DEMIR
Lo inesperado es lo más divertido.
I've come to the conclusion that training fights say more about your feelings toward your opponent than you think, and once again, it's proven true. Though it's tempting, since she offers herself so plainly, so easily... 'I prefer exclusivity.'
—Stop getting distracted and focus your attacks.
—I'm not distracted —I pull off a move that traps her against the wall.
—What were you saying, Colors? —that makes her blush.
—I've told you not to call me that.
—What, Colors? But it's such a cute nickname —I swear watching her face get even redder is the best part.
—When are you going to admit you like me? —that makes me burst out laughing.
—Isn't it the other way around, Aida? —I close the distance between us, and just with that small action, her body reacts— she swallows hard, tenses up, and her eyes lock onto my lips. She was about to lean in closer, but the corner—
—I don't like easy things —she shoves me back a few steps.
—Idiot —she storms off dramatically.
I take a seat and grab some water while I watch the brunette that drives me crazy walk my way. I swear, the way she walks is unreal—her hips swaying in sync with her hair is enough to drive anyone insane.
—What did you do to Aida? —she was about to sit on one of the chairs, but I pulled her into my lap instead.
—"Hi! How's the most handsome guy in the world?" Is that so hard to say? —I don't let her reply because I kiss her. She kisses me back, and honestly, kissing her is something I could do forever. The softness of her lips against mine, that perfect sync—it's dangerously tempting, like a drug. I pull away to catch my breath, and as I do, I start leaving small bites along her neck—. Today, I want you all to myself, Nefertary.
—So that's the only reason I'm here —she gives me a quick peck— Now answer my question —I roll my eyes.
—I just said easy things are boring —yep, and I definitely woke the monster inside her.
—You were flirting with her, Osoclu —she tries to get off my lap, but I stop her.
—I wasn't. I just confirmed what I already suspected—what you suspected too.
—You kissed her, didn't you?!
—Of course not. Blondes aren't my thing.
—You're an idiot —she tries to get up again, but I hold her there.
—You know I wouldn't look at anyone else but you.
—Oh sure, except for that Irish brunette with green eyes, two years ago.
—I already explained that to you, and let me remind you—she got the worst of it.
—Did she? She survived, didn't she? —I let out a sigh.
—I could do the same to your little friends —I look away.
—I told you Michael was just a slip —she grabs my chin to make me look at her.
—One that happened more than once, yeah. And what about that other idiot? —She stays silent—. Since when is he so important to you?
—Don't make a scene.
—I wasn't the one who started, Nefertary —her eyes, filled with anger just a second ago, soften—. I swear I haven't been with anyone else besides them, Demir —of course she's doing that on purpose, putting on that face that makes it impossible not to forgive her—. You'll always come first —she leans in to kiss my cheek, then moves to my neck, making me sigh.
—Are you manipulating me, Serene? —she moves up to my ear.
—Maybe.
—Don't tease me. I'm sure Mother Nature herself would feel ashamed if she saw your body completely naked.
—You're exaggerating —she rests her head on my chest. I start playing with her hair.
She can pretend all she wants, but it's obvious that killing Lucia affected her in some way. It's been two weeks of acting and faking concern. Gridith's body was dumped in a barely frequented lake, far from that cabin. Three days later, the whole plot kicked off and she was reported missing. Aitor handled the other girl in less than 24 hours—very carefully, of course, with help from his sister and Michael. Those two are the most wanted right now. What happened confirmed all my theories: the Mendes, including Lorenz, are extremely dangerous. That's why I told her to think it through that night. Things are already tense enough to go making that trio of enemies.
—мой северный полюс —I say, catching her attention.
—Yes?
—You want to distract yourself, but not by torturing lab rats.
—I'd rather stay like this a few more minutes —she whispers.
