The tavern reeked of cheap beer, sweat, and false laughter. Wooden mugs clanked. Adventurers cheered and shouted over each other, voices slurring into one chaotic chorus. Clatter of mugs echoed from the bar. Firewood popped and crackled in the hearth. A bard strummed a lute in the corner, strings twanging off-key as a drunken mercenary attempted to sing along, terribly off-tempo.
Near the back, at a long oak table stained with old wine and darker things, a single argument rose above the merriment like a crack in a stained glass window.
"You're out," came the cold, arrogant voice of Krain, the swordsman. His arms were folded, his chin raised like a noble born in the mud. "We're done carrying dead weight."
The words struck like a slap across the face. Ael blinked. "W-What…?"
He stood there, stunned, a pale boy in worn robes too big for his narrow frame. A plain staff leaned against the table beside him, its edge chipped and dull. He looked every bit the awkward mage apprentice he was, but there was something soft in his gaze—like hope hadn't died just yet.
"I said," Krain repeated, louder this time, leaning forward as his thick hand slammed the table. Thud."You're expelled from Talon Brigade. Don't make me say it again."
Adventurers from nearby tables glanced over, some snickering. Others smirked knowingly. This wasn't the first time someone got kicked from a party in public. But Ael still shook his head in disbelief.
"But… why?" His voice trembled.
Krain smirked. "Isn't it obvious? You're weak. Your dark magic—if that's what it even is—barely does anything. You mutter some nonsense, wave your hand, and expect us to believe the enemy is cursed?"
"I do debuff them…" Ael said quietly, almost a whisper. "I weaken them from within, I promise—"
Krain scoffed. "Then where's the proof, huh? Our enemies fight just the same. No difference. You're just dead weight, sucking up rewards."
"I… I weaken their resolve, their focus… it's subtle but—"
"Save it," Krain snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "You're a burden. End of story."
Ael turned his eyes—pleading, desperate—toward the only person he thought might defend him.
Lira.
She stood beside Krain, still in her white and gold cleric robes, her long chestnut hair cascading over one shoulder. Her expression was unreadable as she stepped closer to the leader.
"Lira," Ael murmured. "You know me. You know I—"
"I trust Krain's judgment," she said coolly, cutting him off. Her words came like icicles.
Ael's breath caught. "W-What…?"
Krain chuckled and threw an arm around Lira's waist, pulling her close, aggressively pressing his hand against her hip and then sliding it up—his fingers boldly cupping her breast right there at the table. Squeeze.
Lira let out a soft gasp, her cheeks coloring slightly. "Mm… Krain, not here…" she whispered, a playful tone coating her voice. "At least wait until we're back at the inn…"
Ael stood frozen.
"Lira… but… back then, in the village, you said—" His voice broke.
"Back then," Krain laughed, gripping Lira tighter, "she was your little childhood crush. Cute, but naive. I've been with her since our second month in the Brigade. She's mine now. Always has been." His other hand now shamelessly kneaded her breast again. Grope.
"Mmh… s-stop… you're being rough," Lira said breathlessly, but she made no effort to stop him. Her tone wasn't rejection—it was flirtation.
The two other female party members giggled, watching the display with amused eyes.
"Lira really is Krain's favorite," said Rei, the bronze-skinned hand-to-hand fighter with short spiky hair and a tight halter top barely containing her bouncing chest.
"Mm-hmm. She always gets the best 'rewards' after quests," added Mina, the archer, licking ale from her lips as she tugged at her neckline with a wicked grin.
Ael's vision blurred. He wasn't sure if it was rage, grief, or the tears he refused to shed.
Krain leaned back, victorious. "Face it, Ael. You're not cut out for this. You were lucky to tag along this long. Oh—and by the way? Your share of the gold? That's ours now. Consider it payment for putting up with your pathetic spells. Hell, you're indebted to us."
"I…" Ael's voice barely made it past his dry throat. "Lira… you promised we'd be partners… that I'd protect you…"
She didn't respond.
She didn't even look at him.
Only Krain did—with a final smirk that screamed domination.
"Go back to your village, little mage. Maybe scare some chickens with your curses."
Ael turned.
His chest felt like it was collapsing from the inside. Thump… thump… thump. The tavern spun around him in cruel colors, a blur of laughter and mocking eyes.
He stumbled out the door. Creak… slam!
The cold night air hit him like a slap. He walked blindly into the alleys behind the tavern, past shadows and puddles, past broken barrels and the smell of rot.
His steps grew unsteady. Shuffle.Stagger.
His breath grew ragged. Huff… huff…
And then—
A voice.
A whisper in the air, low and oily.
"Revenge…"
Ael stopped.
His knees buckled.
He gripped his chest, sweat dripping from his forehead.
"Kill them…"
"No…" he rasped. "No, I… I can't…"
"They betrayed you. Humiliated you. Stole her. Used her."
His eyes went wide. His hand trembled. His staff, forgotten, clattered to the ground. Clack.
"Lira…" he whispered.
"Take it back… your dignity… your worth… your power…"
The shadows writhed around him.
His fingers twitched.
His lips moved on their own.
"…revenge…"
"Say it."
"…kill…"
"Say it louder."
"…revenge… kill… kill… kill…"
And in the distance, just barely out of sight, a figure watched from the rooftops—silent, unmoving. Their eyes glowing faintly, like a predator in the dark.
The morning sun bled softly through the half-closed shutters of the cheap inn room. Dust floated in the golden light like lazy fireflies, untouched by the bitterness still clinging to the air.
Ael's eyes snapped open.
His breath caught.
His heart was pounding—not from a dream, but from the weight of everything that had happened. He sat up too fast. A sudden wave of nausea hit him.
"Ugh…"
His clothes were still on from last night, wrinkled and damp with cold sweat. The small wooden room spun slightly as he held his head, trying to remember.
"How… did I get back here?"
The last thing he recalled clearly was stumbling through that dark alley, hearing whispers, voices not his own. Then—nothing. Just black. Like a hole swallowed him whole and spat him back out.
He looked at his trembling hands.
Everything from the night before slowly seeped back into him. Like ink spreading through parchment.
Krain's smug face.
Lira's voice siding with him.
Her soft moan when he touched her, right in front of Ael.
His childhood friend… his only light… stolen from him with laughter and mockery.
He clenched his fist.
"…damn it."
His heart still felt heavy. Like something had cracked. No—shattered.
But he couldn't lie here forever.
