"Aaaah… Fuuuu…"
Psyche's pain suddenly came to a halt. Blood flowing back to his hands, he pitifully collapsed in the bed, no energy left to even accommodate himself, his bare back exposed to the strangers.
It took a while for him to get his thoughts in order.
'Prison. Contained. Frog. Bunny. Frog. Danger. Pain. Danger. Danger. Danger.'
He tried to logically organize the last events he could remember.
It wouldn't change anything for him.
This was already a routine he had to go through each month.
'I hate this stupid show.'
His parents had a specific way to activate his skills.
[Charm] was a defensive skill, meaning that, while it was a [passive] skill that would be activated regardless of his will, his life or well-being had to be at risk for it to perform properly.
And by properly, he meant driving people crazy enough to mindlessly give money to the Demetriou family. Spectacles such as these were the best answer.
Putting Psyche in an unsafe place with potential assaulters always worked. Especially because he was more sensitive than most, people's bad intentions were as clear as a day for him.
The only difference was that before, his cell was so badly built that some guests managed to rip his clothes and scratch his arms and stomach.
'Another thing to thank Adolphe for.'
The cell he was in now didn't make him feel as unsafe as before. That is, until the moment the masked man walked behind him.
He probably shouldn't even feel upset at all, given that it was specially made to contain a high-ranking player.
He should be safe as long as the cell worked.
"… current transaction."
'Ah, right.'
Psyche, with his brain fog now vanished almost completely, could more or less center himself back to the present. He heard Blasius' muffled voice addressing the client and was immediately reminded of his own situation.
'I'm being sold.'
Even if Psyche wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, his saliva had run dry. He didn't even have tears or sweat, and his whole body felt as if it were about to crumble like a piece of paper.
At this point, waking up, losing consciousness, and waking up in unfamiliar places was all too familiar. He had lost count of how many times this had happened to him in the last four years.
But it was the heavy weight of drowsiness he couldn't get used to no matter how long it had been. Even longer than the time he had spent as his family's golden goose.
Ever since [Charm] had first been activated, Psyche knew no peace.
His skill made it impossible for him not to be alert at all times, not to feel threatened by everyone around him, and not to be wanted by anyone who glanced at him.
Drowsiness, tiredness, pain, and listlessness all threatened to put him into deep slumber. And there was nothing else that Psyche wanted more than to be able to sleep peacefully for once, without the knowledge that he would wake up one or seven times during the night with the feeling of "danger" creeping in his bones, not being able to rest for even one full night.
No nightmares, no skills, no cautiousness.
Nonetheless, there it was.
'Danger!'
He wondered, once again, what it would be like to go to sleep not dreading waking up.
And slowly closed his eyes.
"We are, after all…"
He didn't want to hear, but that wasn't what his ears were poorly enhanced for. The conversation Blasius had with the masked man followed him in a light, freezing breeze, as if they were both whispering directly under his temple.
"… esteemed guests of the Black Guild's master."
The words he had heard just now had washed over him like a bucket of cold water. His mind raced, and his heartbeat became even more unstable, beating rapidly.
His eyes opened abruptly.
'Black Guild.'
'Esteemed guests.'
Shivering, Psyche forced his hands to push against the floor and lift his head. He felt the newly grown hair at the back of his head stand, as if he had just been electrified by static.
'I was never moved to another cell to meet with guests before.'
His pupils shook as he maniacally landed his eyes on Blasius and the dark figure, trying to make sense out of every piece of information he could gather.
'Was it really because of Adolphe?'
"And as it is mandatory, why not take this product as your gift to the guild master?"
'Gift.'
He had seen Blasius greet guests many times before this day. But never once had his prideful, sleezy older brother stuttered when talking to them.
Psyche did not think that Blasius was the kind of man who would be intimidated by others. Rather, he always believed he had the upper hand.
"Isn't that why you're here anyway? Hm?"
'The Black Gala?' He thought to himself.
He had heard of it. A place where only the worst of scum reunited. The one place every guest was at least a 50th floor player, but none of them were rankers, because their real influence and abilities lay elsewhere: In the dark side of the tower.
