Fugu

Marius followed the maid through the stone corridors, the walls narrowing as they approached the kitchen. The air was thick with the smell of roasting meats and simmering stews, mingling with the acrid tang of smoke from the fires. The hum of voices grew louder, a low murmur of conversation interspersed with the clatter of pots and pans. They stepped through the wide doorway, and Marius was immediately struck by the sight of servants bustling around in a controlled frenzy. They moved quickly, hands busy with knives, ladles, and trays, their expressions tense. It was clear they were behind schedule.

Before Marius could fully take in the scene, a large man, burly and stern-faced, barreled into him, nearly knocking him off balance. The man's eyes narrowed as he looked Marius up and down. "You're one of the new ones, aren't you?" he barked, his voice gruff and impatient.

Marius hesitated, lowering his head out of respect. "Yes, sir," he replied softly, feeling the weight of the man's gaze on him. He had always thought of himself as humble, but now, standing there, he realized how much pride he had carried with him all those years. Even when he didn't realize it, he had been accustomed to his privilege, never having to bow his head like this, never having to prove his worth with manual labor.

The man grunted, motioning for Marius to follow him. "Come on, then. Let's see what you can do."

Marius followed him deeper into the kitchen, the heat from the ovens making his skin prickle. The head of the kitchen led him to a corner, where he gestured to a large basin filled with water. "What can you do?" the man asked, his tone sharp.

Marius glanced around, feeling the pressure of the moment. "I can help with the labor," he said. "Fetching water, carrying things—whatever you need."

The man eyed him skeptically, then grabbed Marius's arm, pulling up the sleeves of his tunic. "You're not built for that," he said bluntly, his eyes assessing Marius's slender frame. "You'll only hold us back."

Marius flushed with embarrassment, feeling small and useless under the man's scrutiny. "I—uh—I can cook," he said, the words tumbling out before he could think them through.

The man's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing with interest. "You can cook, huh?" he said, his tone skeptical. "Good. We could use someone with experience."

Marius's mind flickered to memories of his mother in the kitchen, her hands deftly chopping vegetables, stirring pots, her face serene in concentration. She had always insisted on cooking the family's meals herself, never leaving the task to the servants. He had often wondered why, but now, in this strange twist of fate, it made sense. Cooking had been her way of staying grounded, of holding onto something real. Her life as an Omega.

Absentmindedly, Marius nodded. "I have some experience," he murmured, his thoughts still with his mother.

The head of the kitchen nodded, satisfied. "Good," he said. He led Marius to a slab where a girl, her red hair disheveled, was hunched over, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed quietly. The man's voice was harsh as he addressed her. "You with the red head! Leave the pufferfish to this boy."

The girl looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. She immediately scrambled to her feet, wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with relief. "Thank you so much."

She handed the knife to Marius, her hands shaking, and hurried away, leaving him standing there, staring down at the bloody blade. The pufferfish lay on the slab, its scales glistening under the dim light, its eyes glassy and lifeless. Marius felt a chill run down his spine as he looked from the knife to the fish.

"Pufferfish is a rarity," he said quietly, his voice strained. "Not just anyone can cook this."

The head of the kitchen's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "But you said you could cook," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Marius swallowed hard, the weight of the situation sinking in. "This fish is deadly if it's not prepared right," he said, his words coming out in a rush. "If I mess up, I could be accused of poisoning the Queen—trying to kill her."

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized the trap he had walked into. His fist tightened around the handle of the blade, and he glared at the man, anger and fear mixing in his chest. "Is this a setup?" he demanded, his voice shaking with suppressed rage.

The man's stern face broke into a cruel smile, and he reached out, tapping Marius on the shoulder. "Well, maybe you shouldn't get the Queen killed, then," he said with a chuckle. "And remember, the Queen has a taster. Don't kill some innocent Omega."

With that, the man turned and walked away, leaving Marius standing there, the blade trembling in his hand. A flood of emotions washed over him—fear, anger, and a deep, gnawing despair. He looked down at the fish, then back at the knife, the cold steel glinting ominously. For a moment, a dark thought crossed his mind, and he considered going ballistic, hacking at everyone and everything in the room. His vision blurred with red, his breathing quickening.

But then, his mother's voice echoed in his mind, a haunting whisper from his past: "The road to hell is paved with good intentions… This is all your fault!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take long, deep breaths. He had come too far to lose control now. Slowly, he knelt beside the slab, forcing himself to focus on the task before him. He pressed the knife into the pufferfish's belly, the blade cutting cleanly through the flesh. The smell of blood and salt filled his nose, but he pushed it aside, working with methodical precision.

"Why should I be afraid of death?" he muttered to himself, his voice low and bitter. "I should welcome it."

