.- ... .- . .-..

"You ready?"

With another inhale, I force a small smile and shrug. "I guess."

"That's no way to answer meeting your soon-to-be-wife." Remi brushes something off my coat and sighs, holding onto my tie. "Your tie is loose. Better make the best impression, no?"

Again, I only shrug and let her adjust my tie. Once done, she admires her work and gushes more about Raphaela. I just nod and look elsewhere, searching for a particular dirty blonde-haired woman, hoping to catch a quick look at what she's like. Our courtyard is almost unrecognizable, with lights hanging over trees and columns brightening up the evening, the draperies and seats all an elegant cream color, and the swarming guests everywhere you turn to lounging or talking amongst themselves.

Usually, I would be with some of my colleagues near the foyer to the living room, like the other day and yesterday, but Remi pulled me to the east porch for her so-called fateful meeting with my future wife. She insists that I have been spending all my time with the guests staying over the actual wedding. But what does she expect me to do? As per tradition, I, as the groom, will have to entertain the guests throughout the first three days before the wedding and during the ceremony itself.

My eyes linger on the west porch, the only area without many people. It's the way to the annex of the mansion, where the bedrooms are, where my room is—where Lucifer is.

He was nowhere to be found when I woke up. He did leave a note saying he'll wait for me there by seven in the evening. When I glance at the clock at the top center of the back foyer, I squint. It's five minutes before seven. And I'm still here idling around.

I need to get rid of him quickly. Who knows how bad things will be if everyone finds the devil himself existing in the same breath?

I purse my lips and close my eyes. Is that all there is to it? A part of me tells me I'm not being honest. Is that the only reason I want to get out of here? Then again, it's not like I have a choice. I'm marrying for the sake of my family. And I'll be working on sending Lucifer back to hell to ensure the wedding doesn't go by without a hitch. Or am I?

What if I just wanted to find an excuse to escape out of these chains after all?

I shake my head. For a second, I hoped Lucifer was there to tell me whether my words were lies. Because even I don't know.

"Asalie!" Remi hisses, nodding her head toward the side entry of the courtyard.

There she is. Dirty blonde hair draped over a simple silk dress matching the color scheme of the place—cream—with hands clutching onto a pouch and looking directly at me with pursing lips and nervous but shining blue eyes.

I blink as she's finally standing a meter ahead of me. She isn't saying anything. Should I start?

"Asalie." Remi nudges me from the side before smiling at Raphaela. "Glad you made it safe here, Rafa!"

"Ah, yes." Her voice is clear, almost melodious. "I'm sorry it took me a while."

I resist rolling my eyes when Remi shoots me an expected look. "It's alright," I say before offering a hand between us and retaining a small smile. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Raphaela."

"You need not be too formal." She takes my hand and looks down at her feet. "You may call me Rafa, um..."

"Asael." I glare at Remi behind us and walk Rafa elsewhere, her fingers still hanging onto my hand. "But Asalie works too." After all, we ought to be more casual, right?

I stop by the food catering set up farthest from the foyer, with most people standing around high round tables. "Is there anything you'd like to eat? How about a drink? I'm sure it was quite a hassle. The traffic jam, I mean."

"A drink will do."

We walk around with a glass of white wine each, exchanging basic information about ourselves. Whenever we passed by other people who would turn to look, we would stop, and I would introduce her to them. Eventually, we reached the back foyer—my goal this entire time.

I glance above again to read the time. It's nearly ten minutes past seven. Fingers crossed, Lucifer will stay put and wait a bit longer for me.

But somehow, I doubt that.

"Uriah!" A colleague, Anderson, called with a slight wave. He shoots me a smug smile. "Wouldn't you introduce this beautiful lady to us?"

Another colleague, Docker, nudges Anderson lightly before smiling at me and Rafa. "Remilie pulled you away from us earlier. Glad to see you're seemingly in great company."

I nod. "I am." I smile at Rafa and back at my two colleagues from work. "This is Raphaela. My fiancée."

"It's nice to meet you," Rafa says with a bow.

"Rafa, these two are my colleagues, Anderson and Docker."

Anderson takes Rafa's other hand and brings it up to his face, his green eyes sparkling as he brushes his blonde, curly locks with his other hand. "Just Lance would be perfect."

"Lancelot." I pull Rafa slightly so her hand slips away from Anderson's grasp. I raise a brow at him. "I will tell Grace if you don't behave."

Anderson looks over at Docker, who quietly avoids his gaze and adjusts his slick brown hair. Nobody will save you, Lancelot Anderson.

"Ahem!" Anderson fakes a cough. "That reminds me, that wine is really delicious. I got some earlier, too."

I resist rolling my eyes at his lousy attempt to change the subject.

"It is. It's refreshing, especially in the evening," Rafa replies with a nod, humoring him. She's too nice.

I meet Docker's gaze, and his green eyes seems to be studying me. I raise a brow, but he doesn't falter as he pockets a hand and brings out his cell phone.

He turns his back and puts the phone by his ear. After a few seconds, he nods before facing us again with an apologetic but serious look.

"Ms. Raphaela, will it be alright to excuse Uriah for a moment?"