He washed his face at the chipped basin in the corner, ran a hand through his messy dark hair, and straightened his robe. It was still stained, but at least he didn't look like a corpse anymore.
After a deep breath, he stepped out of his room and walked out of the inn, boots scraping against the old floorboards. Outside, the street buzzed with early life—merchants shouting, horses clopping by, smiths hammering steel in rhythmic thuds.
He made his way to the Adventurers' Guild.
A tall stone building at the center of town, with wide steps leading to its double doors. The emblem of sword and shield was carved into the archway—like nearly every other guild hall across the continent.
The place was already packed with adventurers.
Groups clustered around job boards. Some boasted loudly about their quests. Others laughed over ale despite the early hour. But not all faces were friendly.
Ael stepped inside.
Whispers trailed behind him.
"That's the guy from Talon Brigade, right?"
"Didn't they kick him out?"
"Some cursed mage or something…"
"Debuffs that don't even work. Just dead weight."
He tried to ignore them. But the words still dug into him like splinters. He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag and approached the guild reception counter.
Then he saw her.
Seira.
The guild receptionist.
Short blonde bob-cut hair gleamed like polished gold, the ends curling slightly around her cheeks while a neat tie at the back pulled some strands into a tiny tail. Her bangs framed her innocent face like she was straight out of a painting, and her amber-yellow eyes sparkled warmly under the morning sun bleeding through the guild's stained-glass window.
And her body… gods.
Her blouse was regulation—technically. But it looked like it was losing a violent war. Her huge breasts were so massive, so outrageously full, they strained tightly against the fabric of her shirt with every breath she took. Each button down the front was pulled to its limit, barely hanging on, the spaces between them wide enough to glimpse hints of the lacy black bra pressing tight against her pale, smooth skin. Her deep cleavage spilled upward in a soft, round swell, jiggling slightly with every innocent gesture she made.
Ael froze.
He tried—he really tried—not to stare. But her chest moved so much. With every motion. Every breath. Every time she tilted her head or turned even slightly, her enormous breasts bounced and jiggled in hypnotic rhythm, squishing and shifting tightly under her stretched-out blouse. The hem of her skirt hugged her wide, plump hips, emphasizing her sensual curves. She adjusted her posture unconsciously, and the motion caused her boobs to press even tighter—boing…
He gulped.
And yet, Seira wasn't lewd—far from it.
She was warm, kind, and impossibly sweet. Completely unaware of the chaos her body stirred in the minds (and pants) of every male adventurer in the guild hall. Her smile was genuine, like the girl next door who just happened to be cursed with the kind of proportions that could bring gods to their knees.
"Welcome to the Guild!" she said cheerfully as Ael stepped up. Her voice chimed like a bell. She gave him a bright, professional smile as her oversized chest subtly bounced with the energy of her greeting. "How can I help you today?"
Ael blinked, then blushed furiously.
"I, uh…" he fumbled, fingers twitching as he quickly pulled his adventurer badge from the pouch at his side. He thrust it forward like a lifeline, trying not to stare as her breasts shook slightly from the sudden shift in her body.
—sway… bounce… squish…—
Gods, they were right there…
He forced his eyes upward with heroic effort.
Her fingers—slender, soft, and well-manicured—took the badge gently. As she brought it closer to inspect the engraving, she leaned in. Just a little.
But it was enough.
Her cleavage loomed inches from the desk. The top of her shirt creaked ever so slightly as the fabric tightened around her breasts. The opening between the straining buttons widened… just a sliver… giving Ael a clearer view of the pale, pillowy softness beneath. A peek of lace. A soft jiggle as she inhaled.
thump-thump-thump — his heart pounded against his ribs.
Ael's face turned beet red.
He inhaled sharply and sat bolt-straight like a statue.
She read from the badge, tilting her head cutely—unaware, unbothered, utterly radiant.
"Let's see… Rank D, Class: Mage… name: Ael…" Her voice softened, her lashes lowering just a bit as recognition set in. "Ah… I remember now. You're the one who was recently removed from Talon Brigade… aren't you?"
Her tone wasn't mocking. There was no trace of cruelty or gossip. Just a quiet, honest compassion. She looked at him the way someone might look at a kitten in the rain.
"…Yeah," Ael said, swallowing. He lowered his gaze, not out of shame—well, maybe a little shame—but mostly so he wouldn't accidentally stare again. "That's me."
A small pause.
Then Seira's face lit up again, her breasts bouncing softly with the motion of her cheerfulness. "Well, that's alright! Things like that happen more often than you think. Losing a party isn't the end—it's just the beginning of a better match."
Ael blinked. Still red. Still trying not to peek.
Her optimism was jarring. But comforting.
He nodded slowly. "I… I'm looking to join a new party. Maybe one with Rank D members. Or at least close."
He hesitated. "…If anyone's even willing to have me."
Seira giggled softly. The sound was pure and light.
"Actually, you're in luck," she said, spinning on her heel and pointing toward the quest board area. Her skirt fluttered slightly as she turned. "There's someone here right now looking for a party."
Ael followed her finger.
He couldn't see clearly past the small crowd near the board, but someone was definitely standing alone off to the side, waiting.
"A solo adventurer came in earlier looking to form a temporary team. Rank D as well," Seira explained.
Ael looked back at Seira. Her smile was radiant. Completely unbothered by the whispers others had said about him.
He stood up straighter.
"…Thank you," he said quietly.
She nodded. "Go on, and good luck! I hope it works out."
As he walked toward the board, he couldn't help but steal one last glance back at her.
She was already helping the next adventurer, completely professional, completely poised—her beauty shining like a beacon, and still unaware of the small storm she left in Ael's chest.
He swallowed hard.
"…Focus, Ael. You can't mess this up."
He turned back toward the figure waiting near the quest board.
Something told him this meeting would change everything.
Ael quietly stepped away from the receptionist counter. His boots clacked softly against the stone floor as he made his way across the Adventurer Guild's main hall. He made his way toward the large quest board near the eastern wall, just a few steps from where Seira had gestured.
As he approached, Ael's eyes scanned the area for anyone who looked like they might be waiting for a party—maybe some brooding swordsman, another outcast like him, or some grizzled old warrior down on his luck. But what he saw instead froze him mid-step.
Standing in front of the quest board was a girl.
No—a vision.
She looked around his age, maybe a year younger at most. Her hair was a striking cherry-red, tied into a thick braid that hung down her back like a rope of silk. The strands shimmered slightly under the light filtering through the stained-glass window. Her skin was pale and smooth, her features soft and youthful, with cheeks that held a faint pink hue as if she'd just stepped out of a warm bath.
