CHAPTER NINE: Forcing Realities
The garden’s tranquility was wasted on him. The scent of damp earth, the cool whisper of the evening breeze, and the rhythmic hum of nocturnal life should have been soothing, yet they did nothing to quiet his mind. Thoughts of Vesper’s death clawed at him, relentless and unyielding. The night was alive—the crickets’ song, the distant hoot of an owl, the wind murmuring through the trees—but inside, he was hollow, a walking grave of memories.
He wondered if his father was faring any better, though he doubted it. Elder Hans had been his father’s sworn enemy, after all.
And then there was the thought—the foolish, persistent thought—that maybe, in another life, things would have been different. Perhaps he would have never met Vesper, never known the pain of losing him.
He had never expected to miss the chatterbox so much. Vesper had been a relentless talker, a parrot in human form, filling every silence with unnecessary speeches. Now, the quiet was unbearable.
His father…
Blade exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration clawing at his chest.
A soft rustle broke through his thoughts. He looked up, eyes narrowing as she stepped into the garden, a lamp in one hand, a tray in the other. She moved with quiet certainty, lowering herself onto the bench beside him.
For a moment, he was startled—he hadn’t expected her—but his surprise was quickly replaced with cold disdain.
She placed the lamp beside them before setting the tray on his lap.
“Eat. If you keep starving yourself, you’ll collapse,” she murmured. Her voice was gentle, like the flutter of a dove’s wings—yet to him, it grated like nails on stone.
“I’m not a child,” Blade replied, his tone edged with scorn. “And there’s no one here to impress, so drop the act.”
Her expression hardened. The words lit a fire in her, one she didn’t bother to smother. She rose to her feet, eyes ablaze, but he refused to acknowledge her.
“Being an assassin doesn’t give you the right to be a rude, arrogant, misogynistic bastard,” she said sharply, and that—finally—got his attention.
“Your tragic past isn’t a free pass to treat people like garbage. You have no idea what I’ve been through, what I’ve lost. Ever since you woke up, you’ve done nothing but act like an ungrateful wretch. I let it slide, thinking you’d come around, but I see now I was mistaken.
“I took your child and raised her as my own. I honored my end of the deal. I tried to be caring, to be—”
“News flash,” Blade cut her off, his voice a blade slicing through her words. “No one asked for your kindness. It’s laughable, really. Who in their right mind shows care to a stranger? I don’t even trust normal people—so what makes you think I’d trust another assassin?”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “You sound like a child who’s been starved of love and attention. Honestly, people like you are better off dead. And the only reason that pains me is because of Lenora. She deserves better than an uncle who refuses to acknowledge a woman’s efforts. I sat by your side, night after night, watching over you while you hovered between life and death. And the first thing you did when you woke up was threaten me?”
“No one asked you to play nursemaid,” Blade shot back. “You’re the one taking your performance too seriously. It’s pathetic, irritating—hypocritical.”
She stiffened. “Is it a crime for an assassin to want something normal?”
“Wanting a family with a stranger isn’t normal—it’s desperation,” he retorted, slicing through her defenses with brutal precision.
Her hands clenched into fists. When words failed her, she did the next best thing—she upended the tray of food onto him.
“I look forward to your death, stranger,” she spat before storming back into the house.
The sound of her muffled sobs carried through the night. Blade heard them. He just didn’t care.
Trusting a Scarlet Blade was akin to embracing a venomous snake. Their kind were masters of deception, preying on emotions, manipulating weaknesses to their advantage. He wouldn’t be their next fool.
Not now. Not ever.
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Hunger gnawed at him, a dull, insistent pain that refused to be ignored. He searched for the basket of oranges he had brought back with Lenora the day before, but it was nowhere to be found.
His stomach clenched, dizziness creeping in. He needed to eat something—anything—or he’d collapse.
Wandering into the kitchen, he spotted a bottle of milk left on the counter. The mere scent turned his stomach. He needed real food, but there was nothing in sight.
Desperation drove him to the fridge, where he found half a watermelon. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and devoured it like a starving animal.
Hunger humbles even the proudest of men.
From the top of the stairs, Milani and Lenora watched him. Lenora’s gaze was curious, but Milani’s was sharp, filled with something far more complex than simple disdain.
The previous night’s argument replayed in her head. Her heart twisted with resentment. All her efforts, dismissed like they meant nothing.
She needed to break through to him—but how?
Most men fell for seduction, but he hadn’t even spared a glance at her short skirt two days ago. Most men melted at kindness, but he had only sneered at her attempts.
Perhaps she had overplayed her role.
A man like Blade—a legend among assassins—would not be so easily deceived.
She turned away, descending the stairs with Lenora, ignoring him completely.
Blade was too engrossed in his meal to notice.
As Milani moved through the house, she caught sight of the messenger pigeon in its open cage. Careful not to draw Blade’s attention, she retrieved the note tied to its leg.
The message was brief, but it was enough to make her blood run cold.
Blade. Godson of Elder Viper. A Black Robe. The most feared assassin of his time.
She inhaled sharply.
The name alone carried weight. His reputation was legendary, his skills unmatched. Even the women of the Scarlet Blades had whispered his name in admiration and fear.
No wonder his walls were impenetrable.
Without hesitation, she crumpled the note and shoved it into her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing it down.
She returned to the kitchen, brewing tea for herself and Lenora. Her movements were deliberate, her expression laced with quiet sorrow—an act, but an effective one.
When Blade finally finished his meal, he discarded the watermelon rind and walked out, his sharp gaze catching sight of Milani leading Lenora toward the door, a bag slung over her shoulder.
