Opheliac

I: My Beloved Doll

You know the games I play

And the words I say

When I want my own way

You know the lies I tell

.

Opheliac—

Chapter I: My Beloved Doll

.

White. Everything had become absolute white. A stark contrast of the impenetrable darkness the seeming moment before. So bright it was blinding him...yet, instead of soothing him with its brilliance, it only brought back…unpleasant memories – those he didn't want to remember – about the insincere whiteness that came together with the disgusting scent of antiseptics.

The place he didn't want to go back. The place....where it all started…where…his humanity had first been betrayed.

"You're finally awake?" A dulcet voice rang from somewhere within the brightness. So smooth, like velvet, and gently melodic as if it belonged to an angel.

One blue eye fluttered open and then quickly shut itself just because it couldn't stand such bright light. He was more suited to dwell in the world of darkness – the darkness he wanted to paint this world. Yet…that warm hand that he felt he couldn't get away…touched him, caressed him…so tenderly…as if trying to soothe away his pain and sorrow. It touched him in the way that no one had ever dared to touch…

It made him afraid.

This accursed soul that had no wing to fly was afraid of heaven because if heaven decided to abandon him, stopping to welcome him in its embrace, he would definitely fall, falling to hurt and die on the rusty earth…because he knew it so well…

This heaven he so longed for…

One blue eye reopened…only to see that in front of him then was never too bright. He was still in the world he so loved to hate. And…the first thing that he clearly saw was no other than a pair of piercing Amethysts decorated on a handsome face belonging to the most disdainful whiteness…in the most hateful place.

Never welcomed him.

"Sleeping beauty…" That dulcet voice said teasingly. Handsome face inched closer with a bright smile. "And I haven't even kissed you."

A bright yet deceitful smile of a false angel.

Long, tapered fingers traced his soft cheek slowly as if trying to bestow upon its deadly paleness life and colors with their warmth…or…were they trying to say…he was their possession?

Those fingers then rested on his lips, feeling the red, red blood that they could easily spill pulsing under pliant flesh. Amethyst-colored orbs gazed at him from under dark lashes, reflecting the beautiful captive that was no more to him than a small vermin to crush, reflecting so well…the hatefulness inside that one cerulean eye they had started to adore.

"Close your eye for the kiss."

Just because they wanted to know…what secret that one cerulean eye that was too stubborn to close was hiding inside its depth…

For, with that secret, perhaps…the winner might truly conquer his ever-so elusive captive…conquering and swallowing him…whole.

Clink.

The chains still left their horrid marks on pale skin even as they were unshackled, for the capturer knew his captive was now too weak to escape. Still, the blue haired-man was denying, refusing every generosity he gave – even the warmth that made his inner, weaker part want to cry even if that one eye was too dry to shed a tear.

Clink.

So…there was only one shackle that was left.

Strong hand yanked at the chain connected to the leather collar, which wrapped so tight around that fragile neck…and even tighter when it was harshly pulled. It was suffocating. The blue haired-man gasped. Yet before he could really take in a wisp of air, his breath was again stolen by another pair of lips.

Sneaky tongue dipped into his mouth, teasing him and tasting him everywhere it could.

Mukuro felt his one eye start to get blurry. He hated it. He hated it so much when he was reduced to nothing besides a ragged doll. Unable to fight back. Unable to win. He had already lost. He lost everything…even his humanity because of the mafia.

He hated it so much…to be reminded of how helpless he had been when those cruel experiments had started. It was all the same…now.

He was…a vermin dancing in the palm of god.

The once thought to be brilliantly white room was actually so dark and dirty. All those tubes and electric wires hung all over the place. And…in one corner there stood a nasty collection of deformed organs displayed in clear bottles. There was that hateful smell of antiseptics…yet it wasn't strong enough to cover the familiar scent of blood.

The laboratory.

This was so nauseating he wanted to laugh.

"Ku…fufu…fufufu." Laughing out of hate. "…Kill me."

Because he couldn't shed a tear.

"…You're really stubborn." Strong hand forced the lithe body down onto the operation bed. The taller man smiled before leaning in. "Didn't I tell you…I will make you my lovely doll?" Wet tongue traced sensitive ear, hot breath causing the lithe beauty to shiver involuntarily.

"You hate me, don't you?"

That warm hand trailed across his tense stomach, circling around his navel…

"If you hate me that much, I will make you love me…need me…unable to live without me."

…before moving lower and lower.

Wet tongue slid from Mukuro's ear to his soft cheek, leaving a trail of saliva there to cool. The illusionist suddenly felt heat creeping up his face from all the humiliation. "I…ah…I will never be yours."

Byakuran only smiled, long fingers playing with the chain that perfected him the role of the master, violet eyes glinting with amusement. "Hmm…actually, I like it that you're so stubborn, Mukuro-kun. Because soon, you'll be really obedient. This…must be the last of your power, isn't it?"

The Vongola's mist guardian bit his lips, tasting his own blood on the tip of his tongue. The other was right even if he didn't want to admit it. He had lost. He had already lost from the moment he had been trapped inside those walls he couldn't see. His mind couldn't escape from this invisible square box he should call it a prison designed solely for him.

How honorable.

And now, being trapped in this prison, his consciousness had nowhere else to run. It was only a matter of time before the predator caught him…and when he had become too exhausted to struggle…

It would be the end.

