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All her life, Neon has been given everything she’s ever wanted. Well, that’s not really true when Neon stops to truly think about it—for all of Lovely Ghostwriter’s life, Neon has been given everything she’s ever wanted.
As a girl, Neon and her mother were subject to her father’s varying moods. On nights where there was jovial laughter and soft caresses in her household, it was because a deal had gone well or Light had managed to strongarm another faction of the mafia to do his bidding. When things went poorly for her father, Neon would be shut in the pantry by her mother and forced to listen to the sickening sound of her father’s fists colliding with her mother’s flesh.
All the nights in between, Neon and her mother would do their best to remain neutral—two pieces of furniture in their own home.
Light really wasn’t a violent man until he realized that if he wanted to remain in favor with the Ritz family, he would need to change the way he handled his subordinates. The surprise came when his wife and child were deemed among those who needed to be handled.
Then, one morning, Neon’s mother approached her with a look she’d only ever seen in the moments before the pantry door was closed on her. On her face was genuine fear, in her hands, a poem:
Always afraid, the sun will soon set
in a technicolor light show the young one will forever remember.
Give up your treasure lest you lose the bet
and be quickly snuffed out, a slowly dying ember.
Neon remembers asking where her mother got the poem, since neither of them were particularly scholarly readers and her father rarely allowed either of them contact with the outside world. Too much risk, he would say, despite consistently claiming they were never in any danger.
“You don’t remember giving it to me?”
The question had sent a shiver down Neon’s spine without her really knowing why.
“It was like you couldn’t see me, but you asked me to write my name, birthday, and blood type on this paper before you took it back.” Her mother paused, reread the poem. “You’re scaring me, sweetheart.”
Neon? Scaring her mother? To her, in that moment, it was the other way around.
She didn’t understand until much, much later, but the moment her father found out what Lovely Ghostwriter was turned out to be the exact moment that she hand-signed her mother’s death warrant.
“What is this?” Light asked, roughly shoving the paper into his wife’s face. It was a bright, sunny morning and they had just finished breakfast as a family. Light’s voice was eerily calm as he read the poem out loud and accused his wife of something—Neon doesn’t remember exactly what. Whatever the response had been was drowned out as he pulled her out of her chair by her hair, demanding to know what she was hiding from him.
Neon sat, frozen in her seat. She didn’t know exactly how, but she knew this was her fault.
She said so.
Neon flinched as her father’s rageful eyes turned onto her, his hands never leaving his wife’s body.
She’d pleaded for him to leave her mother alone, that she was the one who had written the poem but didn’t remember how, but Neon’s mother protested. She screamed that she wouldn’t let Light hurt their daughter, that his involvement with the mafia had changed him, that she would die before she let her child fall in her defense.
Light turned back to his wife as he muttered something Neon couldn’t hear. She watched as he strangled her mother to death, her face turning from pale white, to deep crimson, to a disturbing purple, before it settled once again in a pallid and inhuman shade. Neon’s mother’s eyes bulged out of her skull, the left one shining a bloody red from where her husband had popped a vessel.
Despite her fear, or perhaps because of it, Neon was rooted to her seat as her father approached her. The corpse of her mother had slumped to the floor while Light stumbled toward Neon.
He slid a sheet of paper and a pen to her, demanding she do for him what she had done for her mother.
As she looked between the table, her father, and the dead body on the floor, Neon understood that whatever she had done to write that poem, it was really a prediction—the varying shades of her mother’s skin as she died were a testament to that. She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know why, but some power of clairvoyance had awoken within her and led to her mother’s demise. What she did understand was that this was how she would survive the world without her mother in it to protect her, this was how she would see to it that her father was so elevated within the mafia that he would never look down upon her again.
She asked for his name, his birth date, his blood type. She didn’t read the resulting fortune that she did not remember writing. Light kissed his daughter on the crown of her head, seeing his own future so brightly it rivaled his own name.
Later, a shining ruby eyeball would become Neon’s first piece in her macabre collection.
“—color were you thinking?”
Blinking, Neon realizes she’s been drifting in and out of the present like she always does on weeks where she’s more Lovely Ghostwriter than she is her conscious self. It’s been an intense week of fortune telling at her father’s behest.
