Ficorpio
Chapter 1
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First Edition
The Marionette’s Revenge
1
When I was in middle school, there was a tall, thin girl in my class. Coming from a low-income family and with a dark birthmark on her face, she became the target of constant bullying.
The girls called her ugly and refused to talk to her at school. The boys would block her path on her way home, tormenting her relentlessly—they’d throw her backpack into the gutter, chase her toward a vicious dog’s yard, and even hit her with small bricks.
She always walked alone, head bowed, letting the bullying happen. Only when night fell completely would she pick herself up from the ground, brush the dirt off her clothes, and trudge home slowly.
One evening, I saw her squatting by the side of the road, covered in mud, her forehead swollen. The setting sun stretched her shadow into a pitifully thin arc.
“Are you… okay?” I asked softly as I approached. The stench on her made me frown.
She looked up at me, her expression blank and empty.
“Let’s go home. It’s getting dark soon.” I held out my hand, trying to help her up.
Her body trembled. She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed my hand and stood up, still looking timid.
That was our first real interaction. On the way to her house, I tried to cheer her up by telling her a few jokes I’d read in a book. She didn’t laugh out loud, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. That’s when I noticed her eyes—they were beautiful. Without that birthmark, she would’ve been a pretty girl.
In the days that followed, I walked home with her after school. Inevitably, we were stopped by that group of boys. Their leader was Trent Walker, whose dad was rumored to be a gang member who’d once stabbed someone to death in a street fight.
“Oh, so the ugly duckling’s got a guardian angel now?” Trent said casually, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
The boys behind him roared with laughter and surrounded us.
“What do you want?” My voice shook a little.
“Don’t be scared,” Trent said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I’ll give you two choices. Either you join us in picking on her, or you take her place. Which is it?”
“What kind of man bullies girls?” I lifted my head, summoning a courage I didn’t know I had.
Trent and his crew rushed at me, kicking me to the ground. My nose started bleeding, and I took several kicks to the stomach. The pain was so intense that tears and snot ran down my face.
The girl threw herself over me, taking most of the punches and kicks. Then she did something no one expected—she bit Trent’s calf. Trent screamed and started hitting her head wildly with his fist. The other boys grabbed her neck, trying to make her let go.
Her mouth was forced open by their grip, her face turning pale, and a gurgling sound came from her throat. Fearing they might actually kill her, Trent told the boys to let go.
“Damn it, you two are practically in love? Fine—I’ll make it official.”
Trent limped forward, grabbed my hair to yank my head up, and seized the girl’s hair with his other hand. The boys whistled sharply.
That’s how the girl and I were forced to kiss.
Her tears slid down her face and into my mouth. I’d never known tears could taste so bitter.
Chapter 2
After that, the whole school found out about the kiss. I became the laughingstock, stuck with terrible nicknames. Trent’s gang started targeting me—they stole all my money, beat me up in the bathroom regularly, and forced me to do petty, bad things.
My courage vanished completely.
Finally, one day, the girl and I were walking home. She followed me silently, and my heart began to race. I turned around and asked her, “Do you… like me?”
She looked up, confusion in her eyes, as if she hadn’t heard me clearly.
“The first time I saw you being bullied, I wanted to protect you. I don’t have the strength right now, but one day, I’ll stand up to all those jerks. Please—be honest. Do you like me? This matters a lot to me.”
Her face slowly turned pink. In the golden glow of dusk, she nodded gently.
The next second, she screamed and fell into a muddy puddle.
I almost shouted, “Die, you ugly freak!”
Sparse applause broke out behind me. Trent held a cigarette out to me, patted my shoulder, and smiled. “Nice job! From now on, we’re brothers. We’ll have all the fun we want.”
The girl whimpered in the puddle, trying several times to get up but failing. She slowly lifted her head, and I couldn’t help but step back. Her pupils were gray and lifeless—like those of a corpse with its eyelids peeled back.
Fifteen years have passed. Now I’m lying in a dim basement, dying. I can almost see Death waving at me.
For some reason, I suddenly think of that girl’s eyes.
2
A month ago, my buddy Buddy Murphy came to me, saying he’d stolen a wallet on the subway and could help me make some quick cash.
It’s an unspoken rule among small-time thieves: one person steals the wallet, takes the cash, and passes the wallet to someone else. Wallets usually have IDs and credit cards—if you can contact the owner, they’ll almost always offer a reward out of gratitude.
Back then, I’d lost a ton of money gambling, and the loan sharks from an underground lender were threatening to cut off my hands. I had to find money somehow—even just enough to pay the interest, to keep from being disabled.
So I opened the fancy wallet. Inside, I found a slip of paper with an address. Looking at the stack of credit cards, I figured the owner must be wealthy. I put on a nice shirt, pretended to be a regular office worker, and headed to the address. It was dark by the time I arrived—it was a single-family house in the suburbs. I rang the doorbell, a secret smile on my face.
