No matter how many times it happened, Dante would probably never get used to the feeling of almost dying. His body had pulled itself back together, but the discomfort of the experience remained inside him. Every single nerve pulsed as his consciousness returned to life with each new cell regenerating. The bullets burned like fire, leaving a path of destruction and embedding themselves deeply into his flesh. Yet he could feel them being slowly pushed out of him by his regenerating power. The pain was almost unbearable. Why did it always have to hurt so much? Would he ever get used to this feeling?
His vision was still blurry. Although his cells were regenerating at an unprecedented speed, the face that had been struck by the bullets had suffered too much damage. It would take a little longer before he could see more clearly. Desperately, he tried to make out something, but everything around him was a vague blur. He could make out the outlines of things, but the details remained hidden. Time and again, a sharp pain shot through his body as the regeneration began at the particularly damaged spots. He felt his bones, which had shifted from the impact, gradually moving back into place. The teeth that had been loosened from the impact found their place again. It was a strange, almost mechanical feeling, one that both calmed him and disgusted him at the same time. Tissue that had been destroyed completely regenerated.
With a groan, Dante sat up. His healing was nearly complete. In less than five minutes, he had pulled himself back from the brink of death, as he had done countless times before. He had to hurry. There was still much to be done, a job that needed to be finished.
He hoped Helios had gotten to safety. He hoped even more that Davis had been able to fend off the assassins.
He hoped no one was watching him. Dante hadn't been out for long. His healing usually didn't take more than five minutes. He just needed a bit of luck, and he wouldn't attract attention.
But he heard nothing. No shots. No sounds of battle. Only the faint, irregular sound of breathing echoing in the silence. And then – a soft sob. Who was crying? His thoughts raced. Was it Davis? Or Helios? No, Helios would never cry. The guy hadn't even cried when he himself had been shot. But the tears he heard sent a chill through him.
"W-Why…?" he heard Helios' quiet, fragile voice.
Dante turned toward the sound. His blurry vision slowly cleared, and the world around him began to take shape. And then he was struck by the shocking sight: Helios' face, flooded with tears, distorted with disbelief. In his arms lay Davis, lifeless, dead, held tightly against him. Helios was crying, crying for him. And as Dante saw this, as he realized what was happening, it hit him like a wave of despair.
"Why are you alive?! And why… WHY did Davis have to die?!" Helios suddenly screamed, his voice breaking with the painful words.
It was only then that Dante understood what he was seeing.
The shock hit Dante like a blow. His throat tightened.
He had assumed that Davis had either scared off or killed the assassins. At least, the assassins were nowhere to be seen. But Davis... he was dead.
And Helios...
Helios had seen him. He had seen Dante regenerate. The smartest man he had ever known had now discovered the truth. The thought of it made Dante freeze. Everything was at risk.
Despair spread through him. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He had kept his ability hidden for so long, and now it had been exposed. Right in front of Helios' eyes. The man who was probably the most intelligent person on earth right now. Panic began to rise within him.
His mind tried to form a clear plan. There was no time to act impulsively. He had to stay calm, control the situation before Helios' desperation dragged him into the abyss. But deep down, he knew it might already be too late.
Right. Dante knew he couldn't risk anything further. The instinct to survive, to do anything to keep his abilities hidden, took control. No time to hesitate. With a swift motion, he was on his feet and rushing toward Helios. The young man looked at him with wide, terrified eyes, the shock in his gaze unmistakable.
Not even a second later, Helios was beneath him, and Dante had his hands tightly around his neck. Helios struggled desperately, trying to push Dante off, but his movements were weak, his strength depleted. The younger man's body trembled under him. It was a fleeting but deadly reality: he was the one who now held the power.
"…ugh…!" Helios gasped, as the pressure around his neck increased. Dante could feel the rhythmic pounding of Helios' heart beneath his fingers—a constant reminder that he could end it at any moment.
Time was against him. The danger of being discovered loomed everywhere, every second counted. They had been attacked right in front of the clinic. Shots had been fired, screams had echoed—someone must have seen it. Someone must have witnessed this betrayal right now. The police wouldn't be far behind.
