Beep.

Beep.

"CODE ENTERED, CODE CORRECT. ACCESS ALLOWED."

Pop.

If he didn't have an almost foolproof plan crafted in his mind, he would have allowed himself to groan with pleasure the moment the metallic chains were unshackled from his sore and scarred body. In all honesty, he was not sure if it could be called a body as it was so marked by all the things the Devils had done to him that it was not one what would call a 'body' in the traditional sense.

He had become so used to the chains shackling him and holding him in place that his body felt as light as a feather- a lightness that he had not felt since who knows how long. However, the moment he felt the Devil's smooth hands ruffling his unkempt hair, Renald was brought back to the harsh reality of his world and started the plan: he was going to play the Devil at his own game and become the true master manipulator.

He did not flinch or scowl at the unwanted touch, instead he stayed as stiff as a board, staring blankly at the ceiling. Surprised by his lack of response, the Devil hmm-ed, lifting his chin and forcing his brown eyes to meet his. Renald thought of a world where there was no one waiting for his return, no one missing him, no one left for him in the world for that was when he knew his eyes would truly appear to be blank.

Once, the Devil had tested what were the top five things that would break him, and had mentioned each and every possible scenario to him while he faced a mirror. It was those events that caused an emptiness to appear in his eyes.

That is what I need right now so that he will believe that I had finally succumbed to his torture and am a true vessel of my former self.

If the Devil didn't believe him, if his plan did not succeed, he would never have a chance to escape. Not to mention, I need a cleaner appearance for the later part of my plan, and I'll never get it if I do not appear truly dead inside.

Thanks to his years of being trapped here, he knew that his torturer was a maniac and seemed to be convinced that he had a twisted connection with his captives.

The Devil enjoyed cleaning and dressing his victims in new, fresh clothing after he deemed them to be broken before burying them in his Garden of Glory alive. He would surround the 'dead' captives alive with daffodils- the flower of rebirth- in the hopes that in their next life, they would return to him as his own soldiers.

Strangely, despite how the Devil had meticulously planned every stage of his victims' funerals, that only stage where he never bothered to oversee was the last stage. Renald could never figure out why, but was grateful for that as that was when he planned to escape and he hoped that like the others, the Devil would not bother to watch his burial.

If he did oversee, Renald would have to open the coffin and dig himself out of the earth which was a demanding and nearly impossible task. The last stage was also the best time to escape for the possibility of it was highest compared to the other stages of the sadistic ritual.

He knew all of this as in the early stages of his captivity, he was forced to dig a grave for a former captive of the Devil.

"Dig a ten foot-deep grave in the ground and I'll grant you your freedom," the Devil had lied to him back then, when he was six or seven. Back then, Renald had dreaded the task and never wanted to do it, but looking back now, Renald was grateful for it as the lesson that he loathed most was one that would almost guarantee his freedom.

"Poor thing. Always so headstrong and convinced that I will never break you. And yet, the truth is always the polar opposite. You're beyond broken now- you're completely shattered. Nobody cares about you, let alone remembers you." His voice had hints of smugness. "Don't worry, I remember you. I will bury you with care, Nequam."

As he stroked his hair, the Devil continued, "I did care for you in my own way. You know, I feel like I should personally bury you as an ode to Alara; did you know that your sister still yearns to reunite with you? I always see her at the Agency, weeping."

Lara! Why is he talking about you in a way that implies he knows you? Didn't he just say that nobody cares about me too?

"But that was all in the past. Now, she's focused on killing, as if she wants the position as the Assassin of the Agency. If only she knew that the person that she should be killing is right in front of her." The Devil chuckled. "You see, you're forgotten by everyone. You are nothing."

I am nothing. There's no reason for me to even fake the empty look in my eyes, because I am nothing. Even my own sister doesn't care for me anymore. I am forgotten.

A needle pierced his skin, and soon the darkness enveloped him in their frigid embrace.

"Do this job well. I liked this one." The sadistic Devil broke the silence.

"Yes Sir!" the sound of men's voices resonated across the room.

Renald forced his eyes open, and when they did, he noticed a clean white sheet spread over his body. I must be undergoing the burial stage!

Then a dark thought overcame him. But why bother escaping when Alara thinks killing others is more important to me? Is she killing to avenge me or for her missions? Regardless, even if it was for the former reason, they just mean that she believes me to be dead, and is trying to move on. Maybe I should just be buried alive. Perhaps my sudden return will cause her more pain.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he felt a moving sensation as his body was laid on a flat, wooden beam. I have to decide or my fate is definitely sealed. What should I do? Escape, or die? Closing his eyes, he forced himself to try and erase the memories of the Devil's words and focus on the little memories of his sister.

