Date: January 1, 2018 | Time: 11:40 PM
Location: Lower District – Outside The Black Ledger
Perspective: Eve
"Eh? W-what…?"
My brain just… stopped. It felt like a clock with a gear popped out of place, spinning aimlessly.
Kidnapping? Did he just say kidnapping? People don't usually announce it like that, do they? Is this a Lower District custom? Wait, Eve, focus! You're being threatened!
Probably! Maybe?
"Um, excuse me, sir, but what do you mean by—"
The world suddenly tilted. The cobblestones were where the sky should be, and my breath left me in a startled 'oof' as something very hard and very solid hit my midsection.
He had scooped me up like a sack of flour, my stomach draped right over his shoulder. My hair fell in a pastel pink curtain over my face, swaying with every step he took.
Oh my GOD. He's actually doing it. He's stealing me!
My heart is going to beat right out of my chest—it's so loud, it's practically drumming against his back!
Is he going to sell me? Is he taking me to a secret lair? Why is he so strong?!
"Ouch! My stomach! It… it hurts, wahhh!" I flailed my legs just a little, my hands instinctively clutching at the back of his shirt.
"Sir! Who even are you?! Why are you kidnapping me!"
"You didn't even ask! You're supposed to ask if I want to be kidnapped!"
"It's only polite! Hello?! Reply to me!"
"Why are you being so quiet while you're committing a crime?!"
I was terrified, yes, but mostly I was just… overwhelmed. The scent of him—something sharp and cool like the air before a storm—was everywhere.
"Be quiet," he said.
"Huh?! You're kidnapping me and telling me to be quiet? No! I won't! I have rights! I have—"
He stopped walking. He turned his head just enough that I could see his profile over my left shoulder.
Those blue eyes… they weren't cold anymore, but they were so intense, so close that I could see the tiny flecks of light in them. They were like the Sea, only deeper. My voice caught in my throat, and the "No" I was about to shout died into a tiny, pathetic squeak.
"Be quiet now," he repeated. His voice was low, vibrating through his shoulder and right into my chest.
"O-Okie..." I whispered.
Why did I say okie?!
Eve, you're a hostage! You should be screaming for help! You should be biting his shoulder! But… his shoulder is really muscular. And he smells nice. And he saved me. And he gave me my ring back… but he's a kidnapper!
A very handsome, very scary kidnapper!
I felt the blush rising to my face, turning my cheeks a color that probably matched my hair.
His hand was resting on the back of my legs to keep me steady, and the touch of it made my skin prickle. It was so… intimate.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my teeth chattering slightly.
The street was mostly empty, the shadows of the tall, crooked buildings stretching out like fingers.
I wasn't a baby! Why was he carrying me like this? It was so embarrassing!
Wait… why am I listening to him?
Why am I being a good little kidnappee?!!!
I peeked through the strands of my hair. He was looking straight ahead, his black hair flowing back in the wind. The moonlight hit his face at just the perfect angle, making him look like a statue of some ancient, beautiful god.
So hot...
EVE! NO! HE IS KIDNAPPING YOU! NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE THINKING ABOUT HOW NICE HIS JAWLINE IS! HE IS A CRIMINAL! A GENTLE, RING-RETRIEVING CRIMINAL!
The stress of the night, the fear for Lily, the adrenaline of the fight, and now this… it was all too much.
I felt a sob bubble up in my throat, not because I was sad, but because I didn't know what else to do.
"Wahhhhh... h-hnnng... u-waaa..." I started making tiny, pathetic sobbing noises into his back.
I felt him pause, his stride faltering for a split second.
"Eh?"
"It… it hurts," I whimpered, the words vibrating against the sturdy fabric of his shirt.
"My stomach… your shoulder is too muscular, sir! It's like a rock… my stomach is being squashed… wahh…"
A short, dry chuckle rumbled through his back, vibrating right into my chest.
"Finally talking again, are we? I was starting to think I'd kidnapped an obedient princess."
Princess?
The word sent a jolt of electricity right to my toes.
He called me a princess? Me? I'm just Eve.
I'm just the girl who gets nervous talking to the baker. My face felt like it was melting, the heat of the blush probably visible even through the pastel curtain of my hair.
"Is it… um, is it hard? Carrying me?" I asked, my voice barely a squeak.
"I know I'm probably really heavy… wait, no! I'm light! I'm very light! Like a… a small packet of snacks! But is it still a problem for you?"
