EPISODE 2

🕰️ Episode Two: When Black Velvet guilt meets maroon-lipped chaos.

🧭 Location : Dr. Lioraene Castemeur's professional chamber of committing crime.

🕙 Time : 10.02 AM - Right before her second Espresso, before her last shred of mercy.

☠️ Mood : Aesthetic. Spiritual. Dysfunctional.

____________________________________________________________

The smokey glass door creaked open like in a F-Rated horror plot.

Aether Aemilius had entered the chamber of 'secrets'.

6'5" of political trauma wrapped in all black suit so sharp that it had gone through its own security clearance. His dark grey eyes swept the room as if it personally offended him. His expression unreadable? Might be disappointed by the colour combination of the room - burgundy red and beige. His eyes scanned the room with surgical precision. If looks could kill, then the velvet couch was legally dead.

"Well, well," Lioraene chimed. "If it isn't the holy child of Renaissance Statues and frost giants. Say, minister, to what do I owe the pleasure of your surprise visit?" Her voice like silk honey dripping from a butter knife.

Aether stared at her blankly without blinking. Of course he didn't. "I was told this office offered..... psychological aid."

His voice was frosty enough to make glacier jealous. Typical.

She smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. "Psychological aid? Oh, Darling. You need an exorcism."

He ignored her and sat on the couch like judgment day.

"Let's make this quick, Castemeur."

She tilted her head. "You look thrilled, Minister."

"I'm forced into this." He said flatly. "This isn't voluntary."

"Oh? And here I thought you were just suffering from terminal emotional constipation and needed an emotional development."

Lioraene handed him a glass of water. "Here. Hydrate yourself. We'll have you cry your childhood issues by lunch."

He didn't take it.

Of course he didn't.

He started at it as if it was beneath him.

The therapy was beneath him.

Like feelings were personal insult like seeing glitter covered cutlery in brunch.

Lioraene leaned forward, eyes glittering. "Let's make this simple. Why you hate people?"

"I don't hate them." He said. "I just... don't need them."

A moment passed.(Only 5 seconds)

Then she tilted her head.

"Tell me something honest." She said casually.

"No."

"Anything. A truth. A memory. A feeling."

Aether stared at her. Silence stretched between them like a crime thriller.

Then, finally.....

"..... I hate being touched.... unnecessarily."

Lioraene's eyes didn't waver. "Physical trauma or emotional disinterest."

"Control..." He said simply. "When someone touches me unnecessarily, I can't predict their intention...."

She scribbled on her notepad right away.

Diagnosis Note : Control freak with detachment issues.

Possible alien. Maybe a cyborg.

"I see." She said. "And tell me what do you do when you feel sad?"

"I don't feel sad."

"Angry?"

"Only when required."

"Happy?

"Never familiar."

"Have you ever been in love?" She asked.

"No."

"Sex?"

"Plenty."

"Hug?"

"Disgusting."

"Have you ever felt affectionate to anyone?"

"..... You're enjoying this."

"Oh, absolutely." She said, grinning like gremlin. "It's like I'm interviewing an ancient fax machine."

He didn't say anything.

Lioraene reached out, gently brushing her fingers on the back of his hand.

He froze.

His entire body stiffened like a crime scene.

Aether stood up - abrupt, sharp, like a blade dressed in suit and cologne.

"Session's over." He said coldly.

Lioraene smirked. "Next week. Same day. Same time, Aemilius."

He didn't say anything. Didn't respond.

Just walked away.

She hummed still sitting on her couch.

..................

Okay. Time to reveal a secret.

So why is Aether Aemilius, the 6'5" Minister of Justice with a jawline that could end Democracies, decided to have psychological aid, sitting on the velvet couch like a cursed Greek statue.

Because someone forced him.

More to be specific?

His mother.

Yes. The woman who built a political empire and a real estate tycoon, survived five assassination attempts, and once told the Emperor to "change his fashion or choose to step down."...... That woman.

She called Aether last week like :

"My dear son, either go to therapy or I'll publish those childhood photos of yours wearing velvet sunflower attire." You choose.

And here we were.

Because apparently, "Emotionally unavailable with sociopathic tendencies" wasn't the brand she wanted for her elder son.

So,

Now he ended up in therapy.

Against his will.

With a doctor who treated trauma like olimpic sports.

_____________________

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***