A new intern who had just been transferred to the clinic. Nothing more but a stranger. That was (Y/N).

And she was also a student. A brave little student who got a scholarship in Italy, and had the opportunity to work side by side with Rome's greatest doctors. Something she could've only dreamed of, and yet... it became reality.

The new surroundings were quickly conquered by her. She studied hard and long, and she had all that experience behind her to guide her to her bright future. And it wasn't just the mind that she had trained, but the charm as well. She gained favors of both other interns and doctors. It wasn't too hard – the method she used was old, but a trusted one.

She would always assume the best, and from that point onwards, the stranger would slowly diminish their unknown. So did this one. His name was Cioccolata – a sweet one, as (Y/N) humored. He was a surgeon, an excellent one, as she also noted on multiple occasions. A compliment or two would do no harm. Even in professional surroundings such as this one, where doctors were expected to operate almost mechanically, empathy was needed. Luckily, the atmosphere in this clinic was relaxed – and everyone inside was keen on keeping it that way. At least, between the workers.

The interns were welcomed warmly. The doctors, although they certainly had much to do, managed not only to pay attention to the students. Rather, they succeeded in meeting them better; they genuinely cared and dedicated themselves to meeting them better. Something (Y/N) could hardly believe...

The stress and the worry! A doctor had no option but to lose their connections with their patients, for not every life could be saved. And not every disease could be cured, and not every symptom could be eliminated. What could a doctor do, but their best? Even when a surgery would fail, and the patient would live on sick, and even when a surgery would result in death –

"Sir? Are you alright?"

Cioccolata lifted his head, evidently snapped out of deep thought. "I am...? Why are you asking?"

"I just... had to check," (Y/N) told, "it must be horrible, losing a patient like that." She sighed. She didn't know much of him at the time, but his expertise seemed unparalleled. She had seen it with her own eyes, on multiple occasions. This must've been a low blow to his career... and psyche, she believed.

The green haired male forced a chuckle. "I can handle it. Don't worry."

His antics were odd. Unusually calm, somewhat regal. Fitting to a doctor, one would believe, but certainly not typical in reality. This solemn approach of his remained intact in every situation, except, perhaps...

"You've got an interesting taste, dottore," Cioccolata pointed out one day. He had the habit of calling her dottore, for she acted like one more so than his colleagues. During break, he caught (Y/N) reading a particularly grim book. She raised an eyebrow at him, already grinning.

"You're a fan of Dostoyevsky's?" She would love to talk with one.

"I don't think I am, but I did enjoy some of his works. Especially the one you're reading right now," he stated, allowing himself a small smile.

"The Notes From The Underground surely has its appeal. I find it oddly... releasing, despite the book's theme," she began. She simply had to discuss it.

"You emphasize with the man?" The older surgeon inquired, still bearing that smug expression of his.

She shrugged. "I'd say I do. Don't we all?"

"Not all of us are equipped with the proper mindset."

"Or heart."

"Mind rules over the heart. You, an aspiring doctor, should know that of all people," he remarked, hitting a string he shouldn't have. Per se, mocking one's own life work would be a bad thing, let alone tampering with a topic so familiar to the other party. And it just so happened that it was that period of the month. The intern knew what to say.

"I don't think we're on the same page," (Y/N) countered, noticing the opportunity. "We've both started using metaphors and they don't mean the same to us, so it's pointless to lead this discussion any further."

His expression darkened. He was far from pretty – it would be easy to describe him as a repulsive man, even.

He lifted his face, gazing down to her. "Why impress me, dottore? I might tell on you and everyone will find out you're arrogant."

And she regretted ever trying to poke at his ego, just for a bit. Which is why her response was tamer. "You wouldn't do that," she said, stifling a laugh. Maybe he'd realize she didn't really intend to insult him.

"Indeed, but I could." With that, he abandoned her, in a state she'd dub as anxiety. She was never keen on making enemies, not with people like him – people who were intelligent.

Not only intelligent, but dangerous. Authority was in his grasp. He was one of the many people (Y/N) simply had to by liked by. Strangely, he turned out to be amused by her outbursts of boasting – she toned them down nevertheless.

She felt before she knew. A discomfort, creaking softly whenever she'd step on the wrong ledge. And oh, how sensitive she was to the sound. It would alarm her entire being, stiffen her whenever he was nearby. Her intuition would beg her to stay away, and she wanted to stay away – safely – for she wished no stress, no additional bothers in her life.

It was wondrous, whenever she'd look back at it. The way it started off, and the way it developed. Admiration, distance, provocation – and lastly, fear, laced with respect. In the spur of the moment, she found herself wanting to be liked by him. Just like her student self, meeting a new teacher. She wanted to leave a good impression, for it could only benefit her.

Did it benefit her, now? What did she get in return?

"This is Secco, my trusted assistant," Cioccolata introduced her to the young man. His wide, violet eyes stood out to (Y/N) – she could see how nervous his gaze was. And that was all she saw, for the remainder of his face was covered with a cap and a surgical mask.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Secco," she warmly spoke.

"Mm, same," he responded in his so, so unpleasant tone. (Y/N) couldn't believe it was him talking at first. It was as if – as if gravel was being pressed against her skin. It caused her much discomfort, but... she gave him an awkward smile. Then, continued with whatever job was at hand –

She couldn't remember the rest. The memory of the event faded along with that horrible stench of Secco's.

But Cioccolata's voice... steady as the torrents of his elaborating. She loved it. He'd point at the graphs, explain a correlation or two, then pose a hypothesis. (Y/N) was just one of the many interns, and she didn't want to believe she stood out – but by all means, she made it. In the hall, whenever a respected doctor would offer his guidance to the interns, she was one of the few who knew and understood.

