"Should I still go through with the plan?"
A woman in a thick fur coat beneath a dark robe spoke, her eyes staring at the roof of the dimly lit cabin as if she were waiting for an answer.
[Switch her pills with poison. Make sure it cannot be traced back to you.]
An ominous, disembodied voice resounded through the air, every word twisting and bending it further until the temperature in the room dropped. The woman's fur coat, absurd for summer, was the one thing keeping her from freezing to death.
"I just don't get why we should waste our time with something like that," the woman muttered. "She can't even walk, my lord. What could she possibly do to us?"
[There's a lot that you will never understand, Blanche. Your only job is to do as I say.]
The voice roared, its tone leaving no room for doubt.
"Yes, my lord." Blanche dropped to one knee and bowed her head towards the figure. "Pardon your humble vessel for her impertinence."
[Do not disappoint me, Blanche.]
Those words pierced her harder than any blade. Blanche's heart tightened as she braced herself for the words that would follow.
[If you end up getting caught, I assure you this: I will kill you myself before anybody else even thinks I was involved.]
"...Yes, my lord."
These were words he drilled into her before every major assignment. The fact that he found the need to say them for a task as simple as this one meant there was a lot more at stake here.
[Good luck.]
The figure disappeared, the cold air vanishing along with it. The warmth of summer crept back into the cabin.
Blanche lowered her hood and slowly removed her cloak, revealing her silver hair and a pale, tired face. There was an air of exhaustion in her eyes, the kind that no amount of rest could ever fix. That same exhaustion slowly built up and formed the hardened expression she had on her face, making her look much older than she actually was.
"What's the point of having all this power if I am just a slave to it in the end?" Blanche murmured as she slipped off the fur coat.
The coat hit the hard wooden floor first, and Blanche collapsed onto it a second later.
"I guess I have to kill that innocent girl then."
Blanche raised her palm, covering half of her view of the ceiling. She then formed a fist so hard that her nails were digging into her skin.
"We're both just pawns in the big picture, aren't we? I'm sure you will understand why I had to do this if we ever have the chance to meet in the afterlife."
Blanche always did this before any major assignment, almost like a ritual. At first, she believed it was her way of connecting with her victims, but what right did she have? Then, she realized it was her way of staying human. Recently, though, she'd begun to question if her real reason wasn't something more selfish than that.
She turned towards the cabin door, sunlight that slipped through its cracks hitting her face. With a tired, resigned tone, she said, "...I want to go home."