Pride-Niklaus's Point of View
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It's almost too much to process. The sheer weight of everything crashing down on me in less than twenty minutes feels like an avalanche of bad news. Each revelation comes faster than I can catch my breath, each one more shocking than the last. It's like trying to drown in an ocean of confusion and anger, overwhelmed by the chaos and the uncertainty of what the hell is going on around me. I can't quite get my head around it, and the more I try, the more tangled I become in this mess.
First, there's the horrifying possibility that mother did far worse than just killing Athena Victoria Bathory. No, it seems she might have done something far more personal to Scarlet—something directly aimed at her. I mean, besides the small matter of murdering her mother right in front of her eyes. And that alone, that act of sheer cruelty, is already so far beyond anything I could ever imagine. But then there's this growing feeling that maybe, just maybe, Scarlet was subjected to something even darker, something worse. I can't even fully comprehend the depth of it, but I know it's bad—really bad.
And yet, the twisted reality doesn't stop there. No, apparently, mother punished Scarlet in a way that goes far beyond the usual cruelty she dispenses. It's one thing to murder, but to expose her like that? To us? To me? That's a whole different level of manipulation, and the worst part is that I could see how deeply it messed with her. She didn't just brush it off. I've seen her react to stress before, and yeah, it's never pretty, but this time? This time was something else entirely. The way she reacted today was like watching someone lose control of their very soul. It reminded me of the bathroom incident yesterday. Same raw, exposed emotion—same defensive, broken look in her eyes. I saw how it hurt her, and it made my blood boil.
And as if things couldn't get worse, there's the scene with her siblings. Scarlet didn't just fight with them; no, it was a full-on battle. Right there, in front of us, they tore into each other with a violence that was more than just sibling rivalry. It was ugly. It was disastrous. The way they fought made it painfully obvious—this family is crumbling, piece by piece, and they're dragging Scarlet down with them. That's the saddest part of all: watching her get caught in the crossfire, caught in the mess of their brokenness, when all she really wants is to escape it.
But then, amidst the chaos, there's a tiny glimmer of hope. A one-in-a-million shot that could change everything. Somehow, against all odds, there's a chance, a slim chance, that I could end up as Scarlet's duo for the rest of the fucking year. And the more I think about it, the more this ridiculous possibility excites me. It's more than I could've ever hoped for, more than I thought possible.
Just the thought of spending more time with her—outside of class, when the rules don't apply, when it's just the two of us working on projects together? That could be... interesting. And I can't deny it. The mere thought makes my heart race a little faster, because, well, I've been waiting for this kind of chance for a long time. I want to get under her skin. I want to see how far I can push her, and being her partner for the rest of the year might just give me the perfect opportunity to do that.
But of course, there's a flip side. There's always a flip side. The terrifyingly real possibility that Scarlet could end up as a duo with that damn fox. Just the thought of it makes my blood run cold. The very idea of those two being paired together is enough to make my stomach turn. It's a nightmare that I don't want to entertain, and I'm sure she doesn't either. Thank god, from the look in her eyes, I don't think she's thrilled about it, either. If there's one thing I can count on, it's that she doesn't want to be stuck with him.
But no, it's not just the fox she's against. She's not even interested in pairing up with me, or any of the others, for that matter. Hell, she doesn't even want to be paired with her own damn twins. I can't say I understand why, but something in me gets the sense that she's trying to keep herself isolated. She doesn't want to rely on anyone. She doesn't want anyone to get too close.
And then Professor Ophelia chimes in, almost too cheerfully, as if she's been watching all of this unfold with an unhealthy amount of enjoyment. "Hah, that's interesting," she says from the back, clearly reveling in the drama. She's one of those people who likes to stir the pot, to make everything just a little more intense than it needs to be. And right now, it's working.
But then Scarlet snaps. She doesn't even try to hide her horror. "You can't do that," she practically screams, her voice filled with panic. "I might commit a serious murder with any of my five possible pairs! Let me do it alone! Put one of them in a trio. I can do this on my own!" She's shaking with frustration, and for a moment, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But then the frustration in her voice is so sharp, so raw, I can't help but push her a little further.
I couldn't resist. "Scared of some time alone with us, Scarlet?" I tease, my voice dripping with mock innocence.
Her eyes narrow to slits, her fake golden glare burning through me. "Your demon arse do understand that I will stab you non-stop if you fall as my pair, right?" she growls, the threat hanging in the air between us. "I will kill you over and over again until I _find a way to keep you permanently dead."
I can't help but grin at her. I've always loved when she gets like this—so angry, so fiery. There's something about it that excites me. "You think so?" I ask, my voice low and teasing, pushing her just a little further. "Don't worry, I'll stab you back. It's not like we haven't done this before, huh?"
She clenches her jaw so tightly that I can almost hear her teeth grinding, her breath uneven as she struggles to control the storm of anger and pressure building up inside her. The tension between us is thick enough to cut through with a knife. She's pissed, and I'm enjoying every second of it. "I don't bite," she snaps back, her voice sharp and challenging.
"Well, I do," I reply with a wicked grin, my voice laced with something darker.
At this point, I'm not entirely sure if she's offering something—or if she even understands the implications of what she just said. But if she is offering? God, I might just take her up on it. "What? Will you suck me dry?" I say, my tone deliberately filthy, pushing her boundaries just a little more, just to see how far she'll go.
But to my surprise, Scarlet doesn't even seem to register the dirty double meaning behind my words. Instead, she fades to where I am, her hands closing tightly around my neck before she snaps, "What if I do?"
That's when I really start to pay attention. The thrill surges through me, and I can't help but smile. Ah, I do love this strangling game. It's always been my favorite, that feeling of danger, of being on the edge. But still, there's something even more intense about the dagger-on-the-throat moments. Still, I can't resist. "I haven't been sucked dry yet. I don't know how that feels. I might let you do it once." I pause for a second, letting my words sink in. "Twice, thrice, or as many times as you want, Scarlet."
She doesn't even flinch, her fangs bared in that sharp, predatory smile of hers. "I only need my fangs for that," she hisses, her voice completely serious, still blissfully clueless about the double entendre I just dropped.
Oh, this is just too good. The amusement in my eyes is practically unbearable as I press on, "Your lips would be touching my skin, would they not, Scarlet?" I say it slowly, letting the weight of my words linger in the air, watching as the realization slowly dawns on her.
And when it does? Oh, I'm not disappointed. The flush spreads across her snow-white skin like wildfire. She looks absolutely offended, but that only makes it better. She pushes me away, quickly fading to put distance between us, her face twisted in disgust. And yet, it's too late. I saw it—the realization, the realization that burned in her fake golden eyes. And her pride? Her pride couldn't handle it.
"Disgusting piece of shite," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "How dare an aberration like you suggest such filthy things? You have no class. Fucking arsehole."
Oh, I could see it—the red creeping up her neck, the fire in her eyes. It was enough to make the game even more fun. But it wasn't just her reaction that intrigued me. No, there was something more in that moment, something that stirred the blood beneath my skin. It was almost like she wanted to be pushed. And god, I loved it.
Still, I leaned back with a satisfied smirk, reveling in the tension between us. Nothing was ever simple with her, and that, in its own twisted way, made everything more fun.