Perspective: Eve
Location: Countryside Outskirts — Varethiel Manor Estate
Time:6:15 AM — February 4, 2018
The morning mist clung to the frosted glass of the arched windows, covering the countryside in silver frost.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Stand upright, Eve. Just act natural.
...Natural?! How am I supposed to act natural in this outfit?!
I stared down at my clothes, fighting the urge to cover my face with both hands. The black dress gripped my ribs tightly, falling in stiff pleats past my knees. Over it sat a snowy-white cotton apron, its shoulder straps pinned with silver needles, its oversized bow tied behind my lower back. Crisp white lace scratched against my wrists, black leather boots squeezed my toes, and a frilly white maid headband sat right in the middle of my pastel-pink hair.
I am wearing a maid uniform. A real maid uniform.
If Kai saw me right now, he would laugh until he choked on his own spit. He would lean his shoulder against the wall, tilt his head with that lazy smirk, and ask me if I brought him hot tea and biscuits!!
...Stop thinking about him! That is not why you are standing in this hallway!
Well... fine. That is the exact reason I am standing here. But not for tea!
I pressed both palms against the front of the apron, trying to stop my fingers from shaking.
I am not a stalker. I am definitely not a stalker!
Say it again, Eve. Keep saying it until you stop feeling guilty.
I am not an obsessive girl who creeps through dark alleys. It was protective research. Necessary, careful research. That is all it was.
...Who am I lying to? I hid behind a tree for 1 full hour just watching the gates of the Central Granary Exchange.
Heat rushed straight into my ears.
I followed him through the commercial district last night. I watched him walk into those iron gates with dark circles under his eyes, coughing into his coat cuff. He walked with heavy, dragging steps. He looked exhausted.
And then... 1 hour later, he walked back out into the street.
He wasn't coughing. He had a pouch of gold tied to his belt, and right beside him walked a tiny, 7-year-old demon girl with obsidian horns, wearing a clean white dress and hugging a pink plush bunny.
A demon child in the middle of Sylvaris.
And Kai held her hand. When she shrank away from the dark shadows, he wrapped his fingers around her tiny hands and let her hold on with both of hers. He walked her to his home with care.
I couldn't sleep after that. Not for 10 minutes.
I ran straight to the merchant guild's domestic intake registry at 5:00 AM. That was how I learned the truth. Elder Master Naelor Varethiel had dismissed 4 parlor maids yesterday afternoon after an argument over broken vase. The country estate sent an emergency dispatch for immediate replacements.
I arrived at the service gate at 5:30 AM alongside 20 other women.
Most of them had rough hands and angry scowls from working in the dock taverns. But when Head Maid Elise stepped into the courtyard to inspect the line, her black eyes stopped directly on me.
She looked at my clean skin. She looked at my round, tidy face. She saw my pastel-pink hair tied neatly with ribbons, my polite posture, and my spotless fingernails. She tapped my shoulder with her brass clipboard.
"You look like a well-bred girl who doesn't steal silverware. Put on the apron."
That was it. She handed me the uniform on the spot.
And now I am standing here, praying nobody notices that I have never cleaned a noble's estate in my entire life.
Naelor Varethiel is a 300-year-old High Elf. He controls the entire grain supply of the province.
Why did Kai meet him last night? What kind of contract did they sign? And how did he go in empty and leave with gold and an adopted child?
He is hiding something huge. He is shouldering a mountain of secrets, and he refuses to ask for help.
You don't get to carry it alone, Kai. Not while I can still walk.
"Line up! Eyes forward, backs straight!"
The sharp bark echoed down the stone corridor.
I jumped, instantly pressing my hands to my thighs, locking my heels together alongside the other 3 new recruits.
Head Maid Elise marched down the grey marble floor.
She stood tall, her honey-blonde hair pulled tight into a neat bun, her black eyes cutting across our faces with sharp authority. Her black dress rustled crisply as she tapped her heavy brass clipboard against her hip.
"Welcome to the country estate of Elder Master Naelor Varethiel," Elise said, her voice dry and firm. "You 4 were hired because you appeared clean and capable of hard labor. Do not embarrass my judgment."
She speaks fast. Very fast.
"Morning duties begin at 6:30 AM sharp," Elise stated, stepping down the line. "The 2 recruits on the left will clean the east gallery—sweep the carpets, polish the cedar trim, and tend the soil in the heated glass conservatory. Keep your hands off the frost orchids."
The 2 girls beside me bowed their heads quickly.
"Yes, Head Maid Elise."
Elise stopped directly in front of me, staring down at my face and my pastel-pink hair.
I froze, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead on her collar button, holding my breath.
Please don't examine my hair. Please don't ask why it's pink.
"You and the recruit on the right are assigned to the grand dining hall and the 2nd-floor library," Elise commanded, writing a note on her parchment.
"Sweep the floors, polish the silver platters, and wipe down every bookshelf with cedar oil. If I see 1 grain of dust on the master's ledger cases, you will clean the room a 2nd time before noon."
"Understood, ma'am," I answered in a quiet, polite tone.
Elise lifted her index finger, her expression turning hard.
"Now hear the 1 rule that has zero exceptions under this roof. The Master's private archive on the 3rd floor is off-limits. Do not scrub its door. Do not linger outside its threshold. Anyone who touches the runic wards on that iron handle will be handed directly to the city magistrates without any pay. Understood?"
"Yes, Head Maid Elise!" all 4 of us answered together.
"Discretion is mandatory," Elise added, turning her back on us. "The Master is hosting private agricultural delegates this week. Keep your ears open, your eyes down, and your mouths closed. State your names for the book, take your duster buckets, and get to work."
The girl on the far left spoke 1st.
"Sarah, ma'am."
"Clara, ma'am."
"Mina, ma'am."
I stepped forward half a step, dipping my knees into a small, neat curtsy.
"Eve, ma'am. Ready for duty."
Elise wrote down my name with 2 quick scratches of her pen, then gestured toward the archway.
"Move. 6:30 AM is in 8 minutes."
The moment her boots clicked around the corner, I let out a long breath, my shoulders dropping.
I am in. I am actually inside the house.
The 2nd-floor library sits directly below the 3rd-floor archive. That means the ventilation grates connect between the ceiling beams.
I am going to find out what Kai is planning.
Last night came rushing back into my chest—the cold street, the wind catching Kai's coat, and the gentle way he guided that little demon girl over the snow.
A person who holds a child's hand like that is not a cold monster.
He pretends to be selfish. He hurts others and insults people to keep them away.
He did that to me.
He deliberately hurt me so I would run far away from whatever dark thing is killing him.
He is coughing in pain. Yet he took in a starving child who had nobody else in the world.
That means his real heart is still in there...
I am not going to let him die with that empty broken heart.
I will pull off that ridiculous lie... and I will bring him back.
Whatever it takes.
Suddenly—
Crack.
A sharp white flash erupted behind my forehead.
A violent spike of pain slammed through my temples, cutting off my air. My hands shot up to my skull, my fingers digging into my hair as the hallway around me blurred into a spinning tunnel of light.
Deep inside my chest, a sleeping flame twisted.
For 1 single heartbeat, the pastel pink in my eyes vanished—igniting into a deep, electric, celestial blue.
At any cost.
