarch doesn't just sit on a throne waiting for fools like you to show up. He's always on the move. You know this already, but if you want to get to him—"
"I have to go through the Chain of Execution." Lucien finished her sentence. "One by one, the candles will go out."
'To reach The Exarch of Ash, I have to eliminate the 20 High Members—each one a master of assassination, anti-witch warfare, and alchemic heresies. Each High Member holds dominion over a different aspect of the Chapel's influence.'
Sella said, "They always referred to you as something unnatural. But since your 'death,' they've all moved sanctuaries. None of them remain in one place for long."
Lucien exhaled through his nose, expression unreadable. 'That's an issue then..but I have my little crazy trump card right in front of me..heh…'
"I don't care." He tilted his head. "You're going to help me find them. That's why my summons didn't let you off yourself with that dagger earlier. They knew I needed you to exact my revenge."
Sella scoffed. "Tch! I'm not betraying the Chapel."
Lucien's grin widened.
"You already are."
Sella froze. "What?"
Lucien's voice was dangerously smooth, his gaze flickering with amusement.
"You're not risking your life to fight me. You could have tried to kill me by now. You hesitated." His tone dropped to something almost mocking. "That's not very Black Chapel of you. Is it? Hesitating is against the will of the Exarch. As so is 9 other wills of the Exarch you are supposed to abide by."
Then, his grin widened even more, and he quoted an old oath of the Black Chapel, one she had memorized since childhood. "Hesitation is the killer's sin. The blade does not tremble, the trigger does not pause. Doubt is death."
Sella's breath hitched.
For the first time, she was the one caught off guard.
Her body reacted before her mind—SHIIING! Her dagger pressed against Lucien's throat.
Lucien didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't even flinch; His revolver was still pressed against her forehead.The room was silent. "It's funny how you're still relying on that scummy Exarch for a sense of self worth. When he's the main one who can take it all away from you and leave you in the dark if you piss him off enough. He's a crybaby."
"I'm not like you…I never will be."
A pause… A held breath.
Then—
Torch appeared on Lucien's shoulder. The cat blinked lazily, lifted a paw, then licked it. Lucien's eye twitched. Then, without warning—
Torch sniffed his ear, And bit it.
Lucien screamed like a girl.
"AGHH! You rat!"
The gun fired into the ceiling, and Lucien slung Torch to the floor. And suddenly, Lucien was unloading bullet after bullet into the cat, his screams turning into a brutal war cry.
The room exploded into chaos.
Torch collapsed dramatically, almost theatrically, rolling onto his back, blood pooling beneath him.
Then, a moment later—he was fine.
Lucien froze mid-reload, eyes twitching.
The cat blinked, sitting upright, its tail flicking casually. The Queen picked up Torch and rubbed him peacefully, and the Jack tried to pet him, but the Queen flicked his hand away, and the Jack pouted and stomped in a silent circle.
Lucien's fingers tightened around his gun.
"Why did I even bother?" He whispered.
And that was the exact moment Sella attacked.
She slashed her own palm, her blood dripping onto her blade, the alchemic symbols along its edge glowing faintly as the weapon absorbed it. Her mind raced as she adjusted her stance, thoughts spiraling as she focused on the energy coursing through her veins.
'Soul-Alchemy is an extension of the self. The body is a conduit. The blood, the essence of the soul….What am I doing? No way I'm trying to prove my faith to the Exarch…after hesitating..?! Do I really fear death..? The Exarch told me I was special…that death was nothing for me to fear, but it would fear me. So why…?'
She lunged.
But before her blade could reach its mark—
The summons moved.
The Queen, the Jack, the King, and the Joker flashed in front of her, weapons drawn, their silent presence an unspoken warning.
Sella barely had time to react before she felt Lucien behind her.
She turned slowly, and there he was—standing just inches away, Torch now perched comfortably on his head.
Lucien's smirk returned, slower this time, more deliberate.
"You're going to help me kill the Exarch," he said, his voice unwavering. "And every single one of those bastards under him. Since you're so special I have the advantage with you."
Sella exhaled sharply, adjusting her grip on her blade. "I still plan to kill you."
