The Creed family mansion loomed like a monolith of cold stone and darker secrets over the pristine lawns and sculpted gardens of New York's most affluent neighborhood. The towering, ivy-clad walls seemed to whisper tales of old money, power, and the unspeakable deeds that secured such wealth. But beyond the grand facade and the glittering social veneer lay the true heart of the Creed family—a cold, calculating darkness that had bred generation after generation of ruthless, emotionless heirs.
Earnest Samael Creed stood at the window of his private quarters, staring out at the immaculate landscape with pale green eyes that saw everything yet registered nothing. His expression was as unreadable as the walls surrounding him, a stoic mask that had earned him the title of the "Joke of the Creed." It was an irony that amused him in his own quiet way; they thought him a joke because he couldn't feel, couldn't react. But to Earnest, they were the joke—a collection of puppets in a world that he could manipulate with the precision of a master puppeteer.
At twenty-one years old, Earnest had mastered the art of detachment. His mother, Blythe, often referred to him as her most beautifully tragic creation, a sentiment that only further distanced him from her. Blythe was a woman who delighted in the aesthetic, curating her life and family like an art exhibit. But Earnest was no mere exhibit—he was a masterpiece of cold efficiency and calculated indifference. His father, Maverick Creed, a powerful politician with an iron fist, saw only weakness in his second son's inability to display emotion. In Maverick's world, power was expressed through force and fury—qualities Earnest seemed devoid of.
But Earnest was not weak. In the depths of his heart, where others might have found anger or sorrow, there was only a vast, cold void—a space where plans were meticulously laid, where calculations were made with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. It was here that he nurtured his darkest desires, fed by the memories of every blow, every word meant to break him. They hadn't broken him; they had honed him.
Earnest's reflection in the glass revealed more than just his striking appearance—olive skin, jet-black hair that shimmered in the dim light, and pale green eyes flecked with silver that looked more like finely cut gems than the windows to a soul. They revealed a man meticulously crafted, from the well-fitted black shirt that clung to his swimmer's frame, to the tattoos that crawled across his shoulders, neck, and upper chest—a canvas of pain and power. Each inked line told a story, one that he had lived, one that had scarred him more deeply than any blade could.
A faint knock at the door broke the silence, and without turning from the window, Earnest spoke in a low, measured tone. "Enter."
The door creaked open, and his twin sister, Serene, slipped into the room. In another life, in another world, perhaps their bond might have been different—closer, warmer. But here, in the cold world of the Creed family, they were bound by blood and by the unspoken understanding that family was a battleground. Serene, with her soft brown eyes and raven hair, was as beautiful as she was deadly. The perfect Creed daughter, always obedient, always calculating.
"You missed breakfast," she said, her voice a soft lilt that belied the sharpness beneath. Serene was the only family member Earnest tolerated, not out of affection but out of respect. They were alike in many ways, though Serene had long ago learned to mask her darkness with a charming smile.
"Was it worth attending?" Earnest asked, still not turning from the window.
"Father had one of his fits," she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "He's furious about some deal gone wrong. Blamed Mother, as usual."
"Pity," Earnest murmured, though there was no pity in his heart. "She's become quite adept at handling his outbursts."
Serene moved closer, her reflection joining his in the glass. "I heard about your latest… endeavor." There was a pause, filled with unspoken understanding. "Impressive."
"Is that admiration, sister?" he asked, finally turning his gaze to meet hers. Serene's expression remained neutral, though her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light.
"Admiration, respect… perhaps a little envy," she said softly. "Not many could pull off such a feat."
It had been a year since Earnest had finally silenced his father's parents. The old Creeds had been cruel in ways that left scars deeper than the burn marks on his back, but they were now nothing more than dust, their demise an art of subtlety and patience. Poison was an elegant tool, one that Earnest had mastered at the age of twelve. It had been his first real taste of control, the first time he had seen how easily life could be extinguished.
"They deserved it," Earnest replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "They created him."
Serene nodded, understanding as only she could. They shared the same hatred for their father, though Serene hid hers better. "Father suspects nothing, as usual. He thinks it was natural causes."
"Let him," Earnest said with a slight smirk. "It's better that way."
There was a silence, comfortable in its familiarity. Serene was the only person Earnest could converse with without feeling the need to guard his every word. But even she was not immune to the cold distance that he maintained, a barrier that kept him isolated, even from those who might understand him.
"What will you do next?" Serene asked, curiosity tinged with something darker.
"I have my plans," he replied vaguely. "But for now, there's something else that requires my attention."
"Cyber Steam?" she guessed, a knowing smile curving her lips. "You've become quite obsessed with that game."
"It's more than a game," Earnest corrected her, his voice firm. "It's an escape, a world where I can be… myself."
"Is that what you're doing in there?" Serene mused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Being yourself? Or are you just hiding, brother?"
Earnest didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned back to the window, gazing out at the world that felt so distant, so meaningless compared to the digital reality he had come to prefer. "Perhaps both," he admitted, his voice a whisper.
Serene watched him for a moment longer, then nodded as if accepting his answer. "Just remember, Earnest… even in that world, you're still Creed. You can't escape what you are."
He said nothing as she left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Alone once more, Earnest allowed himself a rare moment of introspection. Serene's words echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside. It didn't matter what he was in the eyes of his family. What mattered was what he could become, both in the real world and in the world of Cyber Steam Online.
With a slow exhale, he moved away from the window, crossing the room to where his VR setup awaited. The sleek, state-of-the-art system was a far cry from the garish, gilded furnishings that filled the rest of the mansion. It was a portal, a gateway to a place where Earnest Samael Creed was not bound by the limitations of flesh and blood.
As he settled into the chair and pulled the VR helmet over his head, the familiar hum of the system powering up filled the air. The world around him faded, replaced by the dark, twisted landscapes of Cyber Steam Online. Here, he was not Earnest Samael Creed, the joke of the Creed family. Here, he was Jest—a name that had become synonymous with fear and respect within the game.
The transformation was seamless. In the blink of an eye, Earnest shed his real-world self like a snake shedding its skin, embracing the persona of Jest with a grim satisfaction. In this world, emotions were irrelevant, and power was all that mattered. It was a world where he could be himself, free from the chains of his family's expectations.
As Jest's form solidified within the game, the dark, chaotic streets of Cyber Steam Online came into view. The air was thick with the scent of oil and smoke, and the distant sounds of machinery and conflict filled his ears. This was his domain, a world where he ruled with an iron fist, where his word was law, and where he could exact the kind of control he craved in the real world.
A notification blinked in the corner of his vision, drawing his attention. It was from Gray—Gracelyn's in-game avatar. Her message was simple, yet laced with the same dark humor that he had come to expect from her.
"Ready for some fun?"
A slow smile curved Jest's lips, the first real expression of emotion he had shown all day. In this world, with Gracelyn by his side, he could indulge in the darkest parts of himself. Here, he was free to be the person he truly was—unbound, unrestrained, and unmerciful.
"Always," he replied, his voice a low growl of anticipation.
And with that, he stepped into the shadows of Cyber Steam Online, ready to embrace the chaos and destruction that awaited him.