Nefertary Serene Ibagon Ziegler is not a heartless monster. She just enjoys ignoring her emotions. She lies to herself, pretends... pretends to be something she is and at the same time, isn't. It's easy to figure out—impulsive, lacks empathy, but can form bonds like the one she had with her father, the one she has with me, and the one she's developing with Ludwig. She's impossible to ignore. Her emotional stability is a rollercoaster. She has trouble following rules and norms. It's pretty obvious her real diagnosis is sociopathy, 'that's what I used to suspect before.'
Now, as for why she shows psychopathic behaviors—it's because she's surrounded by them.
Humans mimic others to shape who we are, to form our habits. Plus, the Ziegler family places value on what kind of disorder you have. Being diagnosed with multiple personalities, for example, would be seen as shameful and insignificant—they wouldn't even consider you part of the family. For normal people, that's like having an evangelical family and one of them is Catholic. The relationship between those groups isn't exactly warm; you could say it's neutral. That's how it works. If you're born a psychopath, you're a god. If you're a sociopath, you're just a king. That's the way they rank you.
Venessa couldn't allow that, of course, so she taught her daughter everything she needed to fake it, to earn the same respect as the rest—while being obsessively strict with her. But that's not the real reason Serene hates her so much.
Zieglers don't marry each other, because that would damage their genetics. They stick to flings—no sense of right or wrong. When one of them wants a real partner, that person has to offer a benefit—not just money, but something in common: death. Her mother saw that. Mr. Ibagon checked all the boxes, so she started her game... Anyway, no family is perfect, but some are clearly more unhinged than others.
—I hope I'm not interrupting —that nasty voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and makes Nefertary sit up straight.
—Not at all —I reply coldly.
—Nefertary, I need to talk to you alone —he says, looking at me.
—I'm going to take a shower —I motion for Serene to get up so I can leave. Not without kissing her first, of course, then I leave her alone with that idiot Lorenz.
As I head toward the room, I find the Mendes siblings chatting in the living room, though they fall silent the moment they see me. They're not even trying to hide it—it's obvious they're planning something. And if not, they're definitely thinking about it. I keep walking, not stopping.
I still don't understand Nefertary's decision. I don't get how she accepted them without even knowing them well. That stupid delay I had in Russia is the reason I arrived late. I doubt that was just a coincidence. Ever since I got here, I've noticed things that shouldn't be the way they are, or things that don't quite add up.
Whoever planned this knew how to stay hidden and wanted me far away. Of course, if I'd been here, Ibagon's instability over her father's death wouldn't have worked in their favor. She wouldn't have looked for comfort. I'm starting to believe there's more behind that death, and I don't mean just because they want to marry her off. There's a bigger prize.
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About half an hour later, I head downstairs and find Serene sitting on one of the sofas.
—Where's everyone else?
—They left.
—How long have you been waiting?
—Fifteen minutes —she gets up and walks toward me.
—Why didn't you come upstairs then? —I wrap my arms around her waist to pull her closer.
—I wouldn't have been able to control myself.
—I don't see a problem with that —I slide my hands down to her butt, giving it a light squeeze that makes her inhale sharply—. I'll never get tired of those reactions every time I get near you.
—We have to go, Osoclu —she interrupts—. I need to do something at the mansion before heading to the cabin. After that, you'll have all my attention, I promise.
—Just don't ask me to show mercy, because I won't.
—I'd never make that stupid request —she closes the distance to seal our lips with a kiss that starts slow, then grows faster and rougher with each second.
—Let's go.
We head to the car, and she hands me the keys so I can drive.
—Won't Ludwig's favorite get jealous?
—He won't be back until tomorrow afternoon.
—Just letting you know I'm not doing what you asked tomorrow.
—Maybe he'll understand.
—Does he know?
—I don't know. I honestly don't care. It's just another day.
—That's where you're wrong, because it's your day. Not "just another day."
I open the car door for her, letting her in, then head to the passenger side and get in as well.
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The training cabin isn't far from the Ibagon mansion. In about 43 minutes, we were already waiting for the gate to open. The ride here would've been silent if it weren't for my humming. Watching Nefertary's face every time I turn on the radio is fascinating—it's like her brain tells her to stay calm. I'll admit, it's become my new favorite hobby.