Lucien laughed. "Sure. Go ahead."
Sella stared at him.
'I'm not leading him to them. He must be gullible, insane, or both.'
She turned away, sighing. "Hmph. If I'm going to be tagging along…"
Her eyes swept over his cluttered, disgusting office.
"…This place needs to be cleaned."
Lucien groaned, "NO."
Lucien's summons clapped and cheered silently, always wishing this day would finally come, and now it's here. Sella pointed at the summons, saying to Lucien, "See? Even they agree with me."
Lucien scoffed at the summons, "YOU FUCKING TRAITORS. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE!"
The office was a war zone of dust, parchment, and abandoned relics of hunts long past.
Stacks of old contracts, unsorted alchemic components, and broken weaponry lay scattered over every available surface. Faded bounty posters—some with blood splatters still on them—clung to the walls, curling at the edges. Half-empty bottles of cheap liquor were wedged between stacks of grimoires, and Lucien's desk, if one could even call it that, was buried beneath maps with indecipherable notes, bullet casings, and a single, untouched apple that had been there for far too long.
The air smelled of old ink, gunpowder, and exhaustion.
And now, Sella was in the middle of it, regretting every second.
She flicked her eyes over the disaster with a look of sheer disdain, crossing her arms as the summons had already begun their silent crusade of cleanliness. The Queen held a dusty bottle of ink, tilting her head at it in apparent disapproval before elegantly placing it onto a shelf. The Jack was aggressively shoving old papers into a crate, his movements fast and judgmental. The Joker had somehow found a broom and was sweeping with dramatic precision, his entire frame twisting elegantly with each stroke.
And the King—still as a statue—stood in the corner, utterly indifferent to the ordeal.
Sella walked up to the King, saying, "You gonna clean or what?"
The King shook his head.
Sella continued, "I understand you are some sort of extension of power from a goddess. Never thought you'd be lazy."
The King looked at her, and started to act like he was cleaning, as soon as he heard the word, "LAZY."
Lucien bantered with Sella, "He thinks you're a weirdo, don't boss my summons around."
"I bet they don't listen to you like that either."
"…A-And? They're still the most loyal to me."
Sella scoffed as she wiped off a thick layer of dust from a desk drawer, frowning at the absolute state of this so-called business.
"You actually run your little slaughter-for-hire operation out of this dump?" she quipped, arching a brow at Lucien. "I knew you had no standards, but this is tragic."
Lucien, sitting cross-legged on his desk, arms folded, gave an exasperated childish groan. "Listen, just don't put shit in random places, or I won't know where it is."
Sella smirked, taking a slow, dramatic look around before speaking again. "Do your clients actually come here to offer you a job?"
Lucien rolled his eyes. "Yes."
"They actually sit in this mess?"
Lucien scoffed. "Most of them don't care about the mess. They care about results. And I DELIVER with ultimate satisfaction."
Sella reached for a dagger wedged into the floor, prying it free with a flick of her wrist before raising a skeptical brow.
"You hoarder," she muttered, inspecting the blade. "You like keeping things you don't need?"
"That is a perfectly good knife."
Sella tossed it onto the desk. "It was buried in the floor."
"It's an aesthetic choice." Lucien told her with confidence.
Their conversation was promptly interrupted by Lucien's rising panic as he suddenly realized things were being moved to unknown locations around the office. He jumped down from his desk, dashing across the room, interrogating each summons.
"Where'd you put the red ledger? It was right here—" He turned to the Joker, who simply shook his head in silence. Lucien spun on his heel. "What about my gun oil?"
The Jack waved a hand dismissively.
Lucien's voice rose dramatically. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'IT'S SOMEWHERE ELSE'?! WHERE?!"
The Jack shrugged.
Sella smirked as she polished off a sword she had found underneath a pile of bounty contracts. "Maybe if you didn't live like a wild animal, you'd know where your own junk was."
Lucien whipped around, pointing at her with accusing frustration. "I-I knew where everything was! It was organized chaos!"
Sella rolled her eyes, shoving a stack of books into a shelf. "Now it's just organized. Be thankful I'm here. I like clean."