It didn't come without a price. She'd been burdening herself with random facts and sublime methods for ages now. Not only did she stay longer at the clinic, just to linger around and do additional work... and talk with people there, too. Every day, a documentary would be watched or a book would be read. Her brain, buried even deeper into her profession. It gave her headaches. Plenty of them, in fact. But she knew she'd been doing the right thing.

This was the prime of her lifetime. All the sweat and tears she'd wasted so far were worth it. She loved her life, the life she earned. And she was loved because of it. Her parents would message her every now and then. She knew she didn't fail them.

And every morning, she'd wake up, look into the mirror and – smile, no matter how bad she looked. With all the circumstances the present was overlapped with, how couldn't she? Everything was good. Her job, her studies, her family and her friends – who she rarely contacted, for all of them were in a similar situation. She was overjoyed, for she knew they would succeed. Her heart was full... every aspect of her life was complete. She couldn't ask for more.

And so the daily routine continued. A bliss, simply put.

In retrospective, (Y/N) truly had no complaints. Objectively speaking, she had no right to ever dare complain. Which is why she'd beat herself to remain quiet whenever the slightest inconvenience would occur. Be it a bellyache, a quarrel, or additional work. Yet...

She loathed when people told her things she already knew. She loathed when people insisted on repeating the same formula over and over again, as if she were dumb – or as if she were ignorant enough not to know it already. She hated when people underestimated her and didn't let her prove otherwise.

But Cioccolata allowed her to.

"Your take on the symptoms, dottore," he tapped the chart. (Y/N) couldn't believe what she was looking at. The symptoms displayed were horrible – nausea, paralysis, loss of hearing – just what...

She blabbered the first ideas that came to her. "Brain tumor? No. Late stage of syphilis?"

"Indeed." She felt her heart fill with pride at Cioccolata's approval. "The universe is certainly unfair towards this patient, hm? He's a homeless man, the ambulance brought him in after some guy spotted him lying on the streets. I'm surprised someone even bothered..."

"Truly... horrible. No comment," (Y/N) muttered, not knowing what else to say. The day was long and she was tired beyond measure –

"Do you no longer care about your patients, dottore?" His question threw her off guard. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she shook her head lightly, all while staring at him.

"I do care about them? Of course I do?" Why was he asking those intrusive questions again? Outrageous.

"Oh. It's kicking in sooner than the usual," he nonchalantly stated.

(Y/N) kept staring at him. "What are you talking about?"

"The indifference. Or numbness. Whatever you want to call it. You simply stop caring... it's normal. In fact, it's an imperative, if you want to stay sane."

How could he say something so provocative? She understood where he was coming from, but talking about it openly was something else. It meant multiple things, and those things were... invasive. She remained silent, and luckily, Cioccolata let her.

This was why she felt uncomfortable at times. This man knew of no boundaries. But... that didn't have to be a bad thing. He was brave enough to talk about the things most people would consider morbid. Yet intelligent. Unique, rare – name it however you want, but (Y/N) enjoyed. Not to mention he was her superior. And he didn't treat her like she was beneath him. Almost as if she was his equal.

She was respected like never before. Not only by him, but by his colleagues as well. It would be an understatement to say she adored it.

One particular, fateful day, she forgot her wallet at the clinic. She hadn't realized it until night fell – she wasn't the most perceptive person, and she disliked this trait of hers. She'd have to get ready and go back to the clinic, which was a bother... and it simply went against her plans. Although she had none.

She was lucky. The lights were still on, and there were people inside, so she didn't attract much attention.

She tried to remember where she had been that day. What was her routine like? They'd been checking some patients, yes, in a more distant wing. She had to do some walking to reach it, and once there... she had to check all the rooms.

Strangely, there was nobody around. This meant she didn't have to justify herself to anyone, at least. But it certainly didn't make her feel too comfortable either. Being alone in those hallways, opening empty rooms – all of that made her feel as if she was doing something wrong.

Maybe she truly was doing something wrong. She barged into a room where lights were turned on.

"My apologies, I wasn't –"

Of course she wasn't aware. She wanted to vanish, erase her memory of the sight – she didn't want to be involved, she didn't mean it to happen, yet –

There it was, the massive crimson protruding through the clinical white, clawing at her sight. Organs, splattered around, begging to be forgotten and shoved into oblivion. Their owner, a man reduced to a hole, laying sprawled on the bed... long dead, long mutilated. And the two of them, her colleagues. The culprits and the criminals, all in one – a pair of monsters.

(Y/N)'s vision distorted. She saw it all clearly, and once the realization hit her, she froze, just for a second. She couldn't believe it. But all of her senses spoke otherwise, and the very moment those two monsters looked at her, their eyes – screaming shrill danger... they would get her.

So she slammed the door and began running. She didn't feel anything at all. Her feet were propelled forwards just like that.

But she was too slow. Far too slow. A shadow appeared in front of her – no, a man – leapt from inside the floor and rammed straight into her. By instinct, she tried to push him away from her – and she was successful. He fell... into the wall?

That was when she processed what she had seen. The man leapt from the floor. And that man was Secco.

Her one moment of hesitation cost her much; suddenly, something hit her legs, and she fell with a shriek and a loud thud. She would've continued screaming if a hand hadn't been pressed against her mouth. An oppressive weight shackled her to being immobile – she didn't even know what was happening. She just kept struggling, desperately, against it all.

Then, a firm voice that echoed throughout the hallway. "Dottore! There's no need to run. We're equipped to deal with these arbitrary intrusions, so it's no point."

These words imbued her with even more resistance. She swung her head, and managed to somehow set her mouth free for a moment. "Let me go – " (Y/N) tried to scream, instinctively, but she was muffled by Secco's hand. She bit on it, hard, making him whimper like a hurt dog. In her mouth... she felt his blood. It riled her up, and she tried to kick back and somehow escape Secco's grip – but she failed. How could a skinny, anorexic being like him keep her in check? This enraged her even further, and she tried to elbow him. In vain. As if he couldn't feel pain.