It was a gathering of the black market's most well-known figures.
Despite being one of the families with the longest legacies inside the tower, and even with the partnership of someone like Adonia, the Demetrious had never been invited to that place before.
'Is it that what they're after?'
'No.'
He saw Blasius on the other side, thinner than the last time he had seen him at the auction yesterday, wearing a jet-black suit he had seen only once before at a presidential ball in the outside world, many years ago, so long that it didn't even seem to fit properly, but he was recognizable nonetheless. His back curved like a rotten tree's trunk, his skin a ghostly white and his platinum blonde hair reflecting the red lights.
Even if he couldn't see the upper half of his face under the mask, he thought his green eyes were probably shining with greed, the same way Adolphe's did.
And most importantly, no one else would ever wear that atrocious mask he hated the most, except for him.
His brother observed the man in front of him, waiting for something.
He saw the mouthless bunny mask, laughing at him with mocking eyes. Its empty eyes were lifeless but alert. Looking at them, Psyche felt nausea as he heard the murmur of the recognizable "Ding" sound the System usually announced its presence with.
He knew Aphrodite wasn't there.
He knew the sound was just in his head, but then… Why were his arms covered in goosebumps?
Why did he feel cold all over?
Why did he feel upset like he usually did every time he was in her presence?
'Danger.'
The familiar burning sensation on his skin fully woke him up. It was his ability, the slight fire burning with its usual forebonding essence already known to Psyche.
He saw the masked frog man freeze suddenly. The unknown man had been deep in thought facing Blasius's cunning smile, but now he was as rigid as the bunny's eyes.
His mind was still racing, with no signs of stopping anytime soon.
'They transferred me. Blasius is wearing that awfully expensive suit he only uses for special occasions. He is not pressing the button.'
At some point, the man had let go of the remote, and it now rested in Blasius' hands.
Blasius looked back at Psyche, their eyes locking in the air.
The short, lumpy man returned the look completely unfazed, as the rest of his family always was when looking at him. Despite being the only beings to have ever caused him harm, his family was the only people his defenses weren't up against.
The hatred they felt towards him was purely their own.
His brother's eyes inspected him with distaste. Only disgust and boredom dyed his green eyes with a darker shade.But Psyche saw something else.
'It's like he threw a bait.'
He saw Blasius' lips part, transforming into a relaxed, business smile.By the way he turned to gaze at Psyche, he knew the cold marble eyes of the mask, and his which rested underneath, were one and the same.
'And I took it.'
Dumbfounded, Psyche's head turned slowly. His terrified eyes observed the man towering over him, beyond the crystal.
His abnormal height and size. The yellow and red on his figure.
And his clothes.
Three circles, one triangle.
'The purificatio guild.'
Psyche made the decision as soon as he realized who he was dealing with, his previously groggy brain jumping at the first conclusion in his frenetic state.
For the first time, he jumped at an opportunity without thinking further.
Psyche turned to look at the man's mask at the same time the frog's eyes dawned on him.
He opened his burning eyes wide.
'Danger.'
The abnormally large man looked back at him in a grotesque, uncanny way. The kind of look a predator would give its prey.
Sluggishly, he inclined his head.
Only now did Psyche see the man clearly enough to realize the frog mask didn't smile, as he had thought before.
The animal sizing him up wasn't grinning with superior complex. It didn't even draft a sneer.
Rather, it was a scowl, perpetually frozen in agony.
-BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
[Charm (Defensive) (Passive) activated!!]
Before any of them even knew it, the man in the frog mask had completely let go of Blasius.
And he was headed straight for the crystal.
From one side of the room, Blasius' bloodied and pale lips parted once again. His nostrils flared, and expression lines appeared around his mouth and nose.
The hand stretched right out to him managed to hit the crystal with abnormal strength, causality spilling from his closed fist.
Psyche's reflection on the thousand shattered pieces met the man's.
'Danger.'
On the other side, a look of pure ecstasy mirrored his terrified eyes.
'Purple.'