Cassie wandered the quiet corridors of the manor, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. Her brows were furrowed in concern, pale eyes scanning left and right with a mix of curiosity and… mild panic.
They were late, yes—but that wasn't exactly their fault. The mansion was practically a continent away. And the driver had somehow confused the estate gates with a toll station.
She finally reached the ballroom doors and pushed them open, only to be met with a wave of warm silence.
Empty.
Not a soul in sight. Just scattered flower petals, flickering candles, and faint echoes of laughter long faded. The dancing was over.
Her heart sank a little.
He's gone...
Cassie stood there, quietly processing the hollow ballroom and her own disappointment. She had been looking forward to seeing him again. To maybe stealing a dance under the chandeliers. To the teasing and awkward flirting he swore wasn't flirting.
Did he think I stood him up?
That I left him alone…?
The thought made her chest tighten. Not that Klaus would openly care, of course. Give that man a cigarette, some booze, and a half-decent snack, and he'd act like nothing happened.
Like a freshly laid egg, she thought—
Then blinked.
Wait, what kind of idiot analogy is that?!
She groaned aloud and rubbed her temples.
Gods. He's infecting me.
With a sigh, she pulled out her communicator and sent him a message.
Cas:
Nik, I'm here. Where are you now?
She stared at the screen, tapping her heel impatiently. Not that she could see—but by now, she was used to pretending she could, just to keep others from feeling awkward about her blindness. One second. Two. Three. Then—seen.
Her eyes narrowed.
He didn't just ignore me, did he? He wouldn't—
Ping.
A reply popped up.
Rizz1er:
hmm? ok, im busy rn. something important caught my eye. i'll wrap it up soon. find me in the garden later.
Cassie stared at his username.
Then blinked again.
Then let out a groan so long it echoed through the chandeliered hall.
Rizz1er.
Seriously?
"What kind of degenerate keeps that as a username?" she muttered under her breath, half amused, half exasperated.
Still... she couldn't stay annoyed. Not really. The ridiculous name, the overly casual response—it was all just… so very him. And in a way, that familiarity was comforting. It felt like home, in the weirdest, most inappropriate way possible.
Smiling to herself despite everything, she took a step forward, letting her eyes wander over the now-peaceful hall. The place still looked beautiful, bathed in soft golden light, everything hushed like a dream winding down.
Movement caught her eye near the far end of the room.
There stood Tatiana, bidding farewell to a breathtaking young woman with moonlight hair and a sultry smile. The two shared a whisper, a wink, and then the woman disappeared into the shadows.
Cassie hesitated, then decided—why not?
If there was anyone who could make her laugh or distract her from awkward feelings and dumb usernames, it was Tatiana. If Klaus was taking his sweet time in the garden, she might as well dig up some gossip while she waited.
And Tatiana always, always, had the good stuff.
With a soft chuckle and a flick of her hair, Cassie crossed the ballroom, her earlier anxiety melting away like morning frost. Despite the wait, despite the nerves, despite Klaus being a completely ridiculous mess of a man—
She was glad she came.
______
Meanwhile, somewhere just outside the ballroom, Klaus and Diego stood in silence, each sipping from a glass and staring blankly at the man across from them. The silence was deafening. The contempt? Palpable.
The man, however, was completely oblivious.
He was tall, handsome in the most forgettable rich-boy way—jet-black hair, unnaturally blue eyes, skin pale enough to blend in with the marble walls. His suit screamed "Daddy's money," and his watch probably cost more than a small house.
Unfortunately, he was also Tatiana's ex.
And more unfortunately… he was drunk.
"Come on, guys!" the man—Jake, self-declared gift to women—spread his arms like he was welcoming them to his TED Talk. "We know each other! It's not like my breakup with Tatiana makes us enemies, right? I mean… mistakes were made, sure, but we're all friends here."
Diego stared at him with such deadpan intensity it could curdle milk.
"Yeah," he said flatly. "Your birth was one of them."
Because this bastard? This walking cologne advertisement? He was not just an ex—he was the EX. The one who had wormed his way into Tatiana's heart with honeyed lies, only to break it like it was a party favor.
Back then, Klaus hadn't crushed him purely because Tatiana seemed… happy. And after what she'd gone through in the brothels and underground arenas, Klaus couldn't bear to be the one to steal that smile away.
Big mistake.
Huge.
Diego exhaled a slow plume of smoke, each breath sounding like the prelude to a war crime. Klaus, watching him, raised an eyebrow.
Honestly, seeing Diego in a suit was still the most jarring part of the evening. He looked like someone had shoved a wild wolf into a tux and told it to behave.
"Why the hell are you wearing that?" Klaus muttered.
Diego sighed, clearly in pain.
"Noah blackmailed me."
"Ah. Say no more."
Klaus nodded solemnly. That tracked.
Meanwhile, Jake—the ex in question—was still rambling with the confidence of someone who thought a luxury cologne counted as personality.
"I mean, sure, I messed up, but come on," he drawled. "You guys get it, right? A man's got needs. Everyone likes me anyway."
Diego scoffed. "No one likes you, dawg. Not even your hairline."