With a sharp motion, he ripped apart the organs, his hands slick with blood. His eyes locked onto the liver, the most poisonous part of the fish. He held it up, the dark mass dripping with blood, and brought it close to his mouth. His thoughts swirled with self-destruction, the weight of his situation crushing him from all sides.

Before he could act on his impulse, a hand slapped the liver out of his grip. The shock of it jolted him back to reality, and he looked up to see the rude Omega girl that had come to fetch him from the Bedni quarters kneeling beside him, her eyes wide with concern.

"What are you doing?" she whispered urgently, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. "Is that it? You're just going to kill yourself? Not a bone of survival in your body?"

Marius stared at her, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and despair. "The Queen probably wants me on pufferfish duty to find an excuse to finish me off anyway," he muttered, the hopelessness in his voice noticeable. "I'd rather go on my terms."

The girl's grip tightened on his face, her voice fierce. "But that's not on your terms. That's on their terms," she insisted. "The last thing your parents wanted was for you to leave this world. You got a second chance at life after being dealt the worst luck. Use it."

Marius scoffed, pulling away from her grip. "What do you know about me?" he retorted, bitterness seeping into his words.

The girl's expression softened, her eyes searching his. "I don't know you," she admitted, her voice calm but steady. "But word from my brother is enough surety for me."

Marius's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as recognition dawned. "Your brother…?" he whispered, his eyes wide with disbelief.

She nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "My name is Isla," she said softly. "And I'm Ren's sister."

Marius's world tilted on its axis, memories of his childhood friend flashing through his mind. Ren had been more than a friend—he had been like a brother to Marius, someone who had seen the best and worst of him, who had stood by him when no one else did. The thought that Ren's sister was here, in this place, with him, brought a rush of emotions he hadn't expected.

Isla…" he breathed, the name feeling strange yet familiar on his tongue.

She nodded again, her expression serious. "Ren always spoke highly of you," she said. "He told me you were kind and good—the best friend he ever had. And that's enough for me when he begged me to protect you."

Marius felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of Ren's trust pressing down on him like a heavy stone. His old friend had begged her to protect him. In a place where betrayal was as common as breathing, Ren had believed in him, had gone out of his way to ensure he wasn't alone. The thought filled Marius with a strange mix of guilt and gratitude, emotions warring within him.

Isla's eyes softened as she saw the turmoil on his face. "Marius, listen to me," she said gently, her voice cutting through the chaos in his mind. "You're not alone in this. We'll get through it together. But you need to trust me."

Marius hesitated, his gaze flicking down to the bloody knife in his hand. The blade felt cold and heavy, a stark reminder of the deadly task he was being forced into. His fingers trembled as he held it, the thought of what could happen if he made a mistake gnawing at the edges of his mind.

"Hand me the knife," Isla said softly, holding out her hand. Her voice was calm, steady, a lifeline in the storm that was raging inside him. "Let me handle this."

Marius looked up at her, searching her face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. She was resolute, her gaze unwavering, and for the first time since this nightmare had begun, Marius felt a sliver of relief. He wasn't alone, and he didn't have to shoulder this burden by himself.

Slowly, he placed the knife in her outstretched hand, the weight of it lifting from his soul as he let it go. Isla's fingers closed around the handle with a surety that belied her earlier distress. She gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"I'll switch duties with you," she said, her voice firm. "You're not ready for this, and I can't let you take the fall for something you're not prepared for. I know how to handle the pufferfish. I've done it before. You can take my task instead."

Marius opened his mouth to protest, the guilt of letting her take on such a dangerous duty gnawing at him, but Isla shook her head, cutting him off before he could speak.

"Don't argue with me, Marius," she said, her tone leaving no room for debate. "This is the best way. Besides, I made a promise to my brother. And I always keep my promises."

Her words left him no choice. Marius nodded slowly, his resistance crumbling in the face of her determination. He didn't have the strength to fight her, not when she was so resolute in her decision.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but Isla heard him. She squeezed his hand briefly, a silent reassurance that everything would be alright.

"Go," she urged him gently. "Take over my task in the storeroom. It's just organizing supplies, nothing too difficult. I'll handle this."

Marius hesitated for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on the knife in her hand, but Isla's steady gaze gave him the courage to turn and walk away. He made his way to the storeroom, his steps slow and heavy. When he reached the door, he glanced back at Isla. She was already at work, her hands moving with practiced ease as she prepared the pufferfish. She caught his eye and gave him a small nod of encouragement.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the storeroom door, stepping into the cool, dimly lit space. It wasn't the same as standing by his mother's side in their kitchen, but it was something he could manage, something he could control.