Chapter 59: Thomas Holmes
The room stank of blood and mold.
A boy, barely seventeen, was bound to a rusted metal post. His wrists were tied so tightly that the ropes had bitten into his skin. A white cloth gag muffled his cries. His black hair clung to his sweaty forehead, and his pale face was streaked with tears and dried blood.
He looked half-dead—his chest covered in bruises, his lips cracked, and his body trembling from exhaustion.
The small chamber was lit by a single flickering lamp, its dying glow throwing jagged shadows across the dirt-stained walls. A wooden table beside him held syringes, knives, bloody rags, and other crude tools of torture. Every surface reeked of violence.
Footsteps echoed from beyond the door.
They were slow, confident, and deliberate.
The door creaked open.
A woman stepped in—tall, elegant, and terrifyingly calm. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, her amber eyes glinting in the dim light. Dressed in a black overcoat and fitted suit, she looked more like a noble than a criminal. A dagger hung at her waist, polished and ready.
The boy's azure eyes widened in terror as she approached.
"Mmmph—mmph!" he tried to scream through the gag.
"Aww, don't be mad," she cooed, gripping his hair and forcing his head up. "I'm just doing my job."
The dagger flashed.
Pain exploded across his chest as she cut deep. Blood spilled down his body, pooling at his feet. His muffled screams filled the room, raw and pitiful.
Mia smiled faintly. "You've been strong for a while… but Count's done with you."
Disappointment flashed across her face before she slashed his throat in one clean motion.
The boy's body convulsed. Blood sprayed across the walls. His eyes went wide—then empty.
Within seconds, the room fell silent again.
Mia wiped her dagger on a cloth, sighed, and whispered, "Time to disappear before the police arrive."
She left without a second glance. Her footsteps faded down the hall.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then a whisper of air—followed by the faint shimmer of magic.
A man emerged from the shadows near the wall.
It was Raven, still disguised as Aron.
"F*ck…" he muttered, his voice trembling. "She killed him like it was nothing…"
His pulse raced. His hands shook. He had seen blood before—but never like this. Not up close.
[Didn't you also see Casper kill Scott and his guards?] Zera asked, her tone calm.
'That was different,' Raven thought. 'I was watching from afar… like a recording. But this…'
He swallowed hard. The metallic scent of blood filled his nose. His body screamed to run.
[If you leave now, you'll only get caught—or worse, blamed for the murder.]
Raven froze mid-step.
"But… isn't it wrong to steal his identity?" he whispered.
[If you don't, the Count will strip the Holmes family of everything. The plan was to save Thomas—but this is the only way left now.]
He hesitated, then knelt beside the boy's corpse. Slowly, he released the Bloodline Spell, letting Aron's face fade away to his own. His features hardened. His deep-blue eyes dimmed.
Then he cast Face Mimic.
His bones shifted, skin rippling as his face reshaped into that of the young boy. His eyes turned azure, his jaw softened, and even his height shortened slightly. When he looked into the cracked mirror on the wall, Thomas Holmes stared back.
"What about his body?" Raven asked quietly.
He untied the ropes and stored the corpse in his inventory. A moment later, gunshots echoed from above—followed by screams.
"The police must be here already."
He stripped off his vest and shirt, tossed them aside, and picked up a small knife from the table.
"I… need to look tortured."
He raised the blade but froze, his hand trembling.
[Do not hesitate.] Zera's tone sharpened. [If you can't even endure pain, forget saving your aunt and sister.]
"I will save them!" Raven roared—and slashed.
The knife tore across his abdomen.
"F*ck—it hurts!"
[Not enough. No one will believe a few scratches.]
"Damn it…" His breathing grew ragged. "Wait—paralysis potion!"
He fumbled a vial from his pocket, popped the cork, and drank. His limbs went numb almost instantly.
'I have to hurry.'
He started cutting himself again—shallow slashes across his chest, arms, and sides. The pain dulled as his body numbed. His breathing slowed, his grip loosened, and the knife fell from his hand.
[Store it.]
He obeyed, slipping it back into his inventory with the last of his strength.
Blood dripped down his legs, soaking into the floor. His vision blurred. The room spun.
[No major blood vessels were cut. You'll live. Just collapse and wait.]
'I can't move…'
Raven let himself fall forward, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
…
Minutes passed.
Bootsteps thundered down the stairway.
The door burst open.
"There's an injured person here!" a man shouted.
A blonde police officer rushed inside, eyes widening. "He's alive—barely!"
A woman behind him gasped. "Oh my god… that's Thomas Holmes!"
The officers hurried forward, checking his pulse and lifting him onto a stretcher. "He's lost too much blood! We need to move, now!"
Outside, chaos reigned. Police wagons blocked the street. Horses stamped and whinnied as officers shouted orders. Captured gang members were dragged out of the mill, some still struggling, others sobbing.
Raven—Thomas—was carried out under the gray evening sky, rain misting down as they rushed him toward the wagons.
They drove fast through the narrow streets to Adden's Hospital, a private facility in North Borough.
Inside, white-coated doctors and nurses swarmed the stretcher, barking orders.
"Severe blood loss! Multiple lacerations—get the saline ready!"
"Stabilize him first!"
Raven kept his eyes closed, pretending to be unconscious while listening closely. He felt the sting of disinfectant and the pull of stitches.
'Didn't you say I'll be fine?' he thought weakly.
[You are fine. But this is a private hospital, lad. They'll milk you dry now that you're a noble.]
'Ugh… hope the bill doesn't kill me first.'
The doctors worked quickly, cleaning and bandaging every wound. Hours passed in a blur of pain and exhaustion.
Finally, a nurse spoke softly.
"He's stabilized. Keep him under observation. The police will want to question him once he wakes."
Raven stayed silent, his body motionless, his mind racing.
[When you wake, pretend you've lost your memory,] Zera reminded him. [If you don't, they'll start asking questions you can't answer.]
'Got it…'
The world around him faded to darkness as the narcotics took hold.
And thus, Thomas Holmes was rescued—
while the real one was long gone.