The blue vanished. My vision snapped clear, my eyes returning to soft, trembling pink. I drew in a ragged breath, pressing my hand against my pounding ribs.
I picked up the wicker duster bucket from the bench and walked toward the grand staircase.
You cannot hide from me forever, Kai.
I am coming for you.
---
Perspective: Kaiser
Location: Lower District — Rented Residence (Ami, Bibi, Lily)
Time: 10:00 AM — February 4, 2018
Click. Ratchet. Twist.
I tightened the tempered carbon screw with my short steel screwdriver, keeping my elbows pinned to the low wooden table.
15% done already.
Not bad for 2 hours of work.
Add 5% more to fix the counterweight issue, and it reaches 20%. Lock the inner coil gears, and the Revered Insanity sword hits 25% by noon.
I picked up the segmented steel link, wrapping the sharp, twisting chain around the central spine. With a firm push of my thumb, I slotted the secondary locking tooth straight into the channel. I grabbed the release lever and pulled back. The entire chain assembly snapped inward with a clean, metallic hiss, collapsing into a compact hilt before springing forward on command.
Coming along great. My favorite weapon.
A loud screech broke out from the rug behind me.
"No, Ami! That's mine!"
"Bibi, wait 1 minute—"
"No! It's mine!"
A 3rd tiny, squeaky voice chimed in right on cue:
"N-No! Give it back!"
Aaaand here we go again.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, staring at the ceiling.
3 girls. 1 tiny room. Pure madness.
I brought Lily home yesterday before leaving myself for my own place. At 1st, I prepared myself for an awkward, tense disaster. Demons and beastkin usually mix about as well as water and boiling oil. But Lily's sheer cuteness had erased all racial hostility by morning.
Her big purple eyes and stuttering gratitude had completely melted Ami and Bibi. By 8:00 PM yesterday, both cat girls had unilaterally declared Lily their official baby sister. Lily apparently possessed some kind of passive, unregistered mind-control magic that made everyone want to feed and protect her.
And then came the plushies.
I bought Ami an elephant plushie and Bibi a green angry bird plushie yesterday afternoon to keep them from whining about my long absence. Lily already had her pink bunny. Now, the 3 of them were locked in an all-out plushie civil war across the floor while I was trying to build an engine of battlefield slaughter.
Patter-patter-patter.
Small, hurried footsteps slapped against the floorboards.
A tiny hand grabbed my coat sleeve, tugging it with desperate urgency.
"Papa! They are being rude to me!"
My screwdriver slipped, gouging a scratch into the pine table.
I froze.
...Papa what?!
Across the room, Ami and Bibi froze mid-wrestle. Bibi was holding the elephant by its trunk, Ami was gripping the bird by its wing, and both cat beastkin turned their heads toward me with wide, horrified eyes.
"Papa?!" Bibi blurted out, her jaw dropping.
Lily tugged on my sleeve even harder, burying her face into my bicep.
"Please help me, Papa!"
I stared down at the top of her silver-white head, completely dumbfounded.
"Listen, Lily dear," I said, raising an open palm. "I hoped you would call me Kaiser at best. Maybe Master if you were down bad like those 2 over there just to troll me. But Papa is way too far-fetched. I met you literally yesterday!"
Lily looked up at me, her cheeks flushing bright crimson as she fidgeted with her bunny's floppy ears.
"B-But you're like a papa to me! You're so kind and cool!"
Bro.
You have got to be joking.
Since when am I a father figure?!
"Bro, I took you in to drop you off at a proper orphanage once my plans get rolling, not to become a suburban father of 3!" I threw my hands up in exasperation.
"What is this?! Bro, I am only 18 this year in a few months! What are you guys doing?! Relax!"
Ami set the elephant down on the rug, her silver eyes glowing with mischievous delight.
"No, Papa. You are very cool, calculating, intelligent, and smart."
Bibi stood up on her knees, clapping her hands with theatrical solemnity.
"Yes, Papa! Such a distinguished provider for our humble home!"
"Shut up, you 2!" I snapped, pointing my screwdriver at them. "Stop motivating her! You cannot be trolling me in my own living room!"
Lily tugged my sleeve again, bouncing on her heels.
"Papa, I want ice cream later!"
Ami raised her hand with deadpan sincerity.
"Papa, me 2."
Bibi threw both arms in the air.
"Papa, me 3!"
I stared at the ceiling, letting out a groan of pure, unadulterated suffering.
"What do you mean 'me 3'?! Since when am I Papa?! That's my 1st question!"
I reached down, picked Lily up by her waist, and set her down on the edge of the mattress. I pulled up a wooden stool, sat down in front of her, and looked straight into her purple eyes.
"Lily dear. Don't call me Papa, okay? You can call me Kaiser. You can call me Cool Kid Leader. You can call me Gangster. Call me anything you want. Just zero father titles."
Lily puffed out her cheeks, crossing her tiny arms over her white dress.
"B-But you're the coolest Papa ever!"
"Bro, I'm not even married!" I countered, throwing my arms wide.
Lily gasped, pointing a tiny accusatory index finger straight at my chest.
"Lie! Where is Mama?!"
I blinked.
"Huh? Mama? But your mama is gone..."
Lily shook her silver head with furious conviction.
"No, no! New Mama!"
"New Mama what?!"
"I want to see Mama! Take me to Mama!" Lily placed 1 small index finger against her lips, tilting her head to the side with maximum cutesy innocence.
I rubbed my tired eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.
"Look, Lily dear. I am a gold-oriented person. I cannot give you a mama."
"B-But I already have one!" Lily insisted proudly.
I stopped. I arched an eyebrow, looking at her with genuine, bewildered amusement.
"Cool. Even I want to meet her. Tell me, who is your mama?"
Lily pointed her finger right at the tip of my nose.
"Your wife!"
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my knuckles.
"My wife?! Who?! Please tell me! I'm getting broke every single day, so I desperately need a fat loan from my own rich wife! Tell me, who is my wife?!"
Lily grabbed my index finger with both of her warm, tiny hands, tugging me toward the doorway.
"Come! I'll take you to Mama! Mama is so rich, strong, and a boss, you see!"
My jaw dropped.
Wait... rich, strong, and a boss?!
Who on earth is this kid talking about?!
"Oh, even I didn't know that," I said, narrowing my eyes with deep suspicion.
"Tell me who this mama of yours is."
Lily shook her head stubbornly, holding on tight.
"No! I will show you!"
I dragged my palm down my face, letting out an exhausted breath.
"Alright, fine. Show me tomorrow, because I have a ton of work today. Ami, Bibi, take this girl out for ice cream."
Lily pouted, her cheeks turning into round little buns.
"I want to show you Mama now!"
"Yeah, sure, bro," I muttered sarcastically, picking my screwdriver back up.
"I'll go meet my very legit and 'real' billionaire wife tomorrow."
Lily puffed her cheeks in protest, but Ami and Bibi were already pulling on their coats with wicked grins.
"Come on, Lily!" Bibi cheered, grabbing Lily's hand. "We'll go find Mama together!"
"Yes," Ami agreed in her soft, deadpan voice. "We must find us a new mother, because Papa is constantly angry, grumpy, and overworked."
"I told you 3 do NOT call me—!"
Slam.
The front door shut firmly in my face.
Silence filled the room.
I stood there in the quiet apartment, holding my screwdriver in 1 hand and a metal sword link in the other.
