Contrary to what Lucius had expected, he did not wake up on the cold ground outside the BBT building. Neither had he managed to somehow crawl his way back to Anthony's mansion with the help of a recovered Ethan.

In fact, as his stinging, swollen eyes slowly got used to the warm light of an otherwise dark room, he had no idea where he was. He had no idea whose comfy bed he'd been placed in, or who had seemingly washed and patched him up with the various tools and washcloths on the dark wooden nightstand. Not to mention who had wrapped a cloth around his forearm and neck to support his shoulder.

Despite the brief panicking over his missing shirt, it was a comfort he had not expected to find right after the events he had just endured, and had he been someone else, he would have entertained the thought that he'd died and entered The Unity.

Considering the wrinkly horror in the back of his mind however, it seemed unlikely.

As his usual luck would have it he was not allowed to feel the comfort for too long as his entire body reminded him of his unfortunate state, and he drew a hissing breath before throwing a weak glance at his shoulder.

"Careful," a voice Lucius could only recognize by the accent said. "Don't strain your arm too much."

It was so far-fetched, Lucius had to turn his head before acknowledging the owner of the voice was actually there, and his blood-shot eyes blinked in confusion.

"Lieutenant vier— Vieru? ... Vieryshk—" he tried, but wouldn't blame himself for not remembering given the numerous strikes his head had taken. "... Ivan?"

Ivan Vieryshkin pinched his lips together, but seemed to accept the new, casual terms.

"Lucius," he returned. "It's good to see you're awake."

"This is your hou—" Lucius coughed, swallowing to soothe his dry throat, and Ivan handed him a glass from the bedside table.

"Yes, this is my house," Ivan confirmed as Lucius' shaking, disoriented hand grabbed the glass. "You never saw the guest room last time, understandably."

"How..." Lucius shook his head after taking a sip, bitter that it didn't help his throat as much as he'd wished. "... How did I end up here?"

"It seems that after..." Ivan made a gesture at Lucius' state. "... This happened, you somehow ended up on that bridge near here. I found you earlier this morning."

Vague glimpses of Lucius' excruciating journey out of the basement returned to him in a haze. The cellar door, the fresh yet stinging, cold air, and then trees. Lots of them. He'd tried making his way back to Anthony's mansion, but with his head spinning so much he must have gone the wrong way. As Ivan had said, the bridge with fish statues had also appeared before him.

He glanced down at his wrapped up arm with a lump in his throat. How bad was it? There had been too much going on, he hadn't had the time to wonder just how damaged his shoulder was.

"Fortunately, I've treated injuries before," Ivan continued. "I took the opportunity of putting it back into place before you woke up. It should heal, as long as you let it rest and keep your arm still like that. You should still seek help from a doctor, of course."

Lucius closed his eyes and Ivan's voice disappeared as the snapping sound of his shoulder returned to echo through his head, over and over. Why had he been so stubborn? He'd ended up humiliated anyway, so why couldn't he have saved his arm?

"Dare I ask why the BBT would do this to you?" Ivan asked, piercing through Lucius' mind barrier. "I thought you and the younger Lord Hargreaves were... Close."

Lucius' heart sank, much like his gaze.

"... Yeah, that's... That's the problem. Turns out we're too close." He wrinkled his eyebrows. "... How did you know it was them?"

Ivan's eyes narrowed in pity, and he nodded to the side of Lucius.

"Wasn't hard."

The mere attention to it caused the pain to flare up over Lucius' back, and he let out a sob as he looked over his shoulder.

"We cleaned it as well as we could, and the beeswax should help with the healing," Ivan tried comforting him. "But... Unfortunately, I doubt it will ever go away."

Despair seized control of Lucius' breathing, and while the yellow goo Ivan had smeared on the area covered some of it, the red, blistering mark resembling the BBT emblem couldn't be more glaring.

"... I see." His weak voice broke, and while he tried to stay calm about it, his eyes were already overflowing. "That's un... Fortun... Ate."

