The old man handed the boy a gun with an unconcerned grin on his face and told him to fire a bullet through his head.
The boy stared at him with a suspicious look. "What do you expect me to do?"
The old man gripped the barrel of the gun firmly and pressed it against his forehead. "Put your finger on the trigger and fire."
Another young man stood behind both of them, looking squeamish as the man maintained a tight grip on the barrel, unwilling to let go.
"How much of a fool do you take me for?" The boy inquired whilst attempting to pull the revolver out of his grip.
However, the man insisted on holding on and refused to move until his command was obeyed.
"Ronan, please don't shoot!" Came the shaky voice of the poor observer who had hardly ever seen a gun in his life, let alone so close and in such a dangerous position.
He replied affirmatively and calmly, "I don't intend to, Lucas."
"Oh really? I thought that at least you had the guts to do what was necessary when required."
"Putting a hole through your already rotting brain is far from necessary."
He snapped his arm back, and this time was successful in snatching the gun from the man's hand.
He lowered the gun to the ground and pulled the trigger.
It clicked, but nothing happened.
He pulled the trigger again, but it was still a blank.
Lucas came closer, and his eyes were persistently fixed on the gun as if they were recording each and every single one of its movements.
Ronan stared at the old man, who was grinning triumphantly and asking for the gun back, but he retaliated.
Instead of returning the gun, he proceeded to open the barrel and spotted a bullet after two more blanks.
"What kind of a sick joke is this?" The disgust was evident in Ronan's voice. "I'll be speaking to Ms. Rohesia about this. You're supposed to be protecting me, not forcing me to commit murder."
"Ronan, that seems a little excessive," Lucas murmured.
"No, it's fine, Lucas. It is only fair that he'll turn to Miss Rohesia in such a situation. He knows that she wouldn't refuse anything he says, even when I'm only doing this for his sake."
"Wait, no! That's not what he meant! He just didn't want to"
"It's alright, Lucas. There is no need to justify the obvious, especially to the person who is utterly blind to it."
"You sure have a sharp tongue, boy, if only you had even half as much courage." The old man remarked mockingly.
Ronan pulled the trigger twice more and then put the gun in his front pocket. "If cold-blooded murder is your idea of courage, then I'd prefer to remain a worm in your eyes than to be a monster in someone else's."
He glared at the old man, who was completely devoid of any remorse; if anything, he appeared more pleased than anything else. Then, he turned to Lucas, who was still recovering from the entire ordeal. "Come on, Lucas, we need to head back," he said.
"Of course, of course. You wouldn't want to be even a second late for a meeting with your mother. I suppose we have to hurry and fly back."
Ronan stopped but said nothing. He pressed forward when he heard Lucas's footsteps catching up to him.
The valley was filled with the sounds of the buzzing of cicadas and the smell of the damp soil. It was a shame that the old man had brought them to this valley just to demonstrate this act of sheer foolishness. It wasn't the first time the old man had done something strange, but this felt like a new low for him, Ronan thought.
At least Lucas was there to witness this tomfoolery alongside him; it made it a little bit more bearable.
The pathway diverged into two forks: one led to an open clearing, while the other seemingly led deeper into the forest.
"Lucas, do you remember the trail back?".
There was no response.
"Lucas?" he called again. But before he could turn back, he felt the sudden footsteps of someone approaching him. As he turned around, a loud gunshot echoed through the area, causing birds to take flight.
Ronan's eyes widened in terror as he saw the lifeless body of Lucas drop to the ground with a loud thud, blood pouring out of his chest, and the old man standing at a distance with a pistol in his hands.