"Not really," he replied. "You're light like a feather."
Oh, thank goodness I'm not burdening him. Wait—Eve! What is wrong with you?! He is literally in the middle of a crime! You are the victim! Why are you worried about his muscles getting tired?
Stop being so… so polite to your kidnapper! Bad Eve! Focus!
But the swaying motion of his walk was making my stomach churn even more, a sharp, pinching pain that made my eyes water.
"Please… I'll walk. I promise I'll walk! I can't take it anymore… take me anywhere, take me to a dungeon, just don't make me stay on this shoulder… wahhhh!"
He let out a long, heavy sigh—the kind of sigh someone gives when they're dealing with a very difficult kitty—and finally swung me down.
My boots hit the cobblestones with a soft thud, and I stumbled for a second, my head spinning.
I looked up, blinking rapidly, and realized how much he towered over me. His silhouette cut a sharp, intimidating shadow against the dim light of the alleyway, his expression unreadable and neutral.
Before I could even think about running, his hand shot out, firm and warm, and gripped my wrist.
"Walk with me," he commanded.
"W-wait! Where are we even going?" I scrambled to keep up with his long strides, my heart doing little somersaults.
"What are you going to do to me? Are you going to sell me to a circus? Or a scary merchant guild? Or… or make me do something really difficult, like math?! Please tell me I can at least taste sweets!"
He didn't answer. He just kept pulling me along, his grip on my wrist feeling like a tether I couldn't break even if I wanted to.
I looked down at my hand and noticed the Sea of the Heart ring. Under the moonlight, the blue stone was pulsing, glowing with a vibrant, light that seemed to sync with the rhythm of his footsteps.
It was like the ring knew him. It was practically singing on my finger.
Who is he? Really?
He's so scary, but he's so… gentle at the same time.
Suddenly, a tiny spark of defiance—or maybe just sheer embarrassment—flared up in my chest. I planted my heels and tried to pull the opposite way, leaning back with my whole weight.
"I'm not… going… another… step!"
I made a series of strained, huffing noises, pulling with both hands at his arm. He stopped. He didn't even budge an inch.
He just turned his head and looked at me, his blue eyes flat and unimpressed, like he was watching a kitten try to move a mountain.
The look on his face… it was too much. I felt a complete crash-out coming on.
"Why are you looking at me like I'm being annoying?!" I blurted out, the words tumbling out in a panicked, flustered rush.
"You're the one kidnapping me! You're the criminal! Why do you look disappointed?!"
"This is my retaliation, mr. kidnapper! I am not an obedient kidnappee! I have a voice! Stop this, stop it, stop it!"
"And… and I don't even know your name!"
"You can't just steal a girl and not share your name! It's… it's—"
My rant was cut short as his hand left my wrist and landed right on top of my head. He ruffled my hair, messing up my white bows, and the sudden contact made my brain go completely blank.
"Look here, princess," he said.
He reached down, his fingers catching my chin and gently lifting it until I was forced to look directly into those piercing blue eyes. My breath hitched.
The world around us—the cold air, the dark alley, the distant sounds of the city—all of it just vanished.
"My name is Kaiser Everhart," he said, his voice dropping into that low, iconic tone that made my knees feel like they were made of jelly.
"And you're coming with me."
He started pulling again, but I didn't resist this time. I couldn't. My mind was a messy, wuzzy blur of pink clouds.
His name… Kaiser Everhart.
And his hand… his hand was still on my wrist, but I didn't feel like a prisoner anymore. My heart was thumping so hard I was worried he could feel it through my pulse.
Kaiser… Kaiser… why does my chest feel so tight? And why… why don't I want to let go of his hand?
I was trying to process his name, Kaiser Everhart, whispering it over and over in my mind, when the air ahead of us suddenly soured.
Laughter. Not the kind you hear at a festival, but a wet, jagged sound that scraped against my nerves.
I've heard it before.
Four figures emerged from the gloom of an intersecting alley. My breath hitched, dying in my throat.
In the center walked a mountain of a man, his shoulders so broad they seemed to block out the moonlight. A massive battle axe was slung across his back, and as the dim light hit the blade, I saw it. Dark, sticky smears of fresh blood.
No. No, no, no. Not him. Please, not him.
It was the man from earlier. The bully who had looked at Lily as if she were nothing but trash to be swept away.