A few minutes later, the door opened slowly. A woman in her thirties stood there and asked, “Excuse me, who are you looking for?”
She was average-looking, a bit plump, but her voice was lovely—soft with a hint of charm, gentle yet slightly alluring. It didn’t quite match her appearance.
“Hi, I found this wallet. There was a note with this address inside, so I thought I’d return it,” I said, pulling out the wallet and forcing a kind smile.
“Oh! That’s mine! I’ve been searching for it all day,” she said, clapping her hands in excitement.
“Really? Then it’s good to get it back to its owner. Be more careful with it next time,” I replied.
I made a show of turning to leave—you can never seem too eager for a reward. People are funny that way: if you look greedy, they’ll get annoyed and only give you enough for bus fare. But if you seem honest and kind, they’ll go out of their way to thank you.
Sure enough, she chased after me, grabbing my arm warmly. “Sir, you came all this way. Please come in for a cup of tea—let me at least thank you properly.”
“It’s just a small thing. No need,” I said with a smile, but my eyes were scanning the inside of the house. There was a beautiful small garden, and a luxury car parked beside it. This woman was definitely well-off—maybe even rich.
If I could figure out where the security doors and cameras were, I could bring Buddy Murphy back later to pull off a real heist. My throat went dry, and the more I thought about it, the more excited I got.
Chapter 3
“You absolutely should stay. Good people like you are hard to find these days,” she said sincerely.
I thanked her repeatedly, and she led me inside. There was another girl in the living room, sitting on the sofa watching TV. She turned her head when she heard us come in.
My mind went blank. I froze, my heart practically jumping out of my chest. It’s not like I’d never seen attractive women before—I’d been with a few—but this girl was breathtaking. Her features were perfect, her eyes clear and bright, her expression gentle yet a little shy. She was wearing a white nightgown, her skin whiter than snow, smooth and translucent. I couldn’t look away. I studied art for a few years as a kid, so I notice details—and from every angle, this girl was flawless. Her beauty felt almost unreal.
“This is my sister, Clara Thorne. I’m Lila Thorne,” the woman said, bustling around to pour me a cup of tea and motion for me to sit.
“Oh, my name’s… Jesse Cohen,” I lied, making up a name on the spot.
The girl saw me staring and gave me a sweet smile. I was completely stunned, my thoughts jumbled like a tangled thread. I felt drunk, almost forgetting why I’d stayed.
Lila chatted with me on and off, but my attention was entirely on the angelic girl beside her. The girl seemed very shy—she hadn’t said a word since I’d walked in.
“I went to a rental agency yesterday. I’d just finished registering the house when I realized I’d lost my wallet. I was so worried—all my important papers were in it. Luckily, you brought it back. I don’t know how to thank you…” Lila rambled on.
Wait a minute!
When I heard the word “rental,” my eyes lit up. A plan formed in my mind. I kept my face calm and took a slow sip of tea.
“Sister, this house is so nice—why do you want to rent it out?” I asked casually.
“Oh, this is the old house my parents left us. Four or five people used to live here, but they passed away a few years ago. Now it’s just me and my sister. We thought such a big house was a waste, so we decided to rent out the two rooms on the second floor. At least it’ll bring in some extra income,” Lila explained, standing up to refill my cup.
“I see… If you don’t mind, could you rent one to me? I’ve been looking for a new place. My current apartment is too noisy, and it’s far from work,” I said.
“Oh, this…” Lila hesitated. My request had clearly caught her off guard.
I stood up, smiling. “If it’s a problem, don’t worry about it. I was just thinking out loud. It’s so quiet here, with all the flowers and greenery—way nicer than my current place. Well, it’s getting late. I should go.”
I’d read in a psychology book once that most people have a “compensation mindset.” If someone does you a favor, you feel the need to pay them back. If they won’t let you, you end up feeling inexplicably “frustrated”—like you’re being ungrateful or cold-hearted.
I slowly opened the door, ready to walk out, when I heard Lila call out urgently behind me.
“Mr. Cohen, wait! If you really want to move in, we just need to sign a contract first.”
I wanted to grin, but when I turned around, I put on a polite smile instead.
“Great. I’ll come back tomorrow,” I said.
From now on, this stupid woman’s money and that beautiful girl’s body would be mine to play with.
3
Because I’d seemed so honest, Lila waived my first month’s rent. I moved into the house with a few bags of luggage.
Over the next few days, I left at 7 a.m. and came back at 8 p.m. sharp—I’d told Lila I was a bank clerk. To sell the lie, I even memorized some basic finance terms.
The rest of the time, I was preparing for my “hunt.”
First, Lila. She was surprisingly careless. I’d heard she owned a jewelry shop, inherited from her parents. In her free time, she either did aerobics at home or bought tons of skincare products online. I needed to find where she hid her money—preferably cash and jewelry, since those are easy to sell and hard for the cops to trace.