...What just happened?
---
Perspective: Celia
Location: Commercial District — MAFIA Headquarters
Time: 1:00 PM — February 4, 2018
The polished oak floorboards of our main foyer were completely dead.
Not a single soul was standing at the reception counters. The ledger desks were empty. The spatial relay intake bins sat cold and silent under the brass lanterns.
...Where did everyone go?!
I marched out of the stairwell, my heels clicking sharply against the stone tiles. I planted both hands on my hips, glaring at the empty hall.
"Varkas!" I called out. "Where is the staff? Where is Bella?"
The corridor curtain parted. Varkas stepped into the foyer, adjusting his dark silk tie with his usual calm precision. He pressed 1 fist against his chest and dipped his head.
"Lord Lucifer will return in 2 days, Mistress," Varkas reported smoothly. "He is currently managing heavy diplomatic pushback during trade negotiations across the demon continent."
Of course he is. That man is always missing when there is actual work to do.
"I didn't ask about Lucifer," I said, narrowing my eyes. "I asked about my people. Why is the entire intake hall deserted?"
"Lady Bella and the processing staff stepped out for lunch 40 minutes ago," Varkas explained without missing a beat.
40 minutes?!
My jaw dropped.
"40 whole minutes for lunch?!" I snapped, throwing my hands up. "Are they slaughtering the chickens themselves before cooking it?! We have 14 contract batches waiting for appraisal!"
"Getting a hot meal in the commercial district at 1:00 PM is quite difficult, Mistress," Varkas replied politely. "The taverns are crowded to capacity. The day-shift adventurers are waking up, the guild patrols are clogging the food stalls, and the lines wrap around the block. A 40-minute turnaround is considered remarkably fast."
Fast?! In what universe is losing 40 minutes of work fast?!
That completely ruins my daily workflow! If my skinners and alchemists are standing in greasy tavern lines for nearly an hour, our liquidation cycle drops by 25%!
I stared at Varkas.
"Did you eat lunch?"
"No, Mistress. I remained on guard duty."
I pointed a finger toward the entrance.
"Go eat. March out that door, get a proper meal into your stomach, and come back. I don't run an empire on empty bellies."
Varkas blinked, a faint flicker of surprise crossing his crimson eyes before a respectful smirk touched his lips. He bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your gracious consideration, Mistress. I shall return shortly."
He turned and strode out the heavy oak doors.
I stood in the foyer, tapping the toe of my red heel against the floorboards.
This is a massive operational flaw.
If my workers don't get proper nutrition, their work slow down. If their work slow down, they ruin the appraisals. If they ruin the appraisals, I lose gold.
I need a permanent solution.
Wait...
My eyes lit up.
Why don't I just buy a tavern?!
Yes! A whole tavern!
If MAFIA buys a large tavern right on our street corner, we can supply free breakfast, lunch, and dinner to every single one of our employees, refinery craftsmen, and contracted adventurers. They walk across the alley, eat fresh food, and return to their desks in 20 minutes flat!
I cut their break time in half, improve my management efficiency, and they won't even complain because the food is high quality and completely free! Plus, owning a public dining hall extends our syndicate's territory right into the commercial market!
I am a certified business genius.
I turned on my heel and marched up the stairs to my private office.
I shut the mahogany door behind me and dropped into my high-backed leather chair. The polished desktop was stacked with contract folios, bounty registries, and spatial relay ledgers.
Everything was expanding fast. Our daily contractor count climbed by 15% every morning. Independent adventurers were abandoning Requiem's exploitative 30% commission cuts to sell directly to my counters.
Yet a faint knot of annoyance sat in my stomach.
Sylvia Somerest.
I leaned back, tapping my fountain pen against my lower lip.
Was she bluffing yesterday in our lobby?
Probably. She wanted to rattle my nerves.
And it's not like he would want to see my face anyway.
My grip on the pen tightened.
And I'm not scared of him either. Not anymore.
I have my own plan. When Lucifer returns, I will have him back my legal monopoly status during the next council meeting. If Sylvia tries to rally Requiem's elites for an open street war, I will crush her right then and there.
Lucas will side with me without hesitation. He is my little brother. Levi respects me far more than he respects Sylvia's stiff pride, so he will stay neutral at worst. Most district adventurers have zero loyalty to Requiem's badge—they follow pure coin.
Sylvia has more total gold in her vaults right now, but she is bleeding cash every single day while MAFIA prints money.
By the end of this month, I want 10,000 different monster types cataloged and liquidated through Bella's pipelines.
I set the pen down and walked over to the tall bay window, looking down at the bustling stone streets below.
The cold glass reflected my silhouette.
I moved both hands to my chest, giving it a soft, testing pat.
...Huh.
For some reason, I have been growing a lot lately.
My black dress feels noticeably tighter around the collar. My waist is narrower, but my chest is definitely fuller.
Is it because of my new diet?
Back then... I used to starve myself. I skipped meals, lived on stale crackers, and drank his bitter black tea just to match his schedule. Now I eat 2 full plates of warm food whenever I want.
A sudden, sharp memory flickered in the back of my mind—his voice, his hand resting on my head, the rooming forest.
My stomach twisted violently.
Disgusting.
I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white.
You are not that weak, pathetic girl anymore, Celia. Stop it. Cut it out right now.
I forced air into my lungs. 4 counts in. 4 counts out.
I sat back down at the desk, picked up my pen, and began signing trade manifests with furious speed.
*
9:00 PM.
The night air had turned freezing. Thin sheets of frost coated the cobblestones as Varkas and I walked down the lantern-lit avenue near the commercial border.
The Rusty Tavern.
The wooden sign swung above the door, lit by a sputtering oil lamp.
The establishment sat at a prime intersection between the warehouse docks and the adventurer inns.
I pushed the heavy door open.
A wall of hot air, roasted grease, and deafening shouting slammed into my face. The place was packed to the brim. Drunken dock haulers, tired blacksmiths, and low-ranking mercenaries sat elbow to elbow across rough timber benches.
A young waiter with a stained apron spotted me through the smoke. His eyes lingered on my crimson hair and sharp dress, waving an arm toward the back.
"Welcome, miss! We are completely packed tonight, but there is 1 open bench in the far corner across that sleeping fellow!"
Packed to the ceiling. Excellent foot traffic.
I turned to Varkas.
"Go find the tavern owner. Start the preliminary purchase discussions."
Varkas bowed.
"Right away, Mistress."
He slipped through the crowd toward the back kitchen counter.
I wove through the noisy tables, stepping toward the dimly lit corner booth.
Sitting across the wooden bench was a person slumped forward, dead to the world. His face was buried in his folded arms. He wore a dark jacket with a black hoodie pulled up over his neck.
On the table in front of him sat his dinner: a stale, rock-hard crust of dark rye bread, a wilted cabbage salad, and a glass of plain tap water.
What a miserable meal. That bread looks 3 days old.
I slid onto the bench across from him, wrinkling my nose at the sticky grease stains on the timber.
This table is filthy. Why would anyone pay money to sit here? This place caters to the poorest laborers in the district.
I stared at the slumped figure. His shoulders rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths. He looked completely drained of life.
The waiter hurried over with a cloth, wiping the table edge.
"Can I get you something to drink, miss? And what about you, sir?"
