Non Ducor, Duco 〈 Mikayuu 〉

❌1- Anew❌

I will not sugar coat my life.
Others might- but I, unfortunately, aren't like them.
I was born and raised with two happily married parents, and was satisfied with my every need. Of course, this didn't last my entire life. Second grade- my mother fell ill. Be it cancer or tumor, the information has yet to fall into my hands even to this day. I was given the news in the middle of class. And, like most kids, I cried. But I did not scream. Did not throw a fit. For some godforsaken reason, the other children took the initiative to make fun and ridicule me for this. 'Crybaby' was one of the insults they chose to give me. So, I took it upon myself to show emotion through words and action alone. I still cry, of course. I'm not a freak of nature or something.
Come third grade, my mother died. She gave me a single piece of advice after I had made an oath with her, the day she had passed.

'I won't say 'stay strong' because you already are. It's kinda weird having a son who's more stable than you. So, instead, I'll give you this. Do not flock behind anyone. You are your own piers. Those who position themselves to be above you are total losers, and you're probably gonna be better than them.' Were the words she spoke. I have engraved every word she has ever spoken to me on that day and any I could remember previously into my skull, where it may never be lost. Despite that fact- in the moment of that conversation I had laughed it off. It remains with me. It stayed with me as I watched my father scream at the doctors for not saving my mother with a blank face. As I held his hand and umbrella at her funeral. It didn't get lost- even when I had found my father dead. Overdosage of pills, they told me as they sent me to my room to pack. No family for the poor kid to go to, they whispered amongst each other. So to the orphanage I went, where the kids shied away from me. Never adopted. At thirteen, I got a job despite my age. They gave me a place of my own once I was fifteen, allowed me to run away from the orphanage.
Even then, I kept my mother's laugh, smile, face, and words close to me.

For I no longer allow myself to be led.
Instead, I lead.

Knocking on the door, I did not pause for an answer as I pushed it open, meeting the stern gaze of my boss. I never cared much to remember his name. Richard or something. Well, at least when I call him dick I have a reason to. Walking across the wooden planks, I pulled the chair back, sitting on the other side of his mahogany desk. Behind his leather chair were three Windows reaching from the floor to the ceiling, shutter blinds lining them. His desk had few objects. A computer facing him from an angle, a phone placed down on his desk, pen laying in front of his folded hands, and a picture frame, the back towards me. Neatly stacked upon his desk was quite a number of magazines, the top one I recognized as myself.
"It got published." I said, gesturing towards the glossy magazine.
"Of course it did. They wouldn't pay for you unless they intended to profit and repay us." He sighed. 'Us' was putting it very loosely. I did not get any share of the cuts. When I was younger, they had me sign a contract I did not review with a close eye. All earnings were deprived from me. Illegal? Yes. But for the time being, I had not decided on taking action. They payed for virtually anything I could imagine. Clothing, beauty supplies, plane tickets, the list went on. But never a paycheck.
"Do I have anything scheduled for Friday, then?" I asked, crossing my legs. My 'job' was very loosely defined. My boss once told me that my beauty would be my only savior in this industry. He was right. If you pitched the money, I would do anything. Music videos, interviews, talk shows, movies, TV shows, advertisements. If you could conjure up a possibility, I have done it.
"A jewelry advertisement, then you'll be shooting a movie as a side character." He said, tapping his fingertips together.
I nodded, looking much like I was taking it all in. In my mind I was giving a very apathetic 'yay'. "You can go." He shooed me away with a hand gesture, which I shrugged off, leaving after a minute of staring him down in order to make him feel uncomfortable.

I had returned to my office, which had a plain white desk with a shelf on the top right corner, and black chair. Both probably purchased from IKEA. Hopping into it, I took my blue stress ball away from the pristine surface, tossing it in the air with my shoes resting on it.
"How's the shop doing?" I asked absently, catching the ball with both hands.
"Pretty good, caught two teenagers looking longingly through the window." A feminine voice chirped from the speaker on my desk. Of course it wasn't a human voice, technological wavelengths beneath. I chuckled, tossing the stress ball higher.
"They'll come back tomorrow when we're open. What time is it?" I asked, glancing out the window.
"Five. You can leave in an hour."
"Dammit." I sighed.

Sighing, I kicked my shoes off, lights flickering to life with the action, plastic bag hanging from my wrist with enough microwavable dinner to last the rest of the week. Trudging to the kitchen, I tossed it onto the black counter, fridge humming faintly as I passed. Taking out one of the frozen meals at random, I had ended up with a lasagna.
"Send me the information for tonight, Cynthia." I mumbled, tearing open the container with my nails.
"On it!" She chirped. Not even a second passed before she spoke once more.
"Done! Wish ya luck! They also said to not waste time getting there, too."

"Of course they did." I sighed, fishing out an energy drink from the fridge as the microwave loudly beeped.

I ate my half cooked lasagna while simultaneously downing a can of monster, although it tasted horrid to me. Then I went to my room, fishing my apparel from the closet.
My life wasn't pretty. It was average most of the time.

But, of course, it did get interesting come night, although never pretty.

And- come the following morning, it would all start anew. But not now, obviously.

It was still night, after all.

                             ⋘⋙
Author's Note

                        Hey everyone!
If you're wondering what's going on- I'll explain below! If you     already know, you don't have to read.If you wanna read, then That's fine too!

I am Currently putting Non Ducor, Duco
Through some... Construction?
I don't know. I'm re-writing everything to the quality it should be. I am also fixing it to the way I first saw it, which, in my opinion, was far better than what you previously had. So, please, support this just as you have the original- not everything will be an exact replica. Some scenes and references will remain in different phrasing, however, Such as Caged Bird's Lament. Many of them will remain similar in the case of metaphors.

And, as rough around the edges as Non Ducor may have been before,

I will start anew.