And her figure—
Ael's eyes darted downward before he could stop himself. Tight leather hugged her chest like a second skin, the glossy material straining around the curves of her breasts. The generous swell of her cleavage peeked from the opened flap of her chest armor—just enough to tempt, but not quite enough to be called indecent. Below that, her waist tapered in smoothly, giving way to wide hips and deliciously plump thighs barely contained by tight leather shorts. She wore armored boots that reached just below her knees, her legs sleek and toned, the bare skin between boot and short teasingly visible.
Ael gulped.
His brain tried to reboot. She looked… perfect.
As if sensing his approach, the girl turned toward him with a radiant smile, her big, innocent eyes sparkling. "Ah, are you… Ael?"
He blinked. "Y-Yeah! That's me."
"I'm Merry. Nice to meet you!" she chirped, her voice light and cheerful. She brought her hands together in a polite gesture—though the motion made her chest softly jiggle. "Rank C Swordwoman. I was told someone's looking for a party, and well, I guess that's you?"
Ael nodded, his throat dry. "Y-Yeah. I'm Ael. Rank D mage. I… mostly specialize in debuff spells. Nothing flashy."
He forced a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. His heart was pounding way too fast.
Merry tilted her head slightly, smiling sweetly. "Debuff, huh? That's still important. I think it's cool."
Ael's face lit up in pink. He couldn't believe it. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was nice, too.
She turned back to the quest board, stretching her arms up—and her chest followed the motion, pressing outward against the leather. Ael looked away. Too late. That image was burned into his retinas now.
"Yosh!" Merry announced with a cheerful fist pump. "Let's go slay some Wild Horn Rabbits. Sounds fun, right?"
Ael nodded, still dazed. "Y-Yeah… let's do it."
That was how their partnership began.
They met again the next morning. Then the next. And again the day after that.
Before Ael even realized it, it had become a routine—no, more like a ritual. Each sunrise, he found himself hurrying to the guild hall, heart strangely light, his steps a bit quicker than usual. Not because of a quest. Not because of gold or rank. But because he knew she'd be there.
Merry.
Always at the quest board, standing with that same innocent smile, that same glimmer in her eyes like she was born for adventure.
They took low-rank quests: rabbit extermination, herb collection, bandit patrols. Nothing world-shaking, but Ael didn't care. Every quest meant more time with her.
Some of the other adventurers had started whispering behind his back.
"Lucky bastard got a cutie like her for a partner…"
"What's he doing with someone like that cute girl? He's just a D-rank debuffer, isn't he?"
But Ael pretended not to hear. Let them talk. For once, he was smiling for real.
They sat side by side on the wooden bench of a horse-drawn carriage headed to their next quest. The landscape rolled past slowly—green hills, yellow fields, chirping insects in the distance. Ael fidgeted, his heart hammering again. He'd been meaning to talk to her about… something.
Anything.
Everything.
He turned to her slowly. She was humming, her head tilted slightly back, eyes closed. Her braid swayed gently with the carriage's motion. The leather clung to her body like it was painted on. The way the sun caught the curve of her collarbone made his breath catch.
"I… uh…" he began.
Merry opened one eye, peeking at him. "Hm?"
He cleared his throat. "I… sometimes hear voices."
Her expression didn't change. She blinked. "Voices?"
"Yeah. Whispers. Ever since I got kicked out of my last party." His fingers curled on his knees. "They say things like… 'Take revenge,' or 'Destroy them.' Sometimes it feels like they're… inside my skull, crawling." He smiled nervously. "But I ignore it. I've been having fun lately. I guess I'm… moving on."
His cheeks flushed. "Probably 'cause of you."
There was a moment of silence. The wind blew softly. The wooden wheels creaked.
Merry blinked once, then smiled softly.
"Oh my…" she said in that sweet, gentle voice.
But something about her tone felt… strange. Her smile looked kind—but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
There was a brief pause. Just enough to feel unsettling. As if she were studying him.
Then she giggled lightly. "You're funny, Ael."
The rest of the ride was quiet.
But something in the air had changed.
And her smile… somehow felt deeper. Almost like it meant something else entirely.
That night, Ael lay in bed inside his cheap rented inn room. The ceiling stared back at him, cracked and covered in old stains. The oil lamp flickered, casting shadows like spider legs across the walls.
He turned to his side, grumbling. His thoughts spun in circles.
The betrayal still stung—his old party, the laughter, the mockery. The way they turned on him, so easily. But now… there was Merry. She made things feel lighter. Warmer.
He smiled weakly, eyes fluttering half-closed.
"Merry's pretty… I wonder… maybe someday she'll like me. Maybe we'll become real partners… or lovers…"
His smile deepened.
A whisper curled into his ear like poison.
"Liar."
Ael's eyes snapped open.
"They abandoned you. Betrayed you. Made you weak."
Another voice, colder, raspier.
"Kill them. Burn their faces. Let them scream your name."
His body broke into a sweat. Beads dripped down his temple, soaking his pillow.
"No… no…" he whispered, clutching his head. "Not again… not now…"
The voices cackled.
"You don't belong with them. You're stronger than this. They all deserve it…"
He sat upright, chest heaving. The lamp flickered violently—then burst into darkness.
sshhhhhhk—kaaaah
Ael panted in the silence. The whispers faded. His throat was dry. His fingers trembled.
He collapsed back onto the bed and shut his eyes tightly.
"Go to sleep… just sleep…" he murmured.
And the dark took him.
The next morning, Ael was practically skipping as he made his way to the guild hall. His heart was light, his steps full of energy. Just knowing he'd get to see Merry again was enough to put a dumb grin on his face. After all the gloom he'd gone through, these mornings had become the brightest part of his days.
As expected, Merry was already there by the quest board, standing out like usual. Her cherry-red braid swayed gently as she waved at him, a bright, innocent smile lighting up her face.
"There you are!" she called out, voice full of playful energy.
Ael jogged over, waving back. But the moment he reached her, Merry puffed her cheeks in mock frustration and crossed her arms.
"You're late," she pouted, pretending to sulk.
"Ah—sorry, sorry!" Ael chuckled, scratching the back of his head.
Merry giggled, her expression softening into amusement. "Hmph. Fine. I'll forgive you this once."
The two stood side by side by the board, but Merry suddenly leaned a bit closer, her voice dropping just enough to feel oddly personal.
