How long is a lifetime?
To Luc, it is eternal. Endless and excruciatingly meaningless. His existence on Earth serves as a punishment for the sins he has committed. Immortality is his shackle.
It would forever be that way if Luc didn't stumble upon...
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"My dove, why are you so down?"
"You know I'm already twenty, right? Luc? It's considered old here... If not for you, I don't even know why I would bother staying alive..."
Luc flipped on his stomach so his face would be closer to Amelia's. So close that their eyelashes would touch. Amelia wasn't unnerved by his action.
The girl was full of sadness, but under that was hope. And games.
Luc could see what she was doing. Convincing him—tugging at his non-existent heartstrings—giving him demands. She shouldn't have done that.
It was his fault, Luc supposed. After all, he had given Amelia false dreams. This was not the first time. Unlikely to be the last.
"Oh, come on, don't say those things!" Luc reached up to touch the girl's perfect little oval face, "You are so young and beautiful! I don't like when you're in this mood, darling. You're breaking my heart..." He sighed and his thumb traced the outline of her lower lip with the right amount of sadness.
Amelia whipped her head to Luc with accusations in her teary eyes, "But you clearly don't care! That's why you don't do anything to help me! I know things seem good right now, but once my time expires, Bessie won't tolerate any of my behaviors anymore! You know that. You know how hard it is to keep myself for you. I don't even see the Baron and Mr. Larney as much anymore. All because of you, Luc...."
She trailed off in tears, and Luc felt the familiar annoyance creep up in his chest. This little human really didn't know how thin his patience was, not only with her but also everything else. All Luc wanted was a little pleasure in this endless torture of a physical form. A temporary relief. That's it. He didn't ask for much and here was the childish tantrum.
"Look," he got up from bed and put his clothes back on, "I didn't ask you to do anything for me, Amelia. I'm sure I've never told you to hold back and save yourself for me. You are free to take care of your business however you deem fit. I said I would think about it, but I didn't promise anything."
It was true that he could easily get Amelia out of this place, giving her a new start, and the girl knew it. That was why she didn't let it go, but why did it have to be his problem? The Baron liked her enough to promise Amelia freedom and a cushy life if she agreed to go with him, but the girl had refused. She hung on to Luc with the stubbornness of a mule. It was unwise and very out of character for her.
Why? Luc couldn't understand. Was it because of this physical body? Or his wit and charisma? Perhaps, it was his wealth, reputation, or some human feelings Amelia harbored toward him. Whatever it was, Luc wasn't interested to find out.
There she was, crying so pitifully with her face hiding in her palms like a little doe. Any man would melt and sweep her up in his arms, promising her everything and anything just to make those tears stop, but Luc wasn't any man. He wasn't a man, so to speak.
He felt nothing besides an urge to leave. Luc knew it was almost time.
He straightened his shirt but didn't bother to button it up. His muscles tightened under the relaxed fabric as if his body was anticipating something.
Luc stepped out to the small balcony outside Amelia's room and took a deep breath. The humid air lingered like a living entity. It felt quite good. Cold and heavy. A strong gush of wind blew at Luc—intensely like fingernails on his back during the last moment of passion. He closed his eyes, relishing it. Luc rarely smoked, but in this moment, he wished he had the pipe with him.
The balcony looked down at the brothel backyard where all the wagons were parked. The new additions, as Bessie had called them, would pass through here before they would be taken to a special room where the madam would personally examine them. The qualified ones would receive training before being placed on the main floor.
The brothel might look modest from the outside, but inside, it was a complex structure with different levels and sections. It had stood for a long time. The previous madam had handed it to Bessie when she'd left the country with her wealthy beau. Lucky woman.
Bessie had been young then, only around Amelia's age now, but she had quickly proven her talent. The madam had perfected the system and expanded her clientele. The customers were basically everyone, from everywhere, spreading from one social class to the next. Rumors were Bessie had supplied enough prostitutes to the nobles of this land that even the King knew her by name. His Majesty had also required her service before, more than once. To Luc's knowledge, it wasn't too far-fetched at all.
Luc had thought he wouldn't still be here when the new additions arrived, but there they were. He bent down and leaned forward on the rail when the first wagon got through the gate.
Well, a little look won't hurt.
Luc preferred things in their raw forms. When the new people were put on the main floor, they would be dolled up. Sometimes, way too much for his liking. No one could see how a girl or boy really looked under all the paint, flowers, and jewelry. Amelia had been a smart one. She had insisted on keeping her makeup to a bare minimum the first time.
That was why Luc had picked her.
The girl was still crying, but her cry was getting smaller. It meant she would stop. Soon. Luc hoped.
He was so not in the mood to provide consolations.
Luc leaned his right shoulder on the rough wall, watching the big wagon come to a stop.
