Phantom's Performance

Chapter 41

Y/n's Pov

I leaned back on the plush velvet couch, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. The soft fabric against my skin offered momentary comfort, but it did little to ease the turmoil in my mind. The last few days had been relentless, and the darkness inside me was growing, whispering thoughts I wasn't ready to face. But for now, I allowed myself this brief moment of respite.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside, a constant reminder of the world that awaited beyond these walls. My thoughts drifted, a chaotic mix of anger, frustration, and a strange, unnamable yearning. What was happening to me? I was losing control, bit by bit, and it terrified me. But I couldn't afford to let anyone see that—not my father, not Charlie, and certainly not Alastor.

Just as I felt myself beginning to sink deeper into this dark reverie, a sharp knock echoed through the room, cutting through the silence like a blade. I sat up, my senses at once on high alert. Who in Hell could be knocking at my door right now?

I pushed myself off the couch, feeling a surge of frustration. I was in no mood for visitors. My hand gripped the doorknob tightly, and I yanked the door open, ready to unleash my irritation on whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing there.

But as I looked down, my words caught in my throat.

Standing before me was a strange man, though calling him a man felt inaccurate. His skin was an unusual blue-grey tone, almost reminiscent of the deep ocean's depths, and fins—actual fins—protruded from the sides of his head, where ears should have been. Another fin, this one a darker shade of blue, trailed down the back of his head, blending with his dark royal blue hair. Cyan freckles dotted his cheeks beneath his eyes, and his cyan sclera contrasted sharply with his coral-pink irises. His grin, wide and unsettling, revealed pointed cyan teeth that made me instinctively tense.

He was dressed in a full-length laboratory suit, the green-grey fabric giving him an air of mad science that was only enhanced by the goggles perched on his nose. The lenses were a mid-yellow, almost glowing, adding to the strange, otherworldly aura that surrounded him.

"Well, this is unexpected," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

He bowed slightly, the movement fluid and almost theatrical. "Baxter, at your service," he said, his voice smooth and tinged with a hint of amusement. "And I'm here because I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "And what makes you think I'm interested?"

He straightened up, his grin widening. "Because I have something you need. Experiments, inventions, things that could tip the scales in your favor. I'm offering my services to you, Princess."

The title made me bristle. "I don't need your help, Baxter," I snapped, crossing my arms. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested. Get lost."

But instead of backing down, he stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a determination that caught me off guard. "I'm not here to waste your time," he said, his voice low and insistent. "You're planning something big, something that could change the very fabric of Hell. And I want in."

I stared at him, my irritation slowly giving way to curiosity. There was something about him, something that intrigued me despite my better judgment. "And why should I trust you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Because I have nothing to lose," he replied, his grin fading slightly. "And everything to gain. My inventions, my experiments—they're unlike anything anyone else in Hell can offer. And if you give me a chance, I'll prove it to you."