Then a specific object was brought to her attention.

A scalpel, right in front of her, in Cioccolata's gloved hand. She bit her lip till it ached. She knew she was done for, and this defeat... it was unimaginable, but she was going through it. Her own body turned lax as the realization washed over her. Lastly, she teared up, for she was utterly, completely, powerless.

"Shh, I'm not willing to send you to the other side just yet. Be good now so that you could talk back later," the surgeon spoke calmly, as if to ease the tense air.

She remained put. Her frame, a cage to her wild heart. Yet she was as still as a corpse.

"Calm yet? Wonderful. You are now allowed to speak," he said after observing her for a while. He slowly retracted the scalpel, as if to widen the distance between (Y/N) and her death. She knew he was in complete control, that her life was on the line, yet...

She didn't believe this was happening. To add to that, her emotions were late. She didn't feel anything a person should be feeling at the moment – or so she believed. She perceived her state to be too calm, to the point she got afraid of it.

"What was that," she asked. A stupid question, she immediately thought. But was there anything else she didn't know?

"You're getting curious all of a sudden," he spoke with inhuman vigor. "Be careful. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought it back," she stated, bold, for she had nothing to lose. Her heart skipped a beat – she was still far too calm about it all. Too focused, to sharply keen on living through her death.

"But intern, you'll be far from satisfied." His mask scrunched up, signifying the change of his expression. It was seen in his eyes, that glint and the wrinkles – he was smiling. (Y/N) redirected her gaze, wondering, just how much did he find it... empowering? Moreover, was his ego big enough to let her live? She prayed, oh, she prayed it was. But her prayer... dripped of hatred. The bold type of fear.

She gazed back at him, so insolent and so stupidly brave. Her expression must've portrayed cold fury, but her tone...

Her family. She needed to be there for them. How would her mother handle her death?

"I'll do anything," she pleaded, her voice meek.

"I don't need you to do anything at all," he answered, deafening all that was left of her hope. And in that moment, she thought –

She loved her life. She didn't regret anything. If this was her end... she had fared well.

Which is why she made peace with the guillotine of his scalpel. She even lifted her head to ease the blade's entrance. All while staring at her soon to be murderer with defiance unknown to her. Secco, behind her, let out a wheeze.

"It's a shame you aren't recording this, Secco," Cioccolata cooed, visibly satisfied. He didn't break eye contact with the intern beneath him. "It's a rare sight. Dottore, you might regret rushing into death like that. It isn't your time, not yet." He snapped his fingers, and with his other hand, he spun the scalpel in a teasing manner. (Y/N)'s gaze lingered on it just for a bit; she found it harder and harder to keep this façade going. It was evidently buying her time, so...

"So, the decision is on you," she said, although she had so much more to share – but her voice was weak, growing thinner with every word. If one part of her mask would fall apart, she knew, she would panic. Oh, the refined delicacy!

Every moment was wagered, as if it were a play of sorts. And she had to impress Cioccolata again. "Absolutely. I have complete control over your life. Both your status, whether you're deceased or not... and your job, as well as your freedom."

"What will you do with it?" (Y/N)'s question came out firm, luckily.

"Nothing. In fact, I believe it would be right to let you go. Wouldn't you agree, Secco?"

"Uwah," he responded in a breathy, low voice. It sent shivers down (Y/N)'s spine, for he... he didn't sound human.

And once that thing let go, (Y/N) got on her feet, rose to Cioccolata's level, and with the last ounce of strength, asked, "what will be of me now?"

"That's your choice," the surgeon responded. He lowered his mask with one finger, revealing an ugly grin. "Why aren't you running like a scared little girl you are?"

(Y/N) couldn't turn her back to danger. She simply couldn't. Facing her back to him, not seeing him, seemed like death to her – for something unpredictable could happen. She could imagine his long arm extending once again, and that scalpel being jabbed into her back. She felt the pain vividly, as if she was already en route to her demise. A ting in her back, annoying her already strained senses...

Why was she scared all of a sudden?

"I'm not scared," she told him, glaring daggers at that vicious visage of his. He merely gave her a mocking laugh. It did manage to belittle her.

"Whatever you say. Today must've been stressful, so I believe you should go home now," he dismissed her.

Could she really walk away? Was that what he was insinuating? Forget and walk away? Or did he want to follow her home and kill her there? No, no – he could've killed her already, if he wanted to. Then... was he toying with her? Certainly, and she hated him for it.

"Dottore? You should go home," he once again said, his tone darkening, "stress isn't good for health. See you tomorrow."

Her ears picked his annoyance easily. That was the moment when she actually got terrified – because she felt she got on his nerves and – he could get unpredictable – and it simply felt horrible. Her heart ached as it picked up its pace, her chest expanding for a brave inhale, and she finally took a step backwards.

She felt her expression twitch at last. She gave in. Cioccolata won, and he nodded in approval. The same way he'd nod at her whenever she'd answer correctly during his lectures.

Another step backwards. Her vision distorted once more, on its own – she was so sore, so tired of it all. Never in her life was she forced to handle such... terror. Once her vision cleared, she saw him gaze back at her, pale moonlight sharpening his ruthless features. He had never been uglier.

Third step backwards. She felt her eyebrows droop. She couldn't keep it up.

She turned around and ran. Nothing came after her. Never in her life had she felt such relief when she reached the doorstep to her apartment.

"Signorina!"

(Y/N) halted as soon as she heard that voice call out. Throughout the night, nothing caught her attention, yet this voice –

She turned around. It was a cop, running towards her. A laugh of pure joy escaped her. She was far too lucky.

