Worthless

"There's nothing else. What more can there be?" 

Was all Lynn said before he excused himself with a tilt of head and a smile on his face. Derek wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not as he was already on the verge of snapping. It was obvious Derek asked about it; it was even more obvious that Lynn knew what Derek wanted to know. 

Yet here he was, still keeping his mouth shut. 

Derek would never go against his principle, but this might be his last straw. He never knew about Lynn and Icarus's past. He had seen how reluctant the both of them were in sharing. 

Let the past be past. Bygones be bygones. 

But right now, he was so close to breaking his own set of rules. 

XXX

[Next Morning] 

<<The Serial Killer has been arrested!>> 

This particular title had made its way up on the headlines in all the newspapers. Followed by <<This horrifying serial killer has been put in prison!>> and <<The serial killer has commited suicide!>>

The news had put a lot of the people in the town at ease. Those who dared not wander around at night now can rest ȧssured. 

Lynn placed the newspaper he was holding on the working desk in his room and sighed heavily. They patted their buŧŧs, closed the case and decided to cover the truth and fed lies to the media with the purpose not to cause an uproar. 

What would happen if they leaked that said serial killer was already dead way before the first victim? 

The town would definitely end up in chaos and fear. 

Or not…? 

Lynn could just hope they did. 

As much as he wanted to thank Zion for such exclusive information; Hey! He even wrote the location of the corpse in the snapshots! That rascal even spreaded it out, dividing them, more like splitting them into fragments and made Derek and Lynn solve the riddles just to know the location. 

Lynn never wanted to meet that younger man ever again. Just the thought of it sent shivers down his spine. 

They might have been close before but now, they were just mere acquaintances. If it was possible, he never wanted anything to do with that younger man. 

On the other side of the town, a man in his thirties threw the morning newspapers onto his white desk and leaned against his chair. 

His surroundings were white. The walls, the desk, the windows, the doors, the ceilings. Some people might develop Xanthophobia, but not him. Instead, he dwelt in it, he embraced the color, and found consolation in it. 

For him, it was his paradise. 

Throwing his head back against the chair, his eyes rolled to read the headlines again. 

<<The Serial Killer has committed suicide!>>

He scoffed before it turned into a snort as he tried to hold back his laughter. His body shook, trying to stop the laugh from coming out. When he managed to do so, he tried to take a few breaths to calm himself down. Yet to no avail, his eyes wandered again towards the headlines. 

This time he covered his mouth and curled his body. The headline titles just seemed to crack him up. His pupils constricted and widened to the extent that the whites surrounded the brown orbs. In the end, he couldn't help the soft giggle that seeped through his fingers before it finally burst into a full blown laugh. 

He cackled with a brutal and malicious laughter, the laughter of a madman. It echoed in the white room, the sound resonated and bounced over the walls. A minute later, the laughter had yet to die down. 

It seemed whatever he saw was a joke to him, like it was something hilarious. 

Fortunately, he had stopped himself after a while. Scrubbing the tears from the corner of his eyes, he flipped the newspaper open again. This time, only snickers were coming from his mouth. 

But his eyes shone with even more wicked glint in it. 

"So this is how you are going to play…?" 

XXX

In contrast to the cold winter, the news burned like flames, spread like wildfire. The temperature was cold and heavy snow turned the entire town into a world of silver, yet the market was still especially bustled with people, each one of them had a newspaper in hand. Some had relief on their faces, while some were just planning on spreading gossip. 

Somewhere far from the town, in the Zero's Mansion, Malakhi Zero was also reading the newspaper. He let out an ugly chortle as he smacked his palm against the wood of his desk as if laughing at his own stupid pun. The stuff on the desk shook and trembled at the pressure of his palm. 

"What an idiot!" He cackled madly and inelegantly. "What watchdog? More like a stupid mutt!" 

He howled like a delusional man. 

A sudden knock caused him to snap out of his craze and resumed his aristocratic look. Coughing lightly, he muttered "come in". 

Zion let himself in. In his hands, he carried a tray with an envelope on top of it. Malakhi cleared his throat, it stung from laughter too much, and adjusted his bow tie. 

Softly, his butler closed the door and made his way towards the Lord. 

He bowed before placing the letter on top of the desk. Maintaining his arrogant look, Malakhi snatched the letter away, flipping it back and forth until his squinty eyes zoomed into the wax placed to seal the letter. 

His eyes widened in alarm. 

Zion had stood there unmoving. His eyes examined the stupid Lord of his, watching the changes in facial expression. He had seen enough of these letters to know it came from the same person and that person seemed to wreak absolute havoc in Malakhi. 

He had wanted to see more if not for Malakhi waving him off. In the end, he sighed in resignation as he walked to his respective place by the door. 

'28 years. 28 YEARS! How dare you…!' 

The older man seemed to know when and how to avoid getting in contact with him alone. He always managed to get Roderick or the Inspector. 

The sound of paper being ripped open went unheard as he was busy with his personal drama but the next bang from a fist against the wooden desk made him jump. Slowly, he dragged his eyes forward and saw that...

Malakhi was seething. Yet there was fear lingering in his eyes. These two emotions rarely mixed well together, but they worked and combined well enough in Malakhi. 

Zion thought that the news of the serial killer would make the old man content, yet it didn't seem to be the case. It made the butler wonder what was in the letter. 

But man… 

This old fart needed to stop that bad habit of his. Once all of these were done, he wouldn't mind butchering this man and of course, his arms would go off first. 

XXX

'There's a mole on your side, remove it or else.' 

'There's a mole on your side, remove it or else.'

'THERE'S A MOLE ON YOUR SIDE, REMOVE IT OR ELSE.'

The words burned in Malakhi's eyes as he read the words inside the letter. He crumpled the letter in his fist before hurling it away. These unidentified letters weren't unidentified at all. The Lord of Zero knew where they were from. 

But who was it? Who was behind these letters? He had yet to know. 

His mind replayed the words in the letter again. There was no way there could be a mole in here. It was impossible! There couldn't be! He had made sure to double check everything before hiring. 

All… 

But one. 

No. 

Wait a minute. 

There was another. 

Those dogs managed to sniff him even better than before and were biting on his tail even more furiously. Malakhi's face was full of black lines. 

He clenched his fists tightly until his nails created dents on his palm. He had wasted his time ŀɨċkɨnġ the boots of that dog and losing his face in process. He couldn't let all of his hard work go down the drain that easily. 

He had his own suspicions. He better dug the hole and fist the mole as quickly as possible, getting rid of it was his priority. 

But first. 

Malakhi dragged his eyes across the room and landed on the figure by the door, standing stiff with a permanent and polite smile on his face. How he wished to rip it off. 

What Malakhi didn't know was that the butler on the other side had the exact same thought but with an even more creative way to butcher his Lord.