The day passed in a blink as darkness eagerly roamed the land, carrying its deadly whispers along the wind. Consumed by shadows, Jade stood in the corner of the chambers, blending in with its essence as if he was but a piece of furniture, lifelessly asserting its dominance. From outside, a strong breeze blew, causing the rattling of the leaves to echo into our senses - a storm was brewing.


    Gilbert... I wonder what face you will show me... Anxiety grew within the girl’s body, already anticipating how the assassin would shred himself, begging for mercy as his soul succumbed to the demons of despair.


    As time ticked by, the moon hid its beauty behind the clouds, fearful of the events to come. Even the God knew atrocities were bound to be committed, lines who were about to be crossed, stealing yet one of the last pieces of humanity lingering in Ophelia’s soul. But was such actually her fault? In the wild only the smartest survive; in the war only the most cunning thrive; in a fight only the strongest win.


    It’s a sickening world of kill or be killed... She thought, pulling the bedsheets closer to her head. The warmth from within alongside the excitement pumping through her veins made her muscles tense up, her pores gradually becoming humid. He would come today; she was certain of it.


    The doorknob turned, causing a faint clack to pass through the room. Both Ophelia and Jade’s bodies froze, lungs storing all oxygen within, as if the assassin held the power to listen to the faintest of sounds. As adrenaline pumped in their veins, a creaking sound pass through as the man stepped on a piece of loose wooden flooring. Fearful his victim had awakened, he stopped. Everything turned silent.


    But the maiden didn’t move, mimicking as if she was in a slumber so deep not even the harshest tides could wake her.


    “Found you... whore.” Gilbert’s voice whispered into the girl’s ear, his coffee breath entering her senses - he stood right by her side, slowly making his way onto the bed.


    In his mind, he thought of the many ways she could be killed, from the most amusing to the ones who provided the most suffering. He needed to have his sweet revenge from all the embarrassment she had put him through, for the pain he had experienced at the hands of another man.


    His calloused hand grabbed the cover of the sheets, his knees sinking into the bed moments before uncovering Ophelia’s sleeping face. The girl attempted to ease her beating heart, to hide the thrill in her face with the most peaceful expression possible.


    What a waste of a pretty face... The assassin thought, seeing her sleeping so soundly, so purely. Her face was rather innocent looking, making one able to mistake her for a living doll, bewitched by her good looks - even enjoying more mature women - he couldn’t deny the soft thumps in his heart.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Suddenly, her crystal eyes darted open, reflecting the moonlight who had managed to escape the grasp of the clouds.


    “What...!?” Gilbert said, startled, moments before feeling an intense presence behind him.


    “I was waiting for you...” No one would mistake this girl for pure as her grin spread across her cheeks with a wickedness he’d never seen. A shiver ran down his spine, knowing he had been set up. However, when he attempted to leave, turning his body around, the slave’s hand struck the back of the man’s neck resiliently and he fell, completely knocked out.


    Ophelia rose from the bed, giggling like a small child, completely consumed by the euphoria of what was bound to come. As she grabbed a small knife, Jade observed her from afar, his right hand holding the assassin by his collar. His lacen wasn’t the best, but he was able to read quite a few parts of the texts written in Ophelia’s memoirs. She’d gone through so much, but how could someone end up like this - so wicked, so cruel?


    During the tea party, everyone was taken aback by her actions. Comments from the nobles flew through, congratulating her for such brave act but he knew better - those lifeless eyes only sparkled when inflicting pain on another or when their own death was imminent. When his hands surrounded her frail neck back then, he knew he hadn’t snapped her bones because of her otherworldly beauty; in fact, the sole reason she’d survived was due to the grand dying wish lingering within her core. Why would someone wish to rush their death without wanting to fight back in the slightest?


    Ophelia wasn’t aware of such estranged feelings, as she didn’t consider them problems, but Jade knew how she was, he’d seen it with his own two eyes. His master was a monstrosity who was unable to be contained if let loose, whose morality could plummet further if not prevented. That day, after hearing the girl’s story, he wished to help her, to be the one dirtying his hands, hoping to protect and nourish any kindness left within her - hoping to make her good, once again.


    “Shall we?” The girl asked, eyes glimmering with expectation.


    Gilbert’s unconscious body was then placed inside a large cloth bag and his mouth gagged with a thick piece of white fabric. No one knew when he was bound to wake up and attempt to alarm the residents with loud yells, groveling at the base of his throat.


    Sneaking out of the Wharton’s mansion was far harder than expected as the patrolling guards stuck to their positions through thick and thin. It was only when Ophelia got a hold of a small rock and threw it as far as she could that they left the side door, hoping to check the source of such sound. At that point, they had become one with the dark, merging into the woods surrounding the back of the estate, until their presences were out of sight, far into nature’s realm.


    “We should be far enough.” The girl said, causing the slave to ruthlessly drop the man onto the floor and remove the bag surrounding his body. He groaned, awakening himself up with the painful impact before realizing his wrists and ankles had been tied up with rope, slithering away pieces of his skin with every movement.


    Gilbert’s eyes widened once he caught glimpse of Ophelia, her slender shape sitting on the trunk of a cut down tree, glaring down at him as if he were nothing more than a bug, easy and quick to be disposed of. Tight trousers glued themselves onto her body as a loose white shirt glimmered against the moonlight, contrasting against the dark blue hood, shadowing most of her face.


    “Take it off.”