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24 – Clarifications
Last Updated:
2025-07-15 05:47:05
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The Price of a Second Chance 135 – Reporter
The kettle hissed again. The repetitive sound was almost hypnotic, as if mocking my attempt to maintain normality in the midst of chaos. A piece of routine survived while everything around crumbled.The cameras were still outside. Always outside. I had already gotten used to the brief flash of flashes through the glass, but not with the feeling of being constantly watched. Every sip of coffee, every breath, every time he blinked, someone recorded.The doorbell rang, and by reflex, my whole body moved.This time, it was not a rushed customer, nor derided teenagers, nor curious merchants. A man came in, tall and thin, with a coat too long for the heat of the day. Carried a worn leather briefcase, such as real journalists still use when they want to look serious. The smell was neither of provocation, nor of alcohol, nor of exaggerated fear. It was neutral.He walked to the counter without rushing, and for a moment, I thought it was just another curious one, another ready to film me up cl
The Price of a Second Chance 134 – Visits of interest
The silence inside me never lasts. There is always a noise, a snap, an insistent scratch that reminds me that I am not only a man. Today, this noise was louder because it came from outside as well.The whole city seemed to have decided to speak at once. Headlines, glances, whispers, cameras. I didn’t need to see to know: it was stamped everywhere. Monster. Again.I arrived early at the café, earlier than usual. I wanted to prepare everything before the first customers showed up. Perhaps, unconsciously, he wanted to enjoy a few minutes of peace before the storm fell again.I put the water to boil, lined up the cups, and organized the coffee packets as if each were a single piece. An invisible trench against the world. The noise of the kettle was the only thing that sounded normal.The doorbell rang. The first customer. It was a woman with a child in her hand. She came in looking sideways, as if every corner hid danger. The boy pulled her sleeve, curious, but she held him firmly, almost
The Price of a Second Chance 133 – Yes, It’s The Plan
"Why is it so important to you that he lose control?" she insisted.Smile. Not the broad smile that delivers weakness, but the small one, the restrained one, leaving the other without knowing whether it is facing a threat or a confidence."Because his control is an illusion, Naomi."She frowned, straightening. "You didn’t answer my question.""I answered yes. Just not with the words you’d like to hear."I took a slow step to the table, picked up one of the newspapers, and stood in front of it. The title shouted in red: "Families demand safety." The blurred photo showed Lancelot’s face in the midst of the transformation, wild eyes captured at the perfect moment."Look at that. Do you really think I need to invent something? I just showed her the city that she’s seen with her own eyes. Lancelot doesn’t need me to take him down. He does it alone every time the monster escapes."She narrowed her lips but did not look away. I admired that strength in her, even when it was against me."You
The Price of a Second Chance 132 – More And More
The next day brought exactly what I had asked.The headlines were sharper, the texts more poisonous. "Cafeteria at risk of interdiction," "Population demands security," "Families do not want monsters serving their children." The term was repeated in bold letters: monsters, monsters, monsters. The word no longer needed my whisper. Now she walked alone, laden in the mouths and hurried fingers of the city.Sat down at the table, spreading newspapers like a feast. An orchestra of fear and repulsion playing exactly the music I composed.The social networks ignited. Short videos showing only seconds of the scene, always hand-picked: eyes shining, body half bent, animal breath. The whole context was gone. It didn’t matter if Lancelot had stopped before he killed. What was left was the image frozen in the instant he seemed to be about to tear someone apart.It was perfect.Meanwhile, the phone wouldn’t stop. Assessors, journalists, and entrepreneurs—all wanting to confirm details, all eager t
The Price of a Second Chance 131 – Plan Into Action
The world loves monsters. They give good headlines, attract glances, and sell.I spent the whole morning reviewing the newspaper clippings. Some already ran in groups of messages, circulating like a fever. "Blood Monster Attacks Local Cafeteria." The blurred photo showed half of Lancelot’s face in transition, eyes glowing, teeth exposed. He looked like all that he had always tried to deny.Smiled alone. The work was working.I didn’t need to forge anything. It was enough to push the right pieces. I called an old press contact, someone who owed me favors from the time I sponsored campaigns. I whispered in his ear that there were witnesses, that the city was not safe, and that trade was at risk. The reporters ran after the blood like dogs sniffing fresh meat.The trade association was even easier. It was enough to feed the fear. "If he loses control in the cafeteria, who will pay for the processes? You." Money speaks louder than loyalty. The papers for interdiction were ready before noo
The Price of a Second Chance 130 – Ghosts Of The Past
I woke up before the sun. Not that I had really slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the face of someone I had already hurt. I heard it; I listened to my own breath tearing, but I heard mostly the screams. Not yesterday’s screams. The old echoes. Those of my childhood. The sound of my father losing control, and I swore that I would never be like him.Only that now the whole city saw me exactly like this.The headlines were on all the screens of the cafe when I arrived earlier to open. One of the neighbors had glued the newspaper into the glass as if it were a trophy. "Blood Monster Attacks in Local Cafeteria." The photo was blurry, but you could recognize it. My body half transformed, eyes lit, mouth too open. It seemed a caricature of who I am.The tables filled up fast that morning. Curious customers, some I had never seen before. They entered just to order a small coffee and watched me as if I were an animal trapped in a glass cage. Every movement of mine was followed. The cup
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