Lucien let out a long, suffering sigh before dropping dramatically onto his knees in the center of the office. His hands fell limply to his sides as he stared blankly at the ceiling.
"…I don't know where half of my stuff is."
The summons silently celebrated once again.
The Queen held Torch in the air like a sacred offering, the Jack spun in small circles, and the Joker flicked imaginary dust off his coat in smug triumph. And as usually, the King stood there with his arms folded.
Lucien remained on his knees, whispering in absolute defeat, "…I hope you're all happy."
Sella leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching him with a smirk.
"Very."
Lucien exhaled, running a hand down his face, shaking off the frustration. His eyes flicked toward Sella, his expression shifting from exasperation to genuine curiosity.
"Your Blood Soul Alchemy," he said, tilting his head. "How does it work?"
Sella sighed, tossing her cleaning cloth onto the desk before unsheathing her dagger again. The blade was intricately engraved, the runes along its edge pulsing faintly, as if alive.
"Blood Alchemy is a branch of Soul-Alchemy," she began, her voice measured, careful, controlled. "It uses the caster's own life force as a conduit. Blood carries the soul—it's the rawest, most direct expression of one's power. But in exchange, the cost is…"
She trailed off, flipping the blade between her fingers before slicing a thin cut along her palm.
Lucien's gaze flicked to the wound.
The moment the blood touched the steel, the runes flared crimson.
"The cost is me." Sella's voice was quiet. "Every time I use it, I shorten my own power for a few hours. But every kill replaces the blood I've lost. The blood I give is not just fuel—it's my essence. The more I bleed, the more I burn away. So a kill has to follow up during my fights so I stay sustained."
Lucien remained silent, watching her with something indistinct in his expression.
'The more you bleed, the more you burn away..? Sounds like me.' Lucien thought, but pushed the thought away fast.
Sella lowered the blade, gripping her wrist as the wound slowly sealed itself. "The Exarch saw my potential the moment I first used it. He made me his priority—like he did you."
Lucien's lips twitched at that, a bitter amusement surfacing.
Sella's brow furrowed slightly. "But… It's strange. He never let me and you meet each other. If we were both his prodigies, why did he keep us apart?"
Lucien scoffed, shaking his head. "He probably thought we'd overpower him together if I were able to convince you he was a madman. AND Because he's a manipulative bastard. I'm gonna keep saying it, I don't care how much you yell at me for it."
Sella frowned. "Whatever. You can have your own opinion. No matter what I tell you, it won't change how you feel. But he did let me meet Vaelle. He was the third prodigy of the Exarch."
Lucien visibly grimaced. "Oh, that bird-faced bastard?" He rolled his eyes. "I swear, he's the only lunatic who actually enjoys fighting me. Every time we meets it's chaos."
Sella put on a smug grin, "That's because he can keep up with you. Other assassins basically worship Vaelle back at the sanctuary."
Lucien huffed. "Ha! He's stealing my fans from me. I'll kick his ass extra hard when we fight again."
Sella leaned against the now somewhat organized desk, crossing her arms. "Right then. What's the plan for today? I need you to get into some fights, hunt a witch or a Tarot, so I can study your fatal weaknesses."
Lucien cracked his neck, stretching. "I have to kill two more Tarot's before I can claim my soul back from that stupid goddess in my head." He shot her a warning glance. "And you're not coming with me. I don't want you dying, you're my little trump card. You stay here where it's super safe and I'll have my summons make sure you don't die so I can manipulate you later for informations."
Sella scoffed. "I'm not staying here. You won't get rid of me that way."
Lucien smirked. "You will. You'll be my secretary."
Sella threw a dagger at his head.
Lucien caught it between his fingers, his grin widening manically.
Sella clenched her jaw. "You piece of shit."
Lucien spun the dagger lazily before tossing it back to her, and she caught it effortlessly.
"What's your routine for hunting these Tarot's?" Sella asked.
Lucien grabbed his coat. "I just go outside and listen. People talk. Rumors spread. Sometimes it's rich bastards looking for a killer, sometimes it's crooks in the alleyways, and sometimes it's just a matter of knowing where to look. Then either my OTHER most FAITHFUL assistant sends them my way when he catches wind of some crazy shit. Or…they find me. People down in the black market stalls underground know me very well, and will lead wanderers looking for some sort of savior to me. That's where I get more of my clients from."
