Fantasy An Esper's Harem

Lucien suddenly felt the pain in his body aching as he caught his breath.

Constance, with her enigmatic past and those men now dead, seemed to carry a weight only hinted at by the rain-soaked atmosphere.

Under the city lights and the relentless downpour, they stood: Lucien, seeking refuge from a fractured home, and Constance, running from shadows that clung to her past. Despite the dimly lit urban environment, her beauty stood out, a timeless elegance that defied the chaos surrounding them.

Constance, appearing to be in her mid-forties, carried herself with a grace that transcended the weariness that often accompanies life's trials. Her blonde hair, tied neatly to the back of her head, framed a face marked by experiences and an undeniable allure. There was a quiet strength in her demeanour, a resilience that hinted at a life lived beyond the shadows of the present moment.

Lucien couldn't help but be captivated by the genuine smile that graced Constance's face. It held a warmth and reassurance that seemed to dispel the shadows lingering in the alley.

"Your wounds there seemed to be severe. Should we go to the hospital?"

Her reply to his concern about the wound only deepened the mystery surrounding her abilities.

"It will soon heal. Don't worry," she reassured him, her words carrying a quiet strength.

Then, with an inquisitive gaze, she turned the conversation towards him. "Tell me, Lucien, what are you doing here?"

Lucien let out a sigh, a mixture of relief and vulnerability. "I ran away from home." As he spoke, Constance's perceptive eyes noticed the blood stains on his shirt near his ribs. Concern flashed across her features. She looked him up and could tell that he must have had a reason to. And he was just a teenager, 15 years old.

"Will you come with me, then?" she asked, her proposal hanging in the air.

Lucien, taken aback by the sudden offer, gazed at her in surprise. There was something about her -- a mysterious allure that made him feel compelled to listen.

"I don't want to go back anyway," he admitted, his tone tinged with both defiance and resignation. "I don't have any place to go."

Constance's response carried a soothing promise. "Don't worry, Lucien. I will take good care of you."

Confusion mingled with gratitude in Lucien's expression. He couldn't comprehend the swift transformation in Constance's condition--from struggling to stand just moments ago to now walking and talking freely. The surreal nature of the situation left him momentarily puzzled.

Nevertheless, he found himself drawn to Constance's kindness and the air of familiarity she exuded. She resembled his mother, albeit a kinder version. It was as if he had stumbled upon a guardian figure, someone who understood the ache in his ribs and the fractures in his home.

In the quiet urban night, under the shelter of the bridge, Lucien made a choice. He would follow Constance into the unknown, away from the echoes of his past. As Lucien and Constance left the city behind, fleeing the chaos and destruction in their wake, Lucien found himself consumed by a myriad of emotions. Guilt gnawed at his conscience, a constant reminder of the lives he had taken and the havoc he had wrought. But amidst the turmoil, there was a sense of calm--a quiet resolve that settled over him like a cloak, guiding him forward into the unknown.

Constance had taken him out of the country, they had gone to Constance's hometown. It was in Italy.

Lucien couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of their surroundings. The rolling hills and lush greenery seemed to stretch on endlessly, a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of city life.

But it was Constance who captured his attention the most. With each passing day, he learned more about her--her mysterious past, her hidden talents, and her unwavering determination to help him understand the truth of his abilities. She was also like him,-- esper.

Settling into one of Constance's mansions in the countryside, Lucien felt a sense of peace wash over him. Here, surrounded by the tranquility of nature and the comforting presence of Constance, he began to unravel the mysteries of his newfound powers.

It seemed all new, like it was not his life anymore. One day, he was just a normal school teen, and now he was something he didn't know quite yet. The feeling had been gnawing at him. But she was there for him, after he saved her, she thought it was her duty to help him, seeing that he was in a state of complete disarray.

Together, they embarked on a journey of self-discovery, delving into the depths of Lucien's mind to unlock the secrets buried within. With Constance's guidance, he learned to harness his unknown abilities, mastering control over the raw power that surged within him.

In the quiet solitude of the countryside, Lucien allowed himself to bask in the warmth of Constance's companionship, grateful for the chance to leave the chaos behind and embrace a new beginning.

As a year passed in the tranquil countryside of Italy, Lucien found himself settling into a sense of peace and self-discovery. Surrounded by the lush landscapes and timeless beauty of the Italian countryside, he marvelled at the unexpected richness of his new surroundings.

