The checkered violet and blue carriage creaked and swayed as it trundled along the cobblestone streets. Inside, Noel Rivet sat with his arms crossed, his face the very picture of calm, as though he hadn't just yanked his wife, Isadora, out of her afternoon plans and stuffed her into the carriage with nothing more than a clipped, "It's today."
Opposite him, Isadora sat with a stiffness that rivaled a suit of armor, her red and black dress puffing indignantly with every deep, exasperated breath she took. She stared at Noel, daring him to meet her eyes, but he was too busy looking out the window as if the passing scenery were the most fascinating thing in the world.
Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, she spoke. "So, you're not even going to explain what this is about?"
Noel glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the window. "I told you. Work."
"Work," she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Right. Because work is such a thorough explanation. What kind of work, Noel? And why does it involve me being dragged halfway across the country without so much as a warning? You just told me yesterday to work FOR YOU... WITH YOU. Now you are telling me I can't work with you because of what? MY safety?"
He sighed, the kind of long-suffering exhalation that suggested he'd already had this conversation in his head and was tired of it before it even began. "It's complicated."
Isadora snorted. "Oh, it's complicated. How convenient. Does 'complicated' mean you can't be bothered to explain, or are you just trying to keep me in the dark?"
Noel finally turned to face her, his expression carefully neutral. "It means it's something I need to handle without distractions."
Her jaw dropped. "Distractions? That's what I am to you now? A distraction?"
He rubbed his temple, a flicker of frustration breaking through his calm facade. "Isadora, don't twist my words. You know that's not what I meant."
"Do I?" she shot back. "Because it sure sounds like you're saying I'm in the way. That you'd rather do whatever this is without me slowing you down."
Noel pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. "You're reading too much into this. I'm trying to keep you safe."
"Safe," she repeated, her voice rising. "You keep using that word like it explains everything, but it doesn't! I don't need you to keep me safe, Noel. I'm not some fragile damsel in distress that you have to protect! I am a trained assassin if you now at least a bit about me. I could take out a whole room with guys by the time you finished cleaning your shoes."
"It's not about fragility," he said, his tone measured, as if he were explaining something to a particularly stubborn child. "It's about priorities. My job is dangerous. If you're involved, I have to split my focus between the mission and worrying about you. That's not practical."
Her eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushing with anger. "So I'm a liability now? Is that what you're saying?"
"No," he said firmly, though the slight hesitation in his voice didn't escape her notice. "I'm saying that I need to stay focused. And when you're around, I— "
"You what?" she interrupted, leaning forward. "You can't concentrate? Because you're too busy worrying about me? Is that it?"
"Yes," he admitted, his voice rising for the first time. "Because I care about you, Isadora! Is that so hard to understand?"
She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his outburst. But the hurt quickly bubbled back to the surface. "If you care about me so much, then why do you keep shutting me out? Why don't you trust me enough to let me help?"
"It's not about trust," he said through gritted teeth.
"Then what is it about, Noel?" she demanded. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks an awful lot like you don't think I'm good enough to handle this. Like you don't believe in me."
"That's not fair," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
"Fair?" she repeated, her voice cracking. "You want to talk about fair? What's fair about dragging me into this mess without telling me why? What's fair about making me feel like I'm not even part of my own marriage?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but she didn't give him the chance.
"You know what's really unfair?" she continued, her voice trembling. "The fact that you expect me to just sit quietly and wait while you go off and do whatever it is you do, without ever considering how that makes me feel. Do you even care, Noel? Or am I just… convenient?"
Noel's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. But instead, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, his expression hardening. "You're blowing this out of proportion."
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. When she finally found her voice, it was barely above a whisper. "Blowing this out of proportion?"
He didn't answer, which only made the silence more deafening.
"You really don't get it, do you?" she said, her voice shaking. "You don't understand what it's like to feel invisible. To feel like you're not enough."
"Isadora," he began, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"No," she said, her voice rising again. "You don't get to brush this off. Not this time. You keep saying it's about keeping me safe, but it's not. It's about control. You don't want me to be part of this because you can't stand the idea of not being in charge. Admit it."
"That's ridiculous," he said, his voice cold.
