Capítulo 6: Deceit
The door swung open with a creak, and Brandon stepped in, his towering figure casting a long shadow across the room. The look in his eyes was different—sharp, calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey.
"I'm back," he said, his voice low and gravelly.
I tried to hide my unease, forcing a smile. "Hello," I greeted him, trying to sound cheerful, but the tension in the room made it impossible.
Brandon didn't return the smile. Instead, he locked his gaze on me, his eyes cold, almost predatory. "Bad news, brat," he began, walking further into the room with slow, deliberate steps. "I wasn't able to find out anything about you. Not in the city hall, not in the other cities either. Nobody's ever heard of anyone matching your description."
My stomach dropped. I could feel the weight of his suspicion bearing down on me.
"Unruly short black hair, amethyst-colored eyes, five-foot-eight, about sixteen years old," he continued, reciting my features like a list of charges. "It's weird, right? A look that unique, and yet not a single record of you anywhere."
His voice took on a darker tone, and I saw his hand twitch near the spear he carried—a weapon that seemed more like an extension of him than a tool. "But you know what's even weirder?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "You were able to sleep in the Bright Dungeon. A place that's impossible to enter unless you're a mid-tier hero... or with two mid-tier heroes... unless you want to be mauled to death by the Hell Hounds."
The way he spoke, it was as if he was painting a picture of me as something more—something dangerous. I felt my muscles tense under his gaze. He was like a wolf circling its prey, ready to strike.
"You must either be so strong that monsters avoid you out of fear for their lives... or you're the luckiest bastard alive. Either way, it's suspicious."
His eyes were piercing now, his grip on the spear tightening. "So answer me. I know you lied when you said you don't remember your name. Who are you? A villain, perhaps, disguising yourself as some lost civilian stuck in a dungeon? Trying to infiltrate the hospital to do some nefarious shit?"
My heart raced, and I could feel beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck. Brandon wasn't the type to let things slide. He was known for his sharp instincts, his ability to pick up on details others would miss. That's what made him dangerous. It wasn't just his strength—though being in the top 10,000 heroes made him more than formidable—it was his mind.
I could lie. But he'd see through it.
If I said nothing, I'd look even more suspicious.
My brain scrambled for a solution. And then it hit me—the plot.
It's like killing two birds with one stone.
"I... I'm an orphan," I said, playing the pity card, hoping it would make me seem less suspicious.
Brandon's eyes hardened, and before I could continue, he interrupted me. "What orphanage?" His voice was sharp, almost cutting. He wasn't buying it. But that was fine—better even. He was playing right into my hands.
"I don't remember the name," I said, lowering my gaze to sell the lie. "But since I was little, I've been stuck in a cell, not allowed to do what I want. It was miserable... I'd only be let out if they needed me for something. If you weren't useful, you'd be killed... or sold."
I could see Brandon's eyes darken, but he said nothing, so I pressed on.
"I was going to be sold. Sold to be experimented on by someone... So, I ran. I escaped to the Bright Dungeon. There were no guards that night, so I just... I ran. And now, I'm here." I made sure my voice trembled slightly, sounding as pitiful as I could muster.
Brandon didn't move for a long moment. His eyes bore into me, and the tension in the room thickened. I could feel his doubt, his suspicion creeping through his every word and movement.
"You expect me to believe that bullshit?" he growled, his voice low, dangerous. In an instant, he grabbed the front of my hospital gown, yanking me to my feet. "Who do you take me for? An idiot?" His voice was full of menace, his spear gleaming dangerously in the light.
He wasn't buying it. Convincing him would be harder than I thought.
"I'm telling the truth," I said, my voice shaking slightly. I wasn't sure if it was from fear or the effort of keeping my lie straight under his scrutiny.
Brandon's eyes narrowed. "And how am I supposed to know if you're lying or not?"
I paused, then threw in my ace. "I know who was going to experiment on me."
His grip loosened just a fraction, but his suspicion didn't waver. "And how do you know that?"
"I was brought to the lab before they were going to sell me. I know where it is."