Damn it!
Dante pressed harder. Helios gasped for air, struggling desperately to free himself, but it was futile. The younger man stood no chance against him. Dante felt the scratches as Helios tried to pull his hands free, but the pain barely registered. The adrenaline flooded his veins, making him feel almost like a machine. The scratches were already healing, the blood seeping back into his skin faster than it could flow.
Damn, what should he do now? His job was a lost cause. The archives were out of reach. He would find nothing more in Aeternum Pharmaceuticals that could help him, and all of that was because Helios had discovered his secret.
Moreover, he was now on the best path to killing him.
Should his search end so quickly again?! What should he do?
Let Helios live?
Or actually kill him?
He had no choice. He knew that. He couldn't allow Helios to live after he had discovered the secret of his healing. But at that moment, as he felt Helios' heartbeat beneath his hands, doubt crept in. Could he really kill a man who had so many answers? Helios was useful, more so than Dante wanted to admit. Even if he couldn't retrieve information from the archives, Helios might know where to find it. Maybe he could help in other ways. Maybe he held the answer in his blood... or perhaps Helios was the key to something Dante could never have imagined – a cure, perhaps...
A sudden, uncomfortable pang shot through his stomach. Another question he had to ask himself: Should he really kill Helios? It was a cold, pragmatic thought, but as he felt Helios' body beneath him, he couldn't push the idea away any longer. Slowly, he loosened his grip on his neck. Helios weakly coughed, his body slumping exhaustedly to the side. The resistance had been completely broken. He lay there, breathing heavily, his arms powerless beside his thin body. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and for a moment, he stared directly at Davis' lifeless body, only a few feet away.
Dante felt frozen. Helios' gaze was empty, yet he moved his hand with his last bit of strength, as if reaching for Davis. The determination in the gesture snapped Dante out of his paralysis. A deep, indescribable pain shot through him as he saw the grief in Helios' eyes.
Davis was dead, and Dante hadn't even noticed. In the past weeks, Davis had become more of a friend than Dante had ever realized. He had been so fixated on his own task that he hadn't truly recognized it until the end. The grief settled deep in his gut. He felt incredibly sick.
His comrade, his friend, was dead, and all he had come up with was nearly killing Helios. Thoughts swirled in Dante like a storm. He felt like he had maneuvered himself into a corner from which there was no escape. But the longer he thought about it, the more it became clear that it was wiser to keep Helios alive. He had nothing to lose, while by letting Helios survive, he could only win. Helios could still be useful to him. In the end, he wouldn't just erase him – he was too valuable. And most importantly, Helios couldn't truly endanger him, he couldn't kill him, as Dante had often convinced himself. Helios would at most have to overpower him to tie him to a table and experiment on him further. But that was another problem.
Dante grabbed Helios' shirt and pulled him a little closer, noticing that he didn't even have the strength to hold his head up. Dante leaned forward to look into his eyes.
"Not a word to anyone," he said, his tone harsh and threatening.
But Helios didn't even look at him. He seemed to be struggling just to keep his eyes open. His head tilted to the side again, and he directed his gaze back to Davis. His lips moved, but no sound came out. From his lips, Dante could only make out one word: Davis.
Then Helios simply closed his eyes, his face smeared with tears.
"Helios?!" Dante called out, startled, and a cold sensation crawled down his neck.
He always forgot to properly gauge his strength. Had he killed him? It was no obstacle, more of a nuisance. But Helios, like Davis, had somehow grown close to him over the past weeks, and he still needed him. With a bit of luck, maybe he could still help him now that the cat was out of the bag.
Panic gripped him as Helios lay lifeless in front of him. He quickly checked his pulse. It was there. Breathing. Also present, though strained and shallow. He would probably survive. Dante exhaled in relief. He grabbed the young pharmacist and laid him across the back seat of the car. He also grabbed his suitcase and threw it into the vehicle.
Curious onlookers had gathered in the square. A sharp scream pierced the air.
"Fuck!" he muttered quietly. Panic surged within him as he got behind the wheel. With a jolt, he turned the key in the ignition and drove off.