“Blue,” she says, distracted. In the pocket of her Goodbye Bunny pajamas, Neon’s phone buzzes. She knows who it is without even having to check, partially because her father doesn’t allow her to socialize with anyone outside of his trusted servants and partially because she’s been secretly talking to a boy she met online for the last few months and he always texts her around this time.
She welcomes the new train of thought but ignores the text and hopes that Eliza didn’t hear the phone. They haven’t even met in person yet, but everything Milluki has said and done so far has Neon convinced that might just be in love with him. Despite this newfound happiness, Neon is careful with her secret. She may trust Eliza and the rest of the people in this room with her life, but with her heart Neon is fickle.
“Very well,” Eliza says, rolling a bottle of electric blue nail polish in her hands to warm it up. If she notices Neon’s inner turmoil, she says nothing.
From behind them, Neon’s other attendant Angela asks, “Have you thought more about what you’ll wear?”
In the mirror, Neon can see the way Angela is slowly sifting through the wardrobe and inspecting each individual piece with a discerning eye. As is custom when Neon has to entertain her father’s cronies, she is not allowed to choose what she wears. All of the provided options are expensive and showy in a way that Neon detests—they remind her of the way her mother would sometimes be forced to parade around with more powerful mafiosos to curry favor on Light’s behalf. Only seventeen and she’s already forced to play the part of a mob wife.
Neon catches Angela’s eye in the reflection of the mirror and shakes her head, beckoning for her to do her best. After all these years, Angela has become very adept at picking the least offensive of the options provided.
Neon’s phone buzzes again and she nearly excuses herself to the restroom so she can check what Milluki is saying in private, but she keeps her focus on the things she still has left to do before she is free. She and her father are in Yorknew this week for the Southernpiece auction and despite having her eye on a few items to add to her collection, Neon is here first and foremost for work. Her father had claimed that it would be just a few poems, just a little schmoozing, and then she’d be free to roam and bid as she pleased, but that’s quickly divulged into dinner with these bastards and a few extra poems for their side pieces.
Tonight being the first night of the auction, Neon is thankfully only expected to charm these men until the doors to the theater open. Then she’ll finally be able to meet her could-be internet boyfriend.
Most of her stress surrounding the Milluki comes from the fact that Neon and Milluki haven’t talked about what they are yet, but that’s part of what they’ll discuss when they finally meet in Row C, seats 23 and 24. She can smile and wink at old mob bosses like it’s nobody’s business, but put her in front of someone she really wants to get to know and she’s apparently useless.
“Do you think we should go for something big?” she asks Angela nervously. Neon imagines the first time Milluki lays his eyes on her and hopes that she is more dazzling than all the characters he idolizes.
Her attendant ponders the suggestion, resting her chin in her palm as she runs her other hand gently over the gangers. “We should save the most dazzling outfit for the final night, but tonight’s dinner will set the stage for how the rest of your week will go.”
Eliza hums thoughtfully as she paints the nails on Neon’s left hand.
Leaving Angela to it, Neon busies herself with trying to do her makeup one-handed. Thankfully she’s already done most of it, but she brings a tube of mascara to her mouth and wrenches it open with her teeth, a habit she knows Eliza hates but will say nothing about if it means she won’t ruin the fresh nail polish.
Tube open and wand halfway to her face, Neon’s gaze flits over to her two bodyguards who wait by the door, trying very hard to look carefully bored but exuding nothing short of a rancid aura. They’re annoyed about something and it kind of pisses her off. “What?” As the two newest additions to the group, Neon realizes that everything she does and says characterizes her as the spoiled heiress in the eyes of these two guards, but she’s come to accept this as a necessary part of everyone’s survival in the Nostrade family group. Her mother’s glazed over eyes flash in her mind anytime she considers getting too close to anyone.
“Well Boss,” the smaller one—Melody—says, checking her watch pointedly, “if I can be candid with you, we are running behind on our schedule. You should probably pick the simplest option if we want to be there before the first course has been served.”
Neon clicks her tongue. “You’re right, of course,” she says slowly as she coats her lashes with mascara, “but you know I can’t do that. A woman’s best weapon is her beauty, as my mother once said.” The other bodyguard says nothing and that silence annoys Neon. “Kurapika?”