Instinctively, I lunged forward, pressing myself against Kaiser's back and grabbing his arm with both hands, clutching the fabric of his shirt. I tried to make myself small, to disappear into his shadow, praying the darkness would swallow me whole.
But his eyes—cold, predatory black—snapped directly to mine. He slowed, a slow, sickening grin spreading across his scarred face.
He looked twice as big as Kaiser. Wider, heavier, like a boulder that could crush anything in its path.
"Wait a minute," the man rumbled.
Kaiser stopped. He didn't flinch.
He just stood there, letting the man approach.
"Aren't you the little brat that was chirping behind my back?" the giant sneered, his voice a gravelly roar. "Calling me a bully?"
The three men behind him fanned out. They were all grinning, looking at me.
"I-I'm s-sorry!" My voice came out as a broken, pathetic sob. I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. "I… I didn't mean… I was just angry and… and p-please, just let us g—"
"SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH BEFORE I TEAR YOUR TONGUE OUT AND FEED IT TO THE RATS!" the man screamed, the volume of it hitting me like a physical blow.
I flinched, a small whimper escaping me as I buried my face into Kaiser's shoulder..
He's going to kill us. He's going to break Kaiser and then he's going to…
"Easy, Gunnar," a smooth, chillingly calm voice cut through the brute's rage. "No need to get so rash. You'll ruin the merchandise."
The axe-man, Gunnar, turned his head toward the speaker. "Asher? What's the problem? The brat needs to learn her place."
The one called Asher stepped forward. He had long, slicked-back black hair and held a leather-bound book as if it were a holy relic.
He looked intelligent—the kind of intelligence that enjoyed pulling the wings off flies. He adjusted his glasses and looked at me, his gaze crawling over my skin like insects.
"No need to hurt her that way," Asher murmured, his eyes lingering on my face.
"Look at her. She's terrified. And look closer, Gunnar… isn't she remarkably attractive? That chest… it's a rare vintage in a place like this."
"Boss is right," one of the others—a man with a notched sword at his hip—leered, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.
"I've never seen hair that color. She'd look real pretty screaming in a different way, wouldn't she?"
"The staff could use some use tonight too," the fourth one added, a mage in tattered robes, his eyes glazed with a disgusting, hungry heat.
"She looks hot.. And sexy."
Please… stop. Stop talking. Please don't look at me like that.
I felt sick. The way they spoke about me… it felt like they were peeling off my clothes right there in the street. My skin felt dirty, cold, and wrong.
I squeezed Kaiser's arm harder, my tears finally spilling over.
"We had a big win tonight, Gunnar," Asher said, his voice dropping into a dark, business-like tone.
"How about we just buy her for the night? Or better yet… let's keep her for a few days. We can share. It'll be a nice reward for a job well done."
Gunnar let out a huffing laugh, his black eyes bright with malice. He took a heavy step toward us, the cobblestones seemingly groaning under his weight.
"Yeah. I think I'll punish her another way then. A way she won't forget."
I couldn't help it.
I started to cry, the sobs racking my body as I looked up at the back of Kaiser's head.
Kaiser, please. Don't let them. Please don't let go of me.
Gunnar looked at Kaiser, dismissive and bored.
"Hey, you. The clown. Let go of her wrist so we can take her. If you're lucky, I won't use my axe on you."
"Yeah, move it, kid," the swordsman chimed in, his hand on his hilt. "We've got plans for the little pink slut. She's gonna be real busy tonight."
I felt the world tilting. I was ready to fall, ready for the nightmare to begin—but then, I felt it.
He slowly turned his head, his blue eyes locking onto Gunnar's with a gaze so sharp it felt like it could draw blood just by looking.
"Get out of my way."
Gunnar took a step forward, the heavy head of his battle axe scraping against the cobblestones with a sound that made my teeth ache.
"I'll give you one last chance, brat," he spat, his yellow eyes darting between me and Kaiser. "Let go of her, or I'll break your arm."
Asher, the one with the book, tilted his head. He didn't look angry; he looked curious, like a scientist looking at a bug he was about to squash.
"Wait, Gunnar," he said, his voice smooth and cold. He looked at Kaiser's hand on my wrist. "I have to ask… who might she be to you? Why risk your life for a piece of Lower District stray?"
I felt Kaiser's grip on my wrist tighten just a fraction. It wasn't painful, but it was… possessive.
"She is my princess," Kaiser said, my heart stopping.
"I own her. And I'll keep her."
