Chapter 8

  The screams subsided, and there was an absolute heaviness of silence that filled the whole manor. Sarah stood by the main door, leaning on the wall with her arms across. She was calm, yet in her mind, she was at war. What had happened earlier confronted her like a storm while on the surface, she was unfazed.

  The sound of footsteps was heard down the hallway. Nami emerged, her grey eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Her hands were stained with blood, though her expression remained as playful as ever.

  "It's over," Nami announced, her tone light, as though she had merely finished a mundane chore.

  Sarah pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them. "Good," she replied, her voice steady but her eyes sharp.

  Suddenly, Nami stopped mid-step, her body stiffening. A faint cough escaped her lips, then another, harsher this time, accompanied by a dark, wet sound. Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth, splattering onto the polished floor. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked down to see a dagger piercing her lower belly.

  Sarah stood before her, a small, almost serene smile gracing her lips. "Next time you defy me like that," she said softly, her voice as cold as ice, "I’ll kill you."

  For a moment, there was silence. Then, Nami chuckled, a low, almost sultry sound, even as blood continued to seep from her wound. "So... that’s what this is about," she murmured, her voice filled with amusement.

  She leaned forward, her body pressing lightly against Sarah’s, their faces so close that their breaths mingled. Nami’s head tilted until her lips brushed Sarah’s ear, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I’d love to see you try," she said, her tone teasing. "Going against you again would be... fun."

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. "I’m serious, Nami."

  "Of course you are," Nami replied, her voice still low and intimate. "I never thought you weren’t." Her head rested against Sarah’s, and she smirked. "But you know as well as I do... it’s not easy to kill us. You can stab me all you want; the wounds will just close."

  Sarah’s grip on the dagger tightened. "If you push me far enough, I’ll make a wound that won’t heal," she warned.

  Nami chuckled again, the sound vibrating against Sarah’s skin. "One day," she said softly, "I’ll want to see that."

  Her head shifted, rolling from the side of Sarah’s to the front, her skin brushing against Sarah’s the entire time. Their eyes met, and Nami’s smile widened. "This is how you should be," she said, her voice almost reverent. "Merciless. Cold. Don’t tolerate me talking back to you again."

  Before Sarah could respond, Nami leaned forward, her lips capturing Sarah’s in a sudden kiss. The metallic taste of blood mixed with the warmth of the contact, staining the moment with both violence and intimacy.

  Sarah froze, not immediately pulling back. Her body didn’t react much—at least not right away. When Nami finally broke the kiss, Sarah grabbed her by the neck, her fingers digging into Nami’s skin.

  "What are you trying to do?" Sarah asked, her voice low and edged with warning. "Get into my head?"

  Nami laughed softly, unfazed by Sarah’s grip. "I’m just helping you, my ‘Lady’," she replied, her tone as light as ever. "Teaching you how to control your subordinates."

  Sarah’s eyes searched Nami’s for a moment before she released her grip, shoving Nami back a step. Nami, unfazed, reached down and pulled the dagger from her belly, handing it back to Sarah after cleaning the blade with a casual flick of her wrist. The wound in her abdomen closed almost instantly, leaving no trace of the injury.

  As Sarah turned to walk toward the door, Nami’s voice called after her. "You know," she said, her tone still playful, "I said you shouldn’t tolerate me standing up to you, but you can still allow me a few minor stunts now and then. I need to have some fun sometimes."

  Sarah paused, glancing over her shoulder. A faint chuckle escaped her lips. "Fine," she said. "Just don’t push your luck."

  Nami smiled, watching Sarah’s retreating form. Then, as if an afterthought, she added, "Oh, and if possible, please refrain from telling Arya about what happened here."

  Sarah stopped in her tracks, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. She turned her head slightly, her voice unusually flustered. "Of course, I won’t tell her... I won’t tell anyone."

  Nami laughed, the sound echoing through the empty hall as Sarah went towards the door.

  As Sarah reached it, ready to step outside, a sharp tug on her hair stopped her in her tracks. She turned abruptly, her blueish eyes glowing red and narrowing. "Hey!" she protested, her voice with a tone of irritation.

  Nami stood behind her. "You’re not seriously planning to walk outside like that, are you?" she asked, gesturing at Sarah’s bloodied and disheveled clothing.

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  Sarah glanced down at herself, realizing how much of a mess they both were. Their outfits were stained with blood, their appearance completely ruined. She sighed, conceding the point. "You’re right. I forgot."

  Nami’s smirk widened. "Is your mind a little... elsewhere, Sarah?" she teased, her tone dripping with mock concern.

  "Shut up," Sarah snapped, rolling her eyes. She straightened her posture and added, "Now that our little act as nobles is over, we should switch to something more practical."

  With a flick of her wrist, Sarah activated her [Creation] spell. A shimmer of energy enveloped her, and in an instant, her bloodied vests were replaced with a fine new outfit. She now wore dark pants and a fitted dark shirt adorned with red details running along the sides. The shirt opened slightly at the cleavage but reconnected at the neck with a high collar, giving her a striking look. She also had red earrings and a necklace featuring a red stone.

  Beside her, Nami followed suit, using [Creation] to clean herself and change her attire. Her new look consisted of full black vestments with an elegant design. Like Sarah, she wore a red earring that caught the light as she tilted her head.