He would have liked to take Davis with him, but he couldn't risk it any further. Hopefully, no one had seen or recognized him. Or what he had just done: nearly strangle the heir to the multimillionaire Vale to death.
As he steered the car through the city, he feverishly thought about what he should do. He couldn't bring Helios back to the estate just yet. Not until he had agreed to help him.
Not until he couldn't betray him.
Not until he was no longer his insurance against ending up as a lab rat.
Dante had a small apartment in the city that he had never disclosed when he took the job. It was under a false name, and the payment couldn't be traced back to him. He had prepared the apartment as a safe haven in case his cover was blown. But first, he needed to get rid of the car and get Helios there unnoticed.
___
Dante was exhausted, both physically and mentally. The events of the past few hours had drained him, and the constant pressure of maintaining control was beginning to wear him down. With a deep breath, he carefully laid Helios on the bed in his secret apartment, a retreat he had built over the years—a place where he could hide when everything else fell apart. Slowly, he removed Helios' coat and unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt to examine the young man's neck more closely. The area where he had gripped was now bruised, and Dante could clearly see where his hands had encircled the delicate skin. The memory of how close he had come to taking his life made him pause for a moment.
With another steady glance, Dante checked Helios' breathing and pulse. It was still shallow, but he was sure the young man would survive as long as he hadn't damaged the cricoid cartilage. The condition was serious, but not life-threatening. That, at least, was a relief.
What would happen when Helios regained consciousness? Dante could easily imagine that Vale had already learned of his son's disappearance. Perhaps he was already frantically searching for him. And when Helios woke up, what would he do? Would he help him, or would he betray him? There was no doubt that Vale would do everything in his power to find Helios. Dante couldn't be sure that the young man, now that he knew the truth, would still trust him.
He might have to dispose of a body that evening.
He tied Helios to the bedpost and went to take a shower. He seemed stable for now. At least he could shower and change. His blood was still everywhere, and he felt disgusted. When the hot water hit his skin, he closed his eyes and began washing himself.
His mind raced with different scenarios of what could happen next. There weren't many options.
Either Helios would agree, or he wouldn't. If he agreed, they would head back to the estate that evening. If he refused, Dante would kill him and bury him somewhere, ensuring that he would never be found.
Premeditated murder wasn't Dante's thing. By now, he had calmed down enough that his earlier outburst felt uncomfortable. He had acted out of the situation. His survival instinct had taken complete control over him.
He let the hot water run a little longer over his body. He should at least clean Helios of Davis' blood before he woke up. He had been covered in it from head to toe, and Dante didn't want him waking up only to find himself coated in his lover's blood.
Dante turned off the water. At least now he had an idea of what to do before Helios woke up. He dried off and put on fresh clothes. Then he prepared a bowl of water, grabbed one of his shirts, and went back to Helios, still unconscious on the bed. He freed his hands and began washing the blood off him.
He was more red than white. His pale skin was completely covered in blood. Fortunately, he wasn't injured himself. He had only a few scratches and bruises from the fight. Slowly, Dante undressed him.
Absentmindedly, Dante ran his hand over the scar on his abdomen. Aside from that one scar and the fresh scratches, Helios seemed to have never suffered any major wounds. His nearly flawless body was the result—and a testament to the work of his protectors, who had guarded him all these years.
Dante freed him from the pants that were stuck to his leg. The blood had dried by now, making it difficult to remove the garment. Resolutely, he grabbed his knife and cut the pants open. The sound of the fabric tearing echoed through the small apartment, and he tossed the torn remnants carelessly aside. Blood continued to seep from a wound on Helios' thigh, an injury he had apparently sustained during the shooting. It was a deep grazing wound, but fortunately, it hadn't hit any major blood vessels. Still, it was a serious injury that he had to treat quickly.
He cleaned the wound, stitched it up, and finally bandaged it.
He thought about the shot and how much he had worried about Helios when he had nearly died. He could almost hear Davis' angry words when they had returned to the estate, and the doctor had operated on Helios. Davis, who was no longer there. Davis, who had repeatedly asked him to look after Helios in his place when he couldn't. Davis, whose life had seemed to matter more to him than his own.
