The pizza shop in Sedona City was bustling with activity as the clock neared 4:30 in the afternoon. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked dough, melted cheese, and sizzling meats wafted through the air, drawing in a steady stream of customers. The local elementary school had just let out for the day, and the streets outside were alive with the chatter and laughter of children, some of whom were already making their way to the shop, eager for a warm, cheesy treat after a long day of lessons.
"Father, I want the double-meat pizza," Dale said, his voice brimming with anticipation as he turned to his father, Joe, with a pleading look.
As soon as the words left his mouth, Dale licked his lips, his mind already conjuring up the image of the double-meat pizza—a glorious creation piled high with twice the amount of juicy, savory meat compared to the regular pizzas. Sure, it cost twice as much, but the sheer indulgence of it was worth every copper coin. To Dale, there was nothing quite like the satisfaction of sinking his teeth into a slice overflowing with meaty goodness.
"Alright, double-meat pizza it is," Joe agreed with a nod, his tone indulgent yet firm. He turned to the waiter, who was hovering nearby with a notepad in hand, and added, "One double-meat pizza, and a side of chilled cucumber slices, please."
"Of course, sir. Please wait just a moment," The waiter replied with a polite smile, jotting down the order before hurrying off to attend to the next table. The pizza shop was starting to fill up now, the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates signaling the beginning of the evening rush. It was a lively, cheerful atmosphere, with families, friends, and workers all gathering to enjoy the unique culinary delights that Sedona City had to offer.
Joe turned his attention back to Dale, his eyes narrowing slightly as he fixed his son with a stern, scrutinizing gaze. "Dale, how's your studying going? I hear your exams are coming up soon. You're not going to bring home another twenty out of a hundred, are you?" His voice carried a warning edge, and his expression made it clear that such a dismal performance would not be tolerated. "Because if you do, let me tell you, your days of carefree indulgence will be over."
The memory of Dale's last exam still stung Joe's pride. A measly twenty out of a hundred—how humiliating! Sure, Dale hadn't been the absolute worst in his class, but being in the bottom ten was hardly something to brag about. Joe had been forced to sign the exam paper, his signature a reluctant acknowledgment of his son's failure. The thought of it still made him cringe, especially when he considered how other parents boasted about their children's achievements.
"Uh…" Dale faltered, his mouth opening and closing as he stared blankly at his father. Why, oh why, did his father have to bring up such painful memories right before they were about to enjoy a delicious meal? The mere mention of exams was enough to sour his mood, casting a dark shadow over the joy of the double-meat pizza he had been so eagerly anticipating.
Joe, sensing his son's discomfort, reached out and ruffled Dale's hair, a faint, teasing smile playing on his lips. "When the pizza arrives, make sure you eat your fill," He said, his tone lightening. "But mark my words, Dale—if you don't manage to score at least thirty on your next exam, this will be your last pizza for a long, long time. You won't get to enjoy another slice until you can bring home a score of forty. And if you do, I'll treat you to a triple-meat pizza—how's that for motivation?"
"…" Dale's eyes widened, his expression one of stunned disbelief as he gaped at his father's smiling face. How could someone say something so cruel, so utterly ruthless, with such a cheerful demeanor? The pressure was suffocating. No pizza if he didn't score at least thirty? And having to wait until the next exam to even have a chance at redemption? School exams only happened once a month, which meant he could be facing a two-month pizza drought. The thought was unbearable, especially when he considered how his classmate, Ricky, managed to eat pizza twice a month—and Ricky didn't even seem to take studying seriously!
"Take Ricky, for example," Joe continued, his words cutting straight to Dale's heart. "That boy spends his days fooling around, playing and causing trouble, yet he somehow manages to score eighty on his exams. You don't seem like a fool, Dale, so why are your grades so abysmal? What's your excuse?"