"Signore, I have to tell you something – "

"Uh-huh, wait a moment," he said as he stationed himself before her, panting heavily. He hid something behind his back, (Y/N) noticed. An alarm went off inside her mind. But... she prescribed it to her state of panic, and steadied her train of thoughts.

"I believe this belongs to you," he said, lifting his head. One of his eyes was thus revealed from the shadows, and it peered curiously at the girl. She got nauseous at the sight.

He gave her the wallet she had forgotten in the clinic. She reached out to take it, hands trembling, as many slow realizations came to her. Only to be proven by the cop's statement.

"The court is no stranger to them, their connections are everywhere, and you will show up tomorrow, unless you want to die. That's what he wanted me to tell you."

She expected to die, once again. And she didn't dare blink, so she could witness her own demise. But the cop waved, smiled, tipped his hat even, and walked away as if nothing ever happened.

She went to bed that night, knowing she didn't do anything about it. Though... she did prepare herself. Took a knife and a phone to message her parents that she's in danger. And she didn't close her eyes once during that fateful night.

She wrote a paragraph to her parents. About everything. She couldn't believe the words she typed – everything was far too surreal. But there she was, reliving the entire horrid event as she explained it to her parents. They were both asleep, luckily... she didn't want to bother them, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, but she truly didn't want to be a burden. Having finished the entire story, she felt guilt creeping up to her. They shouldn't stress over her. She shouldn't stress them.

And from these thoughts she spiraled down to numerous justifications on why exactly she should bother them. But the first, original idea that reached her – that she was a burden – didn't abandon her nevertheless. No matter how hard she wanted to defend herself.

She was well aware that she was entering a nightmare. The only way to survive it for now... was to obey. Because they wouldn't hesitate to murder her. Not only because they wouldn't be punished for it... but because they just weren't human. They had those – powers, surely. Secco sprung out of the floor, and grabbed her, she saw that clearly. And if Secco could've moved like a ghost, what kind of power would Cioccolata have? The surgeon was fully capable of controlling Secco, as far as she had seen. So, he must've had something even worse...

The morning caught her off guard. Her mind must've been a wreck, then. Time passed way too quickly... and so neared her departure to the hospital.

For the first time in a while, she couldn't smile at the mirror. She couldn't even look at it. Somehow, she got ready, albeit sloppily, and left to her hellish internship.

She had checked her phone multiple times before she left. Her parents hadn't responded yet. Wonderful, that was one thing less to stress about.

Strangely, this clinic she entered... she didn't feel afraid of it. Not in the least. She expected she'd tremble at its sight, but now... she didn't feel anything. Once again, she began worrying if she was, so to say, functioning well. This was yet another one of those moments where she'd know what was the normative behavior, and her behavior wouldn't match. How could her heart remain so bleak...?

There they were. The interns. The perfect distraction. Now, if only Cioccolata would disappear from the face of the Earth...

She kept thinking about him while she chatted with other students. And she couldn't handle the anxiety that welled up inside her being. She began stuttering while she talked, so she stopped. Simple as that. But Cioccolata, that goddamned surgeon, where was he? Why did he need her alive?

More importantly, why was she so keen on living? She finally realized the paradox she was in. In the face of death, she was indifferent, but everything she had done so far was in order to keep her alive. She responded to that in no time. An absent smile found its way on her face. She was a coward. And when she saw she couldn't win against Cioccolata... her cowardice guided her to stay calm. Or was it egoism?

The lectures began soon after. And her wondrous superior appeared amongst other doctors. She felt her insides boil, twist and turn whenever he'd speak up. She wanted to kill him right on the spot. That monster. That... she couldn't even think of how to describe him. Yet the word God seemed to fit. He was a psychopath; he must've had an inflated sense of self.

What to do, what to do... what did he intend to do? Why was nothing happening? He didn't speak to (Y/N). In fact, he didn't pay attention to her at all. This only fed her worry, her... restlessness. And patience wasn't a virtue in this situation.

So she walked up to him some time afterwards. Faced him with a tough expression that she mustered out of hatred.

"Signore... what are you going to do," she asked him in a hushed voice.

"What are you talking about?" He feigned confusion.

"Last night you murdered someone and you almost killed me – "

"Are you insane?" He furrowed his eyebrows in visible shock. "What are you even talking about?"

"L-last night... you... and Secco... murdered that guy in..."

"Is this a joke? If so, you can do better," Cioccolata grumbled.

"I just wanted to know – what do you – what will you do with me." She stopped herself, noticing she was tripping on her own words. Dammit.

"I'm... going to give you a lecture today, just like every other day, and we'll have our coffee during lunch break. Just as usual. Unless you want me to be the subject of your nonsensical jokes."

That was when (Y/N) understood. He played dumb, so that the both of them could just... forget it. But he was probably aware that she couldn't forget it as simply. (Y/N) knew this, and she couldn't handle this... even worsened anxiety that was building up inside her. Because she had no idea what to do. But he, on the other hand...

He must've had a plan. And what was it?

That day didn't offer her the response she was looking for. She found herself practically glued to surgeon Cioccolata throughout her stay in the clinic. She was particularly observant of his actions, and he, somehow, allowed it. This made her feel even worse. He had nothing to hide.

She got home, and she lived through yet another sleepless night. This time, she talked with her parents all night long. They would figure something out. Even the police in her homeland was already involved. When it came to the Italian police, her parents insisted that (Y/N) contact them as well.

She said she will, but she couldn't. Cioccolata controlled them. He controlled the court. He... he had to be involved with the mafia. Even if he weren't... he was dangerous enough on his own. Secco... (Y/N) remembered it all too vividly. They weren't human.

