Those Who Dream of Freedom (Scaramouche x fem!reader)

Chapter 22 ☆ No mercy

☆ Scaramouche

I could tell something was wrong as soon as I got home. Things seemed to all be in place, but what really alerted me was the door I found ajar. There was no doubt that someone had been here, but whoever it was, they clearly hadn't come to search my apartment. I looked around carefully, looking for anything that might have struck me as odd, but I saw the corner of an envelope peeking out from under the pillow on the bed, which made me more uneasy than I liked to think.

The letter is nothing like an official one, but what was written on the paper made it clear to me that it was from someone in the organization - someone who, it seems, is in a joking mood.

𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆, 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 3:00 𝒂𝒎. 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓.

𝑷.𝑺.: 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒖𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆.

I don't see a signature, but it's not the end of the world. There are not many people in Fatui who'd allow themselves to talk to me like that, even though it's just a letter. The recruits are afraid of me, and the soldiers and agents, even if they respect me, most likely hate me - not that I care - so the chances are pretty slim, if not impossible, that any of them sent it to me.

Taking them out of the equation left only the other Harbingers, and that means it about my mission. If the letter is from anyone other than Tartaglia it also means I've messed up, and since Tartaglia would have signed it, the more likely it's not from him. Maybe they didn't expect me to take so long. Still, it's true that even now I don't know who they are, and that certainly doesn't put me in a favourable light in their eyes.

There are still a few hours to go. I sit on the edge of the bed, wondering if I should take a nap in the meantime. Today's study session has tired me out more than I thought it would, although I've mostly just talked to her. I didn't realise when I started telling her about certain events in my life, things that, although trivial, I never told anyone. However, once I started telling her, I couldn't even stop.

Cassie... listened to me carefully and even asked me questions, and that surprised me.

I feel that pit in my stomach again when I think of her. How is it possible for a person whose heart doesn't beat to feel so many feelings? The strange feeling of well-being when we simply talk, my thoughts that involuntarily drift to her, the strange desire to open up to her, the fact that now I don't want to make fun of her but to tease her, the electricity I feel when we touch, the need to look at her, even in moments when I'm doing something important... all these and more are things I've never felt before.

Tartaglia's words come to mind: "The great and perfect Scaramouche, the sixth Harbinger of Fatui, has a crush on a girl!" but I immediately banish the memory. Love is for the weak and for those whose hearts are alive. That's impossible, so it's definitely something else.

I lean back and close my eyes, but even if more than ten minutes pass, sleep is slow to come. I'm stunned to discover that I'm worrying and start to think: What's the worst that could happen? I may be given an ultimatum. What's the best thing that could happen? I may be given more resources to help me. What's the most likely thing that could happen? They might put someone else in my place.

Chills run down my spine and I realize something I never thought would happen: I don't want to leave.

I shudder. Is there anything good about this town after all? I've been here for over a month, but I haven't found the answer to that question yet. Now, when I ask myself this question again, my thoughts turn to Cassie once more, and I'm not surprised, but I don't like it either. What does it matter if she's here? A person shouldn't be able to influence me like that, no matter who they are. She's such a pain in the ass.