Despite her enigmatic demeanour, Lucien soon discovered that Constance was not just a simple woman. Her wealth and resources hinted at a life far beyond the ordinary, and her relentless pursuit of knowledge spoke volumes about her determination to unravel the mysteries that surrounded him.

With Constance's guidance, Lucien dove deeper into the depths of his abilities, eager to understand the true extent of his powers and the reasons behind his sudden awakening.

She tried various other ways to unleash his abilities. Soon she found that on that day, it was his state of mind, which was in extreme turmoil, that had let him unleash his abilities. She helped him to the best of her ability.

At the start, he couldn't quite grasp what he was doing or what was happening with his body, but eventually, with the help of Constance, he learned.

As he honed his skills under Constance's tutelage, Lucien began to grasp the importance of control--a delicate balance between power and restraint that would determine his fate. With each passing day, he grew more adept at manipulating the forces that lay within him, mastering his abilities.

But it wasn't always the way he wanted. Sometimes he lost control and didn't know what he was doing. He seemed troubled and lost.

Yet, as they faced the uncertainty of the future together, Lucien found solace in the knowledge that he was not alone--that he had Constance by his side, guiding him through the darkness and lighting the way towards a brighter tomorrow.

And as they continued their journey of discovery, navigating the intricacies of power and possibility, Lucien knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them head-on. Two years later,

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the sprawling vineyard, a convoy of sleek SUVs rumbled down the winding path leading to a majestic mansion nestled atop a little higher ground. The gravel crunched beneath the tyres as the vehicles came to a stop, their engines humming with anticipation.

Doors swung open, and men dressed in impeccably tailored suits emerged, their expressions steely and determined. They fanned out, forming a perimeter around the mansion, their movements calculated and precise.

With swift efficiency, they advanced towards the grand entrance, their footsteps echoing against the stone pathway. As they breached the compound, they were met with sudden resistance as figures emerged from the shadows, launching a surprise attack.

But the men in suits were prepared, reacting with lightning-fast reflexes as they swiftly disarmed their assailants, rendering them incapacitated with expert precision. With the threat neutralised, they pressed on, their focus unwavering as they stormed into the heart of the mansion.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense, and the air was heavy with the scent of blood and sweat.

A bearded man, his face streaked with crimson, sat slumped in a chair, his eyes burning with defiance as he faced his interrogators.

Amidst the tension, a young man sauntered into the room with a casual swagger, his presence commanding attention. His sharp and penetrating eyes swept over the scene before him, taking in the chaos with a cool detachment.

One of the men in suits stepped forward, his voice firm and commanding. "Where is your brother?" he demanded, his gaze fixed on the bloodied figure before him.

While they were interrogating the bearded man, with a confident stride and an air of authority, Lucien, the young man with chiselled features and impeccably styled brown and black hair, approached Mr. Festo, the bloodied and battered man, who sat slumped in a chair before him. His gaze was sharp, his presence commanding attention as he addressed Festo with a cool detachment.

"Mr. Festo, did they treat you well so far?" Lucien inquired, gesturing subtly towards the men who had roughed him up moments earlier. His tone was casual, yet there was an underlying edge to his words, a hint of warning that lingered in the air.

Festo, his face twisted in pain and defiance, met Lucien's gaze with a glare of contempt. But Lucien remained unfazed, his focus unwavering as he cut to the chase.

"Now, let's not waste your time and my time," Lucien continued, his voice carrying a steely resolve. "Just tell me where your brother is."

But Festo remained defiant, his lips curled in a sneer as he spat on the ground in defiance. "You won't get a word from me, brat," he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt.

Lucien's expression remained stoic, his patience wearing thin as Festo's defiance grated against his resolve.

With a steely gaze, he warned Festo of the consequences of his refusal to cooperate.

"Mr. Festo, my patience is like a thin piece of paper," Lucien warned, his voice laced with a hint of menace.

"Trust me, you don't want to test it."

Festo scoffed at Lucien's threat, dismissing him as nothing more than a mere nuisance. But Lucien remained unfazed, his determination unwavering as he pressed Festo for answers.

"So you aren't going to say?" Lucien inquired, his tone deceptively calm as he stepped closer to Festo, closing the distance between them with deliberate intent.

In one swift motion, Lucien brought his foot down upon Festo's, his gaze never wavering as he applied pressure with a force that seemed to defy gravity itself. The sickening sound of bone and flesh being crushed beneath his shoe filled the room, a visceral reminder of the power that Lucien wielded.

