Chapter 29: Finding Marcus

The March rain was freezing. The wind surged into his collar, making him shiver violently as his clothes became thoroughly soaked.

He strode out, walking all the way to a convenience store on the street corner where he bought a fresh change of clothes and an umbrella.

After sitting for ten minutes, he pulled out his phone.

The screen was still lit with comments cursing Sebastian. He scrolled down one by one; it felt like a bottomless pit of filth.

Staring at the words, his eyes stung with a dull ache.

Sebastian was a man who valued his reputation. With his photos being circulated so widely alongside these messy rumors, it would be a miracle if he wasn't fuming.

Lucian scrolled for a bit longer before something clicked. He opened WeChat and found a contact labeled "Old K."

[Lucian: You there?]

The reply came after a brief pause.

[Old K: ? What is it in the middle of the night?]

[Lucian: Help me find someone.]

[Old K: ???]

[Old K: What the hell are you planning? You know that's illegal, right?]

Lucian stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

After a moment of thought, he typed:

[Lucian: It's not for anything bad. Someone is missing, I'm helping to find them.]

Silence followed for a few seconds.

[Old K: ...Do you take me for a three-year-old?]

[Lucian: Seriously.]

[Old K: Fine. Who am I looking for?]

Lucian sent over Marcus's name and profession.

[Old K: A lawyer? Who did you piss off?]

[Lucian: Don't ask. When's the earliest you can find him?]

[Old K: Tomorrow at the earliest. Address, phone, movements—I'll dig up everything I can. But you have to promise me, don't do anything stupid.]

[Lucian: Got it.]

He tucked his phone away and stood up.

The night wind was still biting. He tucked his neck into his collar and walked a few paces until he saw an internet cafe across the street. The sign was lit; it was open twenty-four hours.

He walked inside.

The cafe was thick with cigarette smoke, and the air was filled with the rhythmic clatter of keyboards.

He usually detested places like this—they reeked of delinquency—but he had no choice now. He’d have to make do for a night.

Lucian paid for a machine and sat in the furthest corner. As the screen flickered to life, it reflected his face: hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth set in a hard line.

He opened social media.

The topic was still trending.

#CorruptLawyerHelpsScumbagBullyWife#

He clicked in; the comments had surpassed a hundred thousand.

【People like this should be socially executed.】

【I heard the law firm got smashed? Good riddance.】

【Has that boy been found? Maybe the lawyer hid him away.】

【Disgusting. He’s a lawyer? More like trash.】

Lucian scrolled through them one by one, and with every line he read, the fire in his heart surged higher.

He began to type.

He used an old "throwaway" account he’d registered long ago but never used. The ID was a string of random characters.

【Do you even know what kind of person he is? Do you know how many people he’s helped? You know nothing, yet you’re here spewing filth.】

Send.

The next one.

【What do photos prove? You believe whatever gossip accounts tell you? Do you not have a brain?】

Send.

And another.

【There’s no evidence at all, just a few blurry photos? You aren't fit to curse him.】

Send.

His fingers flew across the keys, rebuffing them one by one. But there were too many comments; as soon as he countered one, another would be pushed to the top.

Someone replied to him.

【Are you a paid shill he hired? How much per post? Get me in on it.】

A string of "hahahahas" followed.

Lucian stared at the reply, his temper hitting the roof. He truly wanted to track the person down and have a go at them—he didn't need to win the argument; he’d just beat them into submission.

He continued scrolling, continued fighting.

【Did your mother throw your brain away when she gave birth to you?】

【With your IQ, you shouldn't be online. Go home and raise pigs.】

【Have you met him? Have you eaten with him? You know nothing, yet you dare insult him?】

His eyes were glued to the screen, his fingers unmoving like a tireless machine.

The person sitting next to him poked their head over to look, then quickly retreated.

Time ticked by.

Outside, the sky changed from black to deep blue, then to a hazy greyish-white.

Lucian was still typing.

His eyes were bloodshot from the strain and his fingers were aching, but he didn't stop.

People could insult him all they wanted, but insulting Sebastian was off-limits. This man was, for all intents and purposes, half his wife—even if the title was unofficial and unacknowledged for now.

His phone vibrated.

He picked it up to look.

[Old K: Found him. Sent the address to your WeChat. Also, he’s been close with a few gossip accounts lately. You were right.]

Lucian stared at the message for a long time.

Then he set the phone down and resumed typing.

The light from the screen illuminated his face, making the young man look a bit pale. His eyes were red and his lips were chapped, but his hands never stopped moving.

...

The sun was high in the sky now.

Sebastian braced himself to sit up from the sofa, his brow furrowing as a sharp ache flared in his waist. He stood by the sofa for a moment, waiting for the sensation to pass, before slowly heading upstairs.

He climbed the stairs slower than usual. With every step, his back throbbed, feeling as though something were being twisted inside him.

He reached Lucian’s bedroom door and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

He pushed the door open.

