Prologue 0
London was rainy at that time of the year. When she entered the small apartment, she understood that this was not a game.
Four walls, one bed with sink and toilet. The window was set high, behind bars.
“Food will be delivered three times a day, Miss Asami,” said a man dressed in a black suit before he closed the door.
She then heard the lock clicking. Three times.
At first she just stood in one place, looking up at the cameras in each corner. The person who has put them there wanted her to see them. It was done on purpose.
‘How cute,’ she thought as she set her small suitcase on the bed and opened it.
Inside were her clothes and a snow-white envelope with her name on it. She has received it days before, she knew the words by heart now – that’s how many times she has read it.
Your powers had me intrigued. I would like to explore its limits. You won’t be treated as a prisoner. However once you agree, you will obey my orders without question.
– L
[ DAY TWO. . . ]
She felt the quiet. Not a sound. Nobody’s mind to read. Only silence.
She didn’t noticed it at first – how ironic. All of her life she had only known the inner voices of others. Every single day her ears rang with buzzing thoughts that weren’t even hers. It was like listening to the radio and being unable to turn it off.
Now everything was deadly silent and she only noticed after she realized she had forgotten to bring her chamomile tea for her migraines.
Besides her forgotten tea, the letter and a few clothes she had nothing.
No information.
No loud world.
No thoughts.
Thoughts that did not belong to her.
Only her voice. It seemed stronger now, louder. More powerful.
‘How long will he keep me here?’
‘Who even is this L guy?’
‘He wanted to explore my powers. My limits.’
‘But the only thing he does…’
Her eyes slowly moved up towards the cameras. The red dot was blinking constantly. She knew someone was watching her. Because he wanted her to know.
Maybe he was waiting for something. A reaction perhaps.
Maybe he wanted her to say something.
To show herself. Her powers.
But she only smiled and thought to herself: ‘At least it’s quiet.’
[ DAY FIVE. . . ]
The food was brought to her regularly. Always on time.
It was delivered by the same man everyday. She could feel his presence even if there was door separating them. His emotions and thoughts were soft, hidden. As if someone has told him to not think about anything. But Asami knew that one can’t possibly not think. The mind was swirling with different thoughts. Always.
The tray with food was given to her by a small opening in the door. Asami was given exactly forty five minutes before the hatch opened again and the same old man took the tray away.
The food wasn’t special; breakfast was in the Britain style. Lunch was in the spirit of Japan and the evening snack was always something small and simple.
Enough to keep her alive. Enough to make her stomach twist after a few days.
Circle.
Never ending circle. It was always the same. She only differentiated night from day.
Food.
The man.
Cameras.
Nothingness.
Quiet.
The quiet she had longed for quickly became one of the few things she started to hate. And so she decided to do something with it.
Dinner time was approaching and she stood before the door. Patient. Obedient.
She was waiting.
Getting ready.
The small hatch soon opened and she quickly grabbed the hand covered in black leather glove.
Quillsh Wammy.
The hand yanked itself back and Asami fell. The food tray clattered, her dinner spilling everywhere. But she was smiling.
“Quillsh Wammy,” she said his name out loud. The corner of her lips going upwards in small victory.
“You have been by L’s side since the beginning. You trust his judgment,” she continued even as the small hatched closed.
But she could feel how the old man’s thoughts started swirling. His subtle panic revealing more than he allowed himself to think.
Asami gracefully pulled herself off the floor, hands dusting her pants.
She was expecting a reaction from above. Anything.
But nothing happened.
[ DAY SIX. . .]
She was sitting on a bed. Her eyes were closed, her mind open. Clear.
She was waiting again.
She could feel the old man’s presence.
The walls were thick, but since she touched his hand, she managed to form a connection between his mind and hers.
Even she didn’t know that she could do something like that. Form a connection.
She found his mind surprisingly fast. It might’ve been because there were the only ones in the apartment.
His thoughts were quiet, peaceful. They were far, but she could feel his memories, though only fragments.
“Loud bells.”
“Orphanage.”
“Gifted children.”
She spoke with calm, in the order she was seeing the thoughts. But no word was good enough for him. No word made him react and change the never ending circle. She needed to push further and find something that would make the one behind cameras react.
The small hatched opened. Her food was here and she took her sweet time eating it, knowing that the man stood just outside the door. Her eyes were closed, she was doing what she did best.
Reading people.
“Mr Whammy loves you as his own son. I can feel his affection just as much as his fear. He believes in your sharp mind, but he is also scared about you dying alone. Somewhere behind your computer, drowned in another case of yours…”
Suddenly she opened her eyes.
She saw it. Heard it. A memory and a voice.
“L Lawliet,” she breathed out and her head slowly turned to the camera in the corner.
“That’s your real name. Mr Whammy knows it because he was the one who found you and brought you to the orphanage.”
She smiled.
She felt Mr Whammy’s confusion. His surprise that came after what she has revealed.
And she knew it would cause a reaction.
[ DAY SEVEN. . .]
The lock turned. Three times.
She was sitting on a bed, looking at the man whose mind she managed to look into.
“He wants to see you,” he said.
Asami got up, her feet bare, her outfit comfortable, her face clean - no make-up.
“Can I change?” she asked, her lips turning into a sweet fake smile.
He didn't say no, nor did he reply. He just closed the door behind him.
They were now sitting inside a black limousine. Asami sat with grace just like she planned to do on her first day. Her lips were covered in red lipstick, her neck smelling of expensive perfume that always made men turn head over to her.
Outwardly, she appeared untouched. Unbreakable.
But her inside was burning with nervosity; she was scared. She didn't know what to expect. Another test? How many did she need to pass? What was the point of this isolation circus?
Where does her power end?
She swallowed.
‘Is there something I can't do? I didn't even know I could create a connection to someone...’ she thought, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her hands.
Watari parked the car. Soon he was leading her through a long hallway. No words spoken only the sound of her heels clicking as they walked. He opened the door for her, letting her walk in first.
She held her breath and walked inside.
He was standing, watching something outside of the window. But the uneasy sound of her heels made him turn to her.
She was not expecting it. She was not contemplating him.
Bare feet, baggy jeans, white shirt wrinkled. His skin was pale, he looked seconds away from fainting. His eyes were dark, the circles under them even darker. He had black hair and a very chaotic mind.
Asami just stood there, trying to process his thoughts.
He was analyzing, calculating. He created a mess big enough for Asami to get lost. A mess that she couldn't read. Yet.
‘Welcome miss Asami.’
She blinked a few times. She gave no other sign of her confusion. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Through thoughts. Using thoughts.“Lawliet,” she addressed him, her face expressionless once more.
‘From now on, call me only Ryuzaki, please. My real name must remain a secret.’
He replied. Again, only with his thoughts. It confused her; she wasn’t used to it.“I understand… Ryuzaki,” she said, nodding slightly.He watched her, and she watched him in return. They devoured each other’s appearance, neither believing that the other was who they claimed to be.But Asami saw more; men usually stared at her with hungry eyes. Eyes that wanted her, that needed her, that took advantage of her.His gaze? Curious. Nothing more, nothing less.It made her nervous because he was looking at her differently.
“Watari, please bring us some tea. Chamomile,” he suddenly said, this time aloud. For the first time, her eyes turned towards the old man.
Asami followed his gaze, and after so many days, life began to stir in her head once more.Thoughts that weren’t even hers.“Miss Asami, please follow me,” he said, turning his back to her and leading her to two armchairs and a small table.
“Did I pass the test?” she asked as they sat down. She watched intently as Ryuzaki sank into the chair, constantly watching her every move. Analyzing her every word.
“One of many.”
