Katerina didn’t respond imdiately.
The glass remained in her hand, tilted just enough for the liquor to describe a slight sway inside.
The room’s dim light reflected in the dark crystal, drawing muted flashes that barely managed to break the penumbra. From her position, she observed Bernard without looking away, asuring each gesture, each inflection in his voice, each doubt she could exploit.
Under the mask, her breathing remained controlled, though not entirely stable.
She had a plan.
One that admitted no nuances.
Withdrawing the n from Ebanar’s wall would open a crack in the defense.
One wide enough for the creatures from Kokytus abyss to advance without encountering real resistance. It wasn’t a minor incursion; when those entities moved, they did so in waves, without stopping until razing what they found in their path. First the border, then nearby roads, and finally the villages.
The beast-n tribe would be trapped in that advance.
Without escape.
Without margin for reaction.
The idea had clear logic, but also a high cost. Too many variables, too many elents outside her control. It didn’t guarantee recovering what she had lost. It was an extre resource, closer to destruction than to a solution.
That’s why she didn’t present it.
Not yet.
"I’ve been assigned to supervise the sale of the beast-n," she finally said, leaving the glass on the table with a precise movent. "The guild will reinforce the fort’s defense anwhile. I need you to withdraw your n from the wall."
The phrase ca out continuous, without unnecessary pauses. Her tone didn’t seek to convince; it took for granted the order had sufficient weight.
Bernard listened without interrupting her. For a few seconds, his expression remained neutral, as if processing each word calmly.
Then, a low laugh escaped his throat, growing little by little until becoming more evident. He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip before responding, as if wanting to take his ti.
"So assassin guild mbers also have a sense of humor?" he said finally, leaving the cup back on the table. "How surprising without doubt, very surprising, because obviously you’re joking right?"
He settled, turning his body slightly to face her completely. One of his rings emitted a faint glow as his hand moved, catching the room’s light.
"I an I have plenty of n here," he continued, with a calm that was beginning to border on condescension. "For them supervising so simple slaves would be quite easy, in fact I don’t think they even need my help," he made a brief pause, narrowing his eyes, "Besides I don’t think what the dark society wants is to infiltrate people in the wall, because I know very well they already have their n there. Or is it that you specifically need my best n to manage slaves? It wouldn’t be that you need them for... sothing more difficult?"
While speaking, he drumd with his fingers on the table’s surface, an apparently distracted gesture that contrasted with the attention he was really paying. His eyes didn’t move away from her.
Katerina remained motionless.
Bernard Sargas had seen through her lie in an instant. He wasn’t just a fat and greasy noble, he was also disgustingly astute.
Therefore, she would have to change strategy.
The air in the room changed.
There were no words to announce it. The pressure erged directly, expanding from her with palpable intensity. It wasn’t magic in the strict sense, but concentrated killing intent, directed without dissimulation.
Pure haki.
"I’m sorry to tell you like this but," she said, her voice lower, denser. "Either you accept or I kill you."
The silence that followed lasted barely an instant.
One of Bernard’s rings reacted imdiately. A brief flash, almost imperceptible, gave way to a greenish barrier that enveloped him completely. The pressure crashed against it and dissipated instantly, as if it had been absorbed.
Bernard didn’t retreat.
He didn’t even change his posture.
On the contrary, his expression relaxed, and a slow smile began to form on his face. He took the cup again and took another sip, without taking his eyes off Katerina.
"I see..." he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "So it wasn’t a joke, you simply..."
He left the glass on the table gently and interlaced his fingers, resting his hands in front of him.
"Failed your mission and now you’re alone and need help, how funny," he added, this ti with greater clarity.
It wasn’t a question.
It was a conclusion.
"You need , because the guild won’t give you help, am I wrong?"
Bernard laughed, emitting a sound similar to a pig’s.
All this ti subjected to the dark society and now one of its mbers needed him, without doubt he was going to savor the mont.
Katerina didn’t respond, but her silence was sufficient. Her posture didn’t change, though the tension in her shoulders beca more evident.
Bernard let out a brief laugh, shaking his head.
"So you co to ask for help..." he said, letting out a sigh charged with mockery. "What a situation so... uncomfortable."
He got up slowly from his seat and took a couple steps in her direction. The room’s light reflected in his rings as he moved, projecting small flashes on the walls.