Klaus snorted, crossing his arms, unimpressed. "He's right. You've got the face of someone who says 'I'm not like other guys' while being exactly like every other guy."
But Jake just smiled wider, clearly thinking this was all part of the banter.
And then—he crossed a line.
"Well, Tatiana liked when I rode her," he said with a smug little chuckle, "like a horse. Just grabbed her by the hair and—boom. She'd lie there and take it."
There was a pause.
The kind of pause that feels like the universe holding its breath.
Klaus's fingers twitched. Diego's eyebrow rose so high it nearly escaped his forehead.
Klaus's head tilted slowly—too slowly—until it reached an angle that should've required medical attention. If anyone had walked by, they might've thought his neck had been snapped clean.
"…What did you just say?" Klaus asked quietly.
Jake laughed, reveling in the chaos. He knew they wouldn't dare touch him here, not in a political gathering this high-profile. The smugness practically oozed off him.
"I said—Tatiana? Oh, she was wild. I'd just grab her hair and ride her like a horse. She'd lay there and moan—"
Diego slid his hands into his pockets like a bored delinquent preparing to ruin someone's future.
He turned to Klaus.
"Bro…"
"Yeah?"
"Grab my beer."
Klaus raised an eyebrow. "You're not holding one."
"I know."
"You said you rode her like a horse?" Diego
Muttered to Jake.
Jake smirked. "Yup."
Klaus stared at him for a second longer.
Then blinked.
Then pulled out a little notebook from inside his coat.
Jake frowned. "What are you—?"
Klaus clicked a pen. "Writing down your final words. Gotta document the stupidest shit I've heard this year."
A few minutes later…
Klaus trudged through the misty forest surrounding the mansion, casually dragging a large, lumpy black sack behind him—one that left a gleaming red trail across the grass like a drunk painter with too much time and not enough sanity.
Diego walked a few steps behind, slinging a shovel over his shoulder like it was a baseball bat.
Klaus glanced back, the sack giving a wet squelch as it hit a root.
"Burn or bury?"
Diego rubbed his chin with mock seriousness.
"Burn. Burying's a pain in the ass. And I just did my nails."
Klaus shrugged. "Fair."
They stopped by a small clearing. Klaus unzipped the bag with a squish.
Inside was Jake. Or, what was left of Jake.
His limbs were twisted like someone had made balloon animals out of his bones. A blood-soaked handkerchief was stuffed in his mouth, muffling his sobs. His eyes—wide, red, trembling—screamed what his throat couldn't.
Klaus tilted his head, studying the pathetic mess of a man with critical disapproval, like a chef inspecting a poorly plated steak.
"…Doesn't feel right."
Diego blinked, horrified.
"Bro… don't tell me you're going soft on me now."
Klaus shook his head, expression calm.
"No. Just saying… killing him like this? Too easy. Too... merciful."
He smiled faintly, like a teacher about to give a pop quiz.
"Let's go torture him instead."
Jake's soul practically left his body right there.
Diego grinned.
"That's my dog."
.....
Thirty minutes later.
Jake was dead.
Not from injuries. Oh no, Klaus and Diego were professionals. They had rules. You don't let your victim die from the injuries. That's amateur hour.
No—Jake died from shock.
Diego smirked, golden flames flickering like lazy fireflies around his fingers as he flicked a cigarette to Klaus.
Klaus took a long drag, amusement curling his lips.
The bastard had been hanged by his own... well, let's just say "intensities." Before he finally died, they'd made sure he ate some of it—his own shit—because why not? Thanks to Lich's skeletal handiwork, Jake was basically half-undead for the ordeal, kept barely alive just to suffer.
Now, his legs twisted, he was literally hanging by his own balls, his mouth stuffed with them, and his dick shoved... well, you get the idea.
He studied the "work of art" for a beat before grinning.
"Solid nine out of ten," he said, taking a slow drag. "I like the bit with his own balls in his mouth. That was a classy touch."
Diego scoffed.
"Whatever. That pussy got what he deserved for talking too much shit."
Klaus shrugged, leaning lazily against a tree.
"Boy really thought he was the Rizz God himself... didn't even know the real Rizz1er was right in front of him."
Diego stared at him flatly.
"You need to change that stupid username."
"Never," Klaus said, grinning like the smug bastard he was. "It's part of the brand."
As the corpse finally finished crisping to ash, Diego sighed and torched the last bits until nothing remained but a black smear on the earth.
They both looked at the ashes.
Then—because some urges are universal—they unzipped and pissed on them like two drunk raccoons marking territory.
"Rest in piss," Diego muttered.
"Long may he not reign," Klaus added solemnly.
And with that, Klaus stretched, exhaled another puff of smoke, and checked his communicator.
"Cassie texted me ten minutes ago. Let's bounce."
Diego nodded, the shovel resting on his shoulder once more as they strolled off, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth and the faint scent of citrus smoke and bad decisions.
Klaus chuckled, eyes locked on the glow of lights a few hundred meters away.
"Ain't no party like a Klaus party."
***
Thanks for all your support and enjoy!
***