"Actually… I wanted to tell you something today," she said, swaying slightly on her feet. "Something… important."
Ael blinked. "Eh? Really? What is it?"
Merry tilted her head, fingers pressing against her lips in an overly innocent gesture. "I can't say it here~ I'm way too shy."
She handed him a small folded slip of parchment.
"This is the place. Come meet me there... at midnight."
Ael hesitated as he took the note, eyes wide. "M-Midnight…?"
She winked at him, smiling like a mischievous cat.
"And make sure to come alone~"
His brain short-circuited. The note trembled slightly in his hands as his cheeks turned pink.
"I-Is this… is this what I think it is!?"
Ael nodded, flustered, trying to hide the grin forming on his face. "O-Okay! I'll be there!"
Merry turned on her heel and walked ahead, her braid bouncing as she hummed to herself. She didn't look back—but Ael was frozen in place, staring at the note as if it were a love letter.
His heart wouldn't stop pounding.
"Midnight… alone… something important…"
"Was it really… a confession?"
He could barely breathe.
Night blanketed the forest like a heavy shroud, thick and silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves and distant howls. The moon hung low, its pale light barely filtering through the thick canopy. Ael stood at the edge of the clearing, his boots crunching softly over dried leaves and moss. He glanced around nervously, heart pounding. The location Merry had given him… was this really it?
"Why here…?" he whispered to himself. "In the middle of the night... in a forest crawling with monsters?"
It didn't make sense. The deeper he went, the more he questioned it, but more than fear for himself, he felt a cold sweat for her.
"Merry... is she really waiting out here alone?"
Ael's grip tightened on the note she had given him. Her sweet handwriting had looped out the words "Midnight. Come alone. Please." He had read it over and over again. There was no way this wasn't a confession. Right?
Ael stepped forward into the clearing.
And then… he saw her.
Merry.
She stood beneath a gnarled old tree, her figure outlined in silver by the dim moonlight. Her red braid shimmered faintly, a delicate flame flickering against the darkness. Her leather armor clung tightly to her curvy figure, the faint outline of her cleavage barely visible under the moon's pale glow. She wasn't moving. Just… smiling.
Ael stopped, breath catching in his throat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heart raced.
She looked so beautiful. So calm. So radiant, standing there like something from a dream. Like a secret goddess waiting to share her truth.
Was this really happening?
He took a step forward, lips trembling. "M-Merry… you called me out here, so late at night, is it… is it because you…"
Merry tilted her head slightly, that same gentle smile remaining. Then, her boots softly clicked over the dirt as she walked toward him, each step slow and deliberate.
"I wanted to ask you something," she said sweetly. "Do you… still hear them?"
Ael blinked. "Huh…?"
"The voices," she repeated softly, her red eyes fixed on his. "Do you still hear them whispering to you, Ael?"
His shoulders stiffened.
He looked down, unsure. "…Y-Yeah. I-I still hear them… but they're faint now. Not as loud as before."
He tried to chuckle, trying to hide his blush. "Ahaha… I thought maybe you called me out here to… confess or something—"
SHUNK.
A sudden force drove through his back. The cold steel of a dagger punctured his flesh, sliding through bone, muscle, and organs, until the blade burst from his chest, glinting under the moonlight—drenched in red.
Ael's mouth gaped open. A spray of blood flew from his lips, splattering the ground with crimson.
His eyes widened in terror. He couldn't move.
His legs gave way, and the pain struck him like lightning. His body trembled as blood gushed from his chest and mouth, warm and sticky.
"…Ah…ghh—!"
He looked up.
Merry was still smiling, sweet and innocent… like nothing had happened.
But there—behind him—he saw it. A silhouette.
A dark shadow.
The one who stabbed him.
The dagger twisted slightly, and Ael coughed blood again, staining his shirt as he fell to his knees.
Merry placed a finger to her lips and winked.
"Sorry, Ael," she cooed playfully. "It was just... bad luck. On your part."
She giggled, tilting her head. "Please don't hold a grudge, okay? It's nothing personal~"
His hands reached for her, weakly trembling. "Wh…y… M-Merry…"
His vision blurred as he collapsed onto the forest floor, blood pooling beneath him. His body convulsed once. Twice.
She stepped over him, leaned down, and whispered into his ear, her lips nearly brushing his skin.
"Shhh. Sleep tight."
Her index finger lifted to her lips in a teasing hush. A final smile.
Ael's eyes widened one last time—then faded to black.
He was dead.
Behind him, the true assailant slowly pulled the dagger from the corpse. The blade gleamed wetly in the moonlight.
The man stepped forward. He wore a black cloak, hood up, mouth covered. His eyes were sharp, unreadable. He looked plain—young—but the aura around him spoke of something cold. Something precise. Something dangerous.
Ragner.
A Rank S Rogue.
The man who had watched Ael from the shadows long before this night. Who had moved like a ghost. Who had listened.
Merry stood beside him, arms stretched up above her head as she let out a long, exaggerated yawn, her breasts pushing tightly against her leather top. She groaned, arching her back.
"Geez," she muttered, voice light. "All that acting… all that fake smiling… just to kill one guy? What a pain~"
Ragner didn't glance at her. His eyes were locked on the corpse.
"You did well," he said flatly.
"Of course I did," Merry pouted, bending forward to stretch more, her tight shorts hugging her hips, the curve of her thighs exposed under the moonlight. "You know how hard it is to pretend to be a low-rank swordswoman for days? I deserve an award or something.♥"
"You won't get one."
Ragner's voice was cold and uninterested, his arms crossed as he leaned lazily against a nearby tree, half hidden in shadow.
"Hmph~! So cold."
Merry puffed her cheeks like a sulking child, tossing her braid back over her shoulder with flair.
She straightened her back, chest bouncing subtly under the tight leather armor, the moonlight dancing along the sleek edge of her blade strapped to her back. Her teasing expression lingered, but behind it… something sharper flickered in her eyes.
The truth was, Merry had never been a Rank C Swordswoman.
It was all an act. An elaborate disguise.
In reality, she was a Rank A Blader — a rare, advanced combat class feared across the continent. A perfect fusion of swordsmanship and spellcraft. Bladers were deadly even among elites, able to chain physical attacks with elemental magic fluidly, dancing between offense and agility with unnerving grace.
Merry simply chose to fake weakness, to wear the skin of a cheerful novice, to smile and act bashful while masking the sharp, disciplined instincts of a trained killer.
