Lady Kratos's private garden was a masterpiece of seclusion. Walled in by dense, fragrant vines, it was a world apart from the rest of the villa. Tall cypresses stood like silent sentinels, and in the center, a small black onyx fountain whispered to itself.
The sky above the villa was a pale, relentless blue, without a single cloud to offer refuge from the sun's blinding gaze. The air in Lady Kratos's private garden was still and heavy, thick with the cloying perfume of jasmine and roses—so intense it bordered on suffocating.
It was not an atmosphere of peace, but of controlled perfection, where every leaf seemed to be in its place by command, not by nature.
She was waiting for him, reclined on a curved marble bench, an untouched glass of wine at her side. She wore a deep red dress—the color of blood and power. Her eyes followed him as Phylo left him at the entrance and withdrew, closing a small iron gate behind him. They were alone. Or so it seemed.
"I gave you time to reflect on your purpose, white angel," she began, her voice soft but stripped of the honey of seduction. It was the tone of someone stating a fact. "I imagine a being with your intelligence has reached the logical conclusion."
Hermes remained silent, standing several meters away. His heart beat slow and heavy in his chest—a war drum waiting for the signal to strike.
"Don't be shy." A smile touched her lips, but never reached her eyes. "It's a simple transaction. One night of your time and obedience. In exchange, your friends continue to enjoy our… hospitality. The sick one continues with his medicines, the loud one continues with his illusions of importance. The alternative…" She shrugged with cruel elegance. "...is unpleasant for everyone. So, what is your decision?"
He thought of the bird in the cage. He thought of the panic in Theseus's eyes, of Agouri's blind loyalty. Humiliation and fury mixed into a potent poison inside him.
His eyes, which he had kept lowered, rose to meet hers. The emptiness was gone. In its place was a cold, calculated calm. He would not break. He would negotiate.
"Your offer is generous, My Lady," Hermes began, his voice surprisingly steady. "But perhaps there is an exchange more… advantageous for House Kratos."
Lady Kratos raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Oh? And what could a slave offer me, besides what, by nature, I can already take?"
Hermes swallowed his pride, bile rising in his throat. He forced himself to go on. "A blade."
The word hung in the air, cold and heavy with meaning. "A noble house has enemies. Rivals. Matters requiring discretion—tasks too delicate for the crude hands of ordinary guards. I can be… useful. A loyal servant with unique skills is worth far more than a toy broken in one night of amusement."
She studied him, a mocking smile playing at her lips. His proposal amused her. The audacity. "How touching. You offer your services as an assassin to save your friends. But your loyalty is your collar, white angel, not your bargaining chip. My original offer stands."
She turned, amusement fading, cruelty returning. "Guard!"
From the shadows near the wall, an armed guard emerged.
"Go to the medical wing immediately. The slave named Theseus… send him back to the mine tonight. Deliver him to Geryon. And find my son's attendant, Agouri. Fifty lashes in the courtyard. Now!"
The guard bowed. "Yes, My Lady."
He began to turn away. Hermes's time was up. His gambit had failed. Desperation gripped him. He needed to prove his point—to show her what she was losing, the power he could offer.
The moment the guard took his first step out of the garden, Hermes moved. It wasn't the blind rage of before, but a cold, lethal precision. He closed the distance in a blur, disarming the guard with a quick strike to the wrist that sent the man's sword flying. Before the guard could react, Hermes seized him by the collar, twisted, and drove him to his knees, pressing the tip of the man's own sword to his throat.
It all happened in less than three seconds. The garden was silent, save for the hostage guard's ragged breathing.
Hermes did not look at the man he had subdued. His golden eyes were fixed on Lady Kratos, waiting to see in her face the recognition of his power, of his usefulness.
But her reaction was not what he expected.
The amusement was gone from her face. So was the surprise. In its place was an icy fury, an outrage so deep it seemed to make the air around her vibrate.
"A mere servant…" she hissed, her voice low and dripping with a terrible venom. "Dares to wield a blade in my presence?"
Hermes froze, realizing his catastrophic mistake. He had not demonstrated his value. He had committed the greatest of transgressions. In this world of absolute hierarchy, a slave initiating violence—even in a controlled manner—was a violation of the natural order, an unforgivable insult to her authority.
She did not immediately call for reinforcements. She only stared at him, a slow, victorious smile spreading across her lips. "You are more foolish than I thought, toy."
Then she screamed. And from every direction, guards poured in, weapons drawn, surrounding the garden.
Hermes released the guard and dropped the sword to the ground, his face frozen in the realization that he had condemned himself.
"No. No. This wasn't it. This wasn't how it was supposed to—" he told himself, a hand clutching his chest. A tightness gripped his heart—distress. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
He looked at Lady Kratos's triumphant face and understood. He had tried to play the game, but he was only a pawn, and she was the owner of the board. And he had just sacrificed himself for nothing.
The golden cage had closed, and this time, he had turned the key himself.