The next morning, she was at the clinic once again. The reason: pure fear. Nothing was out of the ordinary except her eyebags... and unusual tiredness. She was completely unresponsive. She didn't utter a word during any lecture. Other interns made sure to point that out. Not out of spite, rather, out of sheer surprise.

Naturally, she wasn't keen on going home either. She knew she wouldn't sleep, again. Yet she decided to leave earlier than usual. She just couldn't handle it anymore.

"Dottore! Could you come with me for a moment?" She heard a familiar voice call out. With an exasperated sigh, she turned on her heel. She didn't have a choice. She began walking back to the building. At its entrance stood Cioccolata, waving to her, much to her displeasure.

"Signore Cioccolata, that woman is an intern," one of the doctors pointed out as he was leaving the clinic. Cioccolata smiled at him, whereas (Y/N) tiredly gazed upwards, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"But I'm certain she'll become a great doctor someday. No harm done in boosting the intern's confidence, after all," the green haired male explained. He was met with approval.

Oh, how fake his words sounded, only to her. She hated the fact she could see right through his acts, his psychopathic charm, whereas other people would just...

"Eh, I presume you're right. This one deserves it," the other doctor responded with a polite smile and bid his farewell to his colleague. Thus, only (Y/N) and Cioccolata were left at the entrance. And her stomach was already doing barrel rolls.

"What do you need me for?"

"Something that will earn you extra internship points. Follow me."

And she did. Not that she had a choice. Besides, this time, there were actually some people in the clinic, so he couldn't do anything shady.

But as he led her through the sterile atmosphere, her fears grew. He brought her to the less used wing of the hospital, and from there, reached the door that lead to the basement. He opened it. Down below... a somber line of staircase. Nobody else in the vicinity.

(Y/N) could've ran. Whenever she wanted to. The alarm wasn't enormous enough, not now.

"Coming, dottore?" Cioccolata beckoned her.

"No. I'm not going in there," she responded with a scowl, already on her tiptoes to turn around and run.

"Or what?"

She didn't get the opportunity to answer, because she was harshly pushed – and fell down the stairs with a shriek. Pain erupted all across her back, and her head – it pulsed hard once she finally landed, no longer tumbling. She couldn't even see for a bit, and the aches made her hiss, her jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to relieve her of the sensations. She looked up, and Cioccolata was once again above her.

His demand echoed against the desolate hallway. "Disobey once more, and I won't hesitate to make better use of you." His words imprinted in her memory with ease. She curled herself up into a ball, her gaze stuck on the mad doctor's descend. She prayed he'd let her live through her pain, the pulsating agony... but would he?

With every step he took, her eyes widened. And once he reached her, she expected him to kick her in her guts so hard that she'd vomit – and she could feel the phantom of this hit in her belly already. But he never did so. Instead, to her absolute shock, he offered her a hand.

And to her even greater shock, she took it. Got back on her wobbly feet, and firmly stood, thanks to him. She stared at him, her vision already blurry from the upcoming tears. Should she... thank him?

She didn't. Just in case. And he liked that.

He let go of her hand. Then, he pointed at the long underground hallway they had just entered. "Go in there and clean up the mess in the last room. That's your job. Secco over here will keep you company." All of a sudden, the mentioned young man protruded through the wall and made another one of his disgusting sounds. (Y/N)'s stomach twisted even more. She had so much cramps... and such an urge to vomit.

"Goodbye," Cioccolata chirped and left, walking up the stairs. She didn't respond – she put a hand on her mouth. She was moments away from spilling her lunch all over the floor.

"Go, clean the room. Kehehe."

She felt an acidic tang in her throat. Then in her mouth. In an instant relief, she vomited, making yet another disgusting sound.

She looked at her barely digested meal that now laid sprawled across the clean tiles. She was so weak. And Secco was laughing at her because of it.

"What was that?"

She felt her heart sink as another voice was heard. It was Cioccolata. The very moment she thought she got rid of him.

She backed away. She couldn't face him. Not again.

Her legs gave in. She no longer felt them. She could only watch as his shadow reappeared down the stairs, approaching her, about to...

"Eh? Secco, clean that up."

Secco didn't react positively to that. He whined and shook his head. This, Cioccolata noticed, and walked closer to (Y/N) and his assistant. But he neared his assistant instead, much to (Y/N)'s relief.

What happened next shocked her. The surgeon slapped Secco hard. The hit resonated against the walls, echoes filled in the silence, as well as (Y/N)'s drumming heart. She was terrified beyond measure. Her being was in such delirium that it would soon... it would soon... she couldn't even think about what would happen. The aggressor was still in her vicinity, and her focus was solely fixated on him. He could do the same to her. Nothing held him back.

But the green haired man soon left, not sparing a single glance on the intern.

(Y/N) didn't even realize how hard she was shaking. She looked at her hands, and they weren't trembling, no, they were violently shaking. She couldn't believe her own eyes.

"Disgusting. Bleh." She heard Secco grumble. Everything about this situation was ridiculous.

"You go clean the room. Come on."

His irritable voice got to her. Somehow, she managed to stand up, and make her way to the designated room. Inside, she was supposed to...

Clean up chunks of meat? Before she knew it, her gag reflex was activated again. She threw up a clearer vomit this time... it spilled and stuck itself on the floor. Another reek joined the already thick air. At least it would be easier to clean up, she thought to herself sarcastically.

Before her, on a table, stood, indeed, chunks of geometrically cut... undoubtedly, human body parts. She didn't want to spot any further details. Plenty of blood was there as well. How to... handle that? She spotted some bags on a tray to her right. Never in her life had she performed a more disgusting, degrading act than that day.

That was all. He didn't have her do anything else. In fact, he dropped some bitter words of praise as she was leaving. As well as some advice.

"Remember, alarming anyone will only make you bigger problems. I've got my own strings to pull."