P-princess? Own? Keep?! I'm pretty sure my soul just left my body for a second. He said it so… so casually.
His voice was so deep and… oh my God, Eve, focus! He's protecting you! But… he said he owns me? Why does that make my face feel like it's on fire?
The two men behind Asher—the swordsman and the mage—burst into mocking laughter. The swordsman doubled over, slapping his thigh.
"Hear that, Asher? The clown thinks he's a knight! A princess! I can't—"
Asher didn't laugh. He squinted at Kaiser's face, tapping his finger against his chin. "You look familiar," he murmured.
"Everhart… I think I've seen that name in the Guild Ledger. Gunnar, do you remember what rank the Everhart kid was?"
Gunnar grinned, a jagged, ugly thing. "Yeah. I remember. The Ledger doesn't lie."
Asher's eyes widened slightly as the memory clicked. "E-rank," he said, and this time, even he couldn't hide the smirk.
"The 'Weakest Human Alive.' That's you, isn't it? The one who can't even manifest a spark of mana."
The laughter from the others turned cruel. "E-rank?" the swordsman sneered, his eyes crawling over me again.
"Then it seems our dinner for tonight is guaranteed. We'll take the girl, and maybe we'll leave you enough fingers to crawl home with."
I flinched, my fingers digging into Kaiser's sleeve. "K-Kai..." I whispered, my voice trembling. "Please... let's just go..."
Asher stepped closer, his book glowing with a faint, sickly green light. "Don't they call you the weakest human alive? Why are you acting brave, Kaiser? It doesn't suit you. It's pathetic."
Gunnar laughed, his massive hand reaching out toward my face.
"Come here, little kitty. Let's see if your skin is as soft as it loo—"
"Don't touch me! Please!" I cried out, shrinking back.
In a blur that my eyes could barely follow…There was a sound—not a punch, but a sickening crack-snap-crunch—
"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!"
Gunnar's scream ripped through the alley, so loud and raw it made my ears ring. Kaiser had caught Gunnar's wrist mid-air.
He didn't just stop it; he twisted. I watched in frozen horror as Gunnar's arm deformed, his wrist and elbow turning in directions they weren't meant to go.
One, two, three... I could actually hear the bones breaking.
8 distinct cracks.
"Gunnar?!" the swordsman shouted, his laughter dying instantly. "What are you doing? Just push the brat off! Why are you screaming?!"
Asher's face went pale. "Gunnar, what's wrong?!"
Kaiser didn't say a word. He gave one final, brutal shove, and the giant of a man collapsed backward, his arm dangling like a broken puppet's limb, his dislocated wrist purple and swollen to the size of a melon.
"MY ARM! HE BROKE MY ARM! NGGHHH—AAAAAAAAA!" Gunnar rolled on the ground, his face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated agony.
Asher's composure shattered. He flipped his book open, his fingers dancing across the pages.
"Get ready for combat! Take this man out! Now!"
The swordsman and the staff-user jumped forward, but Asher was faster. He raised his hand, his eyes glowing with a frantic, desperate green light.
"Venti Scindere!" he hissed.
Blades of compressed wind, sharp enough to cleave through stone, screamed through the air toward Kaiser. They were so fast they were almost invisible, just ripples in the moonlight.
He's going to be shredded! Kaiser!
But Kaiser didn't even move his feet. His left hand blurred into his coat, pulling a small, black-bladed knife. With a series of movements so precise they looked like a dance, he flicked the blade.
Clang-ting-shhh-clink!
The sound of metal hitting wind echoed multiple times in a single second. Kaiser stood there, the knife held loosely in his hand, his eyes fixed on Asher. Not a single hair on his head had been touched.
Asher stood dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open.
"What… how… 17 slashes… with a kitchen knife?"
Kaiser's gaze didn't waver. "What's next?"
The swordsman, fueled by a mix of rage and stupidity, let out a roar and began to rush.
"I'll kill you! You bastard!"
"SHUT UP! DON'T MOVE!" Asher screamed, his voice cracking with a fear I had never heard before. He wasn't looking at the swordsman. He was looking at Kaiser.
Asher's knees were shaking.
"K-Kill him! Asher, what are you waiting for?! Use your magic and shred that bastard into pieces!" Gunnar's voice was a ragged, wet scream as he clutched his mangled arm against his chest
"Look at what he did to me! Look at my arm! He's just a human! An E-rank! Kill him!"
