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DARK is light-years away from a saint, he stood upon a high ground far from stable, no matter the height of such high ground. There was no notion of understanding such man, or empathizing with—no shoe to fit one’s feet to tell you what it meant to be him, Dark.

He had left.

Such a vindictive man. As if such pursuit would give him meaning, to such extent I’m convinced that vengeance as immediate reaction towards circumstances and people flows in the bloodstream of all beings, as if it were the original sin inborn amongst us. Truly enough, I had been there. Has anyone not? To feel so much resentment that we forget ourselves. My mouth was dry and my throat had no words to even choke upon when Dark walked out of the room, so sure of himself, back to that warehouse. Similarly enough, I was far from a saint.

There was nagging in my head, a voice of a moral high-ground begging me to tell him, “No, Dark. Let the law deal with them.”

But I couldn’t. Another voice in my head said that even if I had the voice to say it, Dark was already a building without doors or windows. There was no stopping him. Not when he had the stomach to have drowned me and continuously threaten my life since we had met, no. It would be uncharacteristic. He would let them out alive but not before he brings hell itself with his own hands towards them.


Asher looks up from his phone, eyes meeting mine as if to ask what’s wrong.

“Do you suppose you’re a good person?” I questioned him, and almost immediately, he furrows his brows, clearly confused.

“What brought on this question?” He asked back, but I shrug, looking at him with expectant eyes to let him know I was still waiting for his answer.

He only sighed dejectedly.

“In my line of... work, I couldn’t say I am.”

I tilted my head, and then spoke again, “But, would you help a person from getting killed?”

“Of course,” he answered almost immediately.

“Yet you would kill a person, say for example, if your superior had told you to?” I continued.

All the same, there was no hesitation as he nodded at my question, and I think, there it is. I could not find the exact words to describe it but there it was. The same way Dark had flipped the country upside down in order to rescue me, yet would gruesomely stand in front of anyone he needed to deal with.

“It is, in a sense, a duty to do so,” he offered along with his nod, and as if he had finally caught on to my thoughts, he suddenly asked, “Would you not hurt them if you had the chance to?”

I smiled at him, I knew I was no better. All I have been was a person in pursuit of becoming someone better—to balance all my inherent flaws, to make up for the lives I had taken without thinking twice.

“I would,” I answered him. Though, truthfully I wanted to hear myself say it as well. Because when it came to morals, right and wrong is blurred with reasoning.

That is to say, it was wrong that Dark had kidnapped me, drowned me, threatened my life; but now, Dark wasn’t wrong reasoning. That the new Perfect Six had been absolutely vile with everything they had done, and they had to feel what it was like to be on the receiving end of their knives, and no court would judge them fairly. The daughters of the members of the royal court.

It wasn’t right, but it wasn’t wrong either.

So that night...


He hummed in response, his eyes stayed closed as he leaned his back against the velvet red cushioned seat.

“Do you have the power to get all of their parents off the royal court?” I asked with nonchalance, but his eyes shot open, looking at me rather quizzically, and as if ashamed, he looks away.

“Barely,” he muttered.

Looking back towards me, he continues, “The most I can do along that idea of yours is take away any power Arterberry has in the mafia, and the rest follows. Everyone of them are under Arterberry.”

“Aubrey’s dad?” I asked, for mere confirmation, and he nodded.

“He’s a Marquis aside from the high position in the court, there is no easy way of taking him out of the royal court, and the same way, if you can’t take him out of it, you can’t take the rest out.”

Silence follows that. Dark’s eyes were closed again, and I could only stare at him.

“Do you regret doing what you did to me? Since we first met?” The question slipped past my mouth almost absentmindedly. It remained silent after that, and it was deafening.

Then, I watched Dark as he opened his eyes slowly, keeping his eyes trained on me as he stood up, walking towards me on the bed. When he reached me, he sat in front of me and I couldn’t read the expression he had on his face as he looked into my eyes.

“I was myself when I had done all those things to you. There’s no excuse,” he finally spoke, and his voice sounded more raspy than usual. I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, as if he had swallowed his own emotions.

“What I can tell you, Alexia, is that I regret having treated you so poorly.”

I felt as if my lungs had been ripped out of my own chest, even as I breathed so evenly on the outside, I felt as if I was being deprived of oxygen.

“No amount of apology is worth your forgiveness, and having said that, I am still myself, after all,” he continued to speak, yet he made no move to even touch me, not even my hand—I struggle to comprehend it, through everything we’ve been through.

“I am still myself and I haven’t changed, Alexia. But I want to let you know this much.”

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