"I…" Dale's lips quivered as he struggled to find a response. He wanted to protest, to defend himself. After all, he did pay attention in class, and he always completed his homework diligently. So why couldn't he achieve higher scores? It just didn't seem fair. And then there was Amelia, another classmate, who skipped classes regularly yet still managed to score ninety on her exams. How was that possible? Dale felt a pang of resentment, a sense of injustice that gnawed at him. He was trying so hard, yet the results never reflected his efforts.
Creak!
The door to the pizza shop swung open with a sharp sound, interrupting Dale's spiraling thoughts. In walked Amelia, her school bag slung over one shoulder and a black hooded cap pulled low over her head, covering half her face and tucking her ears out of sight. The cap, Dale knew, had been a gift from lord Lucas, though he wasn't entirely sure why Amelia always wore it with such determination, as if she were hiding something.
"…" Dale's gaze followed Amelia as she entered the shop alone, his lips twitching involuntarily. He reached up to touch his cheek, wincing slightly at the memory of the punch she had landed on him when she came to school on her day one. The bruise might have faded, but the sting of humiliation lingered. Amelia was, without a doubt, one of the two people in their class you absolutely did not want to cross. Mess with her, and you'd end up with more than just a bruised ego—and worse, there was no one to complain to. Tell your parents, and they'd just scold you for being weak, for not being able to handle a girl. The other person to avoid at all costs was their teacher, Miss Helen, whose strictness was the stuff of nightmares.
"You need to take your studies seriously," Joe said, his voice taking on a lecturing tone as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "If you could just be half as clever as Dahlia, I'd be satisfied."
"Yeah, yeah…" Dale muttered, rolling his eyes in a show of defiance, though inwardly he shuddered at the thought. Be like Dahlia, his so-called "demon" older sister? No, thank you. If he were that clever, his father would probably work him to the bone, piling on responsibilities and expectations until there was no room left for fun. Dale would rather stay blissfully average, thank you very much.
"…"
"Welcome to our shop! Oh, it's Miss Amelia! Back for more pizza, I see. What flavor would you like today?" The waiter greeted her warmly, his smile bright and welcoming as he recognized the familiar customer.
"Super double-meat, large," Amelia replied, her voice cool and detached. The "super double-meat" option, as the name suggested, was a pizza loaded with twice the usual amount of meat—a recent addition to the menu that had quickly become popular among the shop's more carnivorous patrons. The standard pizzas, while delicious, were often heavy on dough, which didn't satisfy those who craved a heartier, meatier experience. The shop had cleverly capitalized on this demand, adding the option to "upgrade" any pizza with extra toppings, a move that had proven to be a hit, especially among the city's merchants and adventurers.
"Very well. Will this be for takeout, as usual?" The waiter asked, already reaching for a notepad to jot down her order.
"Yes," Amelia replied with a curt nod, her expression unchanging as she stepped to the side to wait. She stood there silently, her posture rigid, her eyes scanning the room with a cold, almost mechanical precision. She wasn't here for herself, though. The pizza she was buying was destined for the orphanage, where several children—former slaves like herself—were too young to attend school. Amelia felt a quiet sense of duty toward them, a need to provide some small comfort in the form of a warm, delicious meal. It was a small gesture, but to her, it meant the world.
"Please wait just a moment, and we'll have your order packed up and ready to go," The waiter said cheerfully, before disappearing into the kitchen to relay the order to the chefs.
Amelia's gaze swept over the other patrons in the shop, her expression remaining impassive. She didn't linger on anyone in particular, her mind already focused on her next steps: delivering the pizza to the orphanage, then hurrying back to the castle for dinner. There was no time to waste, no room for idle chatter or distractions.
…
Meanwhile, seated at a corner table, a man known only as Venom Fang observed the scene with a practiced eye. At thirty-seven years old, Venom Fang was a seasoned assassin, his unassuming appearance belying his deadly skills. With his thick beard and honest, weathered face, he looked every bit the part of a humble merchant—a disguise he had perfected over years of blending into crowds. To the casual observer, he was just another traveler passing through Sedona City, perhaps stopping for a quick meal before continuing his journey. But beneath the surface, he was a predator, a killer ranked 118th on the underground bounty hunter leaderboard.