The swordsman bared his teeth, his hand white-knuckled on his hilt. "Boss, he's right! It's three against one! Let's just—"
But Asher didn't move. In fact, he did the opposite. Slowly let his leather-bound book fall to the cobblestones with a dull thud.
Then, his knees buckled. He hit the ground, his head bowing low until his forehead almost touched the dirt.
"Please..." Asher's voice was a thin, trembling reed.
"Please, mercy. We don't want the girl. I don't want anything. I just want to leave here alive. Please let me go."
I stared at the back of Kaiser's head, my mouth hanging open in complete shock.
What? How? He's on his knees? This is the man who was talking about 'buying' me seconds ago. He's the leader… Why is he begging to the 'weakest human'?
"Asher! What the hell are you doing?!" The swordsman screamed, his eyes darting between his kneeling leader and Kaiser's motionless form.
"It's 3 against 1! He's just one guy with a kitchen knife!"
"SHUT UP, HAKON!" Asher shrieked, his voice cracking with a hysteria that made my blood run cold.
"Do you even know what's happening?! Can't you see it?! We're outclassed! We're dead men if he moves another inch!"
"But how—" Hakon started, but Asher cut him off again.
"Look at his hands, you idiot!" Asher pointed a shaking finger toward Kaiser.
"Look at what he's been doing this entire time! He never let go of the girl's wrist with his right hand! That's his dominant hand! Everything—breaking Gunnar's arm, slicing 17 wind blades out of the air—he did all of it with his left hand! His non-dominant hand!"
I looked down. Kaiser's right hand was still firmly, yet gently, wrapped around my wrist. He hadn't even shifted his stance.
"And look at that stance!" Asher continued, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Look at him! He's standing there perfectly relaxed, his guard down from every angle. It looks like an opening, but the moment you target the girl, you're dead. Look at the grip on that knife."
I followed Asher's gaze. Kaiser was holding the small blade in a reverse grip, the edge tucked against his forearm.
"It's... it's like the assassins from Zephyr's party," Hakon whispered, his bravado finally beginning to leak away. "But it's... it feels wrong. It's too steady."
"It looks more dangerous," the mage added, his staff shaking in his hand. "Like a coiled viper."
"Nonsense!" Gunnar roared, struggling to his feet.
"He's just a lucky brat! Just kill him!"
Asher turned his head, looking at Gunnar with a gaze of pure, icy hatred. "Shut the fuck up, Gunnar. Your wrist was broken by a single grip."
"Do you even know the physics of that? Your battle axe is a custom heavy-grade—it weighs over 40 KG. To swing that with one hand, your grip strength has to be at least 100+. And he crushed that strength effortlessly. With one hand. Without even looking at you."
Asher turned back to Kaiser, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "And the wind slashes... to react to 17 independent magical projectiles and parry them with a kitchen knife... your reaction time has to be under 30 milliseconds."
"That's not human. That's not E-rank!"
"You're pretty smart." Kaiser added.
Asher's entire body was vibrating with terror now.
"You're a false ranker, aren't you? Please... forgive us. We didn't know."
"Is he... is he an S-rank?" Hakon's voice was barely audible.
"Better than Akira from Zephyr's party? No way..."
"Maybe," the mage whispered. His eyes darted to the end of the alley.
"I'm not staying to find out! Run for it!"
The mage didn't wait. He turned and bolted into the darkness, his robes flapping behind him. Hakon looked at Kaiser, then at the screaming Gunnar, and then he followed suit, his boots pounding against the stone as he disappeared.
Asher stayed on his knees, fumbling with a pouch at his waist. He threw it onto the ground, and several silver coins spilled out, glinting in the moonlight.
"Please! Take it! It's all I have from tonight's haul! Just... let me live!"
He didn't wait for an answer. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted in the opposite direction, leaving his book behind in the mud.
Only Gunnar was left. The giant stood there, his mangled arm hanging limp, his black eyes finally clearing of rage and filling with the cold, hard realization of his situation.
He looked at Kaiser—really looked at him—and saw the abyss staring back.
"Shoo, shoo~" Kaiser said.
He let out a strangled, terrified whimper, turned tail, and ran as fast as his massive legs could carry him, his screams echoing through the silent streets.
Silence returned to the alley, save for the sound of my own frantic breathing. I looked at Kaiser. He was still standing there, perfectly calm, his hand still on my wrist.
Who... who is he?
"Follow me now, Princess."