We get out of the car and enter the mansion.
—Demir —Vanessa greets me. She's sitting on the couch with a book in hand, her expression neutral.
—Pleasure to see you —I reply.
—I'll be back in a few minutes. Are you coming, or staying?
—I'm going to grab something to eat —when she hears that, she heads for the stairs.
—Do you want anything in particular? —her mother asks.
—Don't bother.
—Alright —she goes back to her reading, and I head straight to the kitchen.
I open the fridge, looking for the essentials to make a classic American sandwich. Once I set everything on the counter, I glance through the large windows that look out to the garden and spot Natasha and Egil—standing unusually close for two people who share the same last name and blood type. I've been noticing this since I arrived. According to Ibagon, they don't even speak to each other.
And yet, who stands that close to someone they supposedly don't talk to? Especially looking that relaxed, like it's always been that way... which makes me wonder... does Vanessa know, or is she just turning a blind eye? Unless it involves or affects her directly, she'll probably keep out of it.
'That's something I'll figure out later.'
—Anyway, the Zieglers and their damn secrets —I mutter to myself.
I take a bite of the sandwich, fully enjoying the taste. A few minutes later, I start making myself another one.
—Demir? A pleasure to have you here —Nat walks in and goes straight to the drawers, pulling out a blender.
—Likewise. Just curious... planning to blend someone? —she laughs at that.
—No, just making my smoothie. Having porcelain skin takes a lot of work.
—Like the kind of work you put in with him? —I say it directly, no sugarcoating.
—What?! What are you talking about? —I take a sip of my juice.
She doesn't look away, but her face gives away nothing. Neutral, low profile—every expression perfectly controlled. I take a moment "to think carefully about what I'll say," walking closer to her.
—You know exactly what I mean —just as she's about to reply, someone clears their throat, clearly interrupting us, so I take a step back.
—I hope I'm not interrupting —Nefertary says, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly.
—You're not. I was just coming to get you —I tell her.
—No need anymore. Goodbye, Natasha —I fall into step with her, though before leaving, I glance back at Nat.
—If it's the smoothie I think it is, there's no cucumber or ginger —Nat rolls her eyes, and I follow Serene like a loyal puppy.
—You're insane, Osoclu.
—What makes you think that?
—No sane person empathizes with people just to irritate them later.
—Darling, when have I ever been sane? —we both laugh.
—True. We never have been.
We get into the truck and head to the cabin. I tell Steven to play some Måneskin, one of the best bands I've listened to in this crappy modern world. As a few songs play, there's one in particular that makes me tell him to turn it up: a gem. Morirò da Re, pure bliss to my ears. I start singing it to Nefertary, who watches me with curiosity.
—E Marlena, vinci la sera
Spogliati nera, prendi tutto quello che fa comodo e sincera
Apri la vela, dai viaggia leggera
Tu, mostra la bellezza a questo popolo ed io
E amore accanto a te, baby accanto a te, io morirò da re, ehi-ye-eh
—Did you like it?
—Who's Marlena? —That actually makes me laugh a little, because there's something jealous in her expression. I sigh before explaining.
—She's like a representation of the band members' feelings, according to fans. But there's also a legend that for Italians, Marlena is the goddess of creativity and female empowerment—like a muse. They say if you put that name in a song or a piece of writing, your person will hear it and come back to you —I pause briefly—. Both are valid interpretations of why the band mentions her in most of their songs... Either way, you and only you, Nefertary, are my Marlena —I kiss her cheek.
—Then it's a beautiful song.
—Well, now you'll have to find time to listen to their music. Later, you'll tell me which one's your favorite, the one you relate to the most —I lean closer to her ear.—It's mandatory, мой северный полюс.
—Are there consequences? —that mischievous smile, trying to provoke me.
—There will clearly be consequences, darling.