And beside her stood Ragner. Silent. Focused. Watching.
His class was Rouge, one of the more common combat paths among adventurers. But what made him exceptional wasn't his class — it was his rank.
Rank S.
Most adventurers who reached Rank S were born with rare classes — exotic paths, bloodlines, or divine blessings that gave them an edge. But Ragner… had none of that. He had walked a brutal, silent path. No shortcuts. No rare advantages. Just honed skill, ruthless instincts, and the patience of a predator.
To reach Rank S as a Rouge, through pure efficiency and lethal precision, was something nearly unheard of. That alone made his name feared in certain corners of the world… whispered even in guilds that didn't know his face.
He didn't need to show off. He didn't speak unless necessary. And yet, standing beside the radiant, mocking Merry, he was like a blade drawn silently in the dark — always ready, always unseen.
The two of them — a master Blader hiding behind a flirtatious grin and a Rank S Rouge cloaked in indifference — had played their roles flawlessly. To the city, to the guild, to the boy bleeding at their feet.
And now, under the quiet moonlight, their masks were finally off.
Ragner wiped the blood off his blade, calm and clinical. His voice remained low.
"This boy was marked long ago," he said. "The moment he began hearing whispers... the Dark Remnants took notice."
Merry gave a small "Hmm?" as she twirled one of her braids, now leaning over a mossy rock.
Ragner continued, his words precise but not rushed. "Dark Remnants… whisper to the weak. They find cracks. Regrets. Insecurities. And once they take root… the victim begins to change. To rot from inside."
Merry's eyes flicked to him, amused but silent.
"It's slow at first," Ragner said. "But eventually, they lose control. That's when they turn. Into a Tainted One."
Merry was now kneeling lazily, tugging the sides of her top as she adjusted it, giving Ragner an accidental view of her cleavage from the side. He didn't react.
"Tainted Ones were the cause of the Great Blackfall ten years ago," he added. "An entire city destroyed. Hundreds died. Because no one saw it coming."
He sheathed his dagger. "We don't make that mistake anymore."
Merry plopped down onto the rock, swinging her legs playfully. "So we kill them before they change, huh? Even if they don't know it yet."
"That's the mission."
Eclipse Fang.
A secret guild that didn't exist in records or rumors. No one outside knew of it — not even whispers. Formed to deal with the worst kind of threat: the Tainted Ones. Those who've begun to crack… those whispering voices latch onto.
It operated in silence, fully backed by the Adventurer's Guild Administration—not just aware, but complicit. They provided the names. They issued the missions. Quietly. Efficiently. Before the corruption could spread.
Merry let out a long, exaggerated yawn as she stretched her arms overhead, the leather of her tight top pulling snug across her chest with a creak of strained seams. Her braid shifted over her shoulder as she arched her back slightly, hips tilted, posture lazy and feline. The moonlight glinted against the sheen of her bare thighs, barely covered by those scandalously tight shorts.
"Ughhh... so exhausting…" she whined, rotating her shoulders like she'd just finished a long shift at a tavern rather than participated in an execution. "All that smiling, pretending to be some cheerful little Rank C swordswoman… Do you know how hard it is to act like some innocent newbie every damn day? I swear, I deserve a reward for that performance."
Ragner didn't say a word.
She glanced over at him, pouting when he gave her nothing. "Tch. You're so cold, Ragner. Just once, can't you pat my head or something?"
Still no response. Just his usual unreadable expression.
Merry blew a puff of air through her lips and flicked her braid back with a huff. Then, her tone shifted—mischievous and slightly mocking. "Oh, right… we should thank Seira, don't you think?"
Merry leaned toward Ragner, lightly bumping his arm with her elbow. Her voice carried that familiar playful lilt, but there was something else beneath it—something just a bit more knowing.
"She really helped us out this time, didn't she?" she said, stretching her arms behind her head with a lazy smile. "Seira, I mean. She filed the papers, slipped the quest into the rotation like it was nothing, and even pointed the poor boy right to me without blinking. All because you were the one on the assignment."
Ragner didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on the forest edge, unbothered by her words.
"Heehee~ I'm just saying," Merry continued, watching him from the side. "That woman clearly has a soft spot for you. You should treat her to a date or something. You know... as a reward for helping us eliminate a potential Tainted One~"
Still, Ragner was silent.
Merry puffed her cheeks slightly, amused and a bit flustered by his lack of reaction. "Not that I blame her," she added with a teasing hum. "Seira's kind of a celebrity at the guild, isn't she? All the boys line up just to get their papers stamped by her. Tall, graceful, beautiful, confident… and let's not forget that body. I mean, she's Seira. Any guy would fall head over heels."
There was no change in Ragner's expression.
Merry glanced away, pretending to brush some invisible dust from her shoulder as her cheeks gained a hint of pink.
"But since it's you," she mumbled, eyes narrowing playfully. "There's no way you'd ask someone like her out, right? I mean, you're not even interested in—"
"I'll think about it."
The quiet, indifferent voice cut clean through her words.
"...Eh?" Merry blinked, head snapping toward him. "Wait, what was that?"
Ragner said nothing more. He was already crouching beside the boy's lifeless body, checking the ground, his cloak rustling in the wind like a shadow moving through stillness.
Merry stared at him for a moment, her lips slightly parted in surprise. "H-Hold on… are you actually considering it?"
Still no response.
She pouted, folding her arms. "Geez, you're impossible."
Ragner finally spoke again, voice flat and focused. "We should bury the body. Monsters are drawn to the scent of blood and corpses."
"…Changing the subject, huh," Merry muttered under her breath, kneeling down beside him as she adjusted her gloves. "Fine, fine. Let's get it over with before something creepy shows up."
Under the pale moonlight, the two dug quietly, burying the bloodied corpse before the scent drew monsters.
There they were—just as the morning sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting thin streaks of gold through the trees—Ragner and Merry pushed open the door to their secret home: Eclipse Fang's base.
No signs, no grandeur. Just quiet, old wood, sealed stone, and silence that felt more like purpose than emptiness. This wasn't a stronghold. It was a den. A place built for those who didn't exist on paper.
Waiting inside, in the center of the modest main hall, sat a girl in a wooden wheelchair.
Fienna.
She was a bit older than Merry, but still younger than Ragner—graceful, delicate, and wrapped in an air of calm. Her long, silver hair cascaded smoothly over her shoulders and down her back, framing a face so soft and serene it almost didn't look real. Covering her closed eyes was a thin veil of white lace, a gentle fabric tied like a ribbon—symbol of her blindness.