Festo's agonised screams pierced the air, his features contorting in unimaginable pain as his foot was reduced to a mangled mess of flesh and bone beneath Lucien's merciless heel. The room fell silent, save for Festo's anguished cries, a chilling testament to the depths of Lucien's resolve.

Despite the brutality of his actions, Lucien remained eerily composed, his gaze fixed upon Festo with a stoic expression. It was a stark reminder of the lengths he was willing to go to in order to extract the information he sought, a demonstration of the consequences of defying his authority.

As Festo writhed in agony, his face twisted in a mask of torment.

As Festo writhed in agony and his face contorted in pain, Lucien's relentless interrogation continued. With a calm yet menacing demeanour, Lucien pressed Festo for answers, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"Still refusing to answer, are you?" Lucien questioned, his tone icy and unforgiving. "Do you want me to crush another one?"

Festo, already reeling from the intense pain of his crushed foot, looked up at Lucien with a horrified expression. The agony was unbearable, and he knew he could not endure much more.

Under Lucien's unwavering gaze, Festo's defiance crumbled like sand beneath a relentless tide. A shiver crept down his spine, his bravado evaporating in the face of Lucien's inscrutable expression. There was something about the young man's demeanour--a quiet intensity that sent a chill racing down Festo's spine.

Though Festo had faced countless adversaries in his life, there was something different about Lucien--a cold determination that seemed to pierce through the very core of his being. It was as if Lucien could see into Festo's soul, unravelling the layers of deceit and corruption that had defined his existence.

As Festo struggled to meet Lucien's gaze, his mind raced with fear and uncertainty. He had encountered many formidable opponents in his time, but none quite like Lucien. There was an aura of power and authority that surrounded him, a silent force that brooked no opposition.

In that moment, Festo realised that he was at the mercy of a force far greater than himself--a force that he could neither comprehend nor resist. And as he trembled under Lucien's gaze, a sense of dread settled over him, knowing that he stood on the precipice of his own downfall.

With a trembling voice, he finally relented, his words spilling out in a desperate plea for mercy.

"He's in America," Festo confessed, his voice raw with pain and defeat. "Just kill me, please."

Lucien regarded Festo with a steely gaze, his expression unreadable as he processed Festo's admission. With a silent nod, he signalled to his men and walked out of the house.

With Festo's confession echoing in his mind, Lucien wasted no time in taking decisive action. As he and his men exited the mansion, leaving Festo behind to face the consequences of his betrayal, they moved with purpose and determination.

Outside, the night air was thick with tension as they surveyed the sprawling vineyard estate. Without a word, Lucien signalled to his men, who quickly set to work dousing the mansion with gasoline, ensuring that no trace of the mansion or yard would remain.

As flames engulfed the once-grand estate, licking greedily at the walls and consuming everything in their path, Lucien climbed into one of the waiting SUVs. The engine roared to life, a symphony of power and determination, as they prepared to depart.

With the burning mansion casting an eerie glow against the night sky, Lucien's gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unreadable as he watched the flames dance in the darkness.

As the SUV sped off into the night, leaving the inferno behind them. The convoy of SUVs came to a stop in front of a magnificent white mansion, a beacon of luxury amidst the lush greenery that surrounded it. This grand estate had been Lucien's home since he arrived in this place, a sanctuary from the chaos and danger that lurked beyond its walls.

Lucien stepped out of the vehicle and made his way towards the imposing front door of the mansion. As he approached, a maid appeared, her expression deferential as she addressed him.

"Signorino, Madame has asked for you," the maid informed him, her voice soft yet filled with respect.

Lucien nodded in acknowledgment, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his eyes. He was about to go and meet her too.

With measured steps, Lucien entered the mansion. The interior of the mansion was just as grand as its exterior, with opulent furnishings and intricate decorations adorning every corner. The air was suffused with an aura of opulence, with the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers mingling in the air.

As he made his way through the lavish halls, Lucien's thoughts turned to the task at hand.

Lucien's strides echoed through the opulent corridors of the mansion, a stark contrast to the gritty ambiance of the nearby warehouse.

The atmosphere hummed with the meticulous activities of maids, their graceful movements choreographed to perfection. Adjusting his suit and tying his tie with practiced ease, Lucien seamlessly integrated himself into the controlled elegance that surrounded him.

She had always told him to dress the part, it was the first impression you give people and yourselves too.

