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Four ◑ The Dream

That night, Lucille had fallen asleep almost immediately after she laid her head on the pillow. And for the first time in centuries, she began to sink into the realm of dreams.

She found herself in a forest, running along a path paved in between an assortment of trees. It was warm, and stars were spattered across the dark expanse of the sky. The moon was a perfect crescent, bright and breathtaking, shining above her like a promise.

There was a lightness in Lucille's chest, something that she hadn't felt in years. The wind, the smell of citrus, the way the hem of her dress fluttered along her ankles—it added a sense of ease, like she'd finally come home after years of wandering.

And she had a strong feeling that this had something to do with the man in front of her.

He was clutching her hand and gently guiding her through the path, his laughter breaking the silence. She couldn't see his face, even though he kept looking back to check on her. The back of his head was hardly visible too, which was strange considering the glow from the stars and the moon descending over the forest. He had no clear feature, not even the color of his skin or his height. She could just tell that he was there, that he was a man.

A man that she knew she should recognize.

But she didn't. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to rack her brains, she didn't know him. Trying to remember him was like trying to hold onto a handful of sand in raging winds. It was impossible.

"Who are you?" she asked as they approached a clearing deep into the forest. Dried leaves were rustling, the thin twigs snapping underfoot. "Look at me. Are you . . . ?"

The rest of Lucille's question got drowned in the wind as the man obeyed and turned around.

It was Dimitri.

He was wearing a black Greek tunic, with a golden circlet decorating his wavy black locks. His amber eyes were almost yellow in the moonlight and as sad as ever, like he'd witnessed every tragedy and brought a pieces of it with him every day.

The sight of him made her knees go weak. A strong, all-consuming pain sparked in her chest and began to spread all over her body. Despair, longing, and regret. All mixed into a poisonous brew that made her equilibrium tip.

She swayed in her spot. He reached out to hold her upright, but the moment his cold fingertips grazed her bare shoulders, she collapsed on the ground. The leaves dug on her back and her scalp, but she couldn't feel a thing except for the trail of tears flowing down her cheeks.

Dimitri knelt beside her. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

The next words that would come out of her mouth seemed to have been the thoughts of another person entirely.

"Help me. Please set me free."

"I will." He brushed her hair away from her face. "Just be careful, and I will do the rest."

Slowly, Dimitri's touch began to travel up her forehead. In one fluid movement, covered her eyes with his palm and engulfed her in endless darkness. . . .

And that was when Lucille snapped awake.

For a second, the sleeping mask over her eyes alarmed her. She fumbled on her face, yanked off the strip of velvet, and chucked it across the bedroom. She immediately regretted that, though. It was already bright, and the sudden change made her eyes water.

The white walls were bouncing off the light coming from the wide windows beside her bed, bathing the entire place in a harsh glare. The dirt and the broken pieces of the vase she'd smashed last night were still in the dustpan in the corner. Even the bent umbrella pole was there, seemingly to greet her a good morning, mangled and pathetic.

Lucille sat up. Last night's memories started to resurface. She remembered her drinking session with Agnes and the sight of Fate and Death's limo parked in front of Chateau Hotel. She remembered her talk with Dimitri the Dick, who'd managed to annoy her even in her dreams.

Honestly, everything was still a mess. She'd like nothing better than to stay curled up in bed and forget everything else, but it was already eight o'clock. Agnes was probably waiting for her outside, expecting her to function.

And well, she couldn't let that woman down.

Sighing, Lucille stood, put on a red robe over her scarlet nightgown, and traipsed down the hallway barefoot. She was about to head straight to the kitchen to make tea, but then she caught sight of Agnes in the sitting room.

She was sitting on one of their furry white beanbags, typing aggressively on a laptop. A whole pot of brewed coffee was resting beside her, still half full but no longer steaming. It seemed that she was truly preoccupied with whatever she was doing, because she didn't even notice Lucille creeping behind her.

"What's that?" Lucille muttered into Agnes's ear, causing her to flinch and nearly knock the pot of coffee with the laptop. "Oops, I'm sorry! I didn't know I'd startle you this bad."

Agnes blinked rapidly. Then she composed herself and guzzled coffee straight from the pot. "It's alright. I was just researching anyway."

"Ooh, research." Lucille eagerly peeked at the screen of the laptop. "Um, why are you researching about . . . candles?"

"Ah." Agnes hurriedly closed the Bath and Body Works tab. "I was trying to find something about magic candles, but instead I found ones that are supposed to smell like banana pancakes when lit." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, that's not what I stayed up all night doing. Maybe most of the night, but not entirely. Look at this."

She opened another tab, this one displaying a sleek black and white website interface. Lucille bent over to read the text, and was very pleased to see the words 'Paradigm Publishing'.

"Well done, Agnes!" She raised her hand for a high-five, and Agnes accepted happily. "So, what did you find so far?"

"Well, there isn't much," Agnes admitted with a grimace. "Sorry, I got distracted with the candles. Did you know they have special varieties on Christmas season? Can we get the one that smells like pine and fruitcake?"

"Of course. But what about Paradigm? What else did you find apart from their dull website?"

Agnes started to click away again. "I did find a picture."

Lucille arched an eyebrow. "Of Cane Limbo?"

"It's Cade Linden."

They stared at each other knowingly for a few seconds before huddling closer for one purpose: to take a look at Cade Linden.

"Show me!" Lucille excitedly pulled another beanbag and chugged a bit of the coffee as Agnes frantically pored over the twenty-six open tabs to look for the picture.

After a while, she found it, and Lucille held her breath in anticipation.

Only to snort in utter disappointment.