The bed was a mess, the duvet bunched into a ball, but nobody was there. The curtains were drawn, leaving the room in shadows except for a thin sliver of light peeking through.

Sebastian stood in the doorway, staring at the empty bed.

Then he pulled out his phone and checked the date.

The weekend.

Where would Lucian go on a weekend?

He opened the message app and typed:

[Where are you?]

Send.

He waited ten seconds. No reply.

He sent another.

[Reply when you see this.]

Still nothing.

Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, eyes fixed on the screen.

His back was aching severely. He shifted his posture and continued to stare.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes passed.

the screen remained silent.

He dialed the number.

Ring—Ring—Ring—

No one picked up.

He hung up and dialed again.

Still no answer.

Sebastian held the phone, standing outside Lucian’s empty room, his back feeling as though it were about to snap.

———

Marcus woke up very late that day.

The online public opinion had fermented even better than he had hoped. The photos, the leaks, the overwhelming tide of insults—it was like a grand carnival. He leaned back on his sofa scrolling through his phone, and as he read comments like "Sebastian is trash" and "Corrupt lawyer get out of the industry," the smile on his face was impossible to suppress.

The doorbell rang.

He frowned, stood up from the sofa, and walked to the door.

Through the peephole, he saw a man in a courier uniform, head lowered, holding a cardboard box.

Marcus opened the door.

"Just put it inside," he said casually, turning to walk back in.

The sound of the door closing came from behind him.

Then, the crisp click of a deadbolt sliding home.

Marcus froze and turned around.

The courier stood at the door, back against it, and slowly lifted his head.

The face beneath the cap was young, taut, and his eyes were burning with fire.

Marcus recognized him.

He had seen that face countless times in those photos.

"You're—"

Before he could finish, Lucian lunged forward and delivered a hard kick to his stomach.

Marcus flew backward, slamming into the shoe cabinet before tumbling to the floor. He curled into a ball, clutching his stomach, his face turning a deep shade of purple.

"F... you mother..."

Lucian walked over, looking down at him from his height.

"It was you." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

Marcus clutched his stomach, slowly lifting his head to look at him.

"You're the one from the photos?" he panted. "The escort?"

Lucian’s pupils constricted.

He slammed his foot onto Marcus’s chest, pinning him to the floor.

"Say that again, you son of a bitch!!"

He couldn't stand that word right now. It made him lash out instinctively.

Marcus was pinned, unable to move, but the smile remained on his face.

"What, am I wrong?" his voice was ragged. "Aren't you his kept boy?"

Lucian exerted more pressure with his foot; Marcus let out a muffled groan.

"Shut up."

Marcus coughed a few times and laughed again.

"Quite the loyal one, aren't you?" he said. "Coming here alone for him? Do you know where you are? The complex is covered in cameras. You were recorded the second you walked in."

Lucian stared at him, silent.

Marcus continued, "You kick me, you hit me. Fine. But think about it—what happens after?"

His gaze turned cold, filled with sinister calculation.

"I call the police, you go to prison. For how many years? Aggravated assault—three years at least. What happens to your little lover then? Hahahahahahahaha!"

The pressure from Lucian’s foot eased slightly.

Marcus felt it and his laugh grew more triumphant.

"Unless you actually have the guts to kill me," he emphasized every word, "you get absolutely nothing out of this."

Lucian stared at him, the fire in his heart surging, making his entire body shiver.

"Even if I beat you to death, I'll be satisfied," he squeezed the words out through his teeth. "People like you don't deserve to live."

Marcus’s smile faltered for a second. He looked into the boy’s eyes; there was no fear, no hesitation—only a raging, vibrant fire.

He suddenly felt a twinge of panic.

But he kept laughing.

"Do you think Sebastian is some kind of saint?" he asked. "He’s just an actor. Pretending to be noble, pretending to be professional, pretending to be cleaner than everyone else. Do you have any idea how much filth he’s buried?"

Lucian’s brow furrowed.

Marcus continued, "Those leaks? You think I made them up? I'm telling you, every single one is true. He takes money to make things happen, helps the rich get off, crushes smaller lawyers—what hasn't he done?"

"Shut up."

"He’s just better at acting, so everyone believes him. But in reality? What’s the difference between him and me?"

Lucian’s fist clenched.

"I told you to shut up."

Marcus watched him, his grin deepening.

"Does he even know you're protecting him like this? Does he know you came here for him alone? Does he know that for him—"

He didn't finish.

Slap.

A solid, heavy slap landed across his face.

Marcus’s head snapped to the side, and five finger marks immediately bloomed on his cheek. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the floor.

He sat there, stunned by the blow.

Lucian stood over him, his hand still shaking. After all, this was his first time doing something like this, and he was indeed afraid deep down.

"Say one more word about him," Lucian said, one word at a time, "and I'll beat you to death."

Marcus clutched his face and lifted his head.