I shook my head once.
The waiter tapped the sleeping man's shoulder.
"Sir? Do you want anything else before the kitchen closes?"
The man didn't lift his head. He let out a deep, muffled groan into his sleeves.
"Nah, bro. I'm just really exhausted. Just give me like 30 minutes to take a nap, after that I'll finish this dinner and go."
That voice.
That raspy, drawling, deadpan cadence.
My breath caught in my throat.
My entire body turned to ice.
...Kaiser.
My nails bit into my palms so hard the skin pinched. My teeth slammed shut with a sickening grind.
How dare you.
How dare I run into you here?!
The waiter nodded and walked away.
Kaiser remained face down on the greasy table, his messy black hair spilling over his crossed arms, breathing softly, completely oblivious to my presence.
The cruel, venomous words he had spat at my face roared back into my skull with deafening fury.
Selfish. Controlling. I never loved you.
And here he is.
Sleeping face down in a cheap tavern over stale bread and free tap water like a homeless loser.
Pure, boiling rage flooded my veins.
I shot up from the bench, kicking the heavy wooden chair back, and stormed toward the owner's counter where Varkas was waiting.
The grease on the floorboards squeaked under my red heels.
Yes, Celia. You are doing the right thing.
He deserves this. He deserves to be kicked out into the dirt.
He is a selfish, manipulative liar. All he ever did was use me, treat me like a nuisance, and throw me away the second I wanted answers. Now the tables are turned. Now I hold the power.
...Should I stop?
No! Absolutely not! Don't you dare go soft, Celia! Hate him! Remember what he said to your face!
I marched straight to the heavy timber counter at the back of the tavern.
Behind the bar stood Lipper, a broad-shouldered man in his mid-40s with a thick, peppered beard, rough hands, and an unyielding, stubborn jaw. He was drying an ale tankard with a rag, listening to Varkas with crossed arms.
"Varkas," I demanded, resting my knuckles on the counter. "How much?"
"The proprietor is willing to part with the building deed and liquor license for 150 silver coins, Mistress," Varkas answered smoothly.
"How much extra to throw that man in the corner out into the trash right now?" I asked, pointing directly toward the booth where Kaiser lay slumped.
Lipper stopped drying his tankard. He set it down on the counter with a dull thud, his dark eyes locking onto mine with quiet, immovable morality.
"I don't throw paying customers into the street, young lady," Lipper said firmly. "I own this tavern. Don't order me around like you own me. We haven't signed a single contract, and you haven't bought anything yet."
Rage spiked through my ribs.
I reached across the counter, grabbed Lipper by the collar of his linen shirt, and pulled him forward.
"I told you to kick that man out of my tavern."
Lipper didn't flinch. His jaw stayed rigid.
"It isn't yours, young lady. We are conducting an equal negotiation. You have zero authority to dictate who sits under my roof."
Several dock haulers at the neighboring tables turned their heads.
"Hey, Lipper! What's the problem over there?" a burly carpenter called out.
"This young lady wants to buy the tavern," Lipper shouted back, keeping his eyes on me. "And she's demanding I throw a sleeping customer into the freezing night even though the boy hasn't harmed a soul."
A broad-shouldered bald laborer stood up from his bench, scowling at me.
"Pretty lady, I think you need to control yourself. You see, we—"
"Yeah!" another laborer chimed in, slamming his mug down. "Who do you think you are, barking orders at Lipper in his own hall?!"
"Think you can throw your words around just because you wear a fancy dress?!" a 3rd man shouted.
Snap.
A pitch-black cursed chain burst from beneath my skirt.
The iron links whipped through the air with terrifying speed, coiling around the bald man's right forearm. With 1 sharp pull of my fingers, the chain ripped him off his boots and slammed him face-first into the stone floor.
Crack.
The bone in his forearm splintered.
The bald man shrieked, clutching his twisted arm as tears burst from his eyes.
The entire tavern froze in horror.
Before the man could draw another breath to scream, my crimson mana flared. Dark crimson threads leaped from my fingertips, sinking into his shredded skin. Blood manipulation and inverted curse flesh-weaving gripped the shattered bone. The fracture twitched, snapped back into alignment, and sealed smooth in 2 seconds flat.
The bald man blinked, gasping in utter shock as his pain vanished.
I didn't even look down at him. My waterfall-layered white hair swayed as I stepped closer to Lipper, my crimson eyes burning with absolute command.
"150 gold coins. For everything."
Lipper's breath caught in his throat.
The entire tavern went dead silent.
150 gold coins wasn't just a tavern purchase. It was enough to buy a small country manor, retire for 3 decades. Even more than that.
"Sell the deed to me right here, right now," I said, my voice dead and cold. "If you refuse, I walk out that door, buy the 3 buildings surrounding this plot, and tear this tavern down brick by brick myself."
Nobody turns down life-changing gold. Not over pride. Not over morality. He will take it.
Lipper trembled. His knuckles turned white on the counter.
Varkas reached into his leather coat, pulled out a dense velvet pouch, and dropped it onto the wood. The coins clinked with heavy, unmistakable weight.
Lipper's hands shook as he slowly reached out and pulled the gold toward his chest.
"We... we have a deal."
A smug, razor-sharp smirk touched my lips.
Varkas stepped forward, pulling a tall wooden barstool back for me. I sat down, leaning back against the counter, and crossed my legs in my black dress. I smoothed my layered hair back over my shoulder, looking out across the room like a sovereign inspecting her territory.
See, Celia? He is nothing. You can buy the very roof over his head and sweep him out with the trash.
...
Why does my chest feel so tight?
Shut up. Keep going.
I turned my head toward Lipper.
"Don't you keep bouncers here to remove trespassers?"
Lipper swallowed hard, nodding toward the kitchen door.
"Kyler! Get out here!"
The swinging door creaked open. Out stepped Kyler—a massive, broad-shouldered mountain of a man weighing easily 300 pounds, his heavy arms crossed over a grease-stained leather vest.
"Throw that man in the corner out into the snow," I commanded, pointing my finger at Kaiser's slumped table.
Kyler grunted and stomped across the floorboards.
He reached the booth, grabbed Kaiser by the back of his dark collar and his messy hair, and hoisted him off the bench like a sack of grain.
"Get up! Get lost!"
Kaiser didn't even open his eyes. He dangled limply, groaning into the air.
"Yo, bro... 25 more minutes. I'm really exhausted."
Kyler pulled him harder.
"Out!"
"Yo, yo, I haven't even eaten my bread! Let me go!"
"No means no! Out of the building!"
"Yo, bro, relax! What did I do?!" Kaiser whined loudly, his arms flopping around.
"I was just taking a nap! I never knew napping was a crime in Sylvaris!"
Laughter erupted across the tavern.
"You go, Kyler!" a hauler cheered, banging his mug. "Show him who's boss!"
"Drag him out!"
Kyler began dragging Kaiser toward the front door across the floorboards.
Kaiser looked up at Kyler with pathetic, droopy eyes.
"Yo, bro, I thought we were besties! Let me just catch my breath, I skipped lunch!"
"Don't care, didn't ask," Kyler grunted, hauling him by his sleeve.
Kaiser let out a deep, dramatic sigh.
"Alright, mate. I get you. Doing your job. No dinner for me tonight... Sad life."
How can he act so casual...
