The assassin stirred.
A slow, disoriented breath.
A sting along his spine.
A creeping awareness.
"Where... where am I?" he whispered hoarsely, the memories dripping back in like blood through gauze. "Ah... that's right. I was sent to kill William of House Medici."
Then silence.
No, not silence—fear. Something cold and crawling stirred inside his chest. He remembered it.
That thing. That essence.
The Essence of Corruption—an unholy force that had burned through his pathways like acid through veins. His mouth opened to scream, to cry out, to beg—
But something fleshy and bitter pressed against his tongue. His eyes widened.
He tried to spit, to bite down on the suicide capsule hidden in his back molar, only to find the space empty.
Gone.
His weapons, his tools, his failsafes—all stripped away.
All that remained was the bitter, fibrous taste of an unripe guava shoved into his mouth and the cold shame of being nearly naked—left only in his undergarments.
Humiliation was the least of his concerns.
A shadow approached. It smelled of lavender and iron.
William.
Standing tall, immaculate, calm. His lips curled into a soft, almost affectionate smile—the kind a host gives a guest just before the door is bolted shut forever.
"Good evening," William said gently, as though greeting a lost child. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am William dè Medici."
He tilted his head. "And you are?"
The assassin glared. The fruit kept him from responding.
"Oh. Silly me," William said with a chuckle. "I forgot—you can't speak. How rude of me."
His voice turned clinical. "Let's keep it simple. I'll ask a few questions. If the answer is yes, nod. If no, shake your head. Easy enough, right?"
The assassin stayed still.
"And if you lie…" William smiled sweetly, "I'll break a finger. Understand?"
The assassin tried to steel himself, clinging to some hope. He can't torture a servant from another noble house—not in Count Anjou's estate. Someone will hear. Someone will stop him. Surely—
Snap.
Pain. Unholy pain.
William had taken his thumb and shattered it like a brittle twig. The assassin screamed, muffled by the fruit, saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth.
"Shhh," William whispered, raising a finger to his own lips. "Didn't you say the walls were soundproof? Isn't that why you tried to kill me here?"
His smile didn't reach his eyes. They were empty—calm like a quiet sea before a storm.
"Now... let's begin. What's your level? Thirteen?"
A slow, shaking shake of the head.
"Fourteen?"
Another no.
"Fifteen?"
A reluctant, trembling nod.
"Good. Now we're getting somewhere."
William crouched beside him. "Who hired you?"
The assassin shook his head violently.
"Oh, you don't want to tell me?"
More desperate shaking.
"Ah... so you don't know?"
A nod.
"Then who does?"
Silence.
William sighed. "This is tiresome."
Snap. Snap.
His index and middle fingers bent unnaturally. The assassin almost blacked out, but something—something cold and magical—yanked him back into awareness. A bracelet on William's wrist glowed faintly.
William stroked his hair with disturbing tenderness. "I don't want to hurt you, truly. It pains me to see you like this. But honesty is such a rare thing these days."
"Does the head of the Saya family know?"
A slow, shamed nod.
"Anyone else?"
A shake.
William narrowed his eyes. "Vice-head?"
Nod.
"Anyone else?"
Shake.
William reached for another finger. The assassin panicked, shaking his head frantically, eyes pleading.
William chuckled. "Relax. I won't. Not yet."
He stood up slowly, as if savoring the moment. "So… even among the Saya, your mission was kept secret. Interesting."
The assassin's thoughts spiraled. What is he? This isn't a human. This is… something else.
A monster. A little monster with a noble smile.
Then William turned, expression darkening beneath his charming facade. He crouched once more, lifted the assassin's chin with cold fingers, and whispered:
"But here's the problem. I can't trust you. If I were in your place, I'd lie about everything."
He smiled again.
Then, one by one, he shattered the remaining fingers.
The assassin screamed into the fruit, blood and saliva pouring from his mouth, his eyes red with agony, his soul trembling under William's gaze.
William rose, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves.
William sat beside the broken man, his gaze drifting to the moonlit window. A gentle sigh escaped his lips.
"It's getting late," he murmured, voice calm, almost bored. "If I don't sleep early, I won't rise with the sun."
He turned his head slightly, eyes falling upon Seven—the assassin who now resembled more a wounded animal than a man. His face was soaked in tears, drool clinging to his chin, and yet his gaze—what little remained of it—begged not for forgiveness, but for death.
Instead, William smiled.
He crouched down, gently sliding a single finger across the top of Seven's foot. The man flinched so hard he nearly toppled over.
"Don't worry," William whispered sweetly, "this will be quick."
With a sudden snap, he crushed all the toes on Seven's right foot. The crack of bone echoed in the soundproof room like a gunshot. The assassin's scream was primal—wet, muffled agony tearing through his throat as he convulsed, sobbing like a creature left to rot in the dark.
"Man, I'm out of questions," William mused, brushing nonexistent dust off his knees. "What should I ask now? Ah—how about… 'How are you?'"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Stupid question. You're in a miserable state." Then he brightened, as if struck by divine inspiration.
"Oh! What about this… Am I handsome?"
Seven nodded frantically.
William raised a brow. "Really? How handsome?"
