Mark groaned as he woke up, running a hand over his face. When he took in the facets of the room, he remembered where he was again, and that dread sank in his chest.

    Prada wearily smiled from the other side of the room, watching Mark through calm eyes. Now that he knew what Mark really was, he couldn't deny that he had a higher respect for him. After all, Mark fit in quite well with the other Evolveds. He wasn't as reserved or content with his surroundings as most, but he would have assumed as much from any other Evolved.

Mark sat up in bed, grumbling to himself.

Prada couldn't help but stare in fascination. Now, in this moment, Mark looked more like his human self. Meager, weak—and though well-built and strong—vulnerable.

"Good morning," said Prada loudly.

Mark startled, and when they made eye contact, that human character was gone. It shifted into a persona that was more glittering and sharp—the menacing, short-fused Evolved more familiarly known as Viper.

    A subtle frown curled on Mark's lips. "Afternoon, you mean?" he mocked, pulling the blankets off himself. He couldn't help but yawn, stretching his black-painted arms high overhead. Prada carefully watched them, the markings on his face flickering with interest.

    "Pearl went shopping for herbs today," said Prada as Mark got ready. "Which means I'll be taking her place for today."

    Mark swallowed as he made the bed, thankful he was turned away from Prada. No matter how welcoming Prada tried to be, he was still intimidating. Even his jokes kept him on edge.

    "I'm not hungry," said Mark, checking his hiding spot between the bed and the wooden frame. He swiftly ran his fingers through there, thankful to feel the device and the cold glass of the vial. He'd need to repaint his skin soon.

    "You have to eat something," said Prada. He ducked and pushed away a few hanging cords of rope from the ceiling, his horns just barely catching onto them. "What did you eat back at the Tear Stealer's?"

    Mark wavered at that. He didn't really eat there, either. He was always too sick or angry... but...

    The more he thought about it, he remembered one of his last meals with Dark: the human.

    Mark salivated at the thought, and Prada cleared his throat, raising a brow.

    Right. He asked a question.

    Mark stared at Prada's intimidating and lean figure. While his old self would've brushed the question off and answered with something else, he couldn't help but smirk at the idea of answering truthfully. While Mark always liked to stay hidden, Viper desired leverage.

    "Have you ever eaten human, Prada?" asked Viper, lips curling up into a smirk. He couldn't help but feel a satisfied shiver at Prada's surprised reaction.

    "A... human..." muttered Prada, his red markings flickering with uncertainty. There it was again—that shifting darkness within Mark; the character he slipped himself into. His brows furrowed. "No... I haven't."

    Viper's smile was sharp like glass.

"They're delectable," he said. He walked forward, slipped past Prada, and opened the door. "But I'm afraid Antinstine could never prepare a meal like that for me."

    Prada couldn't help but blink, stunned. Just the thought of an Evolved eating a human was insane, but a human... eating another—

    He quickly collected himself and cleared his throat, closing the door behind him and following after Mark.

    "Are you saying T.S. kills humans?" asked Prada, catching up with Mark's strides and walking alongside him.

    "No," said Mark as they walked down the stairs. Before Prada could ask another question, Mark caught his eye, continuing.

"I kill them."

    The manic glint in his eye shocked Prada. His earlier fascination of Mark was now conflicted with—dare he say—a feeling akin to fear. No wonder he lasted so long in the Evolved world... He was practically one of them.

    Prada put that sarcastic smile on his face, eyes going half-lidded. "Is that why T.S. chose to send you instead of one of the others?" he taunted. "Couldn't handle a human-killer in his home?"

    Prada's questions confused Mark.

Back at home—when he was living a normal life—Evolveds killed humans all the time. No mercy, no emotion... just plucking people from their lives like cranes eating from a pond. Or maybe he was missing the bigger picture, again... he could never truly know.

    "Please," scoffed Mark, trying to push back his thoughts. "If anything, he should have kept me."

    He had to be careful now; spinning lies and truths like this... he had to remember his stories, no matter how insignificant or not.

