The bar was alive with chatter, clinking glasses, and the smell of smoke and rum. Lights shifted across the room in soft neon colors, painting strangers' faces as laughter echoed over the hum of jazz music.
Behind the counter, Lucian twirled a bottle theatrically, flipping it behind his back and catching it with a grin. The crowd of customers clapped, some calling his name. He bowed exaggeratedly before pouring the drink into a frosted glass, sliding it across the counter like a magician.
"Another masterpiece," Lucian declared, winking at the woman who caught it. "Guaranteed to make your night better—or your money back. But don't ask for refunds. I don't believe in unhappy endings."
The customers laughed, and Lucian basked in the spotlight. Here, under the dim glow of the bar, he was untouchable. A jester, a charmer, a man with no shadows.
And yet… the shadows never left.
As he wiped down the counter, the TV above the bar flickered. The local news anchor's voice carried over the chatter:
"Another criminal has been found dead in the city. Police confirm the body belonged to Viktor Han, suspected of running an illegal organ smuggling ring. A crimson ribbon was tied around his wrist—the same symbol left on previous victims. The public has begun calling the unknown vigilante the 'Ribbon Reaper'…"
The room buzzed with murmurs. Some customers looked frightened, others thrilled.
Lucian froze, his smile twitching. For just a second, his golden eyes dimmed, his posture stiffening. The bottle in his hand shook.
In his mind, he heard Kane's voice, sharp and amused:
"My work. My justice. And they still think it's a mystery."
Lucian forced a laugh, setting the bottle down. "Ah, the Reaper again, huh? You gotta admit—whoever he is, the guy's got style. Ribbons? That's branding!"
The crowd chuckled, and the moment passed. But inside, Lucian's stomach churned. Because when he looked into the reflection of the bottle, he didn't see his own grin—he saw Kane's smirk staring back.
Later that night, after the bar closed, Lucian lingered, stacking glasses halfheartedly. Sera leaned against the counter, watching him. She had come to see him perform, and as always, his energy had lit up the room. But now, he looked drained.
"You're different tonight," she said quietly.
Lucian looked up with his usual grin. "Different? Darling, I'm always different. Keeps life exciting."
But Sera shook her head. "Not like that. You look… haunted. Like you're laughing to cover something."
For a split second, his grin faltered. The childish mask cracked.
He wanted to tell her everything—that sometimes he woke up in strange places, that sometimes days vanished from his memory, that sometimes he saw eyes in the mirror that weren't his.
But instead, he chuckled and leaned closer, brushing her hand with his fingers. "Haunted, huh? Maybe by you. Can't get you out of my head."
She smiled faintly, but her eyes still searched his face.
Later that night, Lucian walked home alone through the quiet streets. His shoes echoed on the pavement, neon signs flickering above him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, whistling softly, trying to drown out the whispers in his head.
But they only grew louder.
"Stop playing." Kane's voice was a razor.
"Focus on duty." Arata's voice was stern, commanding.
Lucian squeezed his eyes shut. "Leave me alone," he muttered under his breath. "Just let me live… just let me be me."
But when he opened his eyes again, he wasn't on the street anymore.
He was standing in a dark alley, staring at a broken man tied to a chair—his face bloodied, a ribbon dangling loosely from his wrist. And standing over him, cigarette glowing in the shadows, was Kane.
Kane smirked. "You wanted to see, didn't you?"
Lucian's heart pounded. This wasn't real—couldn't be real—yet the screams, the smell of blood, the cold grin on Kane's face… they felt real enough.
And as the vision faded, leaving him alone on the empty street once more, Lucian stumbled, clutching his chest.
For the first time, he wondered if the fool's mask he wore wasn't protecting him at all.
Maybe it was breaking.