Lara kissing his cheeks after he whined about her squeezing them.

Lara rolling in the mud with him even though she hated being dirty.

Lara whispering 'I love you' to him when she thought he was asleep and couldn't hear her.

The only thing that he could count on now was his sister's love. That even when he was not born, she loved him. That whenever the Devil mentioned her, she was always mourning for him. Her love for him was constant.

And I love her too, and I will escape this hell for her.

He waited until the men's steps started to falter, for that was a clear sign that that was when they were preparing to place him on the grass before removing the sheet to bury him. And he was right when he saw the sight of grass on his right side.

I had forgotten how vividly green they were. How long has it been since I saw grass?

Focusing on the shadows of the men that were reflected on the sheet, he moved as fast as lightning when he saw that the men's backs were turned and they were not facing him.

He hated that his body was so used to laying down that it basically forgot how to move, but through sheer willpower itself, he ran for his life as he knew that he had only so little time before his element of surprise disappeared.

A state of confusion ensued and a couple of nanoseconds later, they were hot on his trail. "Get back here!" "Damn it, we can't lose him!"

He remembered his mother telling Alara to keep him safe and protect him. That they must run when disaster strikes. That they must always stick together.

I remember your words, Mama. Alara, wait for me. I'm coming soon!

"What's this I hear? You lost him?"

"I didn't! He fled! The little ingrate!"

"Isn't that practically the same thing, you nincompoop? How did he have a chance to flee anyway?" He leaned back on the armchair and sipped his wine, maintaining an air of indifference for he did not want Mallory to seize on his increasing levels of stress and trick him into doing something that he would later regret. No one can ever play me a fool. No one.

"During the burial," murmured Mallory, his head hung as if he was a child being reprimanded. "He was on the grass."

He nearly spat out his wine in an undignified fashion when he heard that. "The grass? Wasn't he locked up and chained to the wall? Why was he on the grass of all places?"

Mallory flinched from his outburst and averted his piercing gaze. "I have, erm, a ritual of my own..."

"A what now? A ritual? How- you know what, don't tell me about it. I might kill you if I hear another word from you."

An air of tense silence hung in the room, and Mallory fidgeted with his hands before saying something. "There's something you should know. I think you shouldn't be relaxed now."

"Why shouldn't I? It's not like Renald knows about me or my cover."

At that, Mallory blanched and his pallor matched the colour of his daisy coloured shirt. His hazel eyes skirted about uneasily, avoiding his searching gaze.

The atmosphere of the room became disquietingly tense and was so still that one could hear a pin drop. "Has your detestable habit manifested again, my friend."

Valesque phrased it as a question but his deadly tone made it a statement.

"Well now, listen to me. Sometimes I think a pint of Macallan and it ain't my problem if my tongue becomes loose-"

"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE ABOUT YOUR DAMN LIVER?!" thundered Valesque. Not for the first time was he glad that he opted to make his office soundproof whenever Mallory visited. "STOP BABBLING AWAY OUR HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL SECRETS TO YOUR CAPTIVES! I-, you didn't even silence this one!"

"Don't worry-"

"DON'T WORRY? OH GOODNESS ME WHY ON EARTH DO I STILL KEEP YOU AS A BUSINESS PARTNER??" Valesque's voice was now hoarse and his head felt like it was being hammered repeatedly. He lowered his tone for he wasn't going to strain his vocal cords for this bumbling buffoon.

Though he was a usually calm man, Mallory had this magic that brought the madness out of him.

"What if Renald shows up at the Agency? What if he finds out? What ?" He took a blue vial and poured its contents into a tastefully crafted crystal goblet. He swirled the liquid around and forced Mallory to hold it. "Don't you say it won't happen. The last time one of your victims escaped, Illeria killed him. You know what it cost both of us."

Mallory flinched at that and for the first time in a long time, a genuine sorrow appeared in his eyes. If anything, Valesque was certain that he was feeling a pang of great moroseness, which was why he brought it up in the first place. To use that memory to torment Mallory into obedience, for Mallory had loved and treated Illeria as if she was of his own blood. Her death is ultimately his fault.

"I'll find the little rascal." His hazel eyes were emotionless. "He's mine."

"And if you don't... you'll have to drink this." He tapped the goblet and Mallory gulped. There were four main things in life that he lusted for: companionship, wealth, power, and life.

"If I find him reunited with Alara..." Valesque's tone became lethal, "I will kill the little rascal that you believe is yours."

"No." Mallory was defiant and frightened now. "You won't."

"Watch ."