The tavern erupted in another wave of mocking laughter.
My temper exploded.
I stood up from my stool, my voice cutting through the laughter like a frozen blade:
"Varkas. After that man is thrown into the trash, kick every single one of these customers out into the street too."
The laughter died instantly.
Every face in the room went pale.
"What did we do?!" a hauler shouted, rising from his bench.
"That is your penalty for laughing in my tavern." I declared coldly. "Clear out."
The men shifted uncomfortably, but nobody dared step forward. They had all watched me shatter and knit a man's arm in 2 seconds.
"Miss, please!" an older mason pleaded, his voice cracking. "We just finished a 14-hour shift on the aqueduct! We haven't even touched our hot stew!"
My crimson mana flared around my heels, cracking the floorboards beneath my heels.
"My tavern, my rules. I said get out!"
And then... Kaiser stopped moving.
His boots planted flat against the floor.
Kyler grunted, straining with all 130 KG of his bulk to haul him forward, but Kaiser didn't budge by 1 millimeter. He stood there like an iron anchor driven into bedrock.
Kaiser's lazy dark blue eyes slowly drifted open.
They looked across the room.
And locked straight onto mine.
My breath seized in my throat. My ribs pulled tight. A sudden, involuntary tremor ran down my spine, but I clamped my jaw shut and forced my chin high, glaring back at him with pure hatred.
Kaiser looked at Kyler.
"1 minute. I just need to have a talk."
"No! You're coming with me, you son of a—"
Kyler threw a heavy punch toward Kaiser's jaw.
Kaiser slipped under the fist, grabbed Kyler's thick right elbow with his left hand, and drove his right palm into Kyler's shoulder. With 1 fluid, effortless pivot of his hips, Kaiser redirected all weight of forward momentum, launching the massive bouncer through the air.
Crash!
Kyler slammed headfirst into an empty oak bench, splintering the timber into toothpicks before hitting the stone floor with a dull thud. His shoulder joint dislocated with a sickening pop.
Kyler groaned, clutching his shoulder in agony.
Kaiser stood over him, shaking out the fingers of his right hand.
"I said 1 minute. I was going to leave anyway."
He let out a tired breath, adjusted his dark cuffs, and walked slowly toward the counter.
Here he comes.
My fists clenched at my sides. My fingernails bit into my palms until they nearly bled.
He is furious. He is going to shout at me. He is going to call me selfish and cruel again.
Let him try. I won't back down... I'm not the same person I was yesterday...
Kaiser stopped 3 paces away. But he didn't look at me. He turned his head toward the counter, looking at Lipper with a relaxed, casual drawl.
"Hey, Lipper. Why were you kicking me out? I always pay for the food when I leave."
Lipper wiped cold sweat from his forehead, stammering nervously:
"I'm sorry, Kaiser... this young lady bought the tavern suddenly, and I just couldn't refuse the offer..."
Kaiser gave a small, understanding nod.
"She paid a fortune, didn't she? Enough for you to sell out. It's okay. I understand. You have to pay your daughter's tuition to send her to the Celestial Kingdom for her education. You have dreams, and you have a family to protect. I don't blame you."
My teeth ground together so hard my ears rang.
He doesn't blame him?!
Kaiser turned his gaze back to me.
He stood directly in front of my stool. He was taller than me; I had to tilt my chin upward to keep eye contact with his dark blue eyes.
"So you bought the place, huh?"
"Yes, I did," I spat, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.
"What are you going to do about it?"
Kaiser shrugged his shoulders casually.
"Nothing. I can't do anything. It's your property now, so I'm about to leave."
"Then leave!" I snapped, my voice rising in sharp irritation. "Don't show your face to me!"
"I can't do that yet," Kaiser said, his voice entirely calm.
"The personal problems between us belong to us. Not to the people in this tavern."
...He didn't say my name.
The realization hit my chest like a lead weight.
He didn't call me Celia.
Kaiser gestured toward the room full of frozen, hungry laborers.
"The people here work day and night. Most of them haul cement on construction sites, lift granite blocks, or cut timber in the cold. Half of them skip lunch because their supervisors are cruel. A warm stew and talking with their buddies at night is the only relief they get all week. I kindly ask you: can you please just kick me out instead of punishing them for your anger at me?"
Rage roared through my veins, hot and suffocating.
He delivered that whole lecture, and he still didn't say my name!
Did our fight go so far that I don't even have a name to him anymore?! Am I just an obstacle to him now?!
"I don't care!" I yelled, glaring into his eyes. "They disrespected me, and they are all leaving!"
"Be reasonable," Kaiser said quietly, keeping his tone measured. "They didn't know who you were. They were just defending their local tavern owner. You already won. You own the building. Let them finish their dinner."
He still didn't say it.
"No! My answer is no!"
"I'm asking you nicely," Kaiser repeated, his gaze steady and unyielding. "Take your anger out on me. Leave them alone."
"You don't get to tell me what to do!"
"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm requesting it. As a favor."
A favor?! From me?!
Varkas stepped forward from my flank, his hand dropping to the hilt of his curved scabbard.
"You have said quite enough. Step away from Mistress Celia immediately."
Kaiser slowly turned his head.
His eyes narrowed into razor slits, hitting Varkas with a death glare so chilling.
"Stay out of this, please," Kaiser said, his voice dead flat. "I'm just talking to her, and I won't cause problems."
Varkas visibly flinched, his boots freezing in place as he recalled the casual ease with which Kaiser had launched a 130 KG bouncer into splinters.
I raised my palm toward Varkas.
"Stand down, Varkas."
I took a deep, shaking breath, staring straight into Kaiser's face.
The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken pain and years of memories.
If he wants to play the hero... if he wants to act like he cares about the whole world except me...
"If you really care so much about these nobodies," I said, every word dripping with cold poison, "then why don't you get on your knees and beg me? Beg in front of me, and I'll let them finish their dinner."
The tavern patrons gasped.
"That's enough, Kaiser!" an older mason called out, shaking his head. "We can manage without dinner! You didn't even get to eat your bread! Don't do it!"
"Yeah, kid, don't do it!" another laborer urged. "It's just 1 meal!"
Kaiser didn't look at them. He raised 1 hand behind his back to quiet them.
"It's okay. I know what to do."
He leaned forward, taking a step toward me.
My heart skipped a beat. A sudden flash of fear seized my throat—is he going to hit me?!—and my hands flew up to protect my face.
I stopped myself, my cheeks burning with humiliation, and quickly forced my hands back down to my sides.
Kaiser slowly bent his leg.
His knee hit the cold, greasy floorboards with a dull thud.
He dropped onto 1 knee right before my stool, looking up at me from the ground.
"Please, Mistress," Kaiser said, his raspy voice quiet and steady.
"Let the ones who are not responsible for this have their meal. Let's not drag them into our mess."
Mistress.
He called me Mistress.
He copied Varkas's formal title.
He got down on his knee. He bowed his head for a room full of strangers he barely knew.
And he still refused to say my name.
The fury in my chest burned so violently I thought my ribs would crack wide open.
You fucking loser.
A whole man for nothing.
Why the hell would you get on your knees for these people?!
"Why are you kneeling for these nobodies?" My voice cut through the tavern like broken glass, sharp and venomous. "You're doing this for a pile of filthy meals instead of hurrying up and getting out of my face?!"
