I hadn't slept for two full nights. Not because I was busy planning something complicated, but because my brain kept spinning in place like a broken wheel. I wanted to spread the news about freedom, about resistance, about revolution—but ironically, I didn't even know how to properly spread kitchen gossip.
Hilarious. I could kill Gordon and Markus indirectly, two men who held the lives of so many in their hands, yet when it came to thinking about the next step, my mind was empty, like a bookshelf without books. Truly impressive.
Me and the seven people who depended on me had no education, no power, no network. Our revolution started from what? Collective stupidity wrapped in hope. Sounds heroic, but it was more like a stupid joke. The world was probably laughing at us.
Revolution isn't just about destruction; it's about replacement. If I didn't have a two or three step plan ahead, all of this would just be suicide wrapped in a dream.
I sat staring at the wall, feeling like a general who didn't even know where the map was kept. We wanted to free so many people, while I still trembled just managing seven.
Beautiful ambition and mbarrassing reality.
But that's when I realized. This revolution wasn't born from intelligence. It was born from exhaustion, from wounds endured for too long, from people who were stupid enough to finally be fed up with being victims. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start.
The next afternoon, after I finished cooking for Victoria, I went straight to the small building behind the house where Felix slept. It was detached from the main house, walls dull, silent, and honestly, it felt more human than that mansion full of moral corpses. I knocked once; the door opened, and I entered without waiting for permission as usual.
"What's up?" Felix asked.
"I need advice."
"Alright. Speak."
I stared at the floor for a moment before speaking. "I want to spread the word about freedom. About resistance. About revolution. But I don't know how. The slaves have no newspapers, no education, no time to think."
Felix leaned back against the wall. "You're focusing on the wrong thing Kara. The first thing you need to do isn't spreading anything. You have to get out of this house first. As long as you're under the Valemont roof, you're not a messenger. You're just property that can die at any moment."
I sat on the edge of his bed. "And after I get out?"
"Then you start talking about networks. About people. About how news spreads from mouth to mouth, from market to kitchen, from warehouse to underground cell. But without your freedom, all of that is just fantasy."
"I don't have anyone out there."
Felix was silent for a moment, then said softly, "You will."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll help you. I have connections. Not good people, not clean people, but they hate this system as much as you do. They can move information, smuggle papers, ink, small weapons—anything needed to make your small voice to be heard."
My heart started pounding faster. "Why would you do this?"
Felix looked at me with eyes too long familiar with cruelty. "Because if I don't, I'm just a slightly more polite executioner. And that's not something I want to carry to my grave."
I exhaled. "So what's my task now?"
"Speed up your plan. Julian's already suspicious. His gaze changed after Markus' death. He's been watching you too closely. That's a bad sign."
"I know."
"If he moves first, you won't have a chance to do anything. So execute your final plan. Take what you need. Money, jewelry, whatever can keep you alive out there."
"And after that?"
"After that, you're no longer a slave dreaming of revolution," he said. "You'll be a real problem for the world."
My mind had already fallen deep into madness. Two days ago I was a slave stealing coins like a rat. Now I was dividing roles like a war general who didn't even know how to read a map. Ironically beautiful and sad at the same time.
Two days later, I found Joren in the corner of the kitchen while everyone else was busy.
"I need you to buy sleeping pills. The strongest you can get."
His hands trembled as I handed him the money, a hundred-dollar bill I'd stolen from Julian's work drawer the night before while playing my usual disgusting role in his room.
"Is this enough?" he asked, looking at the money like it was forbidden.
"If it's not, go back and I'll steal more," I said coldly. He swallowed hard, then nodded.
For the next two days, I do my job as usual. The others searched for where this cursed family kept their wealth. Like amateur thieves, but brave enough to talk about the heist.
Reka found it first.
"Gordon has an old safe in his room," she said softly. "Only Victoria knows how to open it."
Perfect. Hell always keeps the key in the hands of another devil.
The problem was Julian. He no longer touched any food or drink I served. No breakfast, no dinner, not even water. He started pacing around the house, observing, like a predator aware his prey was preparing something. Usually, he stayed locked in his study, lost in fiction. Now he was alive in the real world and that was far more dangerous.
It meant one thing: the sleeping pills would never reach him.
I stared at the reality like staring into a chasm I had to jump without knowing if there was ground on the other side. If Julian couldn't be made to sleep, he had to be stopped another way. A heavy decision, neither heroic nor glamorous.I had to kill him with my own hands.
Victoria couldn't be dealt with directly either. She had to open the safe. We needed that treasure to survive, to buy paper, ink, people, and silence. And for that, we needed leverage and weapons.
The seven of them would handle Victoria. I would handle Julian. Connor would take the sleeping pills as planned. The guards also had to fall asleep. And unfortunately, Felix too. I didn't want his name to be tainted. I didn't want him to be suspected.
That afternoon, I met Felix. He was sitting in front of his little building, sharpening a knife, movements slow, deliberate, like someone long at peace with violence.
"Felix."
He turned. "Kara, what happened?"
"I'm doing it tonight. But…"
"But?"
"We need to put the guards to sleep. Including you."
The knife in his hand froze. For a moment, only the sound of the wind remained. Then he placed the knife aside, as if putting a weapon on an altar of sacrifice.
"Alright," he finally said. "Give me the pills. I'll mix them into their coffee. And mine too."
"You know this is dangerous."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Everything worth doing is dangerous."
Impressive. Even an executioner could choose to be human.
I stood at the door of his room, my breath too shallow for my racing heart. My hand gripped a small knife behind my palm, its cold pressing against my skin like a reminder that this was no playacting. My hair was loose, my clothes neat, clean, almost like someone arriving with sweet intentions. But my intent was as sharp as the hidden blade.
Julian opened the door. His eyebrows rose—not in surprise, but suspicion wrapped in possessiveness.
"What are you doing here?"
I met his gaze. I hated myself for knowing the exact expression to make him let his guard down.
"I don't know, Julian. I just… wanted you."
He leaned against the doorway, that small smile that always made my stomach churn. "You're teasing me?"
"Yes."
"Remind me again, didn't you hate that?"
"No. Not tonight."
His gaze sharpened. More calculating. "You're not planning to kill me tonight, are you?"
I almost laughed. If he only knew how close that answer was to the truth. "I would've