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We arrive and head to one of the "S" rooms. The guys here had tracked down a potential accomplice in her father's murder. The guy didn't seem too important or too irrelevant—he was neutral so far—but there's always something that makes you stand out... he wanted power. And when you're chasing that, you cross paths with people who use you for their gain... Big mistake trusting someone who's been in the game for years, someone who knows how to twist it all for himself and only himself.
The guy is sitting in a chair, wrists and ankles tied.
—I'm surprised he's not in one of your exotic toys.
—That particular toy is so extravagant, but very efficient when it comes to pain —she winks at me before entering the room.
The man guarding the door offers her the mask, to which she gestures that it won't be necessary. I stay outside, watching the scene through the window. Screams have become boring and meaningless to me.
—Would you like to listen?
—No, thank you —Nefertary Ibagon and her little show for the audience.
After her usual sermon—which I imagine she gives to every soul that ends up in there—she brings out a very peculiar object. A simple metallic device where you insert the fingers of hands or feet. Its function is quite straightforward: crush them by turning screws, creating unbearable pain. Our ancestors used it to punish criminals, mostly to extract information. It's always been one of the most effective ways to get the truth. No doubt, the thumbscrew will never go out of style among the deranged who take pleasure in others' pain. Having twenty fingers right now is just plain bad luck.
—This is going to take a while. Get me a car to go back to my place.
—As you wish, Mr. Osoclu —before I can protest the insult, the man is already gone.
—Do I look forty? The worst part is he vanished like smoke... had to be Nefertary's staff —I roll my eyes and start walking down that all-too-familiar hallway. If she meant for it to feel like a psych ward, well, she nailed it. Out of one room, into another.
When I get to the damn elevator, I run into Steven.
—The car is waiting for you, young Osoclu.
—Good to know you don't see me as a forty-year-old man.
—What do you mean? Has someone disrespected you? —That makes me laugh, which clearly confuses Steven a bit.
—Relax. Unlike Ibagon, I don't take things so personally —he just nods. We both leave the cabin —When she's done, get her something to eat. Then take her to my apartment.
—Understood.
Steven, a man you can trust. His loyalty to Nefertary runs deep. He's alive because of her. I remember she once told me her father made her choose, since the guy had botched an assignment—didn't carry it out properly. Besides, she supports him in her own way with his daughter, who suffers from a very rare illness.
I climb into the damn car to head out. I tell the driver to put the radio on. This running back and forth really isn't my thing. Most likely, I'd be on the balcony right now, admiring the sunset... 'thinking I'm normal', though that would mean I'd have no personality, nothing to define me. I'd be so ordinary—and I wouldn't have met her. I wouldn't have been able to adapt to her lifestyle. Maybe we'll never have a typical relationship like others, because she's special. The kind of person who will always be unlike anyone else in every possible way. That's what makes them unique, attractive... that's what pulls us toward them.
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When I get to the apartment, I change into something more comfortable and make myself dinner as a way to kill time. Then I start watching a show on the living room couch. I check the clock every fifteen minutes, each time dragging longer. I stop paying attention to the TV altogether, so I pick up a book, not really reading what it says. Still, it's only nine twenty.
—The more you stare at the clock and rush things, Demir, the slower time moves —I say to myself with a sigh.
Silence takes over the whole apartment. So many twisted thoughts swirl in my mind, and then I reach that moment where everything turns dark—it feels like just seconds, but it's been hours.
The sound of the doorbell startles me. I had dozed off on the couch. I get up and head to the door, glancing at the time: eleven minutes to midnight. I open the door to find those eyes of hers scanning me from head to toe.
—Why aren't you wearing a shirt?
—Do you know the concept of comfort, Serene?
She walks in and closes the door, and I follow her.
—Were you asleep?
—Nope, I was actually here with two blonde girls who just left not long ago —I'll admit, I'm trying hard not to laugh at her face. If those girls were real, she'd be killing them right now.