Kaiser didn't flinch. His knee remained pressed against the grimy pine.
"It's not my responsibility," Kaiser said quietly, his voice scraping through the cold air. "But it's the right thing to do."
"What did you just say?"
"The crops grown from this barren soil are the culmination of their work," Kaiser said, his dark eyes fixed entirely on me, completely steady.
"Farmers work day and night to keep crops alive in the complicated climate between Celestine and Sylvaris. These laborers haul timber and break stone for 14 hours every single day. They don't do it for glory. They do it for their families. For their loved ones."
The entire tavern had fallen dead silent. Not a single tankard moved.
"Their sweat and hard work is proof of earnest toil in the harshest conditions of this city," Kaiser continued, his raspy voice carrying into every shadowed corner.
"They aren't adventurers. They don't have grand futures, magic affinities, or noble titles to save them. They're ordinary laborers who have no future without daily work and the few coppers they earn to survive. And I know the moment I leave, you're going to throw every single 1 of them out into the cold."
He's lecturing me.
He's on his knees in front of me, and he's lecturing me about peasant laborers.
"Maybe missing 1 night of food won't kill them," Kaiser said softly. "But it's about the respect they deserve. They are the laborers who keep this world functioning while people like us argue over right and wrong."
Silence pressed down on the room.
Old Lipper stood behind the counter, his jaw trembling. At the tables, rough-handed masons and ditch-diggers stared at Kaiser, their weathered faces pale with shock. Nobody had ever spoken for them like that. Nobody with power had ever cared.
The heat in my throat flared into blinding, suffocating rage.
He's defending them.
He threw me away, he called me selfish and controlling, he claimed he never loved me—and now he's throwing away his own pride to defend strangers?!
"So you're defending them over yourself?" I sneered, leaning forward on my stool, my fingernails biting into my leather purse until the seams strained.
"You're an eyesore."
"Please," Kaiser murmured, his head tilting down slightly.
"Can you forgive them?"
Forgive them?
What about me?! Who forgives me for what you did to me?!
You want to be humiliated? Fine. If you want to throw your dignity away for strangers, I'll grind it into dust.
"If you want to save their dinner," I said, my voice dropping into a cruel, calculated purr, "crawl to me on your hands and knees. Like the dog you are."
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the tavern.
"N-No, Kaiser!" Lipper stumbled around the counter, his hands shaking in panic. "I-I apologize—I'm sorry for accepting the trade! Don't do this! Kaiser, please—"
"It's okay, Lipper," Kaiser said without looking back.
He didn't hesitate.
Kaiser leaned forward. His palms slapped down against the grease-stained floorboards.
His other knee dropped.
The tavern went so quiet I could hear the wind rattling the cracked windowpanes. Men at the tables gripped their wooden tankards, their knuckles turning white.
Kaiser crawled.
1 pace.
2 paces.
3 paces.
His dark hair fell loose across his forehead, hiding his eyes. The dirt and spilled ale on the floor smeared across his calloused hands. He moved slowly, deliberately, until he stopped right between the legs of my wooden stool.
He stayed there on all 4s, his head bowed, his breath shallow against the floorboards.
He's groveling at my feet.
Just like I always wanted.
The great Kaiser. The strategist who had an answer for everything. The monster who broke my heart with a straight face. He's at my feet.
I waited for the triumph. I waited for the rush of power that was supposed to wash away the months of crying into my pillow.
Nothing came.
Only a cold, suffocating weight pressing down on my chest.
Why the fuck isn't he fighting back?!
Stand up! Swear at me! Throw insults like you did that night in the rain! Tell me I'm selfish! Tell me I'm a spoiled brat!
Why is he calm?Why is he just taking it?!
It made no sense. It was wrong. All of it was wrong.
He needs more humiliation. He's just pretending. If I push him harder, he'll snap. He'll show who he really is.
"Louder," I ordered, my voice trembling with forced malice. "So everyone here can hear you. Tell them how grateful they should be that a generous woman like me is letting them eat tonight. Beg me to feed them."
Kaiser's shoulders rose as he drew in a slow, ragged breath. He kept his eyes locked on the floorboards between my boots.
"Please, Mistress," Kaiser spoke, his voice hoarse and raw. "I'm begging you. Let them have their dinner."
Every muscle in my neck locked tight.
"These men worked 14 hours in the mud and freezing winds," he continued, his tone entirely flat, stripped of all pride. "They haven't had a warm meal since dawn."
"Keep going," I hissed through clenched teeth.
"Please show mercy to them," Kaiser said, his knuckles digging into the grimy timber.
"Don't punish honest laborers for my ugly presence."
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Be generous to them, Mistress," he rasped, his voice scraping the bottom of his throat.
"I'm begging you. Please feed them."
Mistress.
Again.
Mistress.
The word rang in my ears like an iron bell. An employer. A noblewoman. A person in authority. A stranger with power.
My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the skin broke beneath the leather of my gloves.
He's begging for them.
Not for himself. Not for me to look at him. Not for me to forgive him.
Why the fuck does he care about these dirty laborers more than he ever cared about me?!
The rage blinded me. It clawed up my throat, desperate and wild, trying to drown out the burning ache behind my ribs.
"Alright," I sneered, leaning down toward his bowed head. "Say it again, then. Tell everyone what you are. Tell them how pathetic it is for a man like you to kneel for a woman like me. Say you're nothing."
The tavern patrons held their breath.
Kaiser went rigid. For 1 brief instant, his shoulder muscles bunched beneath his faded tunic—the only flicker of hesitation he had shown all night.
Then he exhaled.
"I'm nothing," Kaiser said.
His voice didn't waver, but it sounded hollowed out from the inside.
"I'm a man who couldn't fight for the people he cared about," he said, staring into the dark grain of the floor. "The people he respects."
"Louder!"
"I'm a failure," Kaiser said, his voice cracking on the syllable. "I don't deserve to sit at a table or eat a warm meal."
He swallowed hard.
"I'm... worthless."
My heart lurched violently against my ribcage.
That crack in his voice.
It wasn't an act. It was real. That was the crack of a man who was already starving, already running on empty, carrying a weight that was crushing him alive.
My chest twisted so sharply I almost gasped aloud.
No. Stop it. Don't look at him like that.
He chose this! He's the 1 who said those words to me!
The nausea rose in my throat, hot and sour. I wanted to scream. I wanted to haul him up by his collar and shake him until he yelled back. But all I had left was the cruelty I had built to protect myself.
I lifted my right foot, extending the pointed toe of my crimson heel toward his face.
"Lower than that," I said, my voice vibrating with an ugly, frantic edge.
"Much lower. Kiss my heel. Show everyone here what you really are."
The most degrading act.
Pressing his lips to the dirtiest part of my footwear in public as a display of total submission.
Disgusting. Intimate. Absolute surrender.
Now he'll stand up. He has to. He won't let me do this. He's going to slap my foot away and look at me with those cold, arrogant eyes and tell me I'm out of line—
Kaiser didn't look up.
He tilted his head down. His forehead nearly grazed the grimy floorboards.
His dry, chapped lips come close...
He held it there.
2 seconds.
3 seconds.
The sound of chairs screeching violently shattered the quiet.