More frantic nodding. Tears streaked the assassin's bruised face.
"Too handsome?" William teased, leaning in.
The nods grew more desperate.
But his smile faltered.
"I don't feel sincerity in your answer."
With a snap, he crushed the assassin's big toe on the left foot. Seven choked on a fresh cry, his body quivering.
"What else should I ask? Oh yes… Are you having fun? Because I am."
Seven shook his head in horror.
"That's sad," William whispered, and shattered another toe.
Seven, learning quickly, nodded instead.
William smiled—and shattered another anyway.
Then he exhaled a long breath and leaned back on his palms.
"Man… I'm bored," he said with a yawn.
Seven, barely conscious, blinked up at him. In his half-blind haze, a single hope flickered like a dying flame—maybe he'll kill me now…
A faint hum resonated in the air. William reached into his coat and touched the glowing bracelet Jack had given him.
[SO IS THE INTERROGATION OVER?]
[ARE YOU KILLING HIM?]
William didn't answer the voice.
Instead, the bracelet flared—and healing light danced across Seven's mangled hands and feet. The broken fingers twitched. The bones mended.
Seven gasped, eyes wide with confusion, horror… and disbelief.
[WHAT—?]
The bracelet snapped in half with a sharp crack.
"Oops," William said, tone laced with mock sorrow. "Jack's going to be so pissed I broke his gift."
He turned toward the assassin, who instinctively recoiled.
"Now, now," William said gently, tapping him lightly on the forehead. "Relax. I'm not a bad guy."
His voice was soft, affectionate—like a brother speaking to a toddler.
"I won't kill you," he said.
Seven blinked.
"But the Sayah family? They definitely will. You failed your mission. And they're going to assume you talked. Even if you didn't." He gave a soft, sympathetic nod. "You see, you're already dead. Just a matter of timing."
He began untying the assassin's restraints.
"You'll be safe here—for now. Anjou County's increased security since we're heading out in a few days. No one's getting into this mansion anytime soon."
William removed the guava from Seven's mouth and tossed it aside with casual grace. Then he threw the man's bloodied clothes into his lap.
Seven clutched them like a lifeline and crawled toward the door, trembling, almost animalistic.
"Where do you think you're going?" William asked, still seated.
Seven turned, eyes wide, silently begging.
William chuckled. "Outside? Naked?" He grinned. "That would ruin my image. Be decent—dress up. And don't bother looking for your hidden weapons. I took them all."
As Seven fumbled into his clothes, William stood. His eyes fell to the blood smeared across the marble tiles.
"Oh, and one more thing…"
Seven froze.
"If you're going to leave… clean up after yourself," William said, smiling with cheerful politeness. "The floor looks disgusting."
Seven slowly put on his clothes, hands shaking. He wiped the blood off the floor with a cloth William tossed at him, tears still streaming down his face. When he was done, he walked to the door without a word.
Just as he reached for the handle, William's voice came from behind—soft, almost gentle.
"Be safe… until I return."
Seven paused, then quietly stepped out, the scent of blood still clinging to him.
[WHAT... WHAT THE F*CK?!] Wiz's voice trembled with disbelief. [WHY DIDN'T YOU KILL HIM?!]
William exhaled, amused. *"I had no reason to."*
[NO REASON?!] Wiz roared. [HE TRIED TO MURDER YOU!]
*"If I had killed him,"* William mused, *"people would ask questions. A servant enters my room—but never leaves? Suspicious, no?"* He tilted his head. *"Besides... he has other uses."*
[BUT WHAT IF HE TALKS ABOUT THE ESSENCE OF CORRUPTION?!] Wiz's panic spiked. [YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE IN THE WORLD WHO HAS IT!]
William chuckled. *"Oh, darling. Who would believe him? No one even knows it exists."* He stretched lazily. *"And anyway... I was the one who hired him."*
Silence. Then—
[WHAAAAAT?!] Wiz's voice cracked. [WHEN?! WHY?! HOW?!]
William sighed, as if explaining to a child. *"Remember when I was writing that letter in the mansion? You said you were tired and wanted to sleep?"* A slow smile curled his lips. *"I wrote two letters. One, a polite greeting. The other... an assassination request. Different handwriting, of course—to make it seem like a powerful Medici insider wanted me dead."*
[YOU—]
*"Letters to noble heirs are always inspected by their lords,"* William continued. *"For poison, for traps... and for secrets. Lord Saya read mine."*
[BUT WHY WOULD HE AGREE?!] Wiz sputtered. [YOU'RE A MEDICI! ONE OF THE THREE GREAT HOUSES!]
*"Greed, my dear."* William's eyes gleamed. *"The novel mentioned Lord Saya craves a purple-grade technique—'Supreme Shadow Beast'—for his level 80 skill. So I dangled it. Told him I'd trade it... for my own death."*
[AND WILL YOU GIVE IT TO HIM?!]
William laughed—bright, cruel. *"Of course not. I'm still breathing, aren't I?"* A pause. *"Also... I have no idea where that technique is."*
[YOU...] Wiz's voice dropped to a whisper. [YOU CUNNING, MANIPULATIVE, *BRILLIANT* BASTARD.]
William's smile widened. *"I do try."*