Byakuran chuckled. He knew the barrier the other had built around his consciousness had weakened. After all those careful ministrations – weakening both the other's physical and mental strength – it was time he finally took his sweet prize. This was the game he loved to play. And perhaps…there was no one else in this world that could play it with him as long as this beautiful illusionist.

That was why…he wanted him.

Everything that was him.

Click.

As soon as the Millefiore boss pushed the switch, the wall parted, showing a hidden shelf in between. And, floating silently in the crystal-clear bottle on the shelf was…

One cerulean eye widened. There, where it had been gouged out from the now hollowed socket, the bloody wound suddenly stung painfully…as if calling out for what was missing.

In that bottle was no other than the accursed red eye.

"I'll return you this eye of yours." Byakuran whispered.

That odd eye that used to be in the empty socket that bled crimson, screaming for its return. Yet…

"I don't need it. You can just keep it as prize."

For he didn't want it. It didn't belong to him in the first place… That accursed eye that brought nothing but pain and suffering. Even if it gave him power, it also came with the saddest memories as it screamed for absolute darkness as much as he himself longed for someone to embrace him, soothing him with the love he never had.

That odd eye that completed his inhumanity…now that it was calling, wanting to reunite with him; all that he wanted was no other than…

Death.

"No, you will need it. You'll need to use it for me."

The last wall around the illusionist's consciousness started to break as he was again brutally entered. Losing again and again, being humiliated beyond words as his pride was shattering…there was only death that he wanted.

"You'll believe whatever lies I speak."

The death someone wouldn't grant him…because…

"Because from now on, you're mine."

He said he was…

"Ah…B…Byaku…ran…sama…"

The rightful owner of his life.

"My…beloved doll."

His master.

The sky was of bloody color.

The sun was setting at the far horizon, painting the sky red. Before nightfall, everything seemed motionless like a drawn picture…so still and silent as if all the birds had fled. Even those small insects hid themselves with fear so that no one could ever find them. Yet, inside the underground base of the Vongola, in a room so white and so silent, there lay the small form of a young girl – too young and innocent to die.

But she was dying, for the power of the Vongola ring could only help her life last a bit longer for the time being.

Death was inevitable and surely approaching.

The life candle was flickering, waiting for the time to die away like grains of sand falling down the hourglass…slowly but steadily and certainly.

Behind her close lids, on her tiring face, was the place she loved most.

The lotus lake that was surrounded by mist – the borderline of the realms of life and death – was the place she had first met Mukuro-sama. It was the place she had first heard his gentle voice whisper the words she had longed to hear this whole life – to have someone say her life wasn't worthless.

I need your power.

Mukuro-sama had told her. And from the moment she caught his offered hand, her life was his. She had given him her entire life – this worthless life he said he did want. Yet…

"Mukuro-sama, where are you?"

Right now, no matter how many times she had called, she couldn't see…or feel him. There was only the trident – the symbol of contract – he was so proud of…the weapon that should have been broken…standing there, in front of her.

The very symbol of his pride.

Small hand quivered as she reached out to touch it. Coldness wrapped itself around her mind and she was reluctant to really touch it, for fearing it would disappear before her eyes…like mist…like illusion.

Chrome…

Yet, that familiar voice she had learned to love came whispering to her…so soft and barely audible as if thoroughly weakened…like thin mist that could be easily swept away by mere wisp of gentle wind. The girl reached out and gripped the trident tight…oh-so-tight…because now she knew…

My pride, I give it to you.

This was him saying goodbye.

The mist that everyone hated for its coldness…the mist that everyone said was heartless…for her; it was the warmest thing she had ever known…even warmer than the summer sun that shone so bright. But now…from now on…

That mist was no more.

The lotus lake was fading. The ever shrouding mist was disappearing, leaving only darkness behind her eyelids.

The life she had given him…he had returned it to her. The life he had told her it wasn't worthless…if he wasn't here, it held no meaning. For there was no one that could replace him…the one she had given her life to…could given her life for…

He was there no more.

Warm droplets of tears came streaming down her cheeks. In the bed she had once lain awaiting her death, the once weakened breath had become strong and steady. And her heart that was so close to stop beating had recovered to life. Still, even if the blanket wrapped around her was thick and the tears that ran down her cheeks were warm, in the world of blackness behind her close eyes, she felt…

So cold…

"Byakuran…sama…"

His breath was becoming more and more ragged as those pretty lips kept calling the name of the one he had once so hated, begging, pleading with so much yearning and worship.

The pride that he would rather die to keep…was there no more.

"Byakuran-sama…"

Clear cerulean possessed not a trace of its old hate and disgust as slender arms wrapped themselves around the other so willingly.

"Ah…Byaku…ah!!!"

Because now, he couldn't remember anything.

"Easy, Mukuro-kun. I know you're a good boy." The taller man smiled with satisfaction, trailing his hand up the other's pale, quivering leg. "Now, spread for me."

Couldn't hear the screaming at the back of his mind.

On hearing that, the illusionist's pretty face flushed yet he forced back his embarrassment. "…Y…yes." Panting hard with anticipation, the blue haired-beauty spread his legs open, accepting what the other forced into him…again and again. "A…ahn…nnghh!!!"

The mist that was captured…

"Ah, you're so lovely, Mukuro-kun. I'll reward you."

Now was no more than just a doll.

"Ah…ah…"

The most beautiful doll.

"…Will you accept this accursed eye for me?"

Its owner favorite toy.

"Anything…for you, Byakuran-sama…"

His beloved doll.

.

TBC

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.