3 masons surged to their feet, their heavy fists balled at their sides, their faces flushed with fury. Across the tavern, 5 more laborers stood up, knocking their benches back, glaring at me with raw, murderous hatred. They looked ready to tear the tavern apart, ready to throw themselves at Varkas and me just to pull Kaiser off the floor.
My stomach churned in a violent wave of revulsion.
Why isn't this satisfying?!
Why does my stomach feel like it's turning inside out?!
He didn't even hesitate. He didn't flinch. He just... accepted it. Like he really believes he's nothing compared to me. Like my opinion doesn't even matter enough to fight back!
He's mocking me. His submission is mocking me!
Rage exploded behind my eyes, blinding and irrational.
I shot up from the wooden stool.
I planted the sole of my crimson heel directly onto the back of his dark head.
I pushed down.
His neck strained against the pressure. His head stayed hovering 2 inches above the filthy floor.
"Not enough!" I screamed, my voice cracking in furious desperation.
"Lower! Put your head all the way down! Face the floor! Now!"
Kaiser didn't fight my heel.
Instead, he pulled his supporting hand away.
Without his hand to brace him, his weight dropped instantly.
My heel drove down with the full momentum of his fall.
CRACK.
His chin slammed violently into the solid hardwood floorboards.
A sickening, hollow thud bounced off the wooden walls.
His head jarred beneath my foot. An involuntary, muffled gasp tore from his throat—the 1st sound of physical pain he had let out all night.
The entire tavern froze in absolute horror.
My breath caught in my throat. My hands flew up, trembling violently, hovering in front of my chest as my eyes went wide.
Oh...
W-What did I just do...?!
Beneath my heel, a dark smear of blood welled across the floorboards. The skin of his chin had split open against the unyielding pine. His dark hair was plastered with dust, his cheek pressed flat into the grime.
From the floor, his voice came as a ragged, breathless whisper.
"...Please."
Just Please.
No name. No anger. Just a whisper for mercy.
My knees threatened to give out right beneath me. My fingernails bit into the fabric of my dress to stop the shaking in my arms.
I hate him. I hate him. I have to hate him.
"Fine," I choked out, forcing every ounce of venom I could scrape together into my voice so nobody would hear it tremble.
"Get out of my face."
I stepped back, wrenching my heel away from his head as if the contact burned.
Kaiser moved slowly.
His joints popped as he pushed himself up onto his knees, then dragged himself to his boots. He swayed on his feet, his balance unsteady.
In the dim light of the tallow candles, I finally saw him up close.
There was no anger in his face. No disgust. No hatred.
Only exhaustion.
A soul-crushing, hollow exhaustion that made his face look like a carved skull. His dark blue eyes were sunken inside deep purple bruises. His cheekbones jutted out sharp and gaunt. His hands were shaking at his sides, his shoulders slumped like lead.
And from his chin, dark crimson blood dripped steadily, staining the frayed collar of his tunic.
My vision blurred. A terrible, suffocating pressure squeezed my windpipe shut.
He fucking didn't say my name again.
Kaiser didn't say another word to the room.
He turned his back to me. His boots dragged along the floorboards, slow and heavy, as he moved toward the tavern entrance.
The crowd of laborers parted for him in complete silence, their eyes wide with reverence and grief.
Kaiser reached the heavy oak door. His hand rested on the iron latch.
He paused.
He didn't turn around.
"...Take care of yourself, Celia."
The latch clicked. The door swung open, and the cold night wind rushed into the room before the heavy timber banged shut behind him.
The name hung in the air like a ghost.
Celia.
He said it.
He finally said my name.
And then he walked out into the dark.
The silence in the tavern was deafening. Every pair of eyes in the room was locked onto me—glares dripping with contempt, fists clenched so tight veins bulged against calloused forearms.
"What are you looking at?!" I snapped, my voice shrill and defensive as I rounded on the crowd. "Finish your dinner and get lost!"
Several laborers scoffed, shoving their plates away and preparing to march out into the street after Kaiser.
"Sit down and eat," Lipper's voice cracked across the room, rough with tears.
"Eat every bite. That young man threw himself onto the floor for you. He bled for your meal. The best you can do to pay him back is finish your dinner and not let his sacrifice go to waste."
The men froze. Slowly, with bowed heads and clenched jaws, they pulled their plates back toward themselves.
I glared at Lipper, my throat burning so badly I couldn't swallow.
I spun on my heel, marching toward the staircase.
"Varkas," I demanded without looking back. "Find me a room on the 2nd floor. Right now."
"At once, Mistress," Varkas murmured, hurrying ahead to unlock the 1st private chamber along the upper hall.
I pushed past him, slammed the wooden door shut, and turned the brass lock with a vicious twist.
The moment the lock clicked, my fist smashed into the bare wood of the wall.
THUD.
The plaster cracked around my knuckles.
He said my name at the very end.
Like I didn't even exist the entire time!
You only cared about strangers! You threw your pride away for people you met 2 hours ago, but you threw me away like trash!
I drew back my arm and punched the wall again, harder, the pain shooting straight up into my wrist.
THUD.
Yeah. I hurt him. That felt good.
That satisfied me! I loved seeing him beneath me! I loved overpowering the bastard who used to make me desperate!
My chest heaved. I stared at my bruised knuckles, the skin reddened and raw.
...So why did he let me do it?
The thought crept in like ice water down my spine.
Why didn't he fight back?
Why didn't he stand up and slap me across the face when I pushed his head down?!
He took down a 130 KG bouncer with 1 hand. He could have broken my wrist before I even touched him.
Why did he let me hurt him?!
He told me to take care of myself.
He said my name so casually, with that tired, broken voice, right before he stepped out into the freezing night.
He looked so thin.
His cheekbones were so sharp. His eyes... he looked like a corpse walking on borrowed time.
H-He didn't look like that a week ago.
A cold panic seized my stomach.
D-Did I do that?
N-No. No!
He did that to himself! He's the 1 who pushed me away! He chose this! He's the 1 who said he never loved me!
And I won. Yeah. I won!
T-There's nothing to think about. N-Nothing.
My legs gave out.
I collapsed onto the edge of the narrow tavern bed. My fingers tangled into my hair, pulling at the roots as I hunched forward, staring blindly at the dusty floorboards.
H-He deserved that.
He's the 1 who threw me away.
So w-why... why does it feel like this?
I-I hate him.
My throat hitched. A pathetic, ragged gasp tore through my clamped lips.
I hate him so much.
I-I hate him.
I squeezed my eyes shut, rocking forward, digging my nails into my scalp as I tried to force the burning behind my eyelids to go away.
I hate him.
I-I h-hate h-him...
I kept repeating the words into the dark, forcing each 1 out like a shield, desperate to believe them before the wet heat spilling onto my knees could prove me wrong.
40 minutes had passed.
The room was pitch-black, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the dusty window. I sat on the edge of the mattress, my hands resting limp in my lap.
I felt completely, sickeningly empty.
A light, hesitant knock sounded against the door.
"Mistress?" Varkas's muted voice came from the hallway. "The patrons have cleared out. The laborers left. Old Lipper closed the front shutters. What are your orders for the premises?"
I stared down at the floorboards, my voice coming out flat, dull, and devoid of life.
"From tomorrow, start using it."
A pause lingered on the other side of the wood.
"Mistress—"
"Leave me alone," I whispered, not bothering to raise my tone.