And yet she saw more than anyone.
Fienna was a prophet. One of the rare few in the continent. Though her eyes had never once glimpsed the waking world, she could see moments that hadn't even happened yet—seconds, minutes, or years into the future. No one truly understood how her gift worked. Some called it a curse. Others, a blessing. But within Eclipse Fang, her words had weight. Her visions had stopped missions before they failed. Saved lives. Chosen targets.
And now, as if she'd foreseen it to the exact breath, she tilted her head softly the moment the door creaked open.
"You're back," she said in her usual soft-spoken tone—barely above a whisper, yet unmistakably gentle.
Standing dutifully behind her was a girl with far less softness in her frame.
Hella.
She was younger than Ragner but older than Fienna—average height, but confident to the point of arrogance. Her short black hair was cut bluntly, with streaks of red glowing faintly on the inside whenever the light hit them. She stood like a bodyguard but dressed like a character from a perverse stage play.
Combat maid uniform.
It clung tightly to her chest and hips. The skirt barely reached mid-thigh, exposing the tops of her black stockings. Somehow, beneath that tiny skirt, she managed to hide a retractable steel pole—a weapon she could pull out faster than most could draw a blade. No one knew how. No one asked.
Rank A Warrior. Rude to everyone except Fienna. Her fangs showed slightly when she spoke, giving every word an edge. And judging by her arms crossed tightly beneath her chest, she wasn't exactly thrilled by their return.
Ragner stepped inside and gave Fienna a faint smile—the closest he got to warmth. "We're back."
Trailing behind him, Merry stretched both arms into the air with a groan, her braid swaying behind her, chest rising under the tension of her leather armor as she exaggerated the motion.
"Yaho~!" she beamed. "We're home!"
Fienna smiled gently. "Welcome back, both of you."
On a round wooden table in the corner of the dimly lit room, a man slouched with his feet up and a bottle dangling loosely from his hand. His appearance was as rugged as ever—mature but messy, with a rough stubble beard, sleepy eyes that looked like they'd seen too many fights in bars, and unkempt brown hair tied back into a tiny ponytail behind his head. His shirt was half-open, revealing a tanned chest, and his breath reeked faintly of cheap liquor and perfume.
Gwain.
"Yo," he said lazily, raising the bottle like a salute as Ragner and Merry stepped in. "You two sure took your sweet time."
Ragner merely gave him a brief nod as he passed by, heading toward the corner to remove his cloak and gear, his face unreadable as always.
Merry, on the other hand, immediately puffed out her cheeks. "Are you seriously drinking again?" she snapped, pointing accusingly. "It's not even noon!"
Gwain grinned slyly, swirling the liquor in his bottle. "It's just a little sip to warm the heart, sweetheart. You know how cold these halls get when you're not around."
Merry's eye twitched. "Don't call me sweetheart, you damn drunk!" she marched over, placing both hands on her hips. Her hips swayed in her usual tight shorts as she stood in front of the table, glaring down at him like an angry cat. "You're always drinking! Do you even do anything around here other than flirt and rot your liver?!"
"Aw, come on now." Gwain leaned back, resting his head lazily against the wall behind him. "You're starting to sound like my wife."
"I'M NOT YOUR WIFE!!" Merry barked, her cheeks flushing red. "Who the hell would want to be the wife of a washed-up old geezer with a drinking problem and a wandering crotch?!"
Gwain just laughed heartily, unfazed. "Now, now, don't be shy. That temper of yours… so tsundere. Just makes you cuter."
"You want cute?" Merry lifted a hand and looked ready to throw the empty mug off the table straight at his head. "I'll show you cute!"
Gwain winked at her. "Besides, with the way you're always nagging me and checking up on me, aren't you acting just like a wife? Admit it. You're falling for me."
Merry's entire face went red, and her fists clenched. "As if! In your dreams, old man! I'd rather date a goblin with no teeth than someone like you!"
"Oof." Gwain clutched his chest in mock pain. "Wounded. My heart..."
"Tch!" Merry turned around with a huff, stomping her boot on the floor like a pouty child. "Don't talk to me ever again while you're drunk!"
"Does that mean when I'm sober, I have a chance?" Gwain said with a cheeky grin, raising his half-empty mug toward Merry like a toast.
"GWAAAAIN!" Merry snapped, her cheeks flushing with frustration as she slammed a fist against the table.
While Merry continued her loud, animated scolding across the room—waving her arms and wagging her finger at the drunken Gwain like a stormy housewife—the rest of the room moved at a quieter pace.
Fienna, still seated in her wooden wheelchair near the center of the room, tilted her head toward the sounds of Merry's shouting. A gentle smile touched her lips as she folded her hands neatly on her lap, her lace-covered eyes calm beneath the soft glint of morning light filtering through the window.
"…You two always seem to get along so well," she whispered to herself with a warm tone, her lace-covered eyes facing nowhere in particular.
Turning her head slightly, she then asked, in her usual gentle voice, "Ragner… how was the mission?"
Ragner, already loosening the straps of his cloak and setting his weapon down in the corner of the room, replied in a flat, unreadable voice.
"…It's fine."
Behind them, Merry was still yelling.
"Don't give me that grin, you lecherous fossil! You said the same thing last week!"
Gwain laughed as he swirled the last drops of liquor in his mug. "What can I say? You nag like a wife, Merry."
"As if anyone would marry a drunk like you!"
Ragner said nothing further. He knelt by his gear, unbuckling the sheath on his boot without so much as blinking at the noise behind him.
Fienna, ever composed, quietly folded her hands. "I'll pray for the soul you sent off," she murmured.
The quiet between them lingered until another voice cut through gently but bluntly.
"Fienna," Hella said flatly from behind her, arms crossed beneath her chest, her crimson-highlighted bangs falling slightly over her brow, "we're not done brushing your hair yet."
Fienna blinked in innocent surprise. "Oh! I forgot. I just… knew they were home."
Hella didn't seem amused but leaned down behind the wheelchair regardless, gently taking the handles. "Of course you did."
As the two turned away and began heading toward the inner halls, the smooth hum of the wheelchair's wooden wheels rolled softly against the floor. Fienna waved delicately behind her with one hand. "Welcome home, both of you."
Merry waved back with a grin, still holding an empty bottle in one hand and glaring at Gwain with the other. "Thanks, Fienna!"
