He woke up with a start, the sensation beneath him a chilling shock. Something wet and warm seeped into his skin, and as he blinked against the harsh light of the sun, he felt its warmth hugging his cold cheeks. It was a gentle caress, almost comforting, if it weren't for the overwhelming stench that filled his nostrils—a thick, metallic odor that made his stomach churn. As he finally gathered the strength to lift his body, reality crashed over him like an icy wave: he was lying in a pool of blood. His heart raced as he pressed a hand against his belly, half-expecting pain, but there was none. Instead, he looked down at his palms, now slick and crimson, the stark contrast of red against his pale skin swirling in his mind like a nightmare. As he looked at his surroundings, the horror of his situation struck him like a physical blow. All around him lay death, illuminated by the unforgiving sunlight that seemed to mock his despair. The first figure to catch his attention was Gleb, his former protector, slaughtered and lifeless; a look of surprise frozen on his face as if he had not believed his fate could end like this. Next was Emil, a few boys he barely recognized, and then he saw him—Luka DeFranco, laid out in a grotesque display, his body unrecognizable except for the ash-blond hair that had once shone with arrogance.
“Oh God,” he said, almost falling over the slippery surface.
“Well done, son,” he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in years. Turning back, he saw a familiar face: Severin Soldatov.
“I knew you would live, but I didn’t expect this. My son barely survived; he will lose an eye,” the old man said.
“What happened?”
“Volk. The demon of your aunt.”
“The demon did this?” The man giggled.
“The demon gave you power so you could do this.”
“No! I wouldn’t…”
“You would. A man is an animal who will do anything to survive, and you have a lot to live for, my son.”
Felix refused to believe it. He tried stepping away, but Severin followed his slow, weak body.
“I will need you to do something. I will need you to take the place of this idiot.” He pointed his finger at Luka’s body. “You will manipulate everyone into thinking you are him. This time, you won’t just take crumbs from his table; you will take everything he has—all his money, which you will invest in our corporation the way we will advise you.”
The man kept talking while the boy panicked, trying to process what had happened. At one point, he fell back onto the bloody ground.
“I won’t!”
“You can also take that whore back if you want her.”
He didn’t know how to respond to any of it, still looking at his hands in disbelief.
“You should know she is with a child. Maybe it’s yours.”
“What… Just stop talking…”
“I guess she believed you wouldn’t be a good enough father, so she was looking for a way to escape and provide a better life for a child—the life Luka DeFranco can give. And now, she has it,” Severin said with a grin on his face, watching Felix pull his hair in panic.
“Come on, boy, let’s get you clean.”
Emanuel DeFranco was born in December. Luka never questioned whether he was the father of a boy; in fact, he married Anastasia and never mentioned her betrayal again. It was a stigma that followed them. They didn’t talk much; he was doing what was asked of him, deeply traumatized by what happened on the day he should have died. He had a hard time connecting with his son as well, but he was doing his best.
A few times, she tried talking to him, crying and screaming her sorries. “It’s fine” was always his answer, but it wasn’t fine. He was distant and gloomy most of the time. He kept wondering about other things: how to find those creatures, how to remember what he had done, how to forgive himself.
Anastasia died suddenly a few months after the boy was born; her heart gave out. He felt pity for his son, for losing his mother. He felt so sorry that he would be the only one this boy could rely on. Yet, he did his best to hide what was underneath.
He spent his whole youth watching the man whose name he bore. He tried to mimic him, to be pretentious, to rise above, to use people, to think like them, to chase profit, to take, to use, to plot, to be part of their world. Finally, he made a choice: if that creature decided to save his worthless life, maybe it was for a reason—to take him back on his track, on his mission, to change the fates of those who were in danger: his aunt, his sister, and now this little boy.
So he took the office as the head of Holo Company, and he embraced the world of Luka DeFranco.
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