The second guard hardly deigns to look in her direction, keeping his arms crossed neutrally. He’s been with the family for a while now and Neon still knows nothing about this man. For a brief moment she wonders what Lovely Ghostwriter would wax poetic about him, but she quickly shuts the door on that train of thought. She doesn’t ask Lovely Ghostwriter to prophesize about people that she could ever come close to caring about—not ever.
“Your other hand, hun,” Eliza murmurs between soft breaths as she blows on the freshly painted fingernails.
In the end, much to Kurapika and Melody’s chagrin, it takes another 45 minutes for Neon’s nails to dry and an outfit to be decided. Angela picked a simple yet elegantly tailored white dress with pink accents, her second favorite color. Internally, Neon appraises it against all of Milluki’s favored best girls and she decides it’ll do.
The ride to the venue is perilous to say the least—Neon makes a mental note never to get in a car again so long as Kurapika is behind the wheel. Reckless doesn’t even begin to describe the way he’s swerving in and out of traffic to make it on time.
She finally checks her phone to distract herself.
MilluMiku (2:43 p.m.): Caught up in some family stuff, I might be late to the auction MilluMiku (3:09 p.m.): Actually looks like I’ll be fine, see you there MilluMiku (3:09 p.m.): Really looking forward to meeting you in person MilluMiku (3:10 p.m.): And that’s not something I say to just anyone I meet online
Neon smiles at the screen, happy that Milluki’s vulnerability with her has only continued to blossom as they’ve been chatting.
When they first started talking, it was really more of an argument. Milluki was on Neon’s favorite Mariner Moon forum just absolutely spewing lies about the next few chapters that hadn’t even been released yet and Neon had called him out on his bullshit. They’d argued back and forth on the public forum before they got banned from that thread and were forced to move it to a personal server Milluki set up for the express purpose of slam dunking on Neon.
Little did he know that Neon, among her other more morbid hobbies, was an otaku just like him.
Once she’d made it clear that nobody in the world knew more about Mariner Moon than she did, including the pompous asshole who got her banned from her favorite online community, Milluki softened in a way Neon didn’t expect. He got her unbanned from the forum, and when she asked how he did it he’d responded that he had “connections,” which Neon knew instantly meant that he’d paid off or threatened the mods.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew that being part of the Nostrade family group made her one of the most searchable people on the internet, but she didn’t really care. Something about Milluki was so freeing and the way he talked to her made her feel like he wasn’t just using her to get close to her father. They talked for months before it even came up that she was an heiress and he was part of one of the most feared families in Padokea. By then, they were too far in.
When Neon had confessed about her interest in flesh collection, Milluki didn’t recoil but instead sent her the listing for the Princess Corco mummy that would be up for auction in Yorknew. That was the instant Neon can pinpoint as the one where she fell for him.
neonlights (5:12 p.m.): we’re on the way! just have to finish up some work and lose my guards and then we’re golden MilluMiku (5:13 p.m.): Looking forward to it
The rest of the early evening floats by in the cloudy haze that is Lovely Ghostwriter’s signature—Neon blinks and it’s nearly 8 o’clock, she doesn’t even remember what was served for dinner between all the poems she was asked for.
She’s always thankful for it, though. Neon doesn’t want to know what horrors she prophesied for the community members. That’s between them and whatever god they favor.
MilluMiku (7:57 p.m.): Already seated and grabbed you a paddle
Neon’s heart flutters at the thought of being just minutes away from finally meeting Milluki. She glances over at Kurapika who looks distracted on the phone a few meters away. If she takes advantage of the moment and slips away right now—
Before she can even take a step, she stumbles directly into Melody.
“Where are you off to?” Melody inquires, her voice soft and soothing as always. She smiles at Neon, her two front teeth giving her the aura of a cheeky young woman rather than someone tough enough to be hired by the mafia. “You seem… excited.”
Neon buffers for a moment, clutching her phone to her chest. “I was just…”
“Going to give me and Kurapika the slip?” Melody supplies helpfully. “You know, if your father finds out you were out of our sight for even a moment this evening, he won’t be pleased.”
Think, Neon. Think!
Maybe if she feigns needing to use the restroom? But Melody would just come with her. And if she faked being ill, that would just get her sent home. What can she say that would give her the moment’s freedom she needs?