—Hilarious, Osoclu, ehh! —she mutters through gritted teeth.
—Your sense of humor is tragic —she rolls her eyes and heads for the door, but I grab her arm to pull her close —Where do you think you're going?
—To my mansion. Wasn't it obvious?
—I was only kidding. Besides, you know damn well that this place 'belongs to someone'.
—Oh, yeah? The...
—I kiss her to shut her up. She hesitates a moment before giving in.
I can feel her pouring all her anger into that kiss. It's addictive, electrifying—I end up lifting her off the floor so she can wrap her legs around my waist as I carry her to the couch. I lie down with her on top of me. She pulls away to catch her breath. Her nose brushes my skin, sliding down my neck and leaving little bites along the way.
—You're mine, Osoclu. Only mine —right before she kisses me again, I feel my phone vibrating and pull away from her.
—What is it? —she asks, confused.
—Just a sec —I don't wait for her reply.
I head to the bedroom. Once inside, I grab the wooden box along with the black velvet one I'd left on the bed, then return to the living room. Nefertary watches my every move with curiosity.
—Are those someone's brains?
—Something even more interesting —I sit next to her.
—Do you know what time it is?
—It's eleven?! Why?
—Your sense of time is... remarkable.
—What do your boxes have to do with the time? —she asks as I hand her the smaller one. I can't help but laugh.
I open the little black velvet box. Ibagon looks at me, then at the necklace.
—Every detail is perfect, Demir. —She picks up the necklace to take a better look —Can you?
—Of course.
I stand, leaving the other box aside, and put the necklace on her before returning to my seat. Without a doubt, she—'not just the necklace'—was delicate and finely crafted. So was the pendant: an emerald gemstone wrapped in a snake, as if guarding it. Incredible.
—This design is custom-made and one of a kind. You'll never see another like it.
—May I know who the designer is?
—I'll spare him the credit —she smiles slightly, and that little gesture alone makes my pulse spike.
—Then tell him I'm surprised by how he captured every detail about me and fused them all into a single piece. That's something not everyone can do... not everyone can describe someone through a piece of jewelry.
—I'll tell him when I see him.
—You better, Osoclu —I can't help but smile at that.
—Now, changing the subject, do you remember three years ago I promised that every day I didn't see you, I'd write you a letter and give them to you personally on your birthday? And you said I wouldn't remember, and called it pathetic, outdated. Still, I know deep down you wanted me to do it, no matter how much you denied it.
—Of course. I never got those letters on my 17th birthday, so...
—I place my index finger over her lips to quiet her, then hand her the wooden box, which she takes. She opens it and looks at me.
—Is it...?
—I said I'd only give them to you in person. I couldn't come that month. Breaking promises isn't my style, darling —I pause briefly, waiting for her to say something, but she doesn't —It was a total of 537 days. That's two years without seeing you. In those letters, you'll find, in my own handwriting, everything I've missed about you, every flaw that draws me in. Each one also contains the memory of a song that reflects how I feel for you—songs that understand the intensity of it.
> > I don't need you to be perfect in order to love you and worship you like a fucking Greek goddess. Just let me be by your side... just trust me. Because only I know what it truly means for you to trust someone... and being one of the few who holds that honor is more than enough. Knowing every part of you, good or bad, is enough for me. I breathe for you, I live for you, and most of all, I would kill for you—without a second thought—because you'll always be perfectly imperfect to me, Nefertary Ibagon. Maybe this sounds too cheesy or pathetic to you, but I know you're not just a block of ice, and no matter how much you deny it, you do feel... you just feel in your own way. I'm already used to that twisted way of yours of loving. You're that poison that—even if it makes me sick—I need to feel alive.
A tear rolls down her cheek, so I pull her into a hug, kissing her forehead.
This is the luck I have. Others may see you as toxic, but 'have any of them ever been lucky enough to know the weaknesses of a monster and become one of them?', because I have.
—Happy birthday, мой северный полюс —I whisper softly.