Trigger Warning:
- strangling
- blood
- mention of whipping
- rape
- nonconsensual kissing
- physical assault
- mention of panic attack
- crude language
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In an hour or two, I am to be dropped off at the U.A. dormitory.
But until then, a meal with Hanada-sama and his three hell creatures of sons is required.
Indeed, I, Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil, do not approve of those demons.
Just goes to show my standards.
The dinner is rather uneventful. Hanada-sama is invested in the futures of his children. So my number will come last. What is not uneventful are the secrets I know. At this moment, a new book has entered the market. A reprint of the ideologies of a long-deceased criminal. Ironic how in a world where heroes are idolized, a radical book such as this is slowly making its name as a bestseller. Shigaraki ordered me to read it and "figure out what all the fuss was about." Though, there was certainly more to it than that. What with Kurogiri's recent capture, another severe blow was lashed onto Shigaraki's confidence. Including me. Because absorbing someone's ability does not make me a complete replacement of the original. Losing not one but two of the founding members of the League of Villains dwindled our strength drastically. We had to make up numbers, and fast. This book was one method to go about that.
At the same time, we had to bluff to Japan that although the heroes arrested important villains, we were not weakened. Right now, one such action was being performed. Everyone forgot about the noumu so quickly, thinking that the ones found at the facility were the jackpot. Wrong. Never keep all your eggs in one basket. There were always more, and more could be made.
However, all the events I had listed were occurring outside the dining room. I told Hanada-sama about the Cultural Festival. Though numerous Pro-Heroes were in attendance, that Festival did not enable me to make any connections unlike the Sports Festival, which was more hero-centric than all-school-centric. He seemed pleased that I did not waste my time and effort on a fruitless endeavor. Funny, how similar my thoughts were to his regarding this matter. But that similar opportunist business mindset is all we share. Nothing more.
I wonder what Aunt Ahearn would say about all this. We share a pseudo mother-daughter relationship now. Often, we share the recent events in our lives whenever we talk over video conference. I can tell that she represses the urge to reprimand me for my actions. Especially since it was my questionable actions that returned her happiness to her. But I am afraid that one day she won't hold back her scoldings any longer. Truth is, I would deserve all those lashings. Regardless of her hypocrisy, I shifted from killing those who deserved to die to practically everyone. And I didn't feel remorseful about it. I became a cold-blooded killer to the bone. Clever pun, I know.
I'm not sure that I can go back.
I'm not sure if I want to go back.
Because there is a perverse sense of satisfaction that comes when I realize that I have power over someone's life. My victim is my plaything. Mine for me to treat and manipulate and scare until I grow bored and execute them. All those years of oppression and suppression are returned to the poor, pitiful soul in front of me. There is power in vengeance, and I have grown to lust for it.
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