Did he know? Her eyes widened in pure shock, and he merely smiled with one of his generic gross smiles. She remembered, of course. She remembered who she alarmed. So she nodded to her superior and finally went to her apartment in the dead of the night.

The shower she took afterwards revealed her all the bruises she gained that day. All she could do was exhale and acknowledge them.

She was offline all day, so once she got to use her phone, she saw that she had a bunch of missed calls and texts of her parents. She skimmed through them – no time to waste, after all – and she... she hated herself for doing that, but... she texted them that everything was alright. That she only had a nightmare that she thought was real, and decided to... yes, to test her parents. She wanted to see how they'd react.

Her parents didn't react positively at all. She called them (a video call, because they insisted to see if she was intact), and the tantrum that followed ruined her. They were worried sick, of course, and they'd already contacted (C/N)'s authorities and media... only to find out their daughter tricked them. Wonderful, truly wonderful. (Y/N) felt horrendous, beat, bad in every possible sense.

The numbness was kicking in.

She took the next day off. Called her parents. Somehow, they didn't respond. So, she called them again, and again. Nobody responded. Christ, what was going on...? They were online all the time, and the one time she needed them, they weren't there. The coincidence was too great...

No. Cioccolata couldn't have possibly reached out to them. They were in another country. If Cioccolata was that powerful, he wouldn't be dealing with (Y/N) like that. Unless – why, of course, he was a psychopath. Psychopaths don't make any sense. But still...

(Y/N) gave up. There was nothing she could do, except... run away? And let those two men do whatever they wanted to? Oh, she was in no state to bash her brains about it. Her head was too heavy, she couldn't burden it with more thoughts.

She was hopeless. She spent the entire day in a heavy slumber, akin to none before. Once she regained her consciousness, she realized, horror etched into her senses... that she didn't wake up in her room.

The light was too strong. Too... harmful to her sensitive eyes. They shot open, focusing quickly on their surroundings, all thanks to newfound panic. She was in one of those white rooms. She was on the surgical table. She was, she recognized quickly, she was in the hospital, and –

"Hello, dottore."

It was that voice. The one melody she despised more than any other. Right next to her. But she couldn't move her head, no, for some reason she was paralyzed –

"And goodbye."

The blade entered her sight just an instant before it landed on her heart. The agony forced out an inhuman wail from her. The shriek was a frail attempt of hers to cover up the pain. The sheer ache that took away her life. It made her limbs tense up, whitened her vision, forced her to wake up –

And she woke up. In her own room. And her heart was intact, alive like never before.

How long could she keep on living like this? It had only just begun, and she wanted to die already.

She got out of her bed and began packing her possessions. It took her only several hours to get ready. She had to leave this cursed place once and for all.

But all of her determination vanished.

This couldn't be happening. She closed the door to her apartment, and on the doorknob, there was a sticky note. On it, with an elegant handwriting, in – oh, the cliché – red letters, was written:

Come to the clinic as soon as you see this. I also urge you to take a look across the street, and spot a pair of young men seated in that restaurant. Their appearance is quite unusual, so you'll have no trouble spotting them in the crowd. Those are the hitmen who will take you out in case you don't come.

Take care,
Cioccolata

She read every single one of those words with pure, unfiltered rage. What angered her the most was the ending note – take care, he said. He must've been smiling to himself, that bastard, as he was writing that. He must've been enjoying himself! (Y/N) wanted nothing but to see him die.

She turned around, her hair flipping as it followed her quick movement. Indeed, there, in the restaurant, were two particularly... odd men. One of them had long blond hair, and darker skin, and the other one had red, shorter hair. Both of them wore striking suits. And the both of them waved at her.

She clenched her fists in disbelief. So this truly was happening. She truly, once again, had no other choice.

Although it probably meant nothing, she threw a glance full of hatred at the two, opened her door and put the coffer inside. Slamming the door shut, then locking it, she was on her way to that hellhole of a clinic.

She turned around. The two men were following her. So, they really were keen on knowing where she'd go? Her sarcastic thoughts were so much louder than her heartbeat. Again, she was too calm –

And she stopped walking. Stared at that pair, even, with squinted eyes and an overwhelmingly hostile expression. How far could her spite push her? What did she even want to do?

She continued walking. What did she even do? She didn't know –

Her feet slammed against the pavement. Her aggression seeped all around her. She was turning senseless from the rage.

Even when she entered the clinic, the clean tile wasn't spared of her forceful steps. There weren't many people inside, she noticed – the night was coming. But where was that one psychopath she'd been looking for?

Someone tapped her shoulder and she turned, wide eyes, expecting to see him. Instead, the man who did so was one of the two who were following her. His visage radiated with tranquility, the tranquility she was in desperate need for. It shocked her, brought her rage to a halt.

"Strange, Cioccolata isn't here," he simply stated. His voice bore a calming note to it, something (Y/N) was sure to sense and luckily – take in.

"I don't really want to meet him either way," she responded with a forced laugh. She had to laugh. It released her of at least some tension.

"As for us, we didn't really want that guy to waste our time. And he's wasting it right now. Right, Tiziano?"

The other man, presumably Tiziano, nodded.

"But since you can't really go away, we'll have to wait here together," the red-haired man in front of (Y/N) explained. She nodded. They were so relaxed, and their relaxation got to her. The idea of escape seemed more... approachable, at that moment.

But before she could even figure her first step, he came. Forced her back into that state of –

Calm? Why was she so damn calm?

"Tiziano, Squalo, you didn't have to go that far, but your help is appreciated nevertheless," Cioccolata greeted with regality. The pair didn't seem too satisfied – and they even left without a word. Leaving (Y/N) alone.

She could run...! Right now! But those two, could they – yes, they could get her, dammit. She couldn't leave. But it wasn't over. Not yet. There were people all around her...

