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    As if they were in a sickening theatrical tragedy, the assassin struggled to breathe as a river of blood covered his face, filling his mouth, escaping into his lungs. And yet, in the middle of such chaos, the sole sounds echoing through the woods were his screams, as even wildlife had grown fearful of the monster lurking among the trees, hiding in the shadows of the moonlight.


    “You are misunderstanding something of great importance, Gilbert...” She removed her footing on his head, causing his body to roll to the side, the dagger on his leg sinking further into the muscles. “Your life always belonged to me. I was only gracefully letting you live until your soul was ready for harvest.”


    The rattling of the leaves passed through the woods as a sickening chilly breeze flew through, causing nature’s creatures to crawl away to their domains. Drop by drop, the cloudy skies poured their sadness from above, attempting to shower away the sins of the land, attempting to erase the past of Men. Eventually, Gilbert’s screams became baffled by the piercing sound of the heavy rain, turning the dirt into mud, the seeds into flowers.


    Soaked to the bones, Jade arrived and so did the most precious guest of all, with her horrified eyes, hands sheltering her mouth in a pitiful attempt to remain composed.


    “John!? Milady... what’s going on...?” Ivy was obviously confused and frightened as her gaze wandered through Ophelia and the butler whose figures had been tainted in crimson red.


    “Ivy! Help me... she’s insane!” The moment Gilbert’s senses saw the maid, a plan ensued in his mind. She would be his guardian angel, the sole person who could save him from his demise.


    He foolishly thought that Ivy was the perfect tool to threaten Ophelia with, to make her regain her lost senses yet, his despair was so grand that his gaze didn’t capture the wide grin on his captor’s lips, knowing exactly what devilish thoughts roamed through his mind.


    “We must get you treated immediately! You’re so badly wounded, what do I do...!?” Ivy attempted to rush to the man’s side, but Jade’s arm prevented her from moving forward. “What are you doing!? We have to help him, otherwise he will...!”


    At that moment, reality sunk in. She didn’t call for me to help, did she...


    This hadn’t been a mere accident, nor a wild bear attack, as she’d been told. John had been purposely wounded, turning into a weakened prey. His leg held a sharp small dagger within, blood slowly dripping out of it as its sharpness had most likely struck a vein; one of his ears had gone missing, probably having disappeared onto the land or washed away with the rain; his arms held a row of deep cuts, exposing part of his flesh to the drops falling from the sorrowful skies, who rapidly turned into a light red; and his middle-aged face, was now almost unrecognizable, possessing a swollen cheek, a cut lip and two missing teeth from his upper jaw.


    Ivy glanced at Ophelia, who smiled joyfully, around her neck a hint of a bruise, probably from an earlier fight. How could her master have grown up to become like this? She knew her personality, how ruthless she was, but it never crossed her mind that her lady’s soul would be able to murder a man in cold blood.


    She’s nowhere near normal... is she? The maid knew working under her was a colossal risk as everyone her master got involved with ended up suffering an ill fate, however, one single thought kept her at ease. Never once did Ophelia deliver a punishment to those who were undeserving or void of guilt - all them deserved what they got, including her own action of following another master’s orders.


    “Did I order you to save him?” Ophelia’s cold voice sent a shiver down the girl’s spine, causing Gilbert’s screams and pitiful attempts to beg for help become nothing more than pure, devastating silence.


    “No, milady. I beg your forgiveness.” Almost reactively, Ivy kneeled on the ground, staining her nightgown with chunks of mud.


    “Approach.” The maid obeyed and once her figure was close enough, her cheek turned, allowing a large red spot to appear on her pale skin. “Don’t you dare disrespect me again.”The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    “Yes, milady.”


    “Do you know why you are here?” At her question, the maid’s head shook. Surely the response was easy, but she couldn’t understand why she’d been called to see the execution of a man. “Your loyalty will be tested today. Kill him.”


    “What? Milady, I can’t...” The slave threw a knife to the girl’s feet, causing her to grow silent.


