The Weeping Moon

That night was supposed to be the celebration of their third anniversary. The sky above the grand penthouse was crystal clear, as if providing a stage for the full moon to show itself in all its glory.

In the back garden overlooking the city lights, Luna set the dining table with hands that trembled slightly. It wasn’t out of fear, but because of the heart flutters she felt every time Michael—the man who had rescued her from the cruel world of night clubs—was about to return home.

To Luna, Michael was the center of her universe. He was the man who would willingly spend thousands of dollars just to fill the garden with flowers that bloomed regardless of the season.

"Do you like it?" Michael asked, inhaling the scent of vanilla from the crook of her neck. "Did you cook by yourself again? I told you, just let the servants do it. I don't want your soft hands to get hurt."

Luna let out a small laugh, turned around, and planted a kiss on her lover's nose. "Once in a while is fine. Besides, it's our special day."

"This pearl necklace is for you."

"It’s too beautiful, Michael. You’re always so over-the-top," Luna whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"For you, there’s no such thing as over-the-top. Oh, and one more thing, sweetheart. I have another gift. Think of it as a little game. Go find it; I’ve hidden it behind the large tree where we usually sit."

"I have a gift for you too," Luna countered. She took his hand and placed it firmly on her upper thigh. "You can play with it right now; I’m not wearing anything underneath."

"Sweetheart, go find your gift first. Don't wander anywhere else, okay? There are many positions we need to try tonight."

Luna laughed, playfully biting his lip for a moment before stepping away from the dining area. She followed the stone path illuminated by dim, warm lights. Thousands of white rose and lily petals scattered their fragrance as the wind swept against the thin dress she wore.

However, as she reached the large tree, her eyes caught something unusual. Behind the thick ornamental plants, the door to the old warehouse—which was usually bolted shut and heavily guarded—stood slightly ajar.

Luna stepped forward slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force. A damp aroma and the sharp sting of iron greeted her the moment she pushed the door open. She switched on her phone’s flashlight. The small beam swept through the suffocating, dusty room until it stopped in the corner.

"Drugs …," she breathed, witnessing bundles of all-too-familiar white powder and firearms.

Luna’s heart nearly stopped. She turned to leave, but her light accidentally caught a large glass cabinet beside the door. Inside, rows of human skulls were neatly arranged, each with a precise bullet hole in the forehead.

"I have to run," she muttered in a panic. She felt she could no longer trust anyone. Even the man who had just held her body so warmly might be hiding a massive, lethal lie.

But as she stepped out of the warehouse, Michael was no longer standing there waiting. He collapsed upon the bed of white roses, which were now stained by a clear fluid leaking from his mouth. His body went into violent convulsions, his powerful hands clutching his chest so hard his shirt tore.

"Michael!" Luna screamed, racing toward her dying lover.

She fell to her knees, cradling Michael’s head in her lap. But in that instant, a group of men in black surrounded them, led by Yohan, who glared at Luna with eyes full of pure hatred.

"The Young Master has been poisoned!" one of the guards shouted.

"Seize that whore!" Yohan commanded. "How dare she try to kill my son."

Without waiting for an explanation, a stunned Luna was dragged away to the basement. Her body was thrown into a cage with nothing but dry straw for a bed. Brak! The iron door was immediately locked.

"Let me out! I didn't do anything!" Luna gripped the bars until her knuckles turned white.

"You unlucky bitch! Everything is a mess because of you!" the guard barked, spitting toward Luna’s feet.

"It’s because of all of you that my life is falling apart! I didn't do a thing!" Luna screamed back, her anger finally masking her terror.

"Bitch!" The man slammed his hand against the bars, creating a deafening metallic ring. He leaned his grim face toward the cell. "You’re going to wish you were never born. But whatever, you’re pretty enough. At least before you're turned into dog food, I'll ask the Master for permission to have a taste of you once."

"Try saying that in front of Michael. Let’s see who ends up as dog food then!" Luna challenged with trembling lips.

Suddenly, a tall figure entered. Star Sapphire—the right-hand man who had sworn his life to Michael since the age of ten—stared intensely at the girl in the tattered dress. With a single hand gesture, the guards retreated, leaving the two of them alone in the darkness.

"Sapphire, you ... you know I would never poison him!"

"I don't know. But you are lucky, Miss. The Master is still with us."

"How is he?"

"The doctor has neutralized the poison, but he hasn't regained consciousness. Here, drink this."

Luna’s eyes widened at the bottle he offered. "Poison? Do you want me dead too?"

"On the contrary, this is a sedative," Sapphire replied quickly. "I am certain they will torture you. But at least it can be delayed if you are unconscious. Pray that the Master wakes before they begin the interrogation. If not... even I won't be able to help you anymore."

"But I didn't hurt Michael!" Luna snapped in frustration.

"That is exactly why!" Sapphire slammed the iron bars, leaning in close to Luna. With a piercing glare, he growled, "Miss, if I believed you were the culprit, I wouldn't be giving you that medicine. I would snap your neck right here. This. Very. Second!"