Then his act dropped, hard and loudly, and to his dismay Ivan reached over to cover his screams with his hand.

"I know," Ivan hissed in the kindest way he could. "But don't let Milica hear you. She can't see— or know about all this. As far as she knows, you were drunk and slightly beaten and I'm letting you rest here while you sober up."

"Why is it always like this? Why can't they just let us be together?" Lucius sobbed into Ivan's hand, and the latter wrinkled his nose before replacing the hand with a pillow. "Why can't I hold on to something that makes me happy without ending up like this?"

Ivan frowned, and looked down at his hands.

"Unfortunately, sometimes life is cruel, even to those who don't deserve it."

"Especially to those who don't deserve it," Lucius disagreed, and Ivan sighed before nodding.

"Perhaps... It's no comfort, but I know how you feel." He glanced at the door. "That fear of losing someone you love, and no matter how many times, or how hard you try, it's like nothing can stop it from happening."

Lucius buried the rest of his face in the pillow. He tried to remind himself that giving the healing potion to Ivan was the right choice and that he was not supposed to feel bad, but it was hard not to.

In fact, he felt terrible about everything. Anxiety and sorrow filled him. He cried, and in the strangest way, it felt good. The weight caused by the dark veins seemed to ease up, and in the midst of his dismay, he could let go of the gnawing wrath inside him for just a moment.

"... Is it that bad?" he whispered through the pillow. "There's... Nothing you can do?"

"Not that any doctors know." Ivan's voice was low and broken. "And those Larkspur vermin are nowhere to be found."

Lucius bit his lip.

"... I'm sorry."

"We're trying to live in the now." Ivan tried to shake the grief off his voice. "That's all we can do."

"Lucius!" The door flung open, and to Lucius' partial concern and partial relief, Samueli barged into the room.

"... Sam?" Lucius would have preferred to keep his poor state hidden from him, but the panicked, despairing part of him couldn't be more relieved, and his presence brought him to tears again. "... How— How did you know I was here?"

"Mr. Faahl, please keep it down," Ivan hissed with a low voice, throwing a nervous glance over the man's shoulder. "And don't let Milica in here."

Samueli wasn't too interested in keeping things down though, having halted abruptly as soon as he'd spotted Lucius.

"What..." His wide, mortified eyes wandered along Lucius' maimed body, lingering on both his shoulders before fixing his gaze on Lucius' face. "... What happened?"

"How is he—" Milica suddenly asked from the door, only to utter a loud gasp as well, and Ivan shot up from the chair.

"No, Mitsa, you shouldn't see this." He hurried to turn her away from the view, but Milica struggled to look back into the room.

"You said he was a little beaten!" She gave Ivan an accusatory glare. "We could have gotten him some help if you'd told me how bad it was! We sent for Samueli, didn't we? Why not a doctor!?"

She staggered to the side, holding a hand against her mouth as her breathing paced up, and Ivan pulled her closer to support her balance.

"You need to sit down," he said, again with the demanding, yet caring tone. "We should let the two of them talk alone, anyway."

As the door shut, Samueli knelt down next to the bed, eyes still darting between Lucius' arm and countless bruises, finally stopping at the blistering shoulder again, and he drew a breath through his nose before gently pulling Lucius forward to get a better look.

"They did this to you?" he asked with a strained, unusually grim voice, and Lucius was certain he'd never heard Samueli struggle so hard to remain calm.

"I— I was... Careless," Lucius croaked, avoiding eye contact. "I'll be more careful from now on. Just... Staying out of their way, and so on."

"Yes, you will." Samueli embraced him tight, though managed to avoid pressing against the worst injuries. Then he drew another, less calm breath. "But they're going to pay for this."

"Sam, no," Lucius whispered into the man's shoulder. "They'll only hurt you too."

"I can't just let them get away with something like this!" Samueli raised his voice, causing Lucius to flinch. "I can't— I... I can't lose you. Not after having finally found you. After— After losing them. I'm not going to stand there and watch while you're ripped away from me again.