He stopped at a prudent distance.
"I could consider it," he continued, raising a hand with thoughtful gesture. "After all, we’ve collaborated before."
His lips curved slightly.
"But it seems they didn’t teach you how to ask for things properly right? Threatening... No, no no, that’s not right."
Silence settled again.
"Kneel."
The order fell naturally, as if it had nothing extraordinary.
"And beg," he added, without looking away. "Like the little bitch you are. Bark and jump for m—"
But he couldn’t continue his sentence.
Katerina’s expression wasn’t visible, but her body reacted. Her hand descended to her waist with a asured movent.
The knife appeared in an instant.
Black, with serrated blade, with an irregular edge that absorbed light instead of reflecting it. She advanced without warning, closing the distance with a firm step and launching a direct cut toward his neck.
But again, a ring activated again, a translucent one this ti, made of different transparent mosaics.
The impact against the barrier produced a dry sound.
Brief sparks jumped at the contact point, dispersing in the air before going out. The blade didn’t advance a single centiter, it bounced escaping from Katerina’s hand and fell to the floor, the fall’s sound cushioned by the carpet.
Bernard didn’t even move.
He raised an eyebrow, observing the weapon a few centiters from his face, and slowly shook his finger.
"That’s not convenient for you," he said, with a calm that was irritating. "If you kill now... I’m sure your boss won’t like it. You surely won’t have a good ti."
Katerina stepped back a few steps from the man. Her breathing beca heavier, barely perceptible.
"Don’t you fear for your life? Fine, I can also go after your wife," she then said, her voice harsher. "And after your son."
Bernard let out a short laugh.
"Do it," he responded, shrugging. "You’d do a favor."
The light tone contrasted with his words’ intention, but in his gaze there was calculation. He knew exactly how to provoke.
Obviously Bernard did appreciate his family, especially his son, but revealing it would be a stupidity unworthy of his cunning.
Katerina understood it.
And the rejection she felt only tensed her posture even more.
The silence lengthened a few seconds.
The mory of punishnt crossed her mind. The pain. The humiliation.
The certainty she couldn’t allow herself another mistake.
Her body moved.
First one knee touched the floor.
Then the other.
Her hands descended slowly, resting on the polished wood.
Four points of support.
She lowered her head.
The gesture felt foreign to her, forced.
"W-woof..." the word ca out low, broken.
She made a brief pause, as if needing to gather strength.
"P-please..." she continued, pressing her fingers against the floor. "H-help this poor bitch..."
Another pause.
"Woof..."
The silence that followed broke with Bernard’s laughter.
More open this ti.
Longer.
He leaned slightly forward, observing her with evident amusent while pouring his drink on top of the girl, soaking her hood.
When the alcohol filtered under her mask Katerina had to make a very great effort not to scream in pain from the stinging.
"Pathetic," he murmured between laughs.
He advanced one more step and spat on the floor, at short distance from her. The wet sound of impact was clear in the room.
"But you know, I have no obligation to help you," he said after, his tone colder. "You’re nobody anymore."
Katerina remained in that position.
Motionless.
Only her breathing, sowhat more agitated, broke the stillness.
Her fists were clenched tightly as she tried to deal with her emotions, part of her wanted to kill Bernard, and another, simply wanted to cry.
"Though..." Bernard added after a mont, leaving the glass on the table, "I could do it in exchange for a small service."
The pause lengthened enough for the weight of his words to settle.
"If you entertain ."
He didn’t need to specify.
The tone sufficed.
Though Bernard winked at her, just in case.
"My wife isn’t especially pleasant at tis you know," he continued, carelessly. "I put up with it because well, neither am I. And while it’s true I can always use a maid, using the sa toy gets boring, you understand?"
Katerina pressed her fists against the floor.
Her fingers trembled slightly before tensing completely.
Under the mask, her jaw closed tightly.
The mory returned. Too recent. Too alive.
Her breathing beca irregular for an instant, and her body showed the effort of maintaining that posture.
The thought crossed her mind clearly.
Again.
The possibility opened before her, unpleasant, inevitable.
Apparently n always liked to use "that way" to humiliate won.
She raised her head slightly.
She still hadn’t responded.
And she couldn’t, because at that precise mont—
A dry knock resonated on the door.
And the scene stopped.
Reviews
All reviews (0)