This is simply a story of death.

Whose? You ask?

Mine.

It started when I met him.

There was this young butler whose master died recently. He came to one of the most famous cities in the world. The Orchid Metropolitan.

As he was on his little quest of finding life as his master wished him to do, he chance upon saving a girl.... and that's me.

The spiderlily.

I am Spiderlily.

This is a long story.

A long story that happened within a month.

It was long.

The longest month I ever had.

Believe me.

But before I start, let me ask you...

What happens when roses turn red?

Year x1

A whiff of urine and alcohol greeted the 6 year old boy as he opened the door to his small makeshift home. The door was made of rotted woodplanks nailed together. It was old and rusty that it creaked everytime it's opened.

His so called home was located in the poorest location of The Orchid Metropolitan where failures and those considered as worthless reside.

This place was known as the Wastes.

Considered simply as they are, the luxury of life is something unknown in the Wastes.

The boy walked over towards a man's silhouette laying at the foot of the bed, another makeshift one.

"Father?" The boy tapped the man gently.

The man was facing the other side of the room and only the light from the small slits on their roof and wall illuminated the place.

He instantly retracted his hands as cold seeped through his fingertips.

Once again, he tapped the man and called. But there was no response. He reached his hands and shook the man lightly. An empty bottle rattled across the room.

He jumped away startled.

His eyes darted towards the bottle on the floor with white little flowers drawn on it.

He then again returned his attention towards the man before him.

He gently reached his hand and turned him over.

The man's face was pale and his eyes were close. A faint cold air covered the man's thin and frail body.

His tattered khaki shorts rustled. Soft air from the slits on the wall seeped in.

Looking at it, the boy knew.

It was a fact he already knew all along. His eyes lingered at the floor. To be more precise, he was staring at the white little flowers etched on the bottle.

His father was dead. He thought as he turn back his attention to the man before him.

He did not wail.

Instead, a cold sneer spread over his lips.

A single tear fell down on the left side of his face.

It was not the expression of sorrow.

There was no trace of sadness in his dead, cold blue eyes.

He opened his mouth, "Old man, how was my little lilies?"

Hi my dear readers!

Hopefully you'll like this little story of mine. I'll be uploading every other day. Please bear with me and uncover what happens when roses turn red. Cause, honestly I do not know too. haha!

Next chapter will be on Thursday! Expect for longer chapters.

Happy reading!