“Go on, I’ll tell Kurapika we were ordered by your father to remain by the doors.” Neon blinks at her guard dumbly. “I can tell that tonight is important for you, and I’m not a monster. If you leave now, Kurapika won’t even see you go.”
Squeezing Melody’s arm, Neon utters a quick, “Thank you,” before she hurries off to the main theater where the auction will begin.
She’s quickly engulfed by a sea of people and she struggles to navigate her way through the mass of bodies. Even once she’s safely within the large theater, all she can see are broad backs and shoulders in front of her as they bottleneck while people search for their seats. A quick glance at the aisle seat to her left tells her she’s nowhere near her assigned row—it’s going to take her forever to make it from Q to C. Neon curses the leisurely pace that all rich people affect in the presence of other, richer people.
MilluMiku (8:02 p.m.): Almost here? Looks like they’re going to start soon MilluMiku (8:02 p.m.): I was hoping we’d get to talk a little before things got too crazy in here neonlights (8:02 p.m.): working on it!!! these people are moving at a glacial pace
Her heart is pounding and she can’t quite untangle which parts of it are due to the imminence of finally meeting Milluki and which parts are because of the vague sense of claustrophobia that’s creeping up on her. Neon breathes slowly to calm herself and keeps an eye on the row letters that decrease as she walks.
Finally, the men in front of her have all found their seats and Neon can take her first breath of air in what feels like hours though she knows it’s only been a few minutes at best.
She pauses at the end of Row D, counting the seats in her own row and fidgeting with the charms that hang off of her phone. When her eyes land on her empty seat (23), she lets her eyes trail up from Milluki’s seat (24) and onto who she assumes is the man himself. He stands rigidly in front of his chair, looking nervously out at the end of their row as he waits for her. He’s also fidgeting, turning the paddle he’d grabbed for Neon in his hands as he scans the crowd.
He hasn’t seen her yet, so she lets herself linger in this private moment just a few seconds longer.
Milluki is handsome, she decides. He’s in a tailored black suit that lends sharp lines to the soft curves of his body. His skin is pale as porcelain but she can see, even at a distance, that his features cut dark, rigid, beautiful angles. He isn’t very tall but something about the way he stands there, vulnerable in his nerves but still straight-backed and assured, makes him someone that she’d want to know more about even if she hadn’t already been interested.
Then he turns and his eyes lock onto hers like they’re magnets, and Neon lets herself be pulled by his electromagnetic field.
Scooting past the people who are already seated is awkward, but Neon can’t rip her gaze from Milluki’s as she moves, and it seems that he can’t either.
When she’s finally standing beside him, they’re both frozen to the spot for a few moments. It’s Milluki who makes the first move, offering her the auction paddle and motioning for her to take a seat. Ever the gentleman, he waits for her before he sits down himself.
“Hi,” Neon breathes, entranced by the man next to her.
“Hi yourself,” Milluki responds. His eyes crinkle as he smiles and he looses a nervous chuckle. “You look beautiful.”
Neon feels her cheeks flush and she’s thankful for the dim theater lighting that casts an orange glow over everything. Almost as if sensing her thoughts, the lights dim further and a spotlight centers on someone standing on the stage. She hears Milluki click his tongue and she’s endeared by his desire to actually talk tonight.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers, “if nothing else we can still use the server during the auction.” Just like old times. Honestly, it might give her a little more courage if she can type out what she’s thinking instead of saying it aloud. She’s not really sure what it is about this that’s making her clam up and forget everything they’ve talked about for the better part of the last year.
“But—” Milluki’s sentence is cut short by someone angrily shushing him and motioning toward the stage where a young woman in a sparkly dress is walking out with the first auction item. Milluki clicks his tongue again and whips out his phone, turning down the brightness so someone doesn’t get uppity about that too.
MilluMiku (8:09 p.m.): I’m really not gonna get to talk to you in person, am I?
When her phone lights up with the notification, Neon’s nerves are instantly quelled. This she can handle. Written communication is a piece of cake.
neonlights (8:09 p.m.): come on!! we’re here aren’t we? neonlights (8:09 p.m.): my bodyguards aren’t in the room so we’ll at least get some time at the end
Milluki seems to ponder this, because his fingers hover over his phone while the bidding war begins. This item seems to be some ancient tome about immortality. Or something to that effect, for how ravenous all the old people bidding on it are.