He already missed Davis. The thought of no longer being able to joke around with him every day or talk about whatever random things – no matter how ridiculous – made him unbelievably sad. He swallowed hard and ignored the burning in his eyes. He continued washing Helios and put one of his shirts on him. Since Helios was smaller and much more slender than he was, it looked more like a nightshirt on him.
The injuries Helios had sustained were not insignificant. A grazing shot, several scratches, and a large bruise on his chest that indicated he had bruised his ribs. There were also the ugly strangulation marks on his neck – a constant reminder of the moment when Dante had nearly lost control. He knew that when Helios woke up, he would be in significant pain, but Dante had nothing in the apartment that could help him.
Though... if Helios refused to help him, all of this would be useless. If the young man agreed, they could still pick something up on the way back from the estate.
Helios hadn't even woken up while Dante had been washing him. He had been so still and motionless that Dante had almost thought he was dead. Dante checked his vital signs again and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse and blood pressure. He tied Helios back to the bed and cleared away the washing supplies.
He still didn't respond to anything. Dante sighed quietly and stuffed their bloody clothes into a bag. He checked all the pockets to see if there was anything inside. Aside from Helios' keycard, he found nothing. He would need to dispose of the clothes somehow, making sure not to attract attention.
Just as he leaned back, trying to gather his thoughts, Helios suddenly coughed. Dante jumped up, unsure of what to do. Had he finally woken up? The young man weakly turned to his side, and the arm that Dante had tied to the bedpost trailed limply behind him.
"Wa...," Helios began, but the raspy cough interrupted him immediately.
"Fuck. Try to breathe calmly. I'll get a glass of water," Dante said as he quickly made his way to the kitchen to get the promised water.
He returned quickly, glass in hand. Helios took it with trembling hands, but before he could drink, the glass slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground with a clink, spilling water in all directions. Dante immediately knelt down, cursing and reflexively looking at the spilled water that spread across the floor.
"I hope you like Fugu…" Helios whispered in a voice so hoarse it barely sounded human anymore.
Then he felt a sharp pain in his neck, and the next thing he noticed was how his chest tightened, and everything blurred until it went black.
___
As Dante slowly regained consciousness, he found himself lying on the cold floor, the smell of dampness and dust rising to his nose. He greedily inhaled the air, his lungs practically burning as his heart raced wildly. What the hell had happened? Why did his body feel so strange? Heavy, numb, as if he had no control over his limbs. He tried to move, but his wrist was bound, as if someone had taken every ounce of movement from him.
"What the...?" he mumbled, but even his tongue seemed paralyzed. A burning sensation crawled up inside him, and his thoughts were clouded like through fog.
"Already awake?" a voice whispered behind his ear.
The voice was weak and incredibly raspy. He coughed quietly, his breathing labored. Dante tried to turn his head toward the voice. No chance. His head was clearing, but he felt the numbness lifting.
"You can't move yet?" Helios asked quietly.
Despite his weak voice and strained breathing, he sounded calm. Dante ran his tongue over his lips, his mouth feeling dry and coated at the same time. His tongue tingled.
"What… did you do to me?"
"I fed you some Fugu," Helios answered, his words pained and interrupted by coughing. "Or should I say, its poison?" Another cough. "You… recovered surprisingly fast, the dose is usually lethal."
The little bastard had poisoned him?! No wonder it had taken him so long to recover. "A nerve toxin?"
"You're really smarter than your muscles would suggest," Helios replied with a hint of sarcasm, almost inaudible in the rasp of his voice.
"Why?" Dante could hardly believe it. "Why would you try to kill me with poison? You saw that I can't die."
Helios sat up on the edge of the bed, but he swayed, clutching his throat with one hand. A weak cough interrupted his movements, and when he tried to stand, he collapsed to the floor immediately. Dante instinctively reached out to him, but Helios swatted his hand away with a quick movement.
"Don't touch me!" he shouted, the words accompanied by a powerful coughing fit.
