Chapter 2: A Trauma Long Forgotten
Chapter 2: A Trauma Long Forgotten
A stinky man with unkempt facial hair, black eyes, and a thin frame loomed over a cornered young girl, flanked by two equally unsavory companions.
"Heheheh... what a fine one." The man snickered, licking his lips as he eyed the girl.
"The younger, the merrier!" Laughed the second, a bulky man with a goatee.
"How much do you think she'd sell for?" Slurred the third, barely holding onto his balance as he pressed the girl's mouth shut with his grimy hand, muffling her cries.
The girl couldn't have been older than ten. Dressed in a white gown with gold details, her ethereal beauty stood out even in her terrified state.
Saturated blue hair framed a face so striking that it seemed unnatural. It wasn't just pretty — it was otherworldly.
But these three fools were far too drunk and depraved to realize their fate was already sealed.
"Stop right there, bastards!" Barked one of the suited men, stepping into the alley with his pistol drawn, his voice grave and eyes narrowed.
Behind him strode a young boy, dressed immaculately in a black suit, hands buried casually in his pockets.
Flanked by four more suited bodyguards, he surveyed the scene with cold, calculating eyes, a silent command in his gaze.
The thugs froze for a moment, startled, before their drunken bravado kicked in. Knives flashed as they drew weapons from beneath their tattered clothes.
The man holding the girl pressed the blade to her throat, sneering as he did.
"Shoot them." The boy's voice was low and chilling, devoid of hesitation.
The bodyguards acted instantly!
Two bullets hit the thug holding the girl in the legs before he could even react. His grip faltered, and he collapsed, screaming in agony.
Another man dropped to the ground, clutching his chest, while the bulky one had his arms and legs riddled with gunshots, incapacitated.
In mere seconds, the lowlifes were neutralized.
The boy strode forward, motioning for the bodyguards to stay back as he approached the girl, who still trembled from the ordeal.
"Are you alright?" He asked softly, and removed his jacket and draped it over her small shoulders. His tone, though calm, carried genuine concern.
The girl blinked in surprise. She'd never encountered someone so composed, so caring — especially not after what she had just endured.
"Y-Yeah..." She stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
The boy's lips curled into a soft smile. "Good."
For a moment, his young features softened into something almost... charming.
His sapphire-blue eyes briefly closed as he smiled, an innocent gesture that contrasted sharply with the cold, calculating demeanor he had just displayed.
The girl felt her face flush, surprised by the warmth of his smile and the concern that radiated from him.
Despite the lingering trauma, she found herself at ease in his presence.
'Who is this boy?' She wondered, her red eyes locking onto his. 'He's not affected by my beauty…'
'How can a human boy be so handsome...? More handsome than vampire children?' She thought inwardly to herself, but what caught her attention was his true intentions that she could somehow feel.
'Worry and concern...? He's not even mesmerized by my beauty...?' The girl was actually at a loss of words due to how surprised she inwardly is.
It wouldn't be a lie nor an exaggeration if the disciplined men of the son of their Boss were occasionally glancing at her, and they were.
They were cautious and still wary even of the girl their Boss's son saved, but she was so beautiful.
...So beautiful that if they weren't disciplined and had this control, they'd be staring at her blatantly.
This is how mortals should react to supernatural beauty, yet this boy...
Make no mistake, the girl wasn't into this type of attention, nor did she want the boy to look at her for her beauty, but it was a first time to see someone like this, so it was a surprise for her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the police.
They interrogated the thugs and briefly questioned the girl, though they, too, found themselves momentarily captivated by her extraordinary beauty.
After confirming that the boy and his men had rescued her, they swiftly arrested the assailants.
Standing by the sidewalk, the boy remained beside the girl, insisting on staying with her until her mother arrived. His guards watched the surroundings cautiously as the night deepened.
Breaking the awkward silence, the boy glanced at her once more, and this time, something shifted in his mind.
'Isn't she too beautiful...?' He thought, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied her delicate features.
His eyes caught a faint flicker of red in hers — eyes he swore had been brown before.
'Red eyes? Am I seeing things?' He shifted his gaze to her saturated blue hair, unnaturally vibrant under the streetlights.
'This can't be dyed... it's not like anything I've seen.'
For a moment, his thoughts drifted to his training, the rigorous "education" his father had imposed on him: martial arts, business management, piano and guitar lessons — everything a future genius would need to inherit a vast empire.
He wasn't just talented, he was gifted, his mind always three steps ahead.
He truly was a genius and older than his age.
But instead of thinking about it and wasting time, the father's expectations for his son became high, as he hoped his son would one day become far better than him and surpass him.
His son was a genius.
What is the difference between a talented person and a genius?
For an example: if both were taking piano classes, and were given a month to perfect a simple and single tune, the talented would study it, practice it in different known ways to see which is good for them, then perfect it in due time.