Ragner simply glanced back, his faint smile already fading, and returned to unstrapping the last of his arm guards.
In the background, Merry was still scolding Gwain—arms crossed under her chest, foot tapping, her voice sharp with mock outrage and real frustration, like a young wife lecturing her hopeless drunk of a husband before noon.
"You seriously call that your last bottle?" she snapped, snatching the half-empty flask from his hand. "You said that two bottles ago! Honestly, how are you still alive with a liver like that?"
Gwain chuckled lazily, scratching his stubbled chin. "Aw, come on, Merry. Let a man have his fun. Besides… when you nag like that, it kinda feels like we're married. Cute, right?"
"Wh—! W-Who the hell would marry a drunk old bastard like you?!" Merry turned red in the face, flustered and furious, waving the bottle like she was about to hit him with it.
At that moment, a light and cheerful voice chimed in from the hallway. "Ah, Father, drinking again? I thought you said that last bottle was the last one."
A petite girl entered the room, barefoot and holding a folded cloth in her arms. It was Eri—Gwain's daughter. She was small, cute, and looked far younger than Merry, her youthful face framed by her short chestnut hair. Dressed in a simple apron and skirt, she looked more like a helper than anything else—and that's exactly what she was. Eri served as one of the caretakers at the Eclipse Fang base, handling most of the chores and making sure the place didn't fall apart while the others went off on dangerous missions.
"Eri, my sweet girl," Gwain said with a sheepish grin. "You wound me. I was just—"
"You're drunk again, and you're being irresponsible," Eri interrupted, sighing as she scolded him with the exasperation of a daughter dealing with an unruly father. Then, with a shift in tone, she turned to Ragner and gave a polite, almost formal bow of her head. "Welcome back, Sir Ragner. And welcome home, Merry!
"Oi, why do you treat him so sweetly, huh? I'm your father, remember?"
"Because Ragner's reliable," Eri replied bluntly, brushing past him. "You're… not."
Gwain's face dropped. "Brutal…"
Merry couldn't help but snicker.
Eri suddenly hugged Merry from the side, her small arms wrapping around the older girl's waist with familiarity and affection.
"Thanks again, Merry," she said with a soft giggle. "You're always scolding Father for me. Honestly, he'd be even more hopeless if you weren't here."
Merry blinked, a little flustered by the sudden hug, but didn't pull away. "E-Eh? W-Well… it's not like I mind or anything…" she mumbled, cheeks puffing slightly. "Your father's just… ugh, so hopeless sometimes."
Eri tilted her head with a playful smile. "Hmm… maybe what he really needs is a wife. Someone to keep him in line, stop him from drinking so much."
Her eyes sparkled with harmless mischief as she looked up at Merry.
"You'd be perfect, you know? If you became my mother, I wouldn't mind one bit."
"Wha—?!" Merry's face turned bright red in an instant. "W-Who the hell would marry that geezer?! I'm way too young for that! Ugh, gross!"
She stuck out her tongue toward Gwain. "Bleeeh!"
Gwain scratched the back of his head and gave an awkward, sheepish laugh. "H-Hey now… I'm not that old..."
Then, quickly trying to change the subject, he turned to Eri. "So, uh, didn't you have some chores left, young lady?"
"Oh no—right!" Eri gasped, smacking her forehead lightly with both hands. "I still haven't finished sweeping the storeroom!"
With that, she dashed off toward the hallway, leaving Merry glaring at Gwain with her arms crossed, foot tapping, and her scolding voice echoing in the room.
In the far corner, Ragner sat quietly, removing his weapons and cloak one by one, completely indifferent to the commotion behind him.
A knock echoed through the hall.
The door creaked open, revealing a man with a polished face and a perfect smile that felt anything but sincere.
It was Fior.
One of the Adventurer Guild administrators.
Ever-smiling, always polite — but something about him was off. Too clean. Too unreadable. The type of man who looked like he never sweated even once in his life. Ragner already hated him.
"Good morning," Fior greeted cheerfully as he stepped inside. "Mission confirmed successful. The Adventurer Guild will handle all the paperwork, of course. No loose ends. No suspicions."
While Fior talked, Gwain was still getting pummeled by Merry in the background, who was scolding him like a young wife catching her husband drunk again.
"Hey, hey—ow! While you're at it, ask him this!" Gwain groaned through clenched teeth. "What's going to happen to that Talon Brigade? Do they get punished too?"
Ragner answered first, cold and flat. "Nothing at all. That's how life works."
Fior chuckled softly, flashing that too-perfect smile. "A bit cruel, don't you think?"
Ragner simply shrugged. No expression. No reaction.
With a light tap of his fingers against his coat, Fior continued, "Our Guild Leader sends his regards. He appreciates your efficiency."
Then, with a slight bow, he added, "I'll take my leave now. Until next time."
As he turned toward the exit, Ragner muttered without looking at him, "Better don't."
Fior paused for half a second, that same eerie smile lingering, then exited without another word.
Ragner turned toward Gwain and Merry, who were still going at it — Gwain trying to hold back Merry's fist while she continued her barrage of scolding.
"I'm going to my room," Ragner said simply.
"Sure, sure," Gwain grunted, dodging a slap. "Have fun while I die here."
Merry didn't even glance up. "Shut it. You deserve it."
And with that, Ragner walked off down the hall, his footsteps fading behind him — silent, distant, and detached as ever.
While Gwain was still holding her off, grinning like a rogue who'd just rolled a perfect hand, he leaned in with a sleazy glint in his eye.
"I may be older, but experience counts, y'know," he said with a wink, dodging another playful jab. "We could test that out tonight, what do you say? Might find out I'm better in bed than I look."
"Haah!? Gross!!" Merry's cheeks turned bright red, both from flustered shock and building rage.
But Gwain wasn't finished. He chuckled, eyes trailing along her figure — the way her tight leather clung to her curves, the way her hips flared just enough to make any man imagine dangerous thoughts.
"Besides," he added, voice low and teasing, "Little Eri's been a little lonely these days. Maybe it's time she had a little sibling or two. A low chuckle escaped his throat. "Bet you'd look stupid cute. Walking around with that sexy, pregnant body, breasts all heavy and sensitive, skin glowing… ngh, damn—I'd never let you out of the house."
Merry's eyes widened. "Y-You pervy old man!" she shouted, arms flying to cover her chest as she blushed furiously. "Stop looking at me like that!"
She pelted him with soft punches — more embarrassed than angry, her strikes lacking real strength but full of frustration. Gwain only laughed harder, raising his hands in surrender, thoroughly enjoying the reaction.