Dante pulled his hand back and watched as Helios slowly and unsteadily propped himself up. The young man was not only physically exhausted but emotionally spent as well. There was a rage in his eyes that Dante had never seen before.
"You started it," Helios growled, his voice strained. Wobbly and uncertain, he crawled toward Dante, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer. His face, still twisted with anger, quickly softened into an expression of grief. "Where is he?"
Dante stared at him, the question hitting him unexpectedly. Was he talking about Davis?
"I couldn't take him," Dante mumbled, turning his gaze away. He just couldn't look Helios in the eyes.
"Why?! You can't just leave him there!" Helios screamed. His voice broke, the anger transforming into desperation, and his hands trembled. A heavy coughing fit shook his body.
"Helios, I…"
"What do you want?! Why am I here? Why didn't you kill me?!"
Was he crying again? Dante looked at him. Indeed, Helios was crying once more for the loss he had suffered. Yet his gaze remained fixed on Dante, as if the tears didn't care whether Helios wanted to cry or not. They just flowed.
Dante couldn't help but feel pity for Helios. He felt his fingers becoming tangible again.
"Because I need you, Helios," Dante finally said. "You're the only one who can help me."
"Help...?" Helios' voice was filled with incredulous amazement. "You want my damn help? You have everything others could only dream of! Why the hell do you need my help?!"
Dante let the words linger in his mind before responding quietly, almost resigned: "Because I don't want this power."
Helios stared at him with wide eyes. "You…" he began, "you want to throw away this gift? If I had known about it sooner, I would've made Davis immortal!"
Dante felt an inexplicable wave of relief. So, Helios wasn't involved, not responsible for what had happened. A tiny part of him was glad that he didn't have to grapple with another wrong decision.
"This power is a curse, one I don't want, Helios," he said firmly, his words carrying the weight of a painful truth.
"I could've saved him with your power," Helios whispered in disbelief. Tears continued to run down his cheeks, and his voice cracked. "If you had told me earlier, then…"
"It might not have helped," Dante interrupted him calmly. "As far as I know, I'm the only one who has this power."
Helios stared at him in silence. For the first time, he seemed to have no words to say. His gaze lowered, his shoulders slumped, and he seemed to collapse inward. His hands clenched into his shirt, and he breathed in short gasps.
"He's dead, Dante! I could have saved him with your power!" Helios' voice was desperate as he weakly struck Dante's chest. "What am I supposed to do without him… ugh…"
Helios' pain was almost tangible. He whimpered softly. He reached with one hand into his shirt and dug his fingers in.
It was strange, usually, the young pharmacist didn't take this long to respond. Helios looked at Dante, sweat dripping down his face. He let go of Dante entirely and grasped at his throat.
Is he having a panic attack?
"Try to breathe calmly, Helios!" Dante shouted, but Helios suddenly placed his hand over Dante's mouth, as if trying to silence him.
"Ha… I'll help you…" Helios choked out, his voice a rasp. "But for that… you'll help me kill someone."
Dante stared at him, uncertain, the words throwing him off balance. "What?"
"Promise it!" Helios gasped, panic creeping into his voice. "Promise me you'll do it!"
Dante never killed anyone just like that, unless it was in self-defense. Or necessary to protect his identity, his secret. But Helios was the only one who could probably help him. This was his only real chance to make progress with his mission.
He looked at Helios seriously. He already knew the answer to his question, yet he asked anyway: "Who do you want to kill?"
"His murderer…" Helios whispered before collapsing.
Dante tore himself free from the restraints and caught Helios in his arms. He quickly and gently carried him back to the bed, laying him down carefully before swiftly wrapping the young man in a thick woolen blanket. Without much thought, he grabbed Helios' suitcase, which he had left behind earlier, and brought it along with Helios to the car. It was time to take the young man back to the estate, where they might finally make some progress.
If a murder was the condition to fulfill his long-held wish, he was more than willing to take down Davis' murderer. He was relieved that Helios would help him.
Even though he knew that the task, even with Helios' help, had not become any easier.