Lucius pressed his lips together to keep from crying again, and he held Samueli tighter.

"I lost them as well, Sam," he whispered. "And I can't risk losing you either."

"But—"

"Please." Lucius closed his eyes. "Please, stay safe."

Samueli opened his mouth to protest again, but all it amounted to was a shaking, resigned sigh.

"Then... What are we supposed to do? How do we stop this from happening again?"

Lucius hesitated as well, but he begrudgingly chose to entertain the idea out loud.

"They want me to leave. To leave South Kerilia and never come back... If I do that, they'll leave me alone."

Samueli stared at him.

"That's it? They won't come after you if you leave?"

"But I don't want to leave." Lucius scrunched up his face. "I have my life here, and—"

"So we'll hide you somewhere near here." Samueli shook his head as if Lucius had lost his marbles. "I'll talk to my friend in West Kerilia. He'll hide you, and you'll keep your head down. Maybe use another disguise. No one would know you're there, and we can come see you."

"I shouldn't have to give up what I have here." Lucius wouldn't have it. "Even if I leave, I can't be with Anthony. I can't see you more than occasionally, and Lucia will lose the town. Who knows what will happen to it then?"

"But you'll be safe."

"And stuck on some farm!"

Samueli groaned.

"How is this even something to argue about? We're talking about life and death."

"Because I..." Lucius swallowed, not at all confident about whatever he'd do next. "... I'll think of something."

"Lucius—"

"Well I'm not losing anyone else!" Lucius snapped, eyes widening only briefly before pain forced them shut. "Not you, not my friends, and not Anthony. I'm done having everyone taken away."

Samueli sucked in a breath as if preparing to retaliate, but seemed to think better of it at the last second.

"I... Know it's terrible." He turned the breath into another sigh, and gently grabbed Lucius' hand. "But when the alternative is death, what choice do you have?"

Lucius' eyes narrowed as he looked down at their hands, and hopelessness washed over him.

"Can I..." His voice trembled. "... Be alone for a while? To think."

Samueli was hesitant, giving Lucius' state another look, but slowly nodded.

"Of course. Just tell me if you need anything."

Lucius attempted a smile, but it dropped as soon as the door closed and he was left alone.

It wasn't fair. He wouldn't fool himself into thinking Anthony's depression would be solved by them being together, but Damien had no right to separate them either and after what he and Derek had done to him, was curling up in some corner and accepting his fate all he could do?

Part of him wanted to. He wanted to cry more and be vulnerable, and settle for a simpler life away from danger. Take Samueli's suggestion and hide away somewhere.

But he couldn't. It was too late for that. Lucius wanted to be with Anthony. He wanted to stay, and run South Kerilia, and be with the friends he'd made there. He wanted to make his lifetime count, or be twice the damned if Damien successfully stood in his way.

And suddenly it was back. The numbing of his chest that crawled along his ribs and made his tears stop. Instead, the searing pain in his back was joined by another burning, located underneath his black veins.

Finally done crying?

Lucius flinched, groaning as his shoulder protested, but his mind still focused on the Scourge's distorted voice, still eerily similar to his own.

You really are about to revert to the whiny, naive child again, aren't you? Crying about unfairness without doing anything about it, yet thinking you could live an easy life somehow, despite what you've seen of the world. Just look at you now.

Lucius did so, and grimaced as a response. He wasn't so certain the Scourge would have changed anything though. It was just as destructive as he was.

Things went better before you tried to suppress me. Your bloodthirst got you where you are today, but now it's faded because of your feelings. Foolish emotions have made you forget who you are, and what you actually desire in this world. They've infected and dulled your mind, resulting in reckless actions that you've come to regret. You could have brought those people to their knees with ease. You've accomplished such things before, when you let your ambition cut through mercy and affection.