Thus they are called talented because they are hardworking and gifted.
However, the genius would study it, ponder it, think of his OWN way to master the basic tune, and maybe finish before the estimated time.
Thus they're called genius because, their way might not be perfect, and different, but they did complete the task splendidly.
The boy was in the genius category.
Indeed. He was promising.
But for once, he felt... confused.
He averted his eyes awkwardly, cheeks tinged with a faint pink. "...Sorry."
The girl giggled, her laugh soft and melodic. "It's okay."
She smiled at him, radiant and pure, and the boy could do nothing but stare in awe.
'WHY IS SHE SO BEAUTIFUL? WHAT THE HELL?!' He screamed inwardly, feeling his heart thud in his chest.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she introduced herself, "I'm Azuraelle. You?"
"Oh." He dumbfoundedly said like a fool. Well he's still a 6-year-old.
'Oh no! I should've asked for her name first...' —He's indeed a young gentleman.
"I'm—"
Just as the boy opened his mouth to respond, a grave voice interrupted: "Young Master! Your father demands your return immediately —it's an emergency!"
Before the boy could even react, one of the men effortlessly scooped him up, sprinting away with the urgency of a life-or-death situation.
His protests fell on deaf ears as he was carried like a child, his small legs dangling helplessly in the air.
"W- Wait! I can walk!" The boy shouted in frustration, wriggling in the man's grip, but the look of sheer fear on the bodyguard's face was unsettling.
They were hiding something from him, something too terrible for him to know just yet.
But, knowing their Boss's son, only seven went running, as one was left behind with the girl to ensure her safety until her mother's return.
The girl watched, worry and confusion etched on her beautiful face, as she stood still beside the man they left with her, without having any clue what to do.
The truck, sleek and black, pulled up abruptly. The boy was hastily shoved into the back, still complaining, but the men remained grim and silent.
The tension was palpable, their faces rigid behind the dark sunglasses, betraying the real fear they were keeping from him.
The truck raced through the city, tearing through empty streets like a bullet.
The boy's heart pounded in his chest, each second of silence driving him deeper into uncertainty.
As they neared the mansion, a new sound broke the silence — gunfire. Sharp cracks echoed in the distance, accompanied by faint explosions.
The boy's protests died in his throat, his eyes wide with dread as the once-invincible fortress of his home came into view.
They arrived at the mansion gates, or what was left of them — blasted apart and hanging off their hinges.
The truck skidded to a stop in the bloodstained courtyard, where bodies of the family's guards lay scattered like broken dolls.
His father's men didn't hesitate. Weapons drawn, they bolted out of the vehicle, guns already blazing, leaving the boy behind in the tense quiet of the truck.
One man scooped him up again, dragging him into the chaos.
Inside the mansion, it was hell. Blood smeared across the walls, the air thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and death.
The floors were littered with bodies, men who had sworn to protect him and his family now laying in silent, crumpled heaps.
Then, amidst the carnage, he saw them.
His parents.
His mother lay sprawled across the floor, her once-vibrant sapphire eyes now dull and lifeless.
His father, barely clinging to life, sat slumped beside her, his blood pooling around him.
"Father..." The boy whispered, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his pale face.
His small hands trembled violently as reality crashed down around him.
"MOTHER!" His scream tore through the bloody silence, raw and heart-wrenching, but before he could rush to them, a bodyguard blocked his path, holding him back with a firm grip.
"Young Master. Stop!—" The man pleaded desperately, pushing the boy away just as a sharp crack echoed through the hall.
The man was dead before he hit the floor, a bullet hole clean through his skull.
Blood spattered onto the boy's face as the man collapsed at his feet.
"N-No..." The boy's voice was barely a whisper, his wide eyes frozen in terror. Time seemed to stretch, and he couldn't move, couldn't scream — he was paralyzed by fear.
"Son!" His father's voice, hoarse and weak, snapped him back to the present.
"Run...!" His father's command was barely a rasp, but it was cut short by the final, fatal gunshot.
A clean shot to the head, and his father's body fell limp beside his mother's.
The boy's world shattered in that instant.
"Mother... Father..." His voice was a fragile, broken thing, drowned by the flood of tears blurring his vision.
His body convulsed in his captor's arms, but his legs wouldn't move, his voice wouldn't scream.
He could only watch as the last of the people he loved were taken from him.
A hand quickly covered his eyes, shielding him from further horror as another man scooped him up once more, running for the exit.
His body was limp in the man's arms, too shocked, too broken to fight.
As they reached the car, the last of his father's men fell in a brutal hail of bullets, their bodies riddled with holes before they could even cry out.
Only the driver and the boy remained.
"DRIVE!" Barked the man behind the wheel.
The car roared to life, speeding away from the wreckage of what once was the boy's home, now nothing but a blood-soaked battlefield.
...
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