Chapter Text
Out of all of his 'assassins'--and that's not really what you are, considering your 'assignment" is to convince the eldest son to come back--you're certainly the one who the head has the least faith in. Many have tried before you, and all have failed; the punishment is a life worse than death, the task itself now an indication that you've lost favor with the family.
You had only been recruited into his service when your father had begged for the family to pay off his gambling debt, leaving you, his worthless child, to become slave to whatever whims the family desired to force you to obey.
The weapons you have on you are more for your own sake than to threaten him; reminders that no matter how painful, there always is a way to escape.
Quietly, you knock on the door in front of you; the academy here in Paldea does not have great security, you think to yourself, as your hands curl around a shiny object meant to pierce in your pocket. It is a blessing, for the children here to be able to roam around carefree; you don't wish to spill blood here, even if it will be your own.
When the man opens the door, he furrows his brows.
"Hello," you say quietly. "Master Hassel."
The door immediately shuts in your face, the wind from the force sending some strands of your hair astray.
You blink a little in place from the unexpected response before you break out into a loud cackle, doubling over laughing in the hallway. Looks like finding joy in these last days isn't impossible, at least.
"That's insanely funny," you wheeze to yourself, making lightly dying noises in the hallway. It feels like something out of a comic strip. "That's iconic. I'm going to puke everywhere."
The door tentatively opens just a tiny bit; trying to cough to stop your laughing fit, you see a single eye assess you.
"...Please do not vomit on the premises if you can help it," the man behind the door says warily. "The hygiene staff already have their hands rather full with the children here."
Trying desperately to hold in your laughter, you fail and burst out into an obnoxious snort when you process his words, lightly screeching from the genuine request.
The head's son is a riot; you had expected him to be one of those frumpy old men who would adhere to tradition--much like his father, even if Hassel did run away as a young man. You suppose that running away to pursue music isn't something a frumpy person would usually choose, so this is much funnier to you that the family expects this man to come back.
Still, you suppose, wiping away a tear from your eye as you grin at him, genuinely amused by what's happened so far, you should explain your situation a little more.
"Care to have another one of those miserable conversations you dread so much?" You quip, giggling as you hold out your hand.
Although he looks chagrined to, Hassel awkwardly returns you a handshake as he glances around, trying to presumably find an excuse to escape. You almost can't stop yourself from starting to laugh again--he looks so uncomfortable, yet his years of etiquette training have forced him to remain cordial even when you're here to convince him to return to his miserable life.
At least your last days will be rather funny.
"I...really would rather not have this conversation on school premises," the man says slowly. "I understand I am rather hard to reach, but in this environment...the children may see."
You tilt your head, giving him an awkward grin that falters as your own fear comes to light. You understand his concern about the children--and to tell the truth, you don't really want to have this conversation either. There's only so long you can try to get enjoyment when you're doomed to be killed for your failure.
"Sorry," you say genuinely, since you understand why he'd never want to return completely. "Your office would be more private than out here in the hallway, though. I'd ask what other places you'd be comfortable in, but I get the feeling that I'm not cute enough for you to invite over to your home."
Hassel frowns, shifting uncomfortably with your flirt. Sure, you feel a little awkward, but hey, you'll be dead in like, a month--why not spend your time flirting with people out of your League? Life's too short to...be normal?
Hassel opens the door fully now, his arm lightly gesturing for you to step inside.
You give a polite nod as he holds the door open, and take a seat in the chair across from his desk. Adorably, there are crayon drawings from children all around the room--some of them have illegible handwriting scribbled on them as well, although a very noticeably cute one has misspelled "RWAR" and has given a stick figure Hassel fangs.
Hassel assesses you sternly, glaring you down, as if he makes it think this will go faster.
--And it will, as you flinch lightly before shaking your head and trying to get back that laidback, nihilist feeling you maintained before.
"Hello, Master Hassel," you chirp.
The man frowns.
"Please get to the crux of the matter."
You hold back a lightly amused huff, tilting your head as you gently lean back, not entirely comfortable with the situation.
"You haven't asked for my name; is that to show how displeased you are with the family?" You inquire, mildly entertained. That must have been an active choice Hassel would've made, considering there's no way someone like him would ever forget his manners like that.
Hassel frowns.
"...Apologies," he sighs out, although chagrined and presumably a little annoyed that you've called him out on his bluff. "And your name?"
You tell him your first name--you say it more seriously than you intend, more soft.
He may be the last person you ever introduce yourself to, and for a second, your brain forgets that that's a problem that's specific only to you.
Hassel nods perfunctorily and you idly wonder if that's how you'll be remembered in the world--a little pest, nothing more than a social obligation to entertain.
You grin to yourself; well, isn't that the whole point of this trip? It's for appearance's sake only, considering you're just going to kill yourself when your fate is inevitable.
Hassel frowns at your grin and he leans forward, intimidating in his stern demeanor.
"I will say, you certainly...will not succeed. I recommend you cease your attempt now, and return to Johto."
You tilt your head, sticking out your tongue as you wink at him.
"I don't want to kill myself so soon," you tease, completely aware Hassel won't know how true you are being with that statement. "Not when I still have to go through alllll the motions of trying to convince you, or else the family would lose face."
Hassel harrumphs, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
"You certainly sound less filtered than...the hounds he's previously sent," Hassel dully states. "Are you a newer member? I'm afraid if that's the case, while it's commendable the family is adapting, then they should be able to realize that they need to pivot to a new successor."