To his reluctance, Lucius supposed there was truth in it. His previous success when bringing down powerful people had been when the wrinkled monstrosity was around to guide him. With it suppressed, he'd let his emotions get the best of him, much like it had warned him about so many times.

His eyes narrowed again.

But... I don't want to lose him.

And why should you?

Lucius shook his head. With thoughts and voices colliding, it almost made him forget which was which.

He's yours now. He's useful, even without emotions. Besides, we can't let those death-cheaters win, can we? We can't let them humiliate you like that without making them pay.

"No," Lucius mumbled, and just as he did, a familiar sensation crawled through his skin and up towards his head.

Hatred filled him, but without the anger he was supposed to feel. All it did was fill his head with echoing voices. His voices.

Wrinkleface is right, how can we let them win?

Anthony is better off without them.

Better off with me.

Everyone is better off with me.

The dark veins slithered up along his neck, and Lucius drew a sharp breath through his teeth as they neared his burning skin.

It felt so good though.

Who can save this rotting town if not me? Who can keep my friends safe if not me? Everyone—

So we eliminate the threat. It's not just Anthony—

— would be doomed without me.

— they're ruining the lives of everyone.

But no one will do anything about it, because—

So kill them.

— Because they're weaker than us.

Make them regret everything. Every inch of your skin that they've hurt.

But we'll save them.

We'll watch them burn.

And they'll thank us.

It's the least we could do for Anthony. For Samueli, and the girls. All of them suffered because of this town—

And no one can question my supremacy—

— Because of them.

— Not anymore.

His trembling body convulsed, fingers tensing up and clawing against the sheets.

We'll see them evened with the ground.

A high pitched ringing crashed through his head as his chest heaved up and down, but it didn't bother him. It was delightful. A thrilling, excruciating sensation that he never wanted to end.

We'll watch the wind spur the flames and carry their ashes away.

A knock on the door.

And we will celebrate.

"We washed your clothes, so you'll have to—" Ivan said as he entered with a pile of clothes in his hands, seemingly of the —by Wyperan standards— uncommon kind Ivan and Milica usually wore. They didn't stay in his grip for long though as he spotted Lucius.

"Lucius?" Ivan hurriedly closed the door before rushing to the bed as fast as his cane would allow him. "Lucius, what is happening?"

It was only then that Lucius looked down at his body, noticing the dark veins spreading over his torso and along his arms.

"Oh," he whispered without really thinking. "It's nothing, really."

"That does not look like nothing." Ivan lifted Lucius' chin to examine the spreading and cursed under his breath. "What— What is this? I thought it looked strange before, but how did it get this bad so quickly?"

Lucius freed his chin to slowly lie down on the bed with a blank stare.

"They're not getting away with it," he whispered under his breath, and stared up at the ceiling without answering Ivan's question. "I'm gonna see to it myself. I'm sending those Scourgefuckers straight into oblivion, and I'm gonna laugh. I'm gonna laugh at their wretched remains until I can't breathe."

"You need to treat whatever that is before you do anything," Ivan insisted, choosing to disregard the content of Lucius' speech. "We should inform Mr. Faahl—"

"I said it's nothing," Lucius snapped with a scalding glare at Ivan. "It's not important. Not now, anyway, and Sam can absolutely not know about it."

"Lucius—"

"You of all people should understand hiding things from the ones you love in order to protect them," Lucius hissed. "So make sure he doesn't see it."

Ivan frowned, throwing a hesitant glance at the door before nodding.

Then he let out a resigned sigh.

"If... You're certain, but I really think you should get some help." He grabbed his cane and went over to the dropped pile of clothes. "I'll put these on the chair here, on top of your necklace."

Lucius' eyes fell on the white figure he'd received from Catherine, realising then that he wasn't wearing it, but his gaze only lingered for a short, indifferent moment before turning towards Ivan again. Specifically to look at his cane, and then at his damaged ear.

"Since you mention it," he said, with a slow, monotonous voice. "There actually is something I could use your help with."