Sella watched as Lucien began changing into a new suit, pulling off his torn shirt.
For a moment, she just stared.
'He..'
His body was tone, but ripped with muscle, and lined with old scars—But what caught her eye was the burned space where his Black Chapel tattoo had once been.
Lucien turned, catching her staring.
Sella immediately turned away, scoffing. "Let's just get this over with. Stop trying to show off to me."
"Aww is it not working?" He teased.
"No. And it never will."
"You were staring pretty hard—."
"I WASN'T!" Sella said throwing a dagger at Lucien and Lucien dodged it while laughing.
The summons all looked at Sella, and just stared.
And Sella turned to them, saying, "What? Don't look at me like that. I wasn't."
The summons tilted their heads.
Sella continued, "I wasn't!"
Lucien reached for the door handle, rolling his shoulders as he prepared to step out into the filthy underbelly of Drakehelm, ready to begin his hunt for the next two Tarot's. Torch remained in the Queen's arms, purring as she rubbed his ears, while Sella stood beside him, arms crossed, already irritated by whatever nonsense was about to unfold. The Jack and Joker lingered behind her, their silent expressions expectant, while the King stood off to the side, completely still, his unreadable presence looming over them all.
The door creaked as Lucien pushed it open—
And the world seemed to pause.
Because standing directly in front of them, clad in flowing black-and-white habits, their faces partially veiled, eyes gleaming with wariness and exhaustion, were three nuns.
Lucien blinked.
Sella furrowed her brows.
The summons stared.
Torch flicked an ear.
The three women stood in eerie silence, their hands clasped together, their postures tense, uncertain, as if they were ready to flee at any second. They were dressed in garments meant for prayer and sanctuary, yet their boots were caked in mud and city grime, and beneath their veils, their expressions were sharp, haunted.
The tallest of them, who stood at the center, had deep auburn hair peeking from beneath her veil, her golden eyes sharp and calculating, her lips pressed into a thin line of hesitance. Her robes were slightly torn near the hem, and unlike the other two, she carried herself with the posture of someone who had long since abandoned the notion of divine protection.
To her right stood a woman of slight build, her white veil contrasting against her dark, braided hair. Her expression was softer, troubled, her fingers fidgeting against the rosary wrapped tightly around her wrist. Her large, pale green eyes darted toward the inside of the office, surveying the strange group before her with barely contained nervousness.
The last nun, standing to the left, had midnight-black hair cut short, her features sharp with defiance, her posture rigid. Unlike the others, she did not clasp her hands in prayer. She folded her arms, her dark blue eyes scanning Lucien with thinly veiled distrust. A faint scar ran from her temple to her cheekbone, a mark that suggested experience with violence.
They didn't immediately speak. They simply stood there, glancing between each other before the tallest one finally cleared her throat.
"…Is this the Witch Hunter Association?"
Lucien blinked again. Then smiled widely as he only could think about money. "Customers!"
Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Before the nuns could react, they found themselves seated in chairs, positioned neatly before Lucien's desk. Lucien himself was now lounging behind his desk, his boots propped up on the surface, arms lazily draped over the armrests, grinning.
The nuns' eyes widened in startled confusion.
The Jack and the Joker sat in the corner, shaking their heads at Lucien's antics. One of the nuns looked over at them, and got slight scared, whispering silent prayers to herself.
The Queen, still holding Torch, tilted her head, amused.
The nun with the dark blue eyes furrowed her brows, her thoughts racing.
'It's more weird than I thought it would be here. But this is definitely the right place. It's exactly as that man described it..'
Meanwhile, the one with the pale green eyes hesitantly glanced around the now strangely clean office.
'…Huh. It's actually tidy. And the blood..smells different here.'
She had expected a filthy den of blood and dust, yet the space, while worn with age, looked surprisingly well-kept.
Lucien twirled a coin between his fingers before giving the nuns a lazy smirk. And the King stood by Lucien's side, and the Queen stood on the other side. And Torch was now resting on Lucien's head.