Rafa and I exchange looks. With a smile and a nod from her, I bow and squint at Anderson briefly.

"Uriah, no, Asael," Docker says as we approach the west porch.

I purse my lips. "Is something wrong in there? Do they need us—me?" I ask, meeting his worried brown eyes.

"What happened?" Huh? Why is he asking me? "Is something up?"

"Docker, what are you talking about?"

"Drop the formalities, dude. That phone call thing isn't real. I made it up to pull you away." He waves his phone in the air. "Because no matter how much you try to conduct yourself in public, you can't hide it completely."

"Hide what?"

"I know something is troubling you." Docker crosses his arms. "Tell me."

I keep forgetting this is the guy who always knows when I need a break after an operation or when I push myself too hard at work.

But should I tell him? Can I tell him?

Last I remember, everything in my life has been dictated. Relationships outside the clan are part of that. Be it friends from middle school to university or friends and acquaintances from wherever. All of them are people who are placed around me when I am away from my family's eyes. All of them are people under Dad's control.

But the ones I made when I started working are a different case. They are friends I made. Especially Docker.

"I can see it in your eyes." Docker's voice lowers to a whisper. "You want to say it, but you feel like you can't."

Because what if you're also under the guise of playing friends with me because my dad paid you?

But there were times I sneaked off from work and did things I'm sure my family would be disappointed in, and only Docker knew. Remi would barge into my room for all the juicy details if she knew about it. I don't think my parents pretended not to know either. I've seen what my parents—dad—can be like whenever I do something outrageous in their eyes.

"Normally, I wouldn't force you, but I have a feeling it's pretty important."

I breathe sharply and rub my nape. Here goes nothing. "It is, yeah. And I-I don't want to leave Rafa alone."

"Leave her?"

"I need to be elsewhere. Immediately."

"Then leave."

"I just said why I can't," I hiss.

"Okay. So here's what's gonna happen." He lowers his head. "I pretended to receive a seemingly urgent phone call requiring you, right? Glad I did that. Instincts never fail, doesn't it?"

"Get to the point."

"Well, with your position, anyone would understand why you'd be asked specifically for an emergency. So... you catch my drift, right?"

"Rylan..."

He side-smiles. "You'll owe me beer for this, though."

"But what if they find out there wasn't an emergency after all? What if-"

"It is an emergency," he emphasizes. "You wouldn't be so gung-ho about all this if it wasn't."

"You don't even know why I need to leave without them knowing."

"I don't have to."

We stare at one another for a few seconds, before I release a big exhale and smile at him.

"Gosh, what will I do without you?"

"You can fill me in next time." He shrugs. "I know you're not jumping into unnecessary trouble."

"I'm trying to prevent it."

"That's all I need to know." He pats my shoulder, "Now go. Do what you need to do."

"What if-"

"Shut it. Leave them to me."

"I wasn't done. What if Dad comes and looks for me?" I whisper.

He rolls his eyes and smacks my back. "Stop dawdling, and just trust me. This isn't my first time covering for you, bro."

Right. Trust. I can trust him. I know I can.

"Thanks, Rylan. Really."

After one last look at his determined face, I sprint further on the west porch and eventually reach the upper floors. My heart is in my throat at all the scenarios running through my head. What if I bump into someone, and they tell everyone? What if someone sees Lucifer? I don't even know how late I am to our meetup anymore.

Relieved sighs escape me as I reach my room without another person in sight. I close the door behind me as quickly as I open it. But as I look around, I freeze.

Lucifer isn't here.

My grip on the knob tightens. The door wasn't locked either.

The blankets I tied earlier lay on the bed, and the windows are locked. Lucifer may have left through the door. I know he can't fly or levitate, but it'll be more convenient for him to use the blankets and the windows. By going through the door, he risks being seen.

I shake my head. Don't panic. Lucifer may be waiting for me somewhere below. There is barely any light here, so maybe I just haven't seen him yet.

I take the tied blankets and open the window. As planned, I will escape through here because the mansion's main building blocks this area. No one will spot me unless they're looking out their window.

The fabric flows smoothly through my fingers as it falls to the grass from the fourth floor. I tug on the antique cabinets, which I tied them to, and nod. Positioning myself carefully, I grip tightly as I slowly descend. This is harder than it looks on TV. I knew that. But it's better than an actual rope where I risk cutting myself. A rope in my room would be suspicious as heck to begin with.

This is the safest choice. I try to convince myself, at least. For the first time in so long, I relish the tension of rebelling. All the excitement and danger altogether feed me a sense of something. Freedom.

Now down to the third floor, I pause and catch my breath. I look around. Nothing but walls and closed windows from lightless rooms. I continue down.

The moon brightens, and my shadow solidifies on the wall. I finally have light now.

I pause again and look around—still nothing to see.

Or so I thought.

The seamless flowing and tugging of fabric resound at my side. I turn my head toward it, and I swear my brain cells will explode from mixed thoughts of the sight.

A few windows over, someone is hanging onto tied blankets. Like me. Their head turns around and our eyes meet. I have so many questions and meme ideas popping in my head. But I can only return the shock in their gaze.

It's Lucifer.

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