The night was deep and cold as water, and in his sleep, Bramwell sensed a presence around him.
He woke up without any outward reaction, planning to wait for the right moment to act.
"Relax, it's me," a cheerful and easygoing female voice whispered near his ear.
Arabella!
Bramwell's eyes flickered slightly. He opened them, feigning surprise as he asked, "Master Unknown? You're here... so late... in my room?"
He stumbled over his words, clearly caught off guard by Arabella's sudden visit.
Arabella gave Bramwell's head a light pat and smiled, "Get dressed, we're leaving."
"Where to?" Bramwell asked instinctively.
Arabella turned around, her gaze glimmering in the darkness, bright yet chilling.
Bramwell's heart skipped a beat; he quickly lowered his head and got dressed without another word.
In the dead of night, silence reigned, and ghostly shadows flickered. The three of them moved quietly, reaching the ferry dock.
Only then did Bramwell realize they were about to illegally cross the ocean to enter another country.
The smuggling ship was pitch dark, with no lights. People and cargo were crammed together, hidden in the lower hold, sneaking aboard undetected.
To make their identities plausible, Arabella and Bramwell pretended to be a couple, while Raven took on the role of Arabella's older brother, making it easier for them to act independently.
In the darkness, the faint glow of the ferry lights seeped through the cracks in the deck. Arabella leaned lazily against Bramwell, her eyes half-closed, as if dozing off. When the ship rocked violently, she would softly murmur, "Honey, I'm scared."
Bramwell held her halfway in his arms, his whole body rigid.
Ever since racing Arabella, he had developed a certain fear of this woman.
She was smiling now, but to him, it seemed eerily sinister. In the shadows, the color of her eyes appeared unnervingly dark.
Meanwhile, Raven, who had been silently lurking in the shadows all along, who now let his gaze linger on Arabella. His desire ran deep, and in his mind, he could almost picture dragging her up and taking her right then and there.
After the vivid fantasy played out in his mind, he couldn't help but lick his lips in restless anticipation.
Someday—when the chance came—he would definitely have Arabella beneath him, by force if necessary.
After drifting at sea for several days and nights, the ship finally docked at the Port in the early hours of the fifth day.
Kewa was a small federated republic, surrounded by the sea on three sides, with only one inland border adjoining three other countries.
Kewa was naturally rich in seafood, with a year-round spring climate. As soon as they got off the ship, the three of them followed the line of rocks along the port, avoiding the crowd and quietly concealing their whereabouts.
Raven had already prepared fake IDs for the three of them in Kewa. To avoid exposure, they stayed away from high-end places, opting for rundown inns with loose management.
Luckily, with Kewa being coastal and frequented by traders and tourists alike, their presence wouldn't easily stand out.
After they checked in, Arabella went to freshen up while Bramwell paced uneasily outside.
The room in the small inn was cramped, with a so-called double bed that looked far from spacious. There was no sofa, just a single simple chair.
Bramwell looked around, concluding that he'd have to sleep on the cold floor.
But when he finished changing and came out, Arabella patted the mattress and said, "Rest well. We have work tonight."
Bramwell froze for a moment, then awkwardly crawled onto the bed, settling at the very edge, lying perfectly still, not a muscle moving.
Arabella glanced at him, teasingly asking, "What are you afraid of? Think I'll eat you?"
Of course, Bramwell wasn't afraid she'd actually eat him on the bed.
Since the awkward incident last time, Bramwell had observed Arabella closely and was certain—she wasn't interested in his type.
"No, Master Unknown—I'm just worried my sleeping posture might disturb you."
"Come closer. Don't strain yourself."
Reluctantly, Bramwell scooted a bit closer. Under her watchful gaze, he moved in a bit more, until they were practically touching.
Arabella was only wearing a shirt, buttoned halfway up, with the lower part left undone, exposing her waist and abdomen.
So close to her, Bramwell finally noticed that Arabella had not an ounce of excess flesh. Her body was perfectly toned, her skin as white as snow, smooth and taut, clinging to muscle and bone, as if it contained an endless reservoir of strength.
"Sleep." Arabella's voice was soft. She turned off the light right after, and though it was bright outside, the thick black curtains shut it out, leaving the small room dim and overly silent.
Bramwell unexpectedly felt a strange sense of security.
He had lost his parents at a young age and was raised in an orphanage, drifting from place to place. The word "security" was foreign to him, something he had never known.
But now, lying on this bed, the person beside him breathed shallowly, calmly, steadily. He listened in silence, gradually letting go of the vigilance that had once gripped his heart.
He actually fell asleep.
Bramwell suddenly awoke, having slept deeply, completely unaware of everything that had happened before.
If someone had tried to assassinate him just then...
A shiver ran through Bramwell as his heart jumped, then fell back down heavily.
With Arabella here, no assassin would stand a chance.
But Arabella had to restrain it.
Bramwell felt the space next to him; it was cold, the bedding undisturbed, as if no one had slept there.
He quietly got out of bed, drew a gun from under his pillow, and noted the room's absolute stillness, an unnatural silence all around.
He tiptoed to the bathroom door, which was half open, with not a trace of light inside—an unsettling darkness.
Before he could take another step, the bathroom light turned on. Arabella peered out, smiling, "Awake?"
Bramwell sighed in relief, put his gun away, and softly explained, "Woke up and didn't see you. Worried something happened to you, Master Unknown."
Arabella smiled, approvingly, "Hmm. Thoughtful of you. Go on, I'll just wash my face."
Bramwell nodded obediently and turned back to the room.
In the moment he turned his face, Bramwell's eyes were stormy, his expression suddenly hardening, a coldness overtaking his features.
Arabella hadn't even rested for a moment on the bed, but staying alert in the bathroom's shadows.
His expression softened immediately, all trace of coldness gone, replaced by a youthful, fearless look.
When night fell, the three of them went out to find food.
After a few alleys, they sat around a table in a restaurant at a street corner.
Arabella ordered a large plate of lamb, thinly sliced and dipped in sauce, taking each piece with chilled wine, eating with gusto.
Her looks weren't remarkable, blending into the crowd without drawing attention.
Yet, in her seemingly indifferent manner, anyone with a keen eye would notice the aura she exuded—unaware of her surroundings, yet creating an impenetrable barrier around herself.
Raven kept it simple with a bowl of pasta, a few bites down before his gaze turned to the surroundings, alert.
In contrast, Bramwell lacked any guard-like awareness, ordering two side dishes, one meat and one vegetable, eating casually. He was only halfway through his meal when he noticed Arabella had already finished half the lamb.
What a good appetite.
Bramwell recalled the sight of Arabella's waist before he fell asleep, devoid of any excess flesh. He couldn't help but wonder—where did all the food she ate go?
Soon—
That night, he got his answer.
Killing and burning, orexis and lust—natural impulses.