"Follow me," Cioccolata ordered, not bothering to hide his coldness.

It took (Y/N) all her strength to fight the embarrassment, but she began screaming. In the lobby, in front of everyone. As loud as she could. And everyone reacted.

The next thing she knew, she was falling. Then everything turned black.

Her consciousness slowly woke up her senses. Again, the white of the hospital, so assaulting and aggressive. This time, however, it was very real.

Secco and Cioccolata were in front of her. The assistant was meddling with some object in his hand, whereas the surgeon did something to the apparats beside a patient's bed.

(Y/N) screwed her eyes shut. She didn't want to be there... she wanted to postpone this, whatever it was, she just didn't want to witness it. There was a patient present, and he... he would probably die soon. (Y/N) recognized him to be the homeless man they once spoke about.

She moved her leg, making a massive mistake. She realized she was restrained, and that one slight movement made a sound – cluttering sort of sound – for she was tied to a metallic chair. Goodbye to her intentions, goodbye to her stolen time, Cioccolata and Secco now knew she was back.

The older man lifted a syringe, looking at its contents against the light. He then spilled it into the IVs that were attached to the docile patient's hand. (Y/N) observed him carefully; what was he doing?

He then asked Secco of the cameras were ready, to which the assistant responded with a weird sound, akin to his usual vocations. Sadly, that was when surgeon turned his attention to (Y/N).

"How long do you think he'll endure?"

"I don't know," she said. She didn't even want to think about it.

"Then, a different question. Do you think he would want to die?"

"If you intend to cut him..."

"No, before I get my hands on him. Do you think that he'd want to die, right now? While in his baby sleep?"

Did she hear him right? Her head was pounding, she couldn't focus on his words, let alone figure an answer. "If he wanted to die, he would've done it until now."

"You've got too much faith in his spirit, dottore. Maybe he's just a coward and he's scared to end it all."

She sighed. Why was he so damn insistent on talking? "...How would you know?"

"I don't know. Let's ask him, shall we?"

All of a sudden, he slapped the patient, successfully waking him up. The old man began making incoherent sounds, completely shocked because of the hit.

"Do you want to live?" (Y/N) could see the sadist's lips curl up in his newfound pleasure as he asked.

"...Of course I do! What kind of question is that?" Panic slipped through his tone. "What are you going to do...?"

"It won't change the outcome of your state, surely. Does the intern disagree with her superior that this man has contained the urge to die?"

"If I were you... I wouldn't be so sure, because of... existentialism," she recklessly responded, only to be laughed at.

"Likewise, for I'm certain I can thwart your oh-so educated mindset," he discriminated, only to turn to Secco and tell him to start recording. The patient was oblivious to what would happen.

Before she could realize it, he was cutting. He began the operation. And the man... he was fully aware of it. Awake, conscious, his senses functioning perfectly. Therefrom came his screams.

A long cut across the stomach. Ghastly red came from the wound. His bodily liquids ran free down his stomach, painting it warm tones of life being spilled. The larger the gash, the stronger his screams. He was in such agony that (Y/N)'s very guts tumbled.

The doctor continued his surgery. He opened the cut, he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. The same hands he had once used to save countless lives, the same hands (Y/N) would once kill for. And he began his work, enjoying the desperate cries of his patient. This only resulted in...

Pulsating intestines. Their crimson coating glimmered underneath the cold hospital lights. Each and every drop of blood that descended, hit the drums of polished tiles. Lifting the organ upwards was Cioccolata, who rejoiced at his trophy: the man's deafening screams, and his contorted face – amorphous out of sheer pain.

The sight remained implanted in (Y/N)'s mind. She forced herself to watch it, even though she could've closed her eyes. She simply gave in to suffering. She no longer cared.

And oh, Cioccolata was a skilled surgeon. He knew where to cut to keep his patient alive. He knew what to do in order to maximize the experience.

But a human body had its boundaries. The patient's spasms died down, and his throat turned dry. Until he convulsed one last time, marking his early departure with one final wail.

"You..." (Y/N) was speechless. After the realization found her, after she understood the gravity of this entire event – she regained her loathing. "How dare you... do that... You're a monster. You're the worst man on this planet," she muttered. It was satisfying to admit that, but at a cost too high.

It took Cioccolata only a couple of steps to reach her, lift his hand and slap her hard. Throughout the dizziness, the ringing in her ears and the sharp pain that faded from her face, she made out his words.

"I'll advise you, not as a colleague, but as a friend, to stay silent. If you thought you were aware of the consequences, I've proven you wrong. Something you very much dislike, don't you, dottore?"

He glared down to the pits of her very soul, and what he saw was right. He perceived her numerous faults; he knew her better than her very parents, and unlike them, he knew how to beat them. "...true."

"So don't talk unless you're talked to. It would be wonderful to have you too quiver and crumble on the table," he commented, earning no reactions from the intern. He chuckled once he realized that. And (Y/N), she was aggravated.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

Those venomous eyes of his widened. "Aren't you? You partake in a newer form of research. You may deem it however you want, but it is, essentially, uplifting man above all norms. A borderless, maladaptive curiosity. Quick to devour, quick to digest. You will always be left with an insatiable hunger for more."

She understood him. And she would forever bear the heavy knowledge of that fact.

"But what of morals? What of society and its rules? Would you like to answer?" He questioned carefully, as if he was probing her. As if he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. And (Y/N) got to be listened to, for once – but she had nothing to say.

"You avoid those," she bluntly responded.

"I was hoping for something more poetic. You're always keen on making things different, outstanding. A pity, truly. You won't be able to do that anymore."

He would get rid of her. At last. She felt disgusted because she found solace in the fact, even for a moment. "You'll kill me. Is there anything –"

"You could do to live? No, you're in my hands, and I am an excellent doctor. Your own words."