In an instant, he was in front of them, gripping Lenora’s wrist.
“Where are you taking her?” His voice was low, cold.
Milani’s glare met his. “What, do you think I’m kidnapping her?”
“It’s not impossible.” His grip on Lenora tightened slightly. “I don’t trust you.”
Milani scoffed, releasing Lenora’s hand and turning toward the door.
“Lock it behind you,” Blade called after her, before pulling Lenora back inside.
He led her to a chair and sat down opposite her, expression unreadable.
Lenora stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.
He ignored her, methodically loading bullets into his gun. But when her quiet sniffles turned into trembling sobs, he exhaled harshly.
“Be quiet,” he snapped.
She silenced herself instantly, terrified.
He was worse than she imagined. Cold. Merciless. Heartless.
As she watched him load the gun, fear clawed at her chest.
Was he preparing to kill her?
Her body trembled. Her breath came in short, silent gasps.
And then, without warning, he pointed the gun at her.
The trigger clicked.
A gunshot rang out.
The bullet whizzed past her, shattering a hanging flower pot.
She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry.
She simply crumpled, her body giving out as she collapsed into unconsciousness.
Blade’s breath hitched. His hands shot out, catching her before she hit the ground.
His brows furrowed as he stared at her pale face.
She had fainted.
But why?
_____________________________________________✍
Milani knew he wouldn’t let her take Lenora, yet she had tried anyway. It wasn’t about escaping; it was a test—a way to measure how much trust he had in her. This morning had made it painfully clear. There wasn’t a single thread of trust in that man, not even a frayed edge.
Not that she had expected much.
She hadn’t even planned to take Lenora with her. And though guilt flickered at the edges of her conscience for using the child, it had been the only way to understand him—to crack through the stone of his unreadable expression, to see if something other than irritation and distrust existed beneath it.
Now, she walked through the thick forest at the village’s outskirts, her boots pressing softly into damp earth. The deeper she went, the heavier the silence grew. By the time she reached the cave, the only sounds left were her own footsteps and the distant rustle of unseen creatures.
There, standing with their back to her, was a figure cloaked in crimson.
The signature red cape of the Scarlett Blades’ supervisors.
Milani narrowed her eyes. “And you are?” she asked, her voice edged with suspicion.
The figure turned. Recognition hit her like a strike to the chest.
She dropped to her knees instantly. “Forgive me, Master,” she murmured. “I had to be sure it was you.”
Her master ignored the apology entirely. “Any progress?”
Milani straightened, her expression grim. “No. His walls are impenetrable. Not even the tactics of the Sparrow Cader work on him.”
A pause. Then, “Do you at least know who he is?”
That question stopped her cold. “Didn’t you send me the pigeon message this morning?”
Her master frowned. “A pigeon message? What did it say?”
Milani hesitated, recalling the exact words. “It identified my target. Blade. A Black Robe. The best the Robes have ever had.”
The cave fell into an eerie stillness. Her master’s gaze turned distant, lost in thought.
“You didn’t know?” Milani asked cautiously.
“What exactly was your mission?” her master asked instead, breaking the silence. The question was unorthodox—against protocol—but the weight in her voice made it clear this was no ordinary assignment.
“To keep him close and observe him,” Milani answered.
“Were you ordered to do anything else?”
“No, Master.”
The name Blade carried weight even among the most hardened killers. The Black Robes were the deadliest force in the underground world. Even the elite Shadow Guards of the Scarlett Blades would hesitate before engaging one. And Blade wasn’t just any Black Robe—he was their best.
Milani watched as her master processed this revelation, her expression unreadable.
“Be careful,” her master warned at last. “Avoid direct conflict. If you must engage, use emotions—”
Milani let out a dry laugh. “Emotions? That man is more weapon than human. He was born without them.”
“A gentle stream can carve through a mountain more effectively than a raging storm,” her master countered. “Patience is everything.”
Seeing the weight on her master’s shoulders, Milani decided to lighten the moment. She took a bold step forward, arms outstretched. “Can I hug you now?”
Her master’s frown wavered, the sharp lines of her face softening. Then, almost reluctantly, she extended her own arms. Milani wasted no time, closing the space between them in a tight embrace.
This wasn’t just her master. This was her sister. The one who had raised her, shielded her, fought for her. Their roles as assassin and mentor had never dulled that bond.
“I missed you, sister,” Milani whispered against her shoulder.
Her sister pulled back just enough to study her face. “This is your first real mission. And it’s dangerous—more than I’d like to admit. You were sent to observe a Black Robe. And not just any Black Robe, but him. Blade is exactly what his name suggests. Cold. Sharp. Deadly. If this mission becomes too much, abandon it and come home.”
Milani nodded, but her sister wasn’t done.
“Whatever message you need to send me, leave it at the flower shop. And for God’s sake, don’t reveal your true identity.”
Milani hesitated before confessing, “He already knows I’m a Scarlett Blade.”
Her sister’s sharp gaze snapped to hers. “How?”
“He was severely injured. A blood transfusion was the only option. When he woke up, he tried to kill me, so I had no choice but to use the Leg Suna on him.”
Her sister sighed, rubbing her temple. “Then you need to be even more careful. Once trust is broken with someone like Blade, there’s no rebuilding it. If it gets too dangerous, come home. Don’t make Phaya’s mistake.”
Milani frowned. “What mistake?”
“That’s not your concern,” her sister said firmly. “Just focus on staying alive. Understood?”
Milani exhaled, nodding. “Understood, Sister.”
Her sister pulled her into another hug, and this time, Milani held on tighter.