    Prada rose a brow, smirking. "Really, now?" They were nearing the dining hall. "Why's that?"

    Mark spotted the open doors up ahead, thankful to find that Antinstine wasn't there—just Syl, Ox, and Cibil. They stopped at the doorway, and Mark gazed over at Prada with a simple smile. He made sure to raise his voice so the others in the dining room would hear.

    "Because I'm the Celebrity Killer."

    Prada stilled at that. From the table, Syl and Ox's mouths went agape.

    "I'll go back to eating beetles, now," said Mark, smiling. He walked into the dining hall, and Prada couldn't help but watch him sit at the dinner table, blinking.

    The Celebrity Killer... one of the most-discussed criminals in both the human and Evolved world alike. Never a trace, a hint of evidence... never caught.

    Prada couldn't help but linger there. This human was the key to a new and improved world—a more peaceful one... but he was also a criminal.

    He pulled away from his thoughts and walked away from the dining hall, trying to brush off the newfound information.

———

Throughout breakfast, Syl and Ox couldn't help but stare at Mark when they heard his "confession," absolutely stunned. They made no effort to hide their reactions, and no matter how many times Mark glared at them, they kept staring.

    After a while, Mark decided to ignore it. He preferred to focus on the tingling excitement in his chest, either way. That giddy feeling after admitting a dark secret.

Now that he thought about it, he'd never admitted that he was the Celebrity Killer to anyone—let alone Prada, someone he barely even knew. An Evolved, no less.

When he first met Ethan, they were both in the middle of a kill—him dragging a poisoned, half-dead body into an alleyway, while Mark walked his prey into that same, dark lane.

And with Amy, well... she only found out through business—cleaning up killers' evidence and leaving the scene cleaner than before.

Mark pulled from his thoughts when Cibil pushed a glass bowl in front of him. He blinked, glancing at the bowl of oatmeal, then at Cibil, raising a brow.

"Better than beetles," she said, smiling slightly.

Something normal, for once, he thought, returning the smile.

After breakfast, Cibil pulled Mark away from the table and led them out of the dining hall. Syl and Ox watched as they left, murmuring to each other.

"Antinstine wanted me to give you a tour of the mansion today," said Cibil. She gazed at Mark through her blindfold, her chest tightening. The entire purpose of the "tour" was useless—just a distraction for what was to come in two days.

Mark frowned in the slightest.

"What's the point?" he muttered, which only made her chest tighten further.

Cibil ignored him and started walking, and Mark followed, trying to avoid the gazes of the other Evolveds. They stopped at the main entrance, turning towards the grand foyer.

"I want to show you the conservatory," she said, motioning towards the middle hall.

Mark huffed in the slightest but said nothing, letting Cibil lead the way.

It was quieter in the middle hall—more peaceful. The Evolveds that passed through here looked friendlier, most of them adorned in earth tones, their skin dirtied by soil.

"Greenies," said Cibil softly, noticing Mark's curious gaze. "Evolveds that tend to nature."

The golden halls opened up into a large ballroom, and though there was no chandelier to provide light, it was the brightest room in the mansion.

The front walls were made up entirely of paned glass that reached up to the ceiling. Mark squinted, blinded by the brilliance of the sunlight catching on the crystalline glass.

Cibil lingered there for a moment, smiling as the sun warmed her pale skin. "Before Antinstine or the Tear Stealer, this room was home to the most luxurious of parties." She stretched out her arms and gave a soft sigh. "They were so beautiful."

Mark rose a brow. "How do you know that?"

Cibil smiled, and they walked towards the wall of glass.

"On very special occasions, I can look into windows of the past," she said. "Sometimes, the past is more helpful than the future. There have been times where, without the knowledge of something's history, a vision makes no sense."

Cibil pushed open a glass door, which led into the greenhouse. It was made entirely of glass, structured with dark, rich iron. Mark couldn't help but double take, his eyes widening.

