In the afternoon, Arabella sat in the living room sipping her drink. Slivers of sunlight filtered through like shimmering tassels, bathing her in a golden glow. She swirled the wine in her glass as her gaze fell on the man kneeling trembling before her. For once, Arabella was dressed unusually formally, buttoned up from top to bottom, with a rare addition of a black silk waistcoat. Though slender and not particularly tall, her well-proportioned frame, with its long limbs, gave her an air of elegance. In proper attire, she almost looked human—deceptively so.
The man had been captured by Raven. Arabella didn't question where he had disappeared to for three days or what he had done. It was as if she believed that anyone who left would inevitably return. Raven, however, had been battered by the tumult of his own passion and ambition, repeatedly thrown into a storm of inner conflict. In the end, it wasn't Arabella who broke him—it was his own torment that tore him apart, splitting him in two. His soul and body were severed, his emotions and reason shredded. He didn't want to be loyal to Arabella; he wanted to be loyal to his love.
If he gave in to a fleeting moment of betrayal, what would it bring him? A fate like Julius and Nicholas? Powerful enough to use each other but never to belong? Whether in bed or in ambition, there would never again be an inch of closeness to Arabella. And yet, the agony consumed him. He was human, flesh and blood, alive and aching. The deeper his love, the less control he had. At the breaking point of restraint and desperation, on that fateful night, he remained far behind her, silently following. It was then that he finally reconciled the pieces of himself. He loved her. If it was a doomed affair, then let him offer his life to her early, settling the debt between them. But if it was a bond of kindness, then let him endure. A lifetime is long, and one day Arabella would grow old. He would stay by her side until then. When she passed, he would let her go. There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.
The man kneeling before them was a minor official in charge of construction in the capital city of Viskomo. He had been traveling with his family to the neighboring country of Fandel, but as soon as their train crossed the border, he and his family were drugged and brought here. He was disoriented and had no idea what the captors intended.
"Is your city undergoing renovations recently?"
The man nodded hesitantly, not quite understanding what they meant. "Yes, it's under renovation."
Arabella set down her cup, leaned forward, and said, "Don't be afraid. I just want to ask about the condition of the sewers in a few areas."
The man was slightly surprised and forgot his own admonition not to be curious about the kidnappers' appearance. He stole a glance at the woman, who was smiling pleasantly. Perhaps due to the alcohol she had drunk earlier, a faint scent of fine liquor lingered as she came closer—high-quality handmade wine from Jingle, specifically imported from abroad. He had once received a case of it as a gift from his superior and remembered it well for its rich, authentic flavor. After a quick, furtive glance, the man lowered his eyes and remained silent. He had no idea why the other party needed renovation plans for several sewer systems, but when it involved international kidnapping, it was never for anything good.
"Are you unwilling to tell me?" Arabella asked softly. Seeing the man ignore her, she flicked her finger. Raven signaled to his subordinates, and immediately, one of them forced the man's wife forward. The woman's mouth was covered, and with tearful eyes, she tried to struggle and move closer to her husband. The man shuddered but didn't have time to speak before there was a loud bang. Arabella, completely indifferent, raised her gun and shot the woman in the forehead. The shot shattered her skull, and her body was thrown back from the impact. One of the subordinates, standing nearby, was caught completely off guard by the splatter of brain matter and blood that drenched him. The sticky mess made him want to vomit, but he quickly steadied himself—any mistake in front of Master Unknown, and he knew he'd be the one to lose his head.
The subordinate didn't vomit, but the man on his knees screamed in terror, shaking uncontrollably. In the next moment, he wet his pants, rolled his eyes, and passed out. Without waiting for Arabella's signal, Raven immediately stepped forward to carry the man away. Behind them, Arabella's cold voice echoed, "When he wakes up, tell him he gets one more chance to answer. Otherwise, his nine-year-old son will meet the same fate."
Half an hour later, Raven returned with the hand-drawn sewer maps from the man. Arabella had already moved to her study to wait. Nicholas was there too, holding the administrative map of Viskomo. As he watched Raven place the hand-drawn map on the table, Nicholas unfurled the large map and said, "You could have just let me send someone to gather the intel. Why go through the trouble of kidnapping someone?"
Arabella tapped her gun barrel rhythmically on the table as she quickly examined the areas of the sewer system on the map. Once she had memorized the changes, she casually opened her lighter, ignited the hand-drawn map, and without looking up, she answered Nicholas, "Once the news of his death spreads, you can send people to gather intel."