Brandon's eyes flickered with interest. His grip relaxed slightly, but his expression remained fierce.
"Who?" he asked, his voice demanding.
"Doctor Chris," I said, letting the words hang in the air.
Instantly, the tip of his spear was pressed against my throat, cold and sharp. "Don't play with me, brat," he snarled, his voice barely more than a whisper. "How do you expect me to believe that? And even if that's true, how did he not recognize you when you ended up here?"
"I was wearing a mask," I explained quickly, swallowing hard. "And I wasn't allowed to talk when he met me."
Brandon studied me, his glare unrelenting, searching for any sign of deceit. After what felt like an eternity, he finally let go of me, lowering the spear slightly.
"And who sold you to him?" he asked, still not entirely convinced.
"The Red Well," I answered.
The Red Well—a notorious underground organization known for supplying test subjects to people like Dr. Chris. They were ruthless, meticulous. Chris often got his hands on experimental subjects from them, but their secrecy made them almost impossible to trace.
"That's all I know," I continued, trying to sound as genuine as possible. "I overheard it."
Brandon's eyes narrowed further. "Do you know where they're located?"
I shook my head. "No. They were careful. I was always knocked out when they took me anywhere."
Brandon mulled over my words for a moment before his gaze turned more intense. "But you know where Chris's lab is?"
I nodded. "Yes. 14 Avenue Baker Street. It's in the basement of the one building with the red rooftop. In the end of the long hallway in the second floor But it's protected by a charm that hides it. You need a password to get in."
"What's the password?" Brandon demanded.
I hesitated for a moment, then muttered, "The password is... 'Chris is the most handsome man in the entire cosmos.'"
Brandon's face twisted in disbelief, and in an instant, he jabbed the spear closer to my throat. "What did I just tell you about playing with me?"
"I'm serious!" I blurted, trying to back away. "I overheard it when they brought me there. That's the password."
Brandon stared at me long and hard, his gaze searching my face for any hint of a lie. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, lowering the spear. "I'll go there," he said, his voice a low growl. "And if I find out you're lying, you're done for. Don't even think about running while I'm gone."
"Yes, sir," I said, exhaling in relief. I'd done it. I'd ratted out Chris. Now all I had to do was sit back, relax, and watch the fireworks.
As Brandon turned to leave, he called over his shoulder, "I've called someone to watch you while I'm gone."
Great. Babysitters.
"I called Lilia. She'll be here soon. And don't you dare try anything funny with her. She's a student at Hope Academy."
Oh no, I thought, my relief quickly evaporating. Why Lilia?
---
As I walked out, my mind raced. The kid wasn't telling me everything. I could feel it in my gut—there was something he was hiding. To know the password for Chris's lab, when the Red Well was notorious for being meticulous, never leaving a loose end... That was troubling. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. If this was true, though, we had to deal with Chris immediately.
---
"Boss, I'm here!" Lilia's chipper voice called from the doorway.
"Good. Keep a close eye on him," Brandon ordered as he left.
"Aye aye, boss!" Lilia saluted with a grin.
I sighed as Brandon's figure disappeared down the hall. Now I was alone with Lilia. This was going to be awkward.
"So," Lilia started, bouncing over to the foot of my bed, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Why's the boss so angry at you?"
Before I could even think of an answer, she bombarded me with more questions. "Hey, how old are you? What's your name? Where are you from? How did you end up in the Bright Dungeon? Do you like dogs or cats?"
Each question came faster than the last, and I barely had time to register one before she launched into the next. She was like an over-caffeinated journalist on a deadline, relentless in her interrogation. I could already feel the headache coming on. I was trapped in a one-sided conversation that I knew from experience would last hours if I didn't find some way to shut it down.
And the worst part? She wasn't doing this on purpose to annoy me. This was just Lilia—naturally curious, full of energy, and completely unaware of how overwhelming she could be. But to me, it felt like a never-ending interrogation, and I had a sinking feeling that the rest of the day would be spent answering questions I didn't want to answer.
Somebody save me, I thought, as Lilia's voice continued to ring in my ears.
But I already knew. No one was coming.
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cassi_godd
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