"I want to go home now. Fix this place up."
I didn't wait for his reply.
I unlocked the door, pushed past Varkas without glancing at his face, and walked down the creaking staircase. The main hall of the tavern was deserted. The overturned benches had been righted, the floor swept clean of broken glass, though the dark, dried stain of blood near the stool remained carved into the grain.
I didn't look at it. I shoved open the heavy oak door and stepped out into the night.
The freezing air hit my face like a slap.
It was almost 11 PM.
The frost was bitter tonight, sharper than anything Sylvaris had seen all week. A biting northern gale whistled between the narrow alleyways, rattling the iron signs above the closed apothecary and smithy. The cobblestone streets were deserted, coated in a slick, shimmering skin of black ice. Bare oak branches clawed at the gray sky like jagged bones, swaying violently in the gusts.
My red heels clicked against the frozen stones. The sound was lonely, echoing through the dead district.
I pulled my velvet mantle tighter around my shoulders, but the cold crept straight through the fabric, sinking into my ribs.
I don't even care.
I just want to go home.
I want to climb into bed, pull the heavy blankets over my ears, and sleep for 3 days.
I don't want to think about today anymore.
I hate this. I hate everything about this.
My boots carried me along the winding stone pathway bordering the old public garden. The gas lamps here were dim, flickering faintly inside frosted glass lanterns. Tall hedges blocked the wind, casting deep, jagged shadows across the walkway.
Ahead of me, tucked beneath the skeletal branches of a withered elm, sat an old wooden bench.
I was about to walk past it. I didn't care about anything in this city.
Then my eyes caught a shape lying across the slats.
A figure was curled on the frozen wood.
The bench was too short for a full-grown man. His knees were pulled upward, bent at a sharp angle to keep his boots from dragging in the dirt. He was lying on his side, his head propped awkwardly against his own folded forearm, using his elbow as a makeshift pillow against the splintered pine. Over his shoulders was draped a single worn, threadbare coat.
I froze on the path.
My red, swollen eyes narrowed through the dim lamplight.
My boots moved on their own.
1 step.
2 steps.
I stopped 3 paces away, my knuckles gripping the velvet of my mantle so hard the seams groaned.
It was Kaiser.
He was curled into a tight ball against the freezing wind, his entire frame shuddering in small, violent tremors.
He's shivering.
He's shaking all over... like he has a burning fever.
A shallow, raspy wheeze rattled in his chest with every breath he took. His dark hair was plastered against his pale forehead with cold sweat, shivering under the frost.
He doesn't take care of himself.
He doesn't know how to do a single damn thing for himself.
The memories tore through my chest, uninvited and suffocating.
Back when we were together, he was always like this. He would bury himself in random notes for hours straight, completely forgetting that humans needed food to survive. Every single night, I had to drag him away from his desk. I had to threaten to burn his notes just to force dinner.
When he tried to skip sleep, I would march straight into his room, and physically push him onto the mattress. I made rules for him. Strict rules. He had to return before sundown, he had to take his boots off at the door, he had to drink his herbal tea, and he had to rest.
And whenever he followed my rules, I took care of every little thing for him. I ironed his shirts. I brewed his tea. I stayed up just to listen to the latch click so I knew he was okay.
Now, I looked down at him.
On his chin, the cut from my heel was swollen and jagged, the dried blood dark and crusty against his gray skin. The bruise beneath it had spread into a mottled purple ring across his jawline. Deep, sunken hollows carved out his eye sockets, black as charcoal against his hollow cheekbones.
He didn't even go get dinner.
After throwing himself on the floor for those laborers, he didn't even walk into another tavern to buy a single piece of food!
He has money. He has to have money! He can't be so broke that he couldn't afford 2 coppers for hot soup!
Panic twisted inside my throat, hot and furious.
Why didn't you eat?!
And how... how could you stand at that tavern door and talk to me so calmly?!
I said horrible, disgusting things about you. I called you a dog. I made you crawl. I mocked the people you respected. I crushed your face into the dirt!
So why did you tell me to take care of myself?! Why did you say my name like that?!
Kaiser curled tighter into himself on the hard bench, his teeth audibly chattering in his sleep. His breathing was too shallow, his chest hitching every few seconds under the thin wool coat.
The realization struck me like a bucket of freezing water.
He hadn't stopped here because he wanted fresh air.
He was so completely, physically depleted—starving, sleep-deprived, sick with fever—that his body gave out before he could even walk back to his room. He had collapsed onto this frozen bench just to rest his legs for 2 minutes, and unconsciousness dragged him under before he could stand back up.
He was sleeping on a slab of frozen wood in an 11 PM frost.
He wasn't eating. He wasn't sleeping.
He's killing himself.
A white-hot wave of rage surged through my blood, so sudden and violent that my vision turned crimson.
My teeth ground together until my jaw ached. My fingers curled into tight, trembling fists.
I wanted to lunge forward. I wanted to grab him by the collar, drag him off that bench, and punch his pale, stubborn face with everything I had. I wanted to scream at him until my vocal cords shredded.
I wanted to seize him by the throat, drag his limp body all the way back to the tavern, throw him into that private room, and bolt the door from the inside. I wanted to stand over the hearth, cook 5 different heavy dishes, shove every bite down his throat, and sit in a chair beside the bed with my arms crossed, watching him sleep for 12 hours.
I wanted to lock him in that room and do it tomorrow. And the day after that. And every single day for the next 2 months until color returned to his skin, until his ribs stopped protruding through his tunic, until he looked like a human being again!
...But he doesn't want me to do that anymore.
The thought severed the fury like a cleaver through bone.
My fists went limp.
That's why he pushed me away.
He called me controlling. He called me selfish.
He hated when I managed his life. He hated when I told him what to eat and when to sleep. That's why he threw me away.
He hates me.
I stood frozen in the dark, staring at him.
His body jerked in another violent shiver, the cold wind whipping loose strands of black hair across his cut chin. His feverish breath plumed into the air like thin, dying smoke.
My left hand began to tremble uncontrollably.
A memory rose unbidden from the dark, hitting me right in the center of my ribs.
A night just as cold as this.
All the way back in Leventon.
The night we almost had our 1st time together. The wind was howling against the forest, just like tonight. I had been terrified, insecure, hating my own reflection, convinced I was ugly and unlovable. But Kaiser had pulled my trembling shoulders. He had held my hands against his chest until the cold melted from my skin. He had whispered reassurance into the dark, steady and patient, giving me the confidence to believe in myself, to love my own body, to feel safe in a world that only ever wanted to use me.
That was the night I fell completely, irreversibly obsessed with him.
He kept me warm. He kept me safe.
And now...
I looked down at his shaking, freezing form on the wooden bench.
I can't even touch him.
I can't put my coat over him. I can't take him inside. I can't brew him hot tea. I can't do a single damn thing.
Because it's wrong.
Because I'm not allowed to care about him anymore.
I clamped both hands over my mouth, pressing my fingernails into my cheeks as my face twisted in agonizing, silent grief. I hung my head, my shoulders shaking violently, staring at the frozen gravel beneath my red heels.
W-Why...
My thoughts shattered into jagged, incoherent fragments, drowning under the burning heat behind my eyes.
W-Why... w-why h-have t-times... ch-changed s-so m-much...?