She smiled at him. She had never felt such hatred toward another being.

"I promise I won't say anything," she mumbled through her clenched teeth.

"You will stay silent. I know you will." And he turned around.

"Secco. Bring her to room 79 and leave her there. We'll get to her once we clean this mess."

"Oowhooaa," the being gargled. It approached (Y/N) and released her of her confinements. She spotted the skin on her wrists to have turned dark, and once it was set free, she could feel it ache.

She couldn't resist Secco. Cioccolata was right in front of her, and Secco... Secco had his power that rendered him unbeatable.

So she let him, she let him guide her to her umpteenth death. She was as obedient as she could get. She just wanted this to get over with, for once – that was what her manic mind was currently telling her.

He pushed her in a dark room. There were no windows, for it was the basement, so once the door was closed and locked – (Y/N) was left in pitch darkness.

Every sound killed her. Gave her a heart attack, over and over again. Be it a footstep, be it the sound of instruments clinking, be it their voice. Every single thing impaled her eardrums.

She waited for it to get over. Waited long and patiently, shivering as her body grasped its final hours. She lived through her life all over again, multiple times, bid her farewells to her beloved ones. Prayed, that someone on the heavens above would hear her messages, and send them to the people she cared. Her monologues were pathetic, as she intended them to be. There was no need to hold back. She would soon die.

Then she started begging for something to occur. She could swear her ears would bleed soon – for she couldn't handle the announcements of the sensations. Always nearby, but never there. And she yearned for them to finally end, for her to live through her final agony, and finally die.

It was unbearable. She didn't want to die, she wanted it all to just end. But death was her only escape. Yet it wouldn't arrive...! For some reason, she was still waiting, for hours, for hours she'd been twitching and foaming, accepting her defeat over and over again.

And during the period when her thoughts died down and her body turned still, light entered her room at last. The foreign, the unpleasant light, that hurt her eyes – it would guide her to heaven, soon. Her mind enlisted a long line of metaphors, some of them making way into faint hallucinations. But all of them disappeared once he appeared.

"Dottore? What are you doing in here?"

Cioccolata's voice resonated with confusion. This in turn caused (Y/N) some confusion as well.

"You..." She croaked, and only then did she realize how dry her throat had been. How thirsty she had gotten.

"Yes, it's me," he responded leisurely. She saw his shadow enter and enlarge, coming closer to her. He helped her stand up, and (Y/N) noticed his nose scrunch up because of something – oh no. She realized once she heard she stepped into a puddle. Despite that, he seemed rather... peaceful. Cooperative even.

"Why am I alive?" She couldn't help but ask as he dragged her outside the dark cell. The air outside was so much better to breathe...

"Ah, getting overly curious again, are we, dottore?"

His tone. She didn't feel her legs for an instant. "Pardon," she answered reflexively. Her heart ached at this humiliation. It was slowly becoming integrated into her being. She wouldn't have it that way – or so she revolted inside her mind.

"That's no bad trait, mind you, dottore. I find myself indulging in my fantasies far too –"

(Y/N) landed a hit on his jaw. Pain shot through her arm – punching wasn't the most pleasant, but seeing Cioccolata in pain, hearing him wince, that was what gave (Y/N) life. He stumbled backwards, placing a hand on his jaw, and he glared at (Y/N) who showed zero emotions for his trouble.

"Is this assault, dottore? You're doing something illegal, you might get arrested," he warned, his calm voice a contrast to his bewildered expression.

How dare he, how dare he – (Y/N)'s mind turned into a whirlwind of protests, deforming her face into that of pure rage. She would see him pay. She walked backwards, fists balled up, ready to run away and grab anything to murder that monster.

"I won't fucking regret it, and I'll get you to jail with me, you monster," she growled, "or even better, I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you. I'll – kithl –" Saliva began dripping from her mouth, interrupting her tantrum.

Cioccolata took the opportunity to speak up. "It appears you've forgotten. There's two of us."

That was when she felt something heavy on her back. It had to be Secco. The very moment she felt something on there, she elbowed him multiple times, hitting his ribcage, and hopefully his face as well, for she was aiming there. She wanted to see him suffer.

"Go away – knock it off, go away," she began, then roared, "FUCK OFF!"

The struggle wasn't in vain. Her elbows hurt, but she managed to get him off her back. Secco staggered backwards and fell with a wince – into the ground, vanishing. (Y/N) noticed in the corner of her eye, Cioccolata, approaching with steady steps.

"Don't fucking touch me, don't you fucking dare," she wheezed, hands in front of her to defend herself. And that was all. She was paralyzed, because...

Because she had never seen an expression so grim, so monstrous. He relished in his own apathy and it ruined him. Scarred every bit of his already hideous face. It was far too overwhelming for her.

Then came his turn to be shocked. His brows twitched, eyelids spasmed, as his gaze went above (Y/N). She was quick to follow it.

Behind her stood a... robot, as it seemed, donned in golden and similar colors. Similarly, a bright yellow aura radiated from it – and from (Y/N)... as well?

She felt his clawed hand land on her shoulder. "Run," the figure ordered... in her own voice?

"I've had enough of you," Cioccolata then said, each and every word of his stressed with undivided hatred.

But (Y/N) trusted this being. The instinct was quick. It was a solution deus ex machina, but at least it was there. So... she gathered what had left of her strength, and she ran upstairs. She kept on running. Outside, into the peaceful morning. Somehow, she didn't know how, but nobody interrupted her escape. It was fine. She made it.

She collapsed in the middle of the street as she dialed the police. She couldn't help but wonder if she was burying herself into something even worse.

No. The quiet beeps ticked against her ear while she waited for a response. It couldn't get any worse.