Greenery sprouted from every corner of the enclosure, arching up against the walls or curling around the aisles of red-wire tables. The pristine floor beneath them had shifted into a gruff stone, littered with dirt and fallen leaves. When he glanced back up, Cibil was far ahead, smelling a bushel of light purple flowers.

He walked down the main aisle of the conservatory, noticing that a couple of pots were empty.

"Is... this why your sister's at the Market?" asked Mark, stopping by one of the pots. He touched one of the large plants beside it, eyes lighting up when it fluttered shut. He'd never seen anything quite like this.

Cibil pulled away from the flowers, gazing over at Mark. She hummed in a way that said 'what do you mean?'

"Your sister, Pearl," repeated Mark. "Prada told me she was buying some herbs. Are they for these empty pots?" He touched the plant again and couldn't help but smile as its leaves shut like a venus fly trap.

"Oh..." Cibil went still, her face paling. When Mark glanced over at her, she cleared her throat and turned away, composing herself.

"Yes," she said quickly. "They're for the... pots."

Mark smiled and faintly nodded, walking further down the aisle to examine the plants. Cibil watched him carefully through her blindfold, unable to help but frown.

She wished those herbs were for the pots... but when she gazed over at the building far off in the yard, she was reminded of what was to come. What those herbs were really for. Pearl, her own sister... her little sister... was helping Antinstine's sick cause. She knew what would happen to Mark... had even suggested a few ideas...

And that made Cibil all the more determined to make sure the future played out correctly. So that children Pearl's age... children of any age would no longer see such sickening things as normal.

    It was time for Evolveds to see things in a better light.

    Mark reached the end of the conservatory and placed his hands on the cold glass, taking in the sight of the well-kept backyard. It was spacious and beautiful, oozing with wealth. Cibil wearily watched as his gaze trailed over to that dreadful building in the very back.

    "What's over there?" asked Mark, pointing towards the very place he'd call prison after tomorrow.

    Cibil forced a smile. "The laboratory," she said. "We aren't allowed to go inside today."

"Say... those two Evolveds that eat breakfast with us..." Mark's brows furrowed. "Syl and Ox." He gazed over at Cibil, raising a brow. "Is that their lab?"

"What makes you say that?" asked Cibil.

Mark eyed the laboratory, which seemed to grow more daunting the longer he stared at it. Now that he thought about Syl and Ox, his body couldn't help but shudder. "They're the only ones who wear lab coats," he said. "They're obviously scientists.

"And..." continued Mark. "Why would Antinstine need people like them, anyway?" He gave a short, sarcastic chuckle. "He's definitely not searching for a cure for disease or anything like that."

Cibil shifted in discomfort. "Why don't I show you the library?" she said, trying to distract Mark from his dangerous train of thought. "It's another peaceful place; just like here."

But now that his thoughts were running, they wouldn't stop.

Mark thought about his role here, in Antinstine's mansion. He thought about his doubts, his wonders... the pressing questions of why he was even here in the first place.

He'd expected the very first day to be filled with torture, but...  These swarming, negative thoughts... the anxiety of what was to come... what if making him wait was the real torture? What if the purpose of this "tour" was to make him realize... just what... would...

Mark's vision began to warble.

Happen... to him...

He stared at the laboratory, his body shuddering again. The air went heavy, darker... like a bad omen. Mark's throat went dry, and it took him a while to be able to speak. The realization rose in him like bile, making him sick.

"They're..." Mark swallowed, unable to pry his gaze from the building in the distance. "They're going to experiment on me..." His breaths came out shallow. "...aren't they..."

Cibil wavered, not making a move. Mark gazed down at her, face pale.

"Cibil," he said, searching for a sign that it wasn't true. But the way she moved and glanced away... it only confirmed his epiphany.

He wished he'd stayed wondering... wished he'd stayed in the dark of not knowing what was to come... 

The truth was much more painful.

Thank you so much for reading! What are your thoughts?

Have a wonderful day, and stay safe out there,

Kass xoxo