    “I would advise you to carefully make your decision. You know how I hate empty-hearted promises...”


    So, it’s either him or me...? Everything became clear.


    This was never a warning nor a test, this was a ploy to bind Ivy to Ophelia. And she had to choose a side - die a good, kind woman or taint her hands with the blood of another, becoming one and the same with her master.


    As Jade grabbed the man by the back of his collar, forcing his weak body to kneel on the floor, the assassin yelled. “You said you would let me go! You lying whore!”


    “But isn’t that what I am doing? I am letting you go to meet all those you’ve killed.” Ophelia’s head fell on her crossed fingers, a psychotic smile slashing her cheeks, a hidden blush peaking beneath the rain. “Can you hear their screams, John? Because I can... and they are begging for your attendance.”


    “No... no...! You can’t! No...!”


    During the night, Gilbert would have nightmares with the voices of the one’s he’d killed, of the pile of corpses he hid in his closet, of the young little girl he’d once murdered for the sake of his revenge. How they eagerly called for him, how Esther stood down there, anxiously waiting for his presence at the lower levels of Blasphemy, the true realm of the sinful. He knew he would be reunited with those rotting souls eventually, but he never thought it would be so soon.


    “Ivy, please... don’t do this. We can sort things out, please...!”


    The maid’s hands shook as she struggled to grab the dagger, mind rampaging between angels and devils, between purity and destruction. Could she truly take a life and continue to live? Wouldn’t guilt consume her being? Or could she accept dying here and now, at such an early age? She still had many years in front of her, but wouldn’t those be the ones that never belonged to her in the first place, stolen mercilessly from the life of another?


    Ivy’s resolve, however, settled the moment her gaze fell on the scar left in her index finger. Ophelia’s words, punishments and rules were the law, and she never decided on such dreadful actions without a reasoning behind it. Certainly, John had done something truly terrible, something truly evil to suffer such fate.


    “Ivy, please...” Gilbert begged, seeing the woman walk towards him in small steps, slowly as a snail in the middle of a storm.


    “I’m sorry John, I truly am.” Was all she was able to say before darting towards him, her eyes shut tight as if such would prevent any guilt from clouding her heart later on.


    Not like this...! Gilbert knew there was no way out and he was the sole person to blame, even then, his body moved around, struggling to escape. Jade’s grip only grew stronger. Life passed in a flash before his eyes, as he was able to count his mistakes, to munch on his regrets, to cry away his future dreams.


    “John... I’m...” The knife penetrated something.


    The assassin looked down, seeing how the blade had pierced his lungs, causing his mouth to cough up blood. His heart rate increased, and his body became colder than the northern plains; for a moment, he wondered if Esther had felt like this when she passed away, in the peak of innocence, as she was the sole life he actually regretted taking. As his figure fell on the ground, a large blood pool formed and the voices screaming from Blasphemy became louder, echoing through him like the pounding of a hammer, celebrating the arrival of their mortal reaper.


    As his consciousness slipped away, Ophelia shot him a wide grin. At that moment, he understood - Gilbert never possessed the upper hand in this story and this was always going to be the final outcome. Since the beginning, he thought the girl wouldn’t know the rules of the game, being an innocent sheep, yet as her figure blurred, he realized she wasn’t even a player. Ophelia was the game maker itself, creating the rules, influencing the players, deciding the settings; she was the only one with a guaranteed win, no matter what.


    Feeling sick to her stomach, Ivy turned her body and leaned on a tree, throwing up all that her frail body possessed. Her pale expression portrayed pure horror, complete disdain, and regret for her own actions. How could she have done this? John’s blood would always be on her, stuck to the back of her mind like glue, like a sickening melody kids can’t seem to forget.


    “You did well.” Without realizing, Ophelia had gotten up and her hand lingered on the maid’s back, patting it slightly. “You may go rest.”


    Without even bowing down, the girl rapidly grabbed the hem of her nightgown and trudged away, figure leaning on close by trees for support. No one could know about this, or her head would be the one rolling in public square because, at the end of the day, who would believe a mere maid?


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