"Is it?" she shot back. "Because from where I'm sitting, it sure looks like you're more comfortable keeping me at arm's length than actually letting me in."
For a long moment, they sat in silence, the tension in the carriage so thick it was almost suffocating. Outside, the city continued to bustle, oblivious to the storm brewing within.
Finally, Noel spoke, his voice quiet but resolute. "I do what I do to protect you, Isadora. Whether you believe that or not is up to you."
Her chest tightened, and she looked away, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Protect me? she thought bitterly. Or push me away?
The carriage came to a stop in front of the hotel, and before Noel could say anything else, Isadora opened the door and stepped out. She didn't wait for him to help her; she didn't even look back. Her heels clicked against the cobblestones, each step a sharp punctuation to the argument that still echoed in her mind.
She didn't turn around, not even when she heard the carriage start to move again. He didn't wait. He didn't even wait to see her safely inside.
Her stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something she didn't want to name. Is his mission really that important? Or is he just in a hurry to get away from me?
Inside the grand reception hall, the noise and bustle felt distant, like a faint echo of a world she no longer belonged to. She handed her identity card to the receptionist with hands that trembled just slightly, hoping no one noticed.
As she waited for the key, her thoughts churned, a relentless tide of doubts and fears. Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe he's right. Maybe I do get in the way. But if that's true, then what does that say about us? About me?
The receptionist handed her the key with a polite smile, but even that felt hollow. She climbed the stairs to her room, her steps heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unanswered questions.
When she finally reached her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her chest heaving with the effort of holding herself together. The room was immaculate, the kind of sterile perfection that only made her feel more out of place.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands twisting in her lap. Why am I even here? she thought. To wait for some stranger? To play the obedient wife while Noel goes off to be the hero?
The doubts swirled, darker and heavier now, each one a whisper in the back of her mind. Maybe it's not just about work. Maybe he really doesn't want me there. Maybe someone's been whispering in his ear, planting seeds of doubt— about me, about us.
And then, unbidden, a thought crept in, cold and insidious: Or maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just not enough.
When the knock at the door came, sharp and unexpected, it startled her out of her thoughts. Her hand instinctively went to the dagger hidden beneath her skirt.
"Who is it?" she called, her voice steadier than she felt.
"Your husband's contact," came the reply, smooth and too familiar.
Her grip on the dagger tightened. Whoever they are, she thought, they'd better have answers. Because I'm done with questions.
She went ahead and opened the door, there stood a tall man wearing a black frock coat and a plain white mask with a smiley face. Without standing on ceremony, the man bowed and got inside, closing the door behind him.
"Good evening Ma'am Rivet, I am Lucifer."
(A few hours earlier)
Judge tapped on the edge of his throne as Lucifer sat beside the table in utter silence. There was nobody else in the room, and Judge was thinking. This made Lucifer uncomfortable, he was in the presence of a god's attendant and he was being observed closely.
Finally, Judge budged, "I have a mission for you Lucifer." He commanded, "Do you accept?"
"With honor my lord," Lucifer stood up, the sound of his seat dragging echoed in the room, "I shall do anything you command."
"Very well." Judge nodded, and the scriptwriter behind him disappeared. Lucifer just now was only a part of his script that he had taken an increased liking to. He had not really used it since he was too busy growing up, and also minor things like escaping his mother's grasp and trying hard to not let his skills be noticed.
Clio had told him that he could share powers with any one of his underlings, and the three skills she bestowed him were no exception, he could command people under him to recruit more people, whom he could control to recruit more marionettes.
So basically, an infinite anything glitch. But his marionettes (Actors in the scripts he wrote) were not entirely under his control, they could not act so much against their usual selves since the script makes them believe that they are doing things of their own volition and doing absurd things are not something they would do.... unless they usually do absurd things.
"You shall head to a hotel in the capital," Judge told him with a gaze without any visible emotions. "everything next you do will come to you naturally, Just trust your instincts."
"Yes, my lord." Lucifer bowed and vanished, Judge then cast his gaze back to the clueless husband who had just clashed with his clingy wife because he wanted to keep her safe. He was going to try something else next, he was going to try erase some memories.