Free Web NovelChapter 20: The Man With A Thousand Faces
AIDEN’S POV
"I wonder what makes you believe that innocence suits you. Maybe it’s time I disavowed you of that notion..."
I lost every desire to continue the conversation after that. I can’t play the game of how much he knows, and how much he doesn’t. I don’t have that strength.
"W-Where am I guiding you to, Sir?" The receptionist trips over his words slightly. Maybe the chill of the atmosphere is getting to him too.
"Who said you could speak?"
The look Orion gives him from the corner of his eyes makes my instincts scream at me to run. He looks utterly disdainful as if the receptionist’s presence is nothing more than an annoyance, like—
’Sure, we can keep him if you want, Louise’
’Let him argue. The only reason he’s doing that is that I’m allowing him to...it’s fun listening to him’
’Ah, my apologies...was this pup something you valued?’
’He’s not dead...I just gave him the gift of eternal sleep’
’Oh come on, that one was certainly hilarious...don’t be such a loser, duckling’
The elevator doors open with a quiet ding, dragging me out of my thoughts, but not stopping me from spiraling. Orion’s fingers hook into the receptionist’s collar, dragging him behind him and into the last room in the hall— completely indifferent to the man’s pleas.
I find myself following, almost robotically. My mind is far far away, but my body still follows his orders. I walk into that room because—
’Ah, was this one really that important to you? Don’t be so sad, it’s his fault for not taking your feelings into account before acting on his desires’
Because I always end up following his orders. Because I know what happens when I don’t.
__________
The room isn’t a room. It’s an office. freeωebnovēl.c૦m
That should have been my first clue that something was wrong with this entire thing, but I tamped down my rising panic and walked into the room, face blank.
I think I really do hate hotels.
"Your name is Pietro, right?" Orion releases the shaking receptionist with a genial smile.
"Y-Yes, sir." Maybe his stammer isn’t just from fear. It does seem like he has an actual stammer.
"Well, it’s certainly a pleasure to meet you, Pietro. I’m Orion as you well know, and that sly, little thing behind you is my fiancé, Adrien."
The man turns back to face me, face alight with something like hope. It’s a pity, hope is a foolish emotion to have in the presence of Orion.
"Be a darling and shut the door, would you Adrien?"
I obey mechanically, turning back to shut the door and trying to ignore the way it slams shut with a final click. He called me Adrien, not duckling— this is the Basiisk.
’Don’t look at him like that, Adrian! Look at me! Don’t you dare take your eyes off me! I am the only man you should be looking at!’
I’m not sure which would kill me first— Orion or the sick sense of deja vu I keep getting hit with. At this point, I’m betting on the deja vu to finish the job.
"Now Pietro, tell me what you think about happiness." He walks up to the bar in the room and pours two glasses of whiskey and hands one over to the confused receptionist.
"Happiness, Sir?" He even forgets his stutter this time. "I don’t understand what you mean...?"
You’re not the only one Pietro. You’re not the only one who wishes they could understand what Orion means. I wished I understood so I could know if I should really blame myself or not.
But because I don’t know, then I’m the one to blame.
"I’m just curious. You’re a simple man, aren’t you? I wonder what it is you’ll call a source of happiness in your life...your wife or kids perhaps?" He clinks his glass against Pietro’s with a friendly smile.
Pietro nods shakily then takes a sip, mirroring Orion’s actions perfectly— like already trapped prey. "I do love my wife a-and my kids. I guess they’re what makes me happy...?"
Oh, you poor man.
"You guess?" Orion huffs disbelievingly. It’s fake, just like his damn smile. "I’m not even married yet, but that lovely man behind you has already become the greatest source of happiness in my life."
His gaze lingers on me, heavy with unsaid words. "I doubt I’d be able to go back to a life without him," he takes a small sip from his glass, "if I have to, then we’ll both not have lives without the other."
"That sounds...wonderful, Sir," Pietro replies uncertainly.
It sounds wonderful? What a fool. There’s nothing wonderful about Orion’s sick obsession. I won’t ever be able to leave him again, will I?
I bite so hard on my lip that the taste of blood floods my mouth. Orion glances up from his glass, looking at me with something dangerously close to excitement.
"Yes Pietro, it’s wonderful. And it’s only wonderful because it’s all mine," his eyes burn, "since I claimed it first, no one will ever think they can touch it again."
Then he chuckles lightly. "I’ve gone way off script, forgive me."
"No, Sir! There’s nothing wrong with what you said." Pietro says, shaking his head nervously at him, trying to disagree.
"Is that so?" Orion hums noncomitally, before flashing the man another smile. "Do you know I own this hotel, Pietro?"
I call bullshit. This hotel was supposed to belong to an acquaintance who...why would Orion come to a hotel owned by an acquaintance to do business?
"Y-You, Sir?" Pietro exclaims, dropping his glass on the desk before stepping back from Orion.
"Yes actually," the damn man beams, "it’s one of my oldest enterprises, but I preferred to watch it function from the outside...until I couldn’t anymore."
He turns to me again, eyes heavy with something I don’t understand. He takes note of my confusion with a little, cruel smile, clearly enjoying how he’s the one with the secrets this time.
"Why couldn’t you, Sir?" Ah Pietro, just three sips of whiskey have loosened your tongue this much?
Though, I wonder if it’s the whiskey or the chill ambience Orion projects. The chill ambience that I’ve long since seen the truth of.
"Because I learnt that one of my employees wasn’t one of mine," he purses his lips thoughtfully, "I learnt too late that someone’s playing a rather fun game with me..."
"Imagine how hurt I was, Pietro."
Pietro stands stock still in the middle of the room, like prey caught in the jaws of a viper— or a Basilisk in this case.
"And why are you telling me this, Sir?"
His tone just changed. From something slightly confused and afraid to something confident. Like a snake shedding its skin.
What the fuck? What the hell is going on?
"Because I was wondering what audacity you had to sell drugs on my doorstep, Pietro of a thousand faces?" Orion smiles barely even wavers.
Pietro of a thousand faces? He’s an underworld figure, isn’t he? Shit.
In response to Orion’s question, Pietro snorts playfully. Then in the next moment, his shoulders rise as his posture straightens, and something is pointed my way.
Something black that somehow gleams in the dim lighting of the room. A gun.
"An assassin selling euphoria in my hotel? You’ve done more than interest me, my dear Pietro."
"Would seeing your fiancé’s brain matter scattered across the room interest you too, Basilisk?" He takes careful steps towards me, the gun never pointing away from my face.
"Orion...?" There’s a gun pointed right at my left eye...and I still don’t fucking know what’s going on.
