Chapter 3: Destiny Beetles and Drowning Guilt

“Destiny Beetle looks like a bamboo worm—snow white, spindle-shaped, with nine red rings on its body.”

Bamboo worms!

Bamboo worms are delicious! Fried bamboo worms are crispy and tasty, sweet and juicy. My mouth watered just thinking about it.

...

Wait!

The reason Carter chased me was over a bowl of fried bamboo worms, and I remember one of them had nine red rings. My mind started spinning.

No wonder it was so plump and tasty. Guilt started to gnaw at me.

Could it be—I ate his Destiny Beetle? My heart skipped a beat, then dropped.

I was stunned. My hands went cold, and I just sat there, dumbstruck.

Old Man Wyatt went on, drawing out the suspense:

“This Destiny Beetle won’t die until it finds its host’s destined fate. If it dies…”

I frowned, listening closely. My nerves prickled, waiting for the punchline.

Say it, just say it!

“To know what happens next, please listen to the next installment.” The crowd groaned, some clapping, some booing.

Amid the applause, Old Man Wyatt stood up, shook his sleeves, smiled as he collected his tips, and left. His little granddaughter followed, hugging her guitar. The scent of bourbon and old stories lingered in the air.

For the first time in a long while, I felt guilty. My stomach twisted, and my chest felt tight.

It’s better to destroy ten churches than ruin one marriage, as they say. I sighed, rolling my eyes at my own mess.

I went back to my room in a daze, even my whiskey tasted bland. The burn didn’t warm me like it used to.

The manager, afraid I’d cause trouble, gave me a nice room. Usually, the soundproofing is decent. But people like me have sharp hearing—can’t help but overhear things. Every little noise made me jumpy.

Tonight, just as I lay down, ready to repent in my dreams, I heard something heavy being dragged in the next room. My heart thudded. Something wasn’t right.

From my years of experience, they were dragging a person—a man. The sound was too heavy for anything else.

“This one’s good. Where’d you find him?”

“Picked him up by the roadside.”

“Huh?”

“Probably drank too much, passed out. Looks like a rich kid, wearing fancy clothes.” The voice sounded skeptical, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“How much will Scarlet Moon Club pay?”

“At least a hundred grand. He’s really handsome.” The greed in their voices was thick.

Peeking through the door crack, I saw a black sack with a pale hand sticking out, joints slender, bruised. My skin crawled.

If I hadn’t heard their conversation, I’d have thought they were dragging a corpse. A shiver ran down my spine.

“What’s this? Looks creepy.”

Something metallic clinked on the table. I looked closer, squinting in the dim light.

It was a mask. My heart skipped.

Too familiar. I knew that mask better than I liked.

After all, Carter chased me for half the country wearing that mask. I could never forget it. Not in a hundred years.

I have a knife called Drunkard. And I’m broke. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

A hundred grand—how much whiskey could that buy! My mouth watered at the thought, but my conscience screamed louder.

If Carter really got sold to Scarlet Moon Club, Blackwater Lodge would become a laughingstock. His father would probably ride a giant gator to the capital in a rage. The image almost made me laugh.

His father’s name is Wayne Vance—just the name sounds fierce. I shivered, imagining his glare.

What to do? My mind raced, heart pounding.

I stared at the mask, frowning. The decision weighed on me.

I’m Carter’s sworn enemy. No love lost there.

And I really did make him suffer a huge loss. Maybe too much.

Should I save him? My gut twisted with guilt.

What if he turns on me right away and unleashes bugs to kill me? The thought wasn’t exactly comforting.

Though, maybe if I save him from disaster, he’ll be grateful and let the bug incident go. Wishful thinking, maybe.

As for the Destiny Beetle…

I’ll think about that later. No sense worrying twice.

After a lot of inner struggle, guilt won out. I let out a long sigh, steeling myself.

While my conscience still hurt, I waited for midnight, planning to sneak in and drag Carter out when the traffickers got sleepy. Every tick of the clock made my nerves tighter.

But they guarded that golden goose closer than their own family jewels, eyes wide all night. I nearly gave up in frustration.

Before dawn, they dragged out a cart, hauling Carter away like a dead pig. The wheels squeaked, echoing in the alley.

Who knows what drug they used—Carter didn’t wake up at all. He looked dead, but I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest.

I grabbed a breakfast sandwich from the kitchen and followed at a distance. My stomach churned, but I forced down a bite.

Scarlet Moon Club is where the rich and famous of the capital go to have fun, full of beautiful people to drink and chat with. If you have money, you can do anything. But there’s a dark side, too—everyone knows it.

Unfortunately, I’m broke, so I never dared go in. Not even close. I stuck to the shadows.

I hid on the roof, watching the traffickers carry Carter into the backyard. My palms sweated as I crouched low.

A young man in red came out—the traffickers called him Second Boss. His clothes gleamed in the morning sun.

What a beautiful man. I almost whistled.

This Scarlet Moon Club is something else. Even their henchmen are easy on the eyes.

Second Boss opened the sack, revealing Carter’s face. Even from afar, his face was pale and delicate. So handsome, good enough to take home as a husband. Well, maybe that’s not appropriate, but I couldn’t help thinking it.

Second Boss seemed stunned by Carter’s looks, clicking his tongue in amazement, then brought out a chest from the house without another word. The tension was thick.

When the chest opened, it gleamed with cash. The sight made my mouth dry.

A hundred grand. My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

The traffickers’ eyes went green. So did mine. I had to shake myself back to reality.

Carter was carried into a room that looked anything but proper—red velvet, purple curtains, gaudy and lavish. The scent of perfume and money hung heavy in the air.

I crouched outside the window, the scent inside making me dizzy. My head spun, but I couldn’t look away.

The traffickers left in a hurry. Second Boss sat by the window, cupping Carter’s face, full of wonder. His fingers traced Carter’s jaw, and I felt a pang of something I didn’t want to name.

Just as I was thinking how to save Carter’s virtue, a servant came knocking:

“Second Boss, the owner wants you.”

Second Boss seemed to sigh regretfully, got up and left. The air felt heavier after he was gone.

Leaving Carter tied up and unconscious on the bed, like a conscripted soldier. He looked so out of place.

Poor heir of Blackwater Lodge. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

I took the chance to slip into the room, pushed aside the layers of velvet, and squatted by the bed to look at him. The air was thick with perfume and something darker.

He looked good, but when he opened his eyes, it was all killing intent—enough to make anyone back off. I swallowed hard.

I tried to check his pulse and found his energy in chaos, nerves running wild. Like he’d gone mad from some kind of energy crash—his life was in danger. My hands shook as I checked.

I injected some of my own energy, gently guiding the chaos. I hoped it would help, even a little.

Huh?

Maybe because my energy is naturally gentle and doesn’t clash with others, his energy actually calmed down a bit. Still, it was a drop in the bucket. Not enough.