"Okay, okay, I'm joking, I'm joking!" he said, though his grin said otherwise.
"Shut up!" Merry shouted, her voice rising, still red as she tried to regain composure. "No way I'd ever have a drunk pervert like you!"
Now left alone in the hall, Gwain was still receiving Merry's flurry of half-hearted punches, her cheeks red as she barked at him like an angry girlfriend catching her man flirting at a bar. Gwain, grinning despite the light blows, reached out and caught her wrists, pulling her closer.
"Y'know…" he murmured with a sly smirk, his face just inches from hers. "You look even cuter when you're mad. Makes me wanna kiss you."
"Wha—!?" Merry's whole body stiffened.
That hesitation was all the opening he needed — his hands slipped down and lightly grabbed both of her boobs, somehow ending up squeezing over her leather chest armor.
His smirk widened. "Damn, this leather chest guard is such a tease. Feels like it's hiding something I should be appreciating a little more closely…"
"Y-You pervert!" Merry stammered, face blazing as she quickly jerked backward. She reached for the sword slung across her back, unsheathing it in a flash.
Gwain raised both hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Whoa whoa! Don't go full-blown lover's quarrel on me!"
"L-Lover!?" Merry exploded. "In your dreams, old man!"
She swung her sword. Gwain ducked, his reflexes sharp — but at the same time, his quick hands moved with practiced ease, slipping behind her back. In one swift motion, the buckle of her leather chest armor came undone with a faint click. The snug piece slipped loose… and her bra followed, falling softly to the ground. It left her breasts fully exposed.
Her eyes widened. "W-WHAT!?"
In pure panic, she crossed her arms over her now-exposed chest, backing away while glaring daggers at Gwain. "D-Don't look!!"
But the damage was done. Gwain had already caught a glimpse and whistled, eyes gleaming. "What a nice pink nipples… pretty soft boobs you've got there."
"You're dead meat!" Merry shouted, rushing at him.
Gwain dodged again, laughing like a madman as Merry swung wildly with her sword, her exposed breast bouncing with every angry motion — only making him more shameless with his commentary.
"Nice form! And great physics, too!" he said, practically dodging with his eyes.
"SHUT UP!"
The two went back and forth in a chaotic chase, until both were panting, catching their breath from the clash of teasing and rage.
Then, in his usual teasing tone, Gwain flashed a grin and said, "Alright, alright. How 'bout we call it even? Make up for it tonight, just you and me — a little peace treaty in my bed?"
Still covering her chest with one arm, Merry glared at him, fuming. "Hah!? Who the hell would sleep with a drunk old creep like you!?"
But she didn't swing again.
Just a blushing pout and a flustered stomp of her foot.
Gwain's eyes swept over her — from the fiery flush on her cheeks, to her flustered glare, down to where she clumsily tried to cover her exposed chest with one arm, and finally to the indignant stomp of her foot. A lazy grin curved on his lips.
"You're way too cute when you're mad. Honestly, it's kind of hot."
Gwain backed off with both hands raised in mock surrender. "Alright, alright — just a joke… maybe." He flashed a crooked grin. "But hey, I am serious about Eri needing a new sibling. If you were the one carrying it, I bet the baby'd turn out damn cute." With a wink and a peace sign, he turned on his heel and slipped out the door, vanishing down the hall before she could throw something at him.
A small head peeked back into the gathering hall — it was Eri, returning with a curious blink as she glanced around. "Huh? Where's Father?"
Merry, still visibly flustered and fuming, was struggling to fix her bra and tighten the straps of her leather chest armor. Her cheeks were red, her hair slightly messy, and her tone sharp as ever.
"Hah!? How should I know where that idiot went!?" she huffed, tugging at the last buckle. "Ugh… Just remembering him makes my blood boil again!"
Without even looking back, she stomped off toward her room, muttering curses under her breath.
Eri blinked, left standing alone, a little confused. "…Hehe?"
She let out a soft, awkward laugh and scratched her cheek, watching Merry's retreating figure.
"Father… if you're really serious about making her your wife, maybe stop pissing her off first."
Her gaze softened, lips curling in a faint smile.
"Still… Merry's pretty young. She feels more like a big sister than a stepmom. Then again…"
She clasped her hands behind her back and turned away.
"You better be nice to her, Dad."
Then, with a sudden jolt of realization, she gasped. "Oh no—the laundry!"
And just like that, Eri darted off again, disappearing down the hall.
Ragner sat alone in his room, quietly cleaning his dagger under the pale morning light that slipped through the window. The knock at his door was soft, but unmistakable.
He didn't even glance up. "I'm still cleaning my weapons."
The door creaked open. Merry stepped inside, still visibly flustered and irritated, her cheeks slightly red.
"Have you reconciled with Gwain?" Ragner asked flatly, eyes still on his blade.
"Who'd want to make peace with that drunk old man?" she huffed, folding her arms and glancing around his room.
She looked at him — how calmly focused he was, like nothing else existed beyond the metal in his hands.
"You know," she muttered, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward him, "you should try being aware of your surroundings for once."
Ragner didn't even glance her way as he calmly replied, "I'm always aware. It's necessary if you want to stay alive out there."
"That's not what I meant…" Merry murmured, her shoulders slumping slightly. She let out a soft sigh, her cheeks puffed in a pout as she looked away.
With a soft sigh, she walked over to his bed and sat down, then suddenly laid back onto it with a loud thump, watching him from across the room.
Ragner didn't turn. "If you're not here for something important, leave. I'm not done."
"Serious to the very end," Merry muttered, puffing her cheeks. "You're impossible."
Still, she got up — slowly. And just before she stepped out, she turned to glance at him one more time. Her eyes lingered.
Then the door shut.
Ragner didn't look up.
He just stared blankly at the half-cleaned dagger on his desk, the steel reflecting the pale light of the room.
Silent.
Unmoving.
Then—briefly—images flickered behind his eyes.
A face twisted in agony.
A scream, cut short.
Blood splashing across stone.
Eyes wide in betrayal.
Another flash—steel plunging into flesh, the darkness that followed, the voice that begged for mercy, the silence that answered.
He didn't flinch.
His hand moved again, methodically wiping the blade clean. His face remained unreadable, expressionless... as if those memories were nothing more than dust he was brushing off.
Just another mission.
Just another 'Tainted One'.
And so, the quiet returned—sharp, cold, and absolute.