Right, this was rather underwhelming.

Cade Linden was . . . plain.

Mousy brown hair slicked back, dark brown eyes, and tanned freckled skin. His jaw was quite chiseled, his chin strong and his nose straight, but that tight, unsmiling mouth pulled down any other good feature. It was as though his face was afraid of being too interesting. Add that to his plain white shirt, his plain gray tie, and his plain gray jacket and boom—the perfect portrait of boredom.

Lucille couldn't believe that this man had the audacity to play with women.

"His face should be illegal," she said dryly, leaning against the beanbag. "Put him on a billboard and every driver would fall asleep. What a catastrophe he would cause."

Agnes giggled and clicked back to Paradigm's website, pointing the cursor at the list under vacancy and recruitment. "We'll see him in person soon, though. They have two vacancies."

"Just like Mia said," Lucille said with a smile. "I'll take on that marketing executive position, and you will get that editor position."

"But I'm too stupid." Agnes grimaced. "I'm so not going to get in."

"You will." Lucille grabbed her shoulders and stared at her in the eye. "You have this in the bag."

◑≡◑≡◑≡◑

Agnes didn't have it in the bag. What she received from Paradigm Publishing wasn't the editor post, but a permanent ban from their building.

The same day they'd seen Cade Linden's picture, Lucille had instructed her to send an application to the company. Surprisingly, they'd given her a response in the afternoon, inviting her for an interview at nine o'clock the next day.

And it had been fine. Agnes Saint-Claire was ready to roll, dressed in her fancy pantsuit with her head still teeming from her editor crash course. Her CV was gleaming, her confidence just as immaculate. Lucille had been confident at home, waiting for the sure results.

But then Agnes had come home with a horror story about her meltdown, which had led into her banishment from the building. Now she was sitting with Lucille at the dining table, her face still scrunched up with bafflement and shame.

"They called security," she was saying, taking nervous sips of tea. "I wasn't even being freaky. Next thing I know, I've been banned."

"How?" was the only thing Lucille could say.

"Well, I don't know!" She threw her hands up in frustration, but at Lucille's unwavering stare, she confessed, "Okay, I think I know. It's because I bombed the interview. I almost wish I literally bombed it, to get rid of all the witnesses in there."

"But how did you bomb it? We reviewed and studied, and you were basically an expert by the end of the day."

"I didn't become an expert!" she said despairingly. "I was still a wreck. More so when they started to ask me about myself and my background. I just flipped."

This effectively reduced Lucille's incredulity. She didn't speak after that, because she understood perfectly, the feeling of being asked for a background. They'd been changing their backstories so much that everything was a mix, and they couldn't even have the truth to fall back on.

Agnes had been her companion since the beginning of time, ever since Lucille could remember. The candle held Agnes's memories too. They both had no idea how they'd gotten intertwined, but they liked each other and got along really well, so they never really questioned it. Times like these would really resurface their identity crises, though.

And perhaps the candle being lit triggered something in Agnes too, like it had triggered Lucille's dreams. Perhaps it was the cause of her meltdown.

Lucille just hoped that it wouldn't get worse for Agnes.

"Flip how?" Lucille shook off her thoughts and focused back on their conversation. "Did you throw things at them or something?"

"Worse, I told them to just hire me because obviously I was the best candidate," Agnes said bitterly, smacking her forehead with her palm. "Then, I started to take the papers of the other interviewees and offered to run them in the shredder. Then I told them that I was better than all of them."

"Wow. What kind of spirit possessed you?"

"The spirit of arrogance and idiocy. God, Miss Lucille, I'm so embarrassed. I'm so sorry I didn't get the post."

"It's okay." She patted Agnes's shoulder. "Did you get to see the blandness of Cade Linden at least?"

"No." Agnes pouted. "I've been informed that he should be a part of the panel of interviewers, but apparently he was busy doing some shit. Seeing him was the least I could've done and I didn't even manage it."

"It's not your fault," Lucille soothed, but Agnes looked as glum as ever. "Look, what do you want for dinner? We'll have anything you like."

Agnes blew a stray strand of hair away from her face. "Canned soup."

"What?"

"It's what I deserve. Disgusting gloop."

"I'm going to order us the best onion soup in the city," Lucille decided. "Because we deserve nothing less."

She was about to take her laptop to check the restaurant menus, but then the home telephone began to ring in the hallway.

"I'll get it," Agnes said, sliding off the chair, but Lucille beat her to it. "Miss Lucille, you're making me feel really useless right now."

"Well, stop feeling that way, then." She walked briskly towards the phone and answered it. "Lucille Saint-Claire."

"Good afternoon, Miss Lucille," a familiar timid voice greeted. "It's Mia Beckett. Are you free to talk?"

"Of course, Mia." She examined her nails. "Are you coming by?"

"Oh, no," Agnes groaned, running towards Lucille to listen closely to the conversation. "Don't make her come here and see my failure."

Lucille flashed her an 'okay' sign. "On second thought, Mia, don't come by."

"Er, okay." Mia said after a beat. "Let me ask you something, at least."

"Sure." Lucille shrugged and put an arm around Agnes's shoulders. "Ask away then, dear."

"Uh, have you gotten any of the jobs yet? Because I saw in their website that the editor position has been occupied already."

Agnes buried her face in Lucille's hair. "Shit."

"I'll be sending my application tonight, Mia," Lucille assured the young woman, patting her friend's back. "And tomorrow, I'll be getting the job."

Mia made a humming sound. "Sorry, but I don't think it's that easy. Their internship alone—"

"Don't fret, my dear." Lucille smiled slyly. "I have my ways."

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