Venom Fang had been in Sedona City for two weeks now, meticulously planning his next move. His target, Lucas, had only returned to the city four days ago, but the castle's defenses were far more formidable than he had anticipated. Sneaking in undetected was out of the question, at least for now. Instead, he had spent his time gathering intelligence, searching for any weakness, any crack in the castle's armor that he could exploit to carry out his assassination plan.
As he sipped his drink, his peripheral vision locked onto the girl standing by the counter—Amelia. Over the past few days, he had learned her name and pieced together enough information to identify her as a potential key to his mission. She was closely connected to the castle, perhaps even a resident, which made her an ideal target for gathering insider knowledge. If he could extract information from her—willingly or otherwise—he might uncover the vulnerabilities he needed to infiltrate the castle and eliminate Lucas.
True to his nickname, Venom Fang was a master of poisons, particularly a paralyzing toxin that could render a victim immobile within minutes. A single scratch from a blade coated in this poison was enough to incapacitate even the strongest opponent, leaving them helpless but alive. It was a non-lethal poison, a choice that had kept his ranking from climbing higher on the leaderboard. After all, a true assassin killed without hesitation, but Venom Fang preferred to leave his targets alive when possible, a quirk that some saw as a weakness but which he viewed as a mark of precision and control.
"Miss Amelia, your pizza is ready. That'll be 20 copper coins," The waiter said, emerging from the kitchen with a neatly packed paper bag, the savory aroma of the super double-meat pizza wafting from within.
Amelia reached into her pocket, pulling out 20 copper coins and handing them to the waiter without a word. She took the bag in both hands, cradling it carefully, and turned to leave, her movements swift and purposeful. She needed to get to the orphanage quickly, to ensure the pizza was still warm when she arrived, before hurrying back to the castle for her own dinner.
Creak!
The door swung open as Amelia stepped outside, disappearing into the bustling streets of Sedona City. Venom Fang watched her go, his eyes narrowing with predatory focus. Without wasting a moment, he shoved the remaining slices of his pizza into his mouth, barely taking the time to chew. The pizza was, admittedly, delicious—perhaps the best he had ever tasted—and he silently vowed to return to this shop for a proper meal once his mission was complete. Three days of reconnaissance in this very shop had not been in vain, and the thought of enjoying another pizza as a reward for a job well done was a small but satisfying motivator.
As soon as he had swallowed the last bite, Venom Fang rose from his seat, his movements casual yet deliberate. This mission, while challenging due to the castle's unexpected defenses, was nothing he couldn't handle. All he needed was a little more information—details about the castle's layout, its security protocols, its routines—and he would find a way in. Once inside, he would strike silently, eliminating his target without leaving a trace. It would be a perfect kill, a testament to his skill and cunning.
Creak…
The door creaked again as Venom Fang stepped outside, his eyes scanning the street for Amelia's retreating figure. He followed at a discreet distance, his merchant's guise firmly in place, his mind already calculating his next move.
"…" Back inside the shop, Dale stared at the door, his brow furrowing in confusion. Something about that bearded man had seemed… off. The way he had rushed out, as if in a hurry, struck Dale as strange, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why. For a moment, he considered mentioning it to his father, but before he could dwell on it further, a waiter approached their table, carrying a steaming pizza piled high with glistening meat.
"Your double-meat pizza has arrived," The waiter announced, setting the tray down with a flourish.
"Wow, it looks amazing! So delicious…" Dale's eyes lit up, his earlier unease forgotten as the sight and smell of the pizza overwhelmed his senses. All thoughts of the strange man, his exams, and his father's threats melted away, replaced by the simple, unadulterated joy of a perfect meal. For now, at least, nothing else mattered.
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