As Raikynn skillfully dodged the Princess's clumsy attacks, his thoughts drifted back to his initial entrance into the throne room. The presence of assassins didn't surprise him, as he immediately recognized the Guild's distinctive style, nor did the expressions of the nobles, which revealed more than they intended.
No, what truly fascinated him was the girl herself.
As an assassin who had wielded his blade innumerable times, Raikynn understood that the most unsettling aspect of the profession wasn't the bloodshed or the sleepless nights, but the feeble resistance his targets offered when their end was near. The pattern was tediously predictable: a frantic escape down a corridor, the chaos of vases and paintings shattering as the target unraveled, their ragged breaths blending with the deliberate scrape of his blade—a sound that made their hearts race to an unfamiliar rhythm.
He termed it the Inevitability of Death; they sensed it and understood it, yet stubbornly refused to accept it.
The Princess was different from the others.
Although she had not succeeded in any of the challenges he had set for her since she entered, whether in strength, composure, or her willingness to trust an unfamiliar face, she possessed one quality that distinguished her from everyone else: she was perceptive enough to grasp the concept of Inevitability.
This means she can endure, he thought, watching her struggle to catch her breath. With the right guidance, of course.
Raikynn stopped dodging. He extended a single index finger, effortlessly catching the flat of her blade and bringing it to a halt. What he valued most at that moment was her expression. There was no shock, no arrogance. Just the quiet acceptance of a predetermined outcome.
"Did the royal family not impart their secret arts to you?"
From the moment he entered my life, he dictated the pace, whether by pulling me into my chambers, placing his feet wherever he pleased, or maintaining the current stalemate. He was the initiator in all things.
No, I cannot allow him to keep manipulating me like a puppet. I need answers.
"Before I address your questions, answer mine first," she stated. "Who are you?"
"I am Raikynn," he responded, holding her gaze.
"That doesn't tell me much. Why did you save my life?"
"If you wish to understand my presence here, you can thank your mother."
My mother? The thought hit Manami like a physical blow, for she had seen her mother take her last breath. "You're lying," she retorted.
In response, he revealed a scroll, displaying the wax seal affixed to the vellum.
"That truly is—" she gasped, reaching out to grab it, but he pulled it back at the last moment.
"No can do," Raikynn said, spinning the contract just beyond her reach. "This vellum contains the answers you seek, including the name of the one who killed your mother, and such secrets are not freely given."
Manami's gaze fixed on the wax seal.
I had always suspected there was more to my mother's death than the court witchdoctors claimed, she thought, the memory burning in her mind. Yet whenever I attempted to discuss it with my father, he dismissed my concerns as childish fancy.
Now, however, her heart quickened; even if there was only a grain of truth in the assassin's words, the chance to confirm the feeling she had harbored deep inside was impossible to dismiss.
"What is your price?" she asked.
Raikynn smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Simple. Survive until your twenty-first birthday, and the scroll is yours."
"How do I know this is genuine?" she challenged, her suspicion battling against her hope. "A man of your skill knows that even the Royal Tombs are not impenetrable. You could have stolen the seal to—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Raikynn moved.
He rushed past her, drawing his blade in a blur of motion. Steel pierced the heavy wood of the chamber door.
Missed.
He sensed the absence of resistance. He yanked the blade free and kicked the door open.
A vertical slash aimed to cleave him from crown to navel greeted him. He didn't block. Instead, he shifted inside the attacker's guard, vaulting behind with superior speed.
"Do not be so foolish in your next life," he murmured, bringing his blade down.
"Wait!" Manami screamed.
The desperation in her voice caused Raikynn to hesitate for a fraction of a second, but that was all the time the intruder needed. The figure twisted away, not to flee, but to lunge toward Manami—positioning herself between the assassin and the Princess in a protective stance.
"I'm sorry I'm late, sister, but I'm here now. I will protect you," the woman declared, glaring at Raikynn with eyes ablaze with undisguised hostility.
Manami felt a rare warmth bloom in her chest at the sight of Rika, yet she forced herself to suppress the emotion, knowing there were more pressing matters at hand. She reached out to grasp her sister's shoulder, stammering, "Wait, sister, he is not—" but the thundering of heavy boots from both ends of the corridor cut her short, signaling impending doom.
"Rika," the voice of the Eldest Princess cut through the noise as her personal guard leveled their bows. "Protect her. We will handle the rest."
Rika nodded, swiftly pulling Manami back into the relative safety of the chamber. The air was suddenly filled with the sharp sound of bowstrings releasing in perfect synchrony, and for a brief moment, Manami saw the air darken with arrows, each one aimed precisely at Raikynn's heart.
In the blink of an eye, the world shifted, accompanied by the piercing sound of metal and wood clashing in discord.
When her eyes reopened, Raikynn stood exactly where he had been mere moments before, but the space around him had been violently transformed. The deadly barrage had been reduced to nothing more than confetti; torn fletching and shattered shafts drifted gently through the air, eventually clattering against the stone floor.
Manami felt a chill tighten in her stomach as the truth dawned on her: I knew he was fast, but I never imagined he could be faster than the eye could perceive.
"Out of respect for the Princess, I will grant this leniency," Raikynn declared, his gaze becoming as lifeless and flat as death itself. "However, anyone who dares to move even an inch... will die."
Manami knew he wasn't bluffing, and she realized with terrifying clarity that her sisters had not witnessed the massacre in the main hall; they had no concept of the monster standing before them. She could not let this turn into a slaughter, so she mustered every ounce of courage she possessed and sprinted past Rika.
"Manami?!" Rika cried out in disbelief, but the warning came too late.
Manami was already standing directly in front of Raikynn with her arms outstretched, shielding the assassin from her own family. "Sisters! You are misunderstanding the situation!"
Kanna's bow remained steady, the string taut against her cheek, with the arrow's tip pointed unwaveringly at Raikynn's throat.
The Eldest Princess did not glance at the heap of shattered wood on the floor, nor did she pay heed to the creature that had effortlessly deflected their attack. Her focus was solely on Manami, as she searched her youngest sister's eyes for any sign of madness or coercion.
She found neither. Instead, she saw only a desperate and fierce determination to protect.
The silence was suffocating, stretching on interminably.
"Hold," Kanna commanded softly.
Her order was unequivocal. The archers immediately lowered their bows, and Kanna gradually released the tension in her own bowstring, though her gaze remained fixed on Manami.
"Speak, little sister," Kanna said, her voice taut with restrained aggression. "We are listening."
With the immediate threat seemingly diffused, Raikynn sheathed his sword with a definitive click.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered, showing his disdain for the theatrics.
He brushed past Rika, disregarding her tense posture as she tracked his movements like a coiled viper, and re-entered Manami's chambers, heading straight for the open balcony.
"Where are you going?" Manami called out, perplexed by his abrupt departure following the chaos he had just unleashed.
"I'll be back," he replied succinctly, stepping onto the stone ledge. Without another word, he disappeared into the night, vanishing into the shadows as if he had never been there at all.