At the boy Lume's house, he and his mother were eating food taken from the bakery's trash. His mother had tried to cook something from the scraps. Lume, meanwhile, was distracted, reading a book and occasionally scribbling something on a sheet of paper beside him.
— What are you doing, son?
His mother asked in a calm and genuinely curious tone as she flipped some pieces of bread in a pan, trying to make toast from the filthy leftovers.
— Huh? I'm reading, Mom!
Lume responded with a big smile. Reading made him feel good. His mother let out a gentle laugh at his words and slowly walked over to him, kneeling down and looking him in the face.
— I wasn't talking about that, Lume. I meant what you were writing on that sheet of paper!
She pointed to the paper on the floor, making Lume blush and get a bit nervous. Still, he didn't refuse to explain.
— It's a song… for you, Mom!
The boy's words left the woman shocked and even more curious. She wanted to hear the lyrics her son had written.
— Really, my son? What are the lyrics?
The boy hesitated, feeling embarrassed. He hadn't finished the song and didn't think he was a good singer.
— But Mom… I haven't finished it yet. And I'm not a good singer either…
He said shyly, a product of the environment he lived in—an environment that had damaged his self-esteem.
— Oh come on, I'm sure it's great!
His mother encouraged him with a kind smile. That smile gave Lume the courage to sing a part of it.
— Well, the song goes like this: "My beautiful lady with blue eyes, who works through the cold night like a cross…"
The boy sang the line but stopped quickly, overwhelmed with shyness. He couldn't even make it to the fifth line. His mother, however, gently stroked his head.
— Alright, alright, that song is wonderful, my dear son. But let's eat the toast now!
She went back to the kitchen to prepare their meal, made from garbage scraps.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in that filthy, dark neighborhood, Lume's awful father was walking through an alley, holding a gun.
— It's only two hundred?
The man asked about the price of the gun, talking to the shady seller in the alley. He really meant it when he said he was going to kill his wife.
— That's right, just two hundred. But sir, why use a gun when everyone has powers?
The seller's question was cut off when the drunken man threw the money in his face and stormed off angrily.
— My powers need a gun to work, you fucking idiot!
The vendor was visibly furious, his hatred palpable.
— Hey, you drunk bastard, I'll kill you—
He was interrupted when the father fired a curved bullet that hit the vendor directly in the skull, scattering his brains across the alley.
— My ability is… hic!… to control the trajectory of bullets… hic!
The drunk muttered between hiccups. He walked over to the body and took his money back.
— I guess… hic! this money is mine!
He counted it, placed it back in his wallet, and shoved it into his pocket. His hands were a little bloody, as some blood had splattered on the coins and bills.
— Oh… looks like I got some cockroach blood on me. Eh, whatever!
He said, walking toward a nearby bar to have a drink before carrying out his evil plan to kill his wife—and maybe his own son—without a shred of mercy.
"Tonight I get my revenge on that blonde bitch and that worthless brat, just like a serial killer disposes of the remains before going back to living a normal life, as if nothing happened!"
That was his thought as he ordered drinks and got plastered at the bar, surrounded by provocative women.
Back at the "family" house, their son was lying in bed, apparently asleep.
"Did Mom really like my song? That makes me happy… really happy, like getting the tastiest candy!"
Lume thought to himself during a long silence that was suddenly broken by the sound of a vase shattering in the living room. His room was close enough to hear everything clearly.
— You filthy whore, I'm going to kill you for cheating on me!
His father screamed. His mother was on the floor, her face bleeding. Lume was in shock. But instead of screaming, he silently walked to the kitchen—on the opposite side of the living room.
— B-but honey… I really love you, I did all this for you, only for you!
His mother sobbed, begging for her life. The drunk was pointing his newly acquired gun at her head.
— Shut up, you dirty bitch. I'll send you and that brat to hell with a single bullet!
As the fat drunk prepared to pull the trigger, a knife flew into his neck. It was thrown by Lume himself. But he didn't stop there. Lume leapt at his father, stabbing his throat again and delivering over a hundred and fifty stabs, ensuring the man died right in front of his mother.
— Mom, are you okay?!
He asked, turning to her. She was clearly in shock. Her son shouldn't have been able to kill a man like that without fully awakening his special power. Lume himself was shocked—not because he had just murdered his father so brutally, but because of the feeling he heard from his father.
"What was that feeling? No, better—what song was that?"
Lume wondered internally. Even without fully understanding it, it was obvious: fear, despair, and sheer terror. His father had stared death in the face. But Lume didn't have time to think more about it.
His mother suddenly snapped, throwing glass objects at him.
— You little shit, what did you just do?!
She screamed. The loving, warm feeling Lume had always heard from her—it wasn't real.
— You bastard, you were nothing more than a tool for me to stay with him. Now that he's dead, there's no reason for you to exist!
Lume's world slowly fell apart. Every feeling he had ever heard from his mother—all those emotional "songs"—had been lies. But one thing still fascinated him: that real feeling—his father's despair.
— I'll kill you. I should've aborted you—
She was cut off when Lume grabbed her throat and started to strangle her. The song of fear and desperation rang again, now from his mother. Even when she broke free and the song of hatred returned, it didn't surprise Lume. He simply lunged at her and slit her throat, killing her instantly and letting fear take over once again.
— Don't worry, Mom… you've become a beautiful song now. Your pain is completely gone.
He said this while hugging her now lifeless, cold body.
— And Mom, now I want you to hear the whole song!
He coughed a bit, clearing his throat before starting his song.
"My beautiful lady with blue eyes,
Who works through the cold night like a cross,
While her husband eats grilled meat
And has fun at the square's bar.
My beautiful lady with blue eyes,
Who seduces many men in the night,
Like a knife that reflects the light—
The same light from the bakery's street lamps
That mock my life.
But for you, my lovely lady,
I'd eat grass if I had to.
My beautiful lady, just rest your blue eyes
In this red river,
Where all your pain will vanish,
While that drunk suffers at his own burial.
Rest in peace."
Lume recited the song in that memory. Then he returned to reality, still lying on the ground in his battle against Held. In his right hand was a bloody knife reflecting the streetlight above. Looking at the blade with a sorrowful gaze, he stood back up and finished the last line of his song:
— My beautiful lady with blue eyes!