The Bookkeeper

When many people face death or any kind of crisis, they tend to develop a defense mechanism. For Jack, one that stood out and one he had relied on more than once was the ability to downplay the situation or behave as if it had never happened at all.

He had tried to use this tactic multiple times to overcome his fears, but no matter how often he tried in his past life, he always ended up falling into the abyss, a fear that came from thinking about it alone.

But now, as Raiden, he was going to give it one more shot. His fear wasn't real; it was a story he had been forced to believe. So he was going to create a new story, one that wouldn't hold him down, but help him rise. 

He knew this wouldn't happen in a day, but as he sat calmly on his bed, eyes closed and the back of one palm resting in the other, he was willing to take all the time he needed to shape a story strong enough.

The mind is a playground of its own. It loves to analyze, summarize, and interpret anything that sparks its interest, and once it dives deep enough, that's when it finally finds peace. 

So as he remained there, he let himself drift into random thoughts, giving his mind the freedom it needed to visualize. He moved from killing to killing, revenge to peace, Jobe to Jack.

This continued for a few hours as he sat silently on his bed like a monk. Before long, his mind began to find solace in the thoughts, and in that very instant, his heart started to rise. 

But fear crept in, as every part of his body urged him to give up. There was no point in fighting a battle he was destined to lose. 

Trembling from within, his breath growing heavier and his fingers twitching with anxiety, he hovered on the verge of surrendering to the story his fears were telling him. And then, in the midst of it all, his thoughts returned to killing once more.

His mind then shifted from solace to reconnecting with all the people he could remember killing—those who begged for their lives and those who accepted their fate. That was when he began to wonder: how exactly did he feel after spilling blood?

At that very moment, fear began to creep in again. He clenched his fists in frustration, but this time, he chose not to fight it. 

He let the fear overwhelm him, his body shivering uncontrollably as a sudden sensation coursed through him, draining the color from his skin. His breathing grew uneven, broken by hiccups that even a bystander could have noticed. 

After a while, he repeated the process, thinking again about all the people he had killed and what it had made him feel.

His kills weren't driven by happiness or some twisted obsession. He knew exactly what he wanted, and each kill was a step toward that goal. In the end, he reached a conclusion: warmth.

Each kill came with a sense of relief, purpose, and strength, and that was exactly where he wanted to be. 

But once again, before he could fully process everything and shape a story his mind could accept, his thoughts froze, as if he'd been hit with a brain freeze. 

His head spun in agony, like blades were being driven into his skull. He clenched his teeth, eyes squinting tightly, fists balled as he gripped his clothes in torment.

However, it didn't take long before everything began to settle, a wave of relief washing over him as his breathing slowed. In that moment, he steeled himself and sank into the warmth he felt after each kill. 

The adrenaline rush—the thrill and excitement—he let it flood his body, and soon, he found himself trembling with a strange, rising laughter.

It was a feeling earned with purpose, like finally taking a cold bath after a long, stressful day. Still, what truly gave him goosebumps was the thought of facing someone stronger than himself. That feeling would be worth far more, enough to leave a smile on his face for days.

Still, at the moment of such a thrill, his body shook himself up, like getting out of a nightmare. His eyes were wide open in shock as he clenched his fist and slammed it into the bed in frustration. 

He scoffed and began massaging his forehead, but his stomach didn't fail to send its signals as it began to rumble.

He had been in this processing state for nearly eight hours now, and he already knew it wasn't going to be easy. With an annoyed stretch, he rose to his feet and started making his way downstairs.

Before he could reach the living room, he saw Ash curled up on Leo's lap as they read a book, both fully engrossed. He smirked—not out of excitement, but at how determined Leo had been since he'd hired him. The moment Ash and Leo spotted him, Ash jumped up and ran toward him.

Raiden caught her in his arms with a smile.

''You're having fun, huh?''

[Yes, Papa…] she said, patting him on the back.

"I haven't seen you today… are you okay?"

Leo asked, leaning toward Raiden.

Raiden gave him a firm nod, his eyes beginning to dart around.

"Where are the others?"

"Levi and Aeris are training."

Raiden's eyes widened; he hadn't expected Aeris, of all people, to be training at that time of day. Still, he didn't dwell on it; there were other matters to attend to. 

He quickened his steps toward the kitchen, took his time there, and shared a quiet meal with Ash, enjoying a few small moments together. Once he finished eating, Ash returned to Leo, and Raiden made his way back to his room.

He took his seat on the bed just as he had before and once again tuned into his thoughts. But this time, to avoid another panic attack, he skipped the entire buildup and went straight into the warmth of killing. 

His imagination was vivid enough that the surge of adrenaline and dopamine—normally released during such moments—washed over him, allowing the warmth he felt after each kill to catch up with him, even through visualization alone.

And this was exactly what he wanted: to be driven by adrenaline even before the act itself. This wasn't something he had done before, because as Jack, the warmth that followed each kill had only been a bonus. But now, he needed it.

Even so, he needed to broaden his emotional range. As an assassin, the most effective way to kill, and to excel, was through a calm mind.

This had never been an issue when facing weaker or equal opponents, but it became a different story when standing before someone stronger. 

To make the warmth and thrill work in those moments, he needed to learn how to fuse them with his calm.

From that thought alone, his head began to ache, a high-pitched ringing spreading through his brain. But this time, he had no intention of waiting for it to settle before moving forward. 

With his teeth gritted and fists clenched in pain, he drew on everything he knew about finding peace in chaos. 

He imagined the headache as the sound a gun makes, tuning into it, folding it into his process, and then searching for the silence that comes just before the firing pin strikes.

His fists clenched tighter as the headache intensified, but he kept searching for that silence. After a few minutes, he found it—calm spread through his body like a chill, and the high-pitched sound in his head began to fade into the distance. 

Still, Raiden remained composed, letting his senses sink deeper into the quiet. He felt nothing physical; he could have been slapped across the face and wouldn't have noticed.

However, deep within him, a tingling sensation began to rise as he visualized himself killing everyone stronger than him, especially his parents. 

It started as a faint stir, but before he knew it, every inch of his body was flooded with pleasure. His muscles twitched, his fingers and toes flickered, and a lustful smile crept across his lips.

This was exactly what he wanted, and he was living it. But the moment didn't last. The headache pulled him away from the sensation, dragging him out of it. 

He tried to resist, but the pain and piercing sound grew unbearable. Before long, blood trickled from his nose, and moments later, he collapsed onto the bed.

[ALERT]

[NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: EUPHORIA-1%

—A rush of joy, warmth, and serenity floods when battling foes, and stronger foes alike. Tone: mad, beautiful, violence.]