  While fine clothes, they weren’t dressed exactly like nobles. Their vestments would look more like one an adventurer would dress himself with than one a noble would.

  Nami looked Sarah up and down. "Looking good," she remarked, her tone flirtatious.

  Sarah crossed her arms. "I do tend to look good," she replied confidently.

  Nami chuckled. "Don’t be so mean to me. Maybe you’re still mad about that kiss earlier?"

  Sarah’s smirk faltered slightly, and she sighed. "It’s not that. I’m mad, with good reason, about all the mess you caused."

  "Oh, so it’s not about the kiss?" Nami said, leaning in slightly with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "That’s a relief."

  ‘Gosh, a second Arya… no, Arya is probably worse in this sense.’ Sarah thought while giving Nami an exasperated look. "I’m not falling for your word games, Nami."

  Nami laughed softly, clearly enjoying herself.

  Sarah turned back to the door, her demeanor shifting to a more serious tone. "Let’s go. By now, Selene and Kallen must have already made their move, just as expected."

  "Of course," Nami said with a smile, following Sarah as she pushed the door open. "Let’s see how this plays out. Perhaps I will have even more fun than I had here."

  "You won't do anything crazy this time, understood?" Sarah said with a tone of mild irritation while turning to Nami.

  "Alright... I promise not to." She replied with a smirk.

  ***

  In one of the meeting rooms of Lord Renard’s manor, a middle-aged man knelt beside the lifeless body of the once noble. His broad shoulders slumped slightly, and his weathered face bore a heavy frown. This was Baron Alaric Thorne, a man known for his pragmatism and keen political instincts. Beside him stood a younger woman, her sharp eyes scanning the room with a mix of dismay and disgust. She was Captain Elira Lorne of the city guard, known for her diligence and an unyielding sense of justice.

  Baron Alaric let out a weary sigh as he studied the slain noble’s face. "Elira," he began, his voice low and gravelly, "noble killings like this aren’t common... even in times as troubled as these."

  Elira nodded, though her attention was drawn elsewhere. Her gaze landed on another body sprawled nearby, the once butler of the household. She approached, her boots echoing softly against the bloodstained floor. "The butler’s end was far worse," she said grimly. "It’s clear he endured significant torture. His death wasn’t swift—it was slow, deliberate. His body also seems to have been moved to this room... he was likely somewhere else in the manor." She gestured around the room. "The entire house carries the mark of a massacre."

  Baron Alaric rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his knees. "What about witnesses? Did anyone see anything?"

  Elira folded her arms, her expression thoughtful. "A few people claim to have seen two women leaving the manor," she replied. "But their faces weren’t visible—they only saw them from afar. The only distinguishing feature anyone mentioned was that both had white hair. That’s rare enough that it might help narrow down the search."

  Alaric’s lips pressed into a thin line as he processed the information. He turned and surveyed the carnage once more, a shadow of unease crossing his face. "Perhaps this isn’t worth investigating too deeply," he said, his tone cautious. "Such brutality... it reminds me of them… that organization. If it’s their doing, we’d be better off not stirring the hornet’s nest."

  Elira shot him a sharp look, a flicker of frustration in her amber eyes. "When did the city fall so low, Alaric? When did we start allowing even noble murder to go unpunished?"

  The baron met her gaze, his own lined with the burden of years and compromises. "What choice do we have?" he countered. "If we put the city guard against them, it’ll be a slaughter. Maybe if we call for reinforcements from the capital, along with aid from the Adventurer’s Guild, it might be enough to at least disrupt some of their operations. But their reach extends far beyond this city, Elira. At best, we’d take out a fraction of their operations. At worst, we’d provoke retaliation that could cripple us."

  Elira sighed deeply, her frustration evident. "The capital’s nobles don’t care about anything beyond their own wealth and comfort," she muttered.

  Baron Alaric nodded grimly. "Exactly. So, we do what we can to keep the peace. If that means tolerating their presence and minimizing the damage they cause, then so be it."

  Elira didn’t respond immediately, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. Finally, she turned to one of the guards standing nearby. "Clean up this mess," she ordered. "And interdict the manor. No one should enter until further notice."

  The guard saluted and began organizing the others to carry out her orders.

  Baron Alaric watched silently, his expression tinged with regret. After a moment, Elira turned back to him. "But what if it wasn’t them, Alaric?" she asked. "What if we’re letting the real criminals escape because we’re too afraid to act?"

  The baron hesitated, his frown deepening. "It’s a risk we have to take," he said finally. "If we openly investigate and it turns out to be them, we’ll be painting targets on our backs. But..." He paused, glancing at Elira with a calculating look. "Perhaps you could investigate discreetly. No formal reports, no official channels. Just you, looking into these two white-haired women. If it’s unrelated to them, we’ll have our answer without raising alarm."

  Elira nodded slowly, her expression resolute. "I’ll take a look. But if I find any solid leads, you’ll have to decide whether to act on them."

  "Agreed," Alaric said. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but not heavy. "Be careful, Elira. You will be walking on dangerous ground."

  "I always am," she replied, stepping away to begin her investigation.

  As she left, Baron Alaric remained in the bloodstained hall, the weight of his decision pressing heavily upon him. He knew the tightrope he walked was thin, but in a city where survival often meant compromise, he had little choice but to hope the balance would be held.