"So," he drawled, "how'd you find this place?"
Lucien whispered to Sella, "I love hearing how they got here. Makes me feel more famous and mysterious."
Sella rolled her eyes, thinking, 'He's so full of himself. But he seems so…free. No one in the Black Chapel acts like him..'
The tallest nun exhaled, still adjusting to the sudden shift in surroundings. "We were walking through the underground market, looking for help. Rumors led us down here."
Lucien arched a brow. "And you settled on me? Alright, let's hear it. What's the job? Price range depends on how much of a mess I'll be cleaning up. I only accept gold and silver. I don't accept copper or bronze coins. I kill things, and killing things requires some effort. Hope that's fair, if not…"
At that, the three women stiffened, glancing at each other. The one with pale green eyes gripped the rosary at her wrist even tighter, as if she were trying to ground herself.
"That's okay with us."
Another woman added, "…We can't explain it without..letting our emotions conquer us," she admitted softly. "It's just the way everything happened, or what's going to happen to her..it's hard for us to say it outright…"
Lucien's grin dropped instantly.
He slumped further into his chair, letting out an exaggerated groan, rubbing his temple as his internal monologue immediately started running.
'It's the same thing every time. Love, friendship, devotion—it all makes them fragile. The second they lose someone, they break apart like glass. This is exactly why I don't get involved with serious relationships. Unless I use it for my own gain.'
Still, he sighed, resting his chin against his knuckles. "Alright, so you're a bunch of priests or whatever, right? Which church or order do you nuns belong to?"
The tallest nun straightened slightly.
"We are Priestesses of the Golden Monastery, devoted to Ilrion, the God of the Guiding Light."
Lucien groaned. "Right. You worship the Tarot of the Guiding Light. Forgot this world has too many gods, too many doctrines, too many rules." He waved a hand dismissively.
"Um..mister..can you please refer to him as God of the Guiding Light? We know he's from a Tarot card, but lumping him in with what the world views gods as..takes away his importance and value."
"Sure, I'll do what you want if you're paying extra. So, are you going to tell me what's wrong now please?"
The nun with the scar opened her mouth to speak, but Lucien cut her off by suddenly pointing at Sella.
His smirk widened as he gave her a dumb, mocking title. "My secretary, Lady Scowlington of Emotion Management, can help you process your feelings."
Sella scoffed loudly, whispering with volumes, "Die in hell! Bastard!"
The summons immediately burst into silent, amused gestures, the Jack doubling over dramatically, the Joker shaking with silent laughter, the Queen placing a hand over her nonexistent mouth as if scandalized. The King just stood there.
Lucien whispered to her loudly, "Shh! Just go with it! It's perfect for you!"
Sella whispered loudly back, "It's not! Rot in the depths of hell!"
Lucien gave a smug look before turning back to the nuns. "So? Let's hear it."
The priestesses hesitated.
Then, without warning—they stood up.
The summons tensed instantly, ready to react to anything.
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly.
Then—
The nuns slammed their hands on his desk.
"We need to go drinking."
Lucien blinked.
Sella stared.
The summons froze.
Torch flicked an ear, unimpressed.
"…Huh?" Lucien finally muttered. "I'll have one my loyal summons throw some water in your face if you're thirsty—."
The tallest nun nodded, deadly serious. "We won't be able to explain properly unless we drink first."
Sella blinked slowly, as if trying to process whether she had just hallucinated the sentence.
Lucien leaned forward slightly, squinting at them. "…You're nuns."
The one with the scar crossed her arms. "And?"
Lucien pointed vaguely. "Aren't you supposed to be holy and whatnot?"
The one with pale green eyes smiled softly. "We're holy with liquor."
Lucien leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin in thought. "…No way.."
Sella exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.
The summons, meanwhile, exchanged silent, intrigued glances.
"…Fine," Lucien finally said, stretching. "Let's get you lot drunk, then. Then you'll start talking."
Sella muttered under her breath. "I can't believe this is my life now."
Lucien grinned, "Damn right it is, Lady Scowlington."