Nicholas was momentarily confused and didn't understand Arabella's meaning. Smiling, Arabella reached up and hooked her arm around his neck, leaning close to his ear and whispering, "This is called misdirection." Nicholas's neck tingled, the alluring scent of alcohol dizzying him. His neck felt numb, and instinctively, he asked, "You don't actually want the sewer renovation blueprints?"
"I just want them to renovate it more thoroughly."
Nicholas listened, uncertain of the nuances in Arabella's words. He wanted to ask for clarification but feared annoying her, so he swallowed his questions and tried to puzzle it out himself. As Arabella hooked an arm around his neck, he became visibly flustered, his face flushing as he froze, unsure whether to bask in the warmth of this moment or retreat. His desire for Arabella wasn't rooted in her physical allure—what he worshipped was her soul. The sheer strength of her spirit bewitched him, leaving him in awe. To him, her body was merely a vessel, dispensable in comparison. Yet that didn't mean he didn't yearn for her. When emotion surged to unbearable heights, he would deal with his longing on his own.
Sensing Nicholas's discomfort, Arabella's smile seemed to freeze, maintaining its curve while her eyes darkened, gleaming with a sharp, almost predatory light. It was as if her energy had transformed into a dragon. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered almost seductively, "Nicholas, I want Cyrus's corpse."
The name "Cyrus" rang in Nicholas's ears, like a steel blade piercing his brain, causing him agonizing pain. On one hand, he tried every means to reject the goddess descending to the mortal world, yet on the other hand, he longed for her trust and a smile. Arabella wanted Cyrus's corpse. Should he help her, or should he not?
Nicholas's mind was in turmoil, and he casually asked, "What should we do with the two we've captured?"
Arabella glanced at the map Nicholas unfolded, then ordered, "Burn everything, including the people and their belongings. Raven, you call someone to handle it, and make sure to spread the news quickly."
A group of desperate subordinates received the order, locked the official and his nine-year-old child in the makeshift storage room, and nailed the doors shut with wooden planks. The child cried hoarsely, while the man inside wept and knelt, bleeding from his forehead, pleading to spare the child.
The desperate pleas fell on deaf ears, unable to sway the hearts of this cold-blooded crew. They doused the makeshift storage room and its surroundings with gasoline, retreating to a safe distance before hurling torches toward the entrance. In an instant, flames roared to life, consuming everything in their path. From within came the gut-wrenching screams of the trapped, their cries mingling with the crackle of fire. Yet the group only laughed and jeered, their excitement mounting as they reveled in the horror, finding twisted joy in the chaos and suffering.
Just as Taras finished his task and hurried back overnight, he hadn't even entered the gate when he saw a group of people holding torches, grinning widely. He could vaguely hear the pitiful cries for help, and even the weak crying of a child.
"What's going on?" Taras frowned and scolded them. Upon hearing the sound of a child, his expression changed slightly. He stepped forward and commanded, "Why are you burning the child? Put out the fire now!"
The group had seen Taras beside Arabella before. It was hard to say what his exact identity was, but he was certainly someone of a high rank. They couldn't ignore him, but Arabella's orders couldn't be disobeyed either. Fortunately, the subordinate was quick to respond and stepped forward, whispering to Taras, "Sir, you've misunderstood. We're just carrying out Master Unknown's orders. Don't worry, the fire won't spread, everything around here has been fireproofed."
When Taras heard that it was Arabella's order, he was stunned for a moment. After a long pause, he didn't say anything and turned to walk towards the gate, clearly deciding not to interfere with this matter. The fire grew fiercer, and soon only the faint crackling sound could be heard, with no more human voices coming from inside. In just half a day, the entire family was reduced to ashes, joining the path to the underworld together.
When Taras saw Arabella, he didn't bring up the incident at the door. Instead, he collapsed exhaustedly into a chair, pointing at her as he asked for a reward, "Master Unknown, I've crossed half the world for you, my legs are about to break."
"And what about the people you brought?" Arabella smiled and handed him a glass of wine, asking.
"I missed you, so I came back first to see you. As for those skilled people, they naturally have the ability to enter the country. If they couldn't even make it in, how could they serve Master Unknown?"
Arabella gave a faint smile, giving him a thumbs-up in appreciation. She then glanced meaningfully at Taras's legs and asked, "Looks like you can't do it today?"
Taras was immediately fired up when he heard that. This man can't say "can't" in front of him. He jumped up, shook his legs, and bent down in a squat, grinning and saying, "You'll find out whether I can or not soon enough, Master Unknown."
Raven stood silently behind Arabella, continuing to exist like a ghost. Taras glanced at him thoughtfully, silently marveling at the man's adaptability. Not long ago, he had thought this kid was overly impulsive and restless, yet now he was putting on this air of grim resolve. Truly impressive—loyal to the bone, it seemed.