MilluMiku (8:10 p.m.): Where are they anyway? You always make it sound like they’re your shadows neonlights (8:10 p.m.): i think one of them saw right through me neonlights (8:10 p.m.): she kind of just said… off you go! neonlights (8:11 p.m.): they’re right outside but this is the most freedom i’ve had in years
The tome sells for a ridiculous amount of money and Neon hopes that the buyer got a terrible, one stanza poem from her today.
The next three items are also auctioned off for similar prices, but Neon can’t focus on anything beyond the warmth of Milluki’s arm where it rests casually beside hers. If she were brave enough, she’d reach out and take his hand. As it stands, she types out another message.
neonlights (8:38 p.m.): i’m having a lot of fun, i hope we can figure out a way to hang out again sometime
Milluki sends her an incredulous look that quickly melts into one of tenderness and he doesn’t need to text anything back for her to know the feeling is, somehow, mutual.
By the ninth auction item, Milluki texts her that he likes her nail polish color—it reminds him of the colors of Mariner Mercury, his favorite of the Mariner Mages. When she holds up her hand to inspect Eliza’s work, Milluki suavely encloses it in his own.
If Neon’s heart leaps into her throat, she does a great job hiding the jolt.
At the eleventh item, Neon asks Milluki what he’s up to for the rest of the week. That he’s in Yorknew and available during the rest of the Southernpiece events is a lovely surprise. That he’s interested in being at her side for the entire week is a welcome warmth—outside of Eliza and Angela, who don’t really count, Neon doesn’t have anyone she would consider a close friend. Maybe she can convince Melody to loosen the reins a couple more times to make Milluki’s trip worth it?
The fifteenth item is Princess Corco, and Neon will be damned if Milluki doesn’t fight his hardest to get her that mummy. He’s a demon with that auction paddle and towards the end there, he’s in a bidding war with someone Neon recognizes as an important member of the Ritz family. She doesn’t dare bid against him herself, and when Milluki runs out of the funds to be competitive she leans her head on his shoulder and thanks him for trying in a low whisper.
“And that concludes tonight’s bidding,” the announcer says, once all of the evening’s catalogue items have been purchased. “Please join us again tomorrow for some more showstopping items!”
Before the crowd can even start murmuring about tomorrow’s most coveted items, Neon’s phone is ringing. It’s Melody.
“Boss, I don’t want to sound pushy but I need you to meet me at the entrance in 45 seconds or less.” Melody’s voice is calm as always but Neon can sense the urgency in her demand so she hangs up and turns to Milluki.
“I have to go,” she says, standing and gathering her phone and paddle. “It was so great to finally meet you.”
Milluki grabs her wrist before she can turn and disappear into the crowd. “When will I see you again?” is all he asks. His eyes are glimmering with hope.
“I’m at the Hotel Beitacle, I’ll let you know when I think I can get away again,” Neon says, looking about and quickly assessing her best escape route. If she gets caught tonight, she can kiss any hope of seeing Milluki again this week goodbye. “Really, it was a wonderful night.” Testing her bravery, Neon squeezes his forearm and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before she allows herself to be pulled by the crowd.
“But all we did was sit next to each other and text, like we always do!” Milluki calls after her as she weaves her way through the mess of exquisitely dressed people around her. She can see the top of Melody’s head near the door whenever the crowd parts and she runs, not caring who she runs into or shoves out of the way.
When she falls into step behind Melody, acting every bit as calm as she doesn’t feel after that sprint through the crowd, Neon pulls out her phone to reassure Milluki.
neonlights (10:11 p.m.): i think my schedule for tomorrow is pretty packed but i should be able to see you once kurapika goes to bed he’s the most… watchful neonlights (10:11 p.m.): i really did have such a good night, though!! MilluMiku (10:15 p.m.): If I didn’t know you any better I’d join the damn mafia to have a better chance at your time MilluMiku (10:15 p.m.): But I’ll see you tomorrow
Neon knows this is going to take work, but for once she wants something she knows her father would never allow her to have. When she starts scheming just how she’ll give Kurapika the slip tomorrow, she ignores the knowing look Melody throws her over her shoulder.