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Chapter 12: Reward in Hand
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 15:37:28 +0000 UTC
"Finally decided to come back?"
The sudden voice froze Lucas where he stood. His eyes widened as he turned toward the sound.
A slim figure sat on the bed, Gwen's gaze blazing with anger as it fixed on him.
"H-hey, Gw… Gwen, m-morning~~" Lucas raised a stiff hand in a robotic wave.
Gwen patted the spot beside her, motioning for him to sit.
Still stiff as a mannequin, Lucas shuffled over and sat gingerly.
"Um… I can explain…"
That sweet smile on Gwen's face made the hairs on Lucas's neck stand on end. He knew that smile too well. Whenever Gwen smiled like that, it meant he was in deep trouble.
"Mhm, go on. I'm listening." Her voice was gentle, but her eyes gleamed dangerously.
Lucas's throat locked up. No words would come. Cold sweat poured down his back, and it felt like all the blood in his body had retreated into his chest.
Seeing him panic, Gwen's anger faded by half. She'd grown up with Lucas. She knew the moment she got mad, he'd turn into a clueless robot, stammering and fumbling. She was used to it by now.
But then her eyes caught the bloodstains on him. She lunged forward, grabbing his arm.
"You're hurt?! Let me see!"
Her earlier composure vanished. Her hands trembled as she checked him over, frantic to find the wound.
Lucas quickly stopped her. "Relax—it's not mine. I'm fine."
He didn't even notice that he was holding her hand. Gwen didn't seem to notice either; all her focus was on him.
"Ahem." Realizing, Lucas let go immediately, scratching his head in embarrassment. Gwen's cheeks turned pink, and the room filled with a subtle, unspoken tension.
"Actually… I was investigating the people who hurt your dad," Lucas explained, and he told her everything—his investigation and its outcome.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" Gwen scolded, furious that she had been kept in the dark.
"I didn't want you to worry. And it's over now." Lucas's voice was urgent. He knew she'd blame him, but hiding it from her had been even worse.
Her eyes reddened, lips pressed tight.
"Alright, alright—I was wrong, okay? Don't be mad. I'm sorry, really." He panicked, fumbling until finally, after much coaxing, she calmed down.
"Next time, don't keep things from me!"
"I promise!"
"Tell me everything!"
"No problem!"
After swearing multiple times, Lucas finally saw her smile again. He let out a long breath of relief.
Though the sun was already up, Gwen insisted Lucas rest in the room. She herself handled breakfast for her brothers and walked them to school.
Then she went to the hospital, while Lucas stayed home to rest. He wanted to go with her, but Gwen firmly refused.
---
A month later, Commissioner George was nearly fully recovered. He could return to office work without issue, though field duty was off the table.
Just as Daredevil predicted, Hell's Kitchen had quieted down after an entire gang was wiped out overnight. The crime rate plummeted.
The NYPD had no leads on the gang's extermination. Eventually, they let it drop, settling instead for a massive sweep of Hell's Kitchen—for the sake of the commissioner's dignity.
Meanwhile, on Manhattan Avenue, a new office quietly opened: Devil May Cry.
Passersby often stopped to stare, curious about the strange name and what the place even did.
This building was Lucas's reward from the system for completing his mission.
Four floors of pure European classic style: the first floor a public office, and the second through fourth luxury apartments. Lucas could rent them out to make steady money.
In Manhattan, where every inch of land was gold, the tenants would naturally be corporate elites.
Lucas himself lived in the grandest unit on the second floor, tucked away in the back—his private apartment, the largest and most luxurious of them all.
The Devil May Cry office was decorated in a vintage European aesthetic. Besides a reception area, it had a trophy hall, a full drink bar, and every modern convenience.
A week ago, Lucas had moved out of the Stacy home, saying he was grown and didn't want to burden George and Helen.
But the Stacys had opposed it fiercely. To them, Lucas was still a kid—far too young to live on his own. Helen and the boys didn't want to see him leave.
The strongest reaction had been from Gwen. She thought Lucas didn't want them anymore. She fought with him bitterly, even smashing the crystal ball he'd given her when they were children, swearing that if he moved out, he'd never be welcome back.
It had taken Lucas ages to coax her into forgiving him. Even then, she refused to accept his moving out.
In the end, Lucas brought the family to the building and revealed it was all his. Only then did George and Helen reluctantly agree.
George even used his connections to investigate the property, worried it had shady origins. But the records showed Lucas had inherited it from his maternal grandfather. That reassured him.
After all, George had found Lucas as a baby in a drug den. His mother had already overdosed. George had never been able to trace his roots.
Seeing Lucas wasn't moving out to fall in with thugs, George let go of his worries. Helen, however, laid down a rule: Lucas had to come home once a week, share a meal, and spend the night. No excuses.
Lucas had no choice but to agree.
---
Now, sprawled lazily in his chair, legs propped on the desk, Lucas shut his eyes in a half-doze.
His final semester of high school was almost over. He had already decided not to go to college. With the system at his side—and a building on Manhattan Avenue—he didn't need a "good job."
Gwen and Peter, meanwhile, were drowning in prep for college entrance exams.
Both of them were top students. Getting into a good school would be easy, but the elite universities demanded sky-high scores.
"You really don't plan on going to college?" Gwen asked, sorting through a pile of notes.
She, Peter, and Felicia—three of the school's brightest—sat crammed on a wide corner sofa, each buried in study guides, hardly blinking.
"Yeah, Lucas. You should give it a shot. It'd be nice to have you with us in school," Peter said, pushing up his thick glasses, eyes fixed on a page of formulas. Lucas peeked at it and felt queasy.
"No thanks! I've never been the studying type. I'll stick to running my office." Lucas stretched lazily.
"Did you tell Dad? You know he's always wanted you to be a cop. Without college, how are you going to take the exam?"