You shake your head, laughing.
"I'm not a member," you laugh, although you feel a tightness around your eyes. "I'm not part of the family. If I was, they wouldn't send me here to die."
Hassel frowns lightly.
"If you are not a part of the family," Hassel says slowly, "Then who are you?"
You stick your tongue out.
"I'm a dead man walking," you chirp. "But I'm cute and lovable and going to kill myself before they actually manage to torture me, so don't worry your cute little butt about the not wanting to come back thing."
Hassel grimaces, lightly scooting as if he's to almost glance at his rear end before his face crumples in confusion.
"...Pardon," he says, bewildered. "Could you...repeat any part of that statement again? I'm afraid...I don't understand."
You tilt your head, putting on a faux innocent look.
"Which part? The part where I assumed you'd feel a little bad about my failed task? The part where I was going to kill myself? Or the part where I harassed you based on your handsome looks?"
Hassel's face is scrunched in a quite frankly hilarious look of both disgust and raw confusion--you snort, your hand flying up to your face as you start to giggle. At the sight of your amusement, however, Hassel's face darkens and he scowls.
"All of that," he grinds out, "Except for the last. I do not understand how this is meant to convince me to come back."
You blink, still amused by how caught off guard he is by your antics.
"It's not."
He gives you a withering glare.
"I find that rather hard to believe, if I may be forgiven."
You nod.
"You're forgiven," you say as genuinely as you can, taking in the way the man takes in a deep breath to try and stop himself from being frustrated. "But I really am not here for that, even if you think I am."
Hassel's crossed arms grow tighter.
"They sent you here to convince me to go back. Just like I've told the others, I won't."
You don't mean to offend when the smile falls off your face, reminding you of the others before you.
Once upon a time, those who were sent came out of true devotion to the family, a true desire to start the next golden era of the clan by bringing back their missing successor. That was then--now the family expects nothing but failure, a final nail in the coffin, personally hammered in by the reluctant hands of Hassel.
You respond with a dark chuckle, but judging by the way Hassel's eyes narrow, he doesn't appreciate being laughed at like that. Sure, you get it; he's the ever-important eldest son, who's never been disrespected. Eldest son of a bunch of despicable humans--you'd want to escape the family too, if you were part of them.
But you're not, and they don't take too kindly to non-blood traitors.
"Actually, not a single person expects me to succeed," you point out, trying not to sound bitter about it and remain factual. There's no laughter or smile on your face now, and you think that catches the man a little off-guard. "Failure is just an excuse to kill me off--but thank you kindly, for the warm greeting."
That was the tiniest bit sarcastic, considering the door slammed in your face, but could you really blame yourself for being the tiniest bit snarky here? No matter what Hassel does, since he's blood with the family, and the next head, he'll never be punished no matter how much he acts out. But someone like you, worthless and suicidal--his family would sooner order you to kill yourself than ever entertain the idea of wasting resources on you instead.
"I'm just here to go through the motions before they can officially dispose of me," you finish sardonically, shrugging one shoulder as you slump in your chair.
You stare at Hassel as you lean your head in your hand, taking in the way the man's stoic demeanor really does look like that of his father's.
A shudder goes down your spine.
"I...was not aware that my family would come up with a backstory for you that would portray them in any negative way," Hassel says slowly, completely doubting the truth of your story. "But that will not convince me to return. I'm sorry."
There's a certain kind of loneliness and quiet that settles over you, one of a doomed future you can't avoid.
A cold disbelief in your story is the weapon that Hassel uses to end your life.
You take in a breath and press your lips together in a polite smile, standing up and bowing your head.
"Thank you for your time, Hassel," you say, dropping the title on purpose now that there are no real ramifications to anything you do. He's been staunch in his dissociation from the family so far, and you might as well respect his desires now that the family would punish you regardless. "I hope you have a wonderful life, and hope that you never have to return to the clan."
You don't wait for Hassel to dismiss you as you walk towards the door, the handle cold and heavy under your hand.
You gulp, knowing that Hassel's waiting for you to leave. Despite all of the pain, despite knowing that you don't have much time left, some desperate part of you wants to make just one impression on someone alive before you leave this planet forever.
"Could I...request something?"
A moment of silence passes. It feels incredibly awkward, the request--so much so that you almost want to take it back.
"...What is it?"
You hesitantly peek backwards and watch Hassel's steady breathing, wonder how he can look so much like his father and yet not want to have anything to do with the clan. There's something so admirable about it, and even though you know he has the luxury to not be punished, to escape a life of supposed grandeur and instead teach children is...something you could never imagine anyone other than kind could accomplish.
"Could I. Er. I don't want to die just yet, so could I try to bribe you with ice cream tomorrow?" You squeak out. "S-so I don't have to kill myself immediately, because I don't want to. And I know that sounds super weird, but also you sound pretty cool for someone from the main branch of the family. And if I'm failing this mission, it'd be cool to at least try to know you a little better, although I understand...if...not...."
You awkwardly peter off as you realize how pathetic that sounds, considering there's no reason why Hassel should even entertain you. You're being very bold, asking him to spend more time with you, considering every signal the man has given has indicated that he'd like to never again see you, thank you very much.
Opening your mouth to try and brush it off, blushing furiously at your actually insane request, you're interrupted by a small, singular chuckle. His hand is in front of his mouth and his eyebrow is lightly quirked, although you think you can see the tiniest twitch of his lip behind that hand of his.
"--Sure. If you bring mint chocolate."