The Count coughed violently, blood spilling from his mouth as he clutched his pierced abdomen.
"W-why...?"
Staring forward, he saw the young man from before, his kind smile gone, replaced with a look of indifference.
"Why what?" He replied in a mocking tone, almost as if the Count had asked a stupid question.
"Did you really think no one would find out?" He said, taking a stack of photographs and tossing them at the Count's feet.
The Count's eyes widened. "Y-you... how?!"
Paying no mind to the Count's reaction, the young man unsheathed his sword, preparing to end things.
"W-wait!!" The Count staggered back, waving his hand desperately. "Y-you were hired, right?! I can pay you double! No triple!!"
"Haa..." He shook his head, letting out a disappointed sigh. "Stalling won't work."
He tilted his head slightly, meeting the Count's gaze.
"Blackstone poison doesn't work on me."
The Count's face went pale.
"Next time." The young man spoke coldly. "Try hiding your bloodlust. It's painfully obvious."
The Count tried to run.
Unfortunately for him, he was still injured.
He barely made two steps before collapsing, falling face-first on the marble floor.
The young man calmly watched the scene, his expression unchanged.
"Oh, right." He spoke, his lips curling upward into a faint smile. "This time... there will be no next time."
"Wha-"
A flash of steel.
The Count's head rolled across the floor, leaving a trail of blood that stained the white marble red.
The young man gazed at the Count's severed head with an unreadable expression.
"Haa... Time to move."
He turned away.
'Ive been sighing a lot lately, maybe I really do need therapy.'