As he traversed the mansion, Lucien accepted a towel offered by a passing maid, the fabric cooled against his skin as he meticulously cleaned his hands.

The grandeur of the house whispered tales of power and influence, its polished surfaces reflecting the complexity of the world Lucien now inhabited.

Approaching a substantial door, Lucien announced his presence with a confident tone, "I'm here."

Constance, the woman behind the desk, momentarily glanced up from the spread of papers before her. "Take a seat," she commanded.

Lucien, the subtle rustle of his suit filling the room, complied and settled into the plush chair before her.

In the three and a half years under Constance's care, Lucien had not only undergone a physical transformation but had also adapted seamlessly to the nuances of the underworld she presided over.

Initially, Constance was unsure of introducing him to the way of her business, but the way he constantly pestered her, showed too much interest in it, and eventually got involved himself.

Constance, a formidable figure in the realm of organised crime, managed various businesses and held sway over numerous families. Lucien's journey from vulnerability to mastery had surprised even Constance, forging an unconventional bond between mentor and protege.

He was more ruthless than she was, and sometimes she couldn't believe the ways he dealt with their enemies. Lucien's transformation had not only impressed Constance, but it had also instilled a sense of pride in her. She saw in him a reflection of her own determination and ambition, making their bond even stronger. As Lucien grew more ruthless in his methods, he was getting a lot of attention from other families.

The room, adorned with symbols of wealth and power, served as the backdrop for their clandestine discussions. Constance, engrossed in the documents spread across her desk, radiated an air of authority.

Lucien, having evolved from a figure seeking refuge to an integral part of Constance's operations, awaited her instructions with a demeanour that mirrored the newfound strength he possessed.

Constance's words hung in the air, weaving a sense of urgency and purpose into the room. "Lucien, I think it's time you visit America," she declared, her gaze focused on him.

Lucien, anticipating the gravity of her instructions, waited for further guidance.

"Why?"

A sigh escaped Constance's lips, and she began to reveal the intricate details of her plan. "The men who came after me were recently seen in Santa Mone, the city where we last were," she explained. "I want you to go there, get settled in school, and observe them until I instruct further on what to do."

"What? School? Why do I have to go to school?"

Constance narrowed her eyes and said, "Lucien, it's necessary that you do that. And what's there to lose? You will get to join school and enjoy your school."

"I don't need that."

"Lucien!" Her tone turned low-pitched as her gaze turned a bit colder.

"Okay, okay," Lucien said, raising his hands in defeat. Lucien was never the one to disobey her, and if she said that he needed to go, then there must have been a reason to. So he decided to go.

Lucien, absorbing the weight of the task, contemplated the mission laid out before him. The tendrils of his past entwined with the present as Constance continued, "You should go and visit your family. I heard their situation is not good."

The mention of his family stirred a complex mix of emotions within Lucien. It had been over three and a half years since he left home, and the prospect of returning brought forth memories and unresolved feelings. The wounds of the past, especially the events surrounding his mother, lingered in the recesses of his mind. Despite the apprehension, there was an undeniable longing to see his mother and, perhaps, confront the ghosts of his past.

His desire to be with her was buried in his heart, but he didn't say anything to anyone; he kept it to himself.

After a contemplative pause, Lucien responded, "Okay." He got up from his seat and asked, "Will you be okay if I leave?"

Constance, smirking in response, teased him, "Look at you, all grown up. Acting like my boss, are you now?"

Lucien smiled, a mixture of confidence and playfulness in his demeanour.

Walking towards the door, he turned and said, "See you soon, Mama."

The use of the term Mama was a playful tease, a nickname Lucien often employed to elicit a smile from Constance. Her response, a genuine smile, hinted at the intricate dynamics of their relationship, a blend of camaraderie and respect that had evolved over the years.

Lucien's thoughts swirled in a tempest of emotions as he made his way to his room. Instructing the maids to prepare his luggage, he couldn't escape the thoughts of his mother and her image. The prospect of returning to America, his homeland, brought with it a flood of memories, both tender and painful.

As the maids diligently packed his belongings, Lucien's mind fixated on his family, especially his mother. The love he once held for her clashed with the unresolved hurt inflicted on that fateful day. The wounds of rejection and the echo of harsh words lingered in his memory, an enigma he still struggled to unravel. Why did she hate him so intensely? The question reverberated in his mind, a haunting refrain from the past.

A heavy sigh escaped Lucien as he exited the mansion, finding Constance waiting for him by the car.

The air was charged with a sense of responsibility and an underlying tension. Approaching her, he was met with a stern yet caring expression. "Be careful and just do as I tell you; understand," Constance emphasised. Lucien, acknowledging the gravity of the situation, nodded in response.

A hug and a kiss on the cheek followed, a rare display of tenderness from the formidable Constance.

"Take care," Lucien said, the sentiment echoing in the air. Climbing into the waiting car, he felt the weight of the impending journey settle around him. The driver manoeuvred the vehicle out of the mansion compound, leaving Constance standing, watching the departure with a mixture of concern and contemplation.

As the car glided through the streets, Lucien's mind became a battleground of conflicting emotions. The task lay ahead, intertwined with the ghosts of his past. The road to Santa Mone was not just a physical journey; it was a return to a place he once called home, where the complexities of family and love awaited him.

And in the shadows, Constance stood, a silent guardian in the intricate dance of loyalty and obligation. A few hours later, two SUVs and one black sedan were rolling towards the mansion. The vehicles moved swiftly, their engines purring with power as they approached the grand entrance. The sleek design of the SUVs and the mysterious allure of the black sedan created an air of sophistication and intrigue.

As dusk settled around the mansion, the fleet of cars glided to a stop, each vehicle housing men adorned in black suits and goggles.

Purposefully, they entered the compound through the main gate, fanning out strategically around the opulent residence. Their movements were synchronised and calculated, indicating a well-coordinated operation. The men communicated through subtle gestures and nods, maintaining an air of professionalism and secrecy. They positioned themselves around the mansion.

At the forefront, a man with a bearded visage, identified as Dylan, led the group. Dylan's piercing gaze surveyed the surroundings, his eyes filled with a hint of mystery.

Coming to a halt near the imposing main door, the men prepared to take action. Two men stepped forward and were about to force their way in, but they stopped hearing his voice.

Dylan, however, intervened, his voice a low reprimand: "Hey, hey, what are you doing? Try to open the door normally." With a nod of assurance, he gestured towards the entrance, and, almost mystically, the door swung open of its own accord. "See," he declared, leading the way into the mansion.

The imposing group entered the house, Dylan's brow furrowing as he surveyed the eerily quiet surroundings. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. As they cautiously explored the mansion, their footsteps echoed through the empty halls, adding to the unsettling atmosphere.

No signs of life greeted them, and an unsettling silence hung in the air. Undeterred, they switched on the lights, their footsteps echoing through the vacant halls as they systematically checked each room. As they moved from room to room, Dylan's unease grew, his senses heightened by the oppressive stillness. The absence of any personal belongings or traces of recent activity only deepened the mystery, leaving him with an unsettling sense of foreboding.

The once vibrant and bustling mansion now stood in stark contrast, its opulence void of its usual occupants.

Dylan, glancing around, couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The absence of any sign of life only deepened the mystery, and as they combed through the rooms, a sense of foreboding settled over the intruders. The mansion, once a hub of activity, now whispered echoes of its deserted state, leaving the men to navigate the enigma that unfolded within its walls.

Dylan found himself standing in Constance's office, a photo clutched in his hand, capturing a moment frozen in time -- Constance and Lucien, captured when they first arrived at the mansion. A hint of amusement played on his features as he said, "And now who is this?" looking at Lucien in the photo frame.

One of his men entered the room and reported, "Sir, there is no one in the house. Looks like they left."

Dylan, wearing a playful smile, quipped, "Well, isn't it obvious?"

His eyes fixed on the photograph, he muttered, "Boss lady, boss lady, where are you? Where are you?" He sang the words, an eerie juxtaposition to the emptiness that surrounded them.

Deciding on a course of action, Dylan commanded, "Boys, burn the house down." Carrying the photograph as if it held the key to the vanished occupants, he strolled out of the house. Outside, he stood by his car, watching as his men strategically placed explosives around the mansion.

Once the preparations were complete, everyone retreated to a safe distance.

The remote location of the mansion, nestled far away from prying eyes, made it an ideal spot for such covert activities. The impending destruction unfolded in silence, the blast tearing through the stillness of the deserted region.

As flames engulfed the once-grand mansion, its opulence turned to ash, and smoke billowed into the night. In this isolated and desolate landscape, the destruction remained unseen, a clandestine operation leaving no witnesses to its fiery conclusion. The echoes of the detonation lingered briefly before fading into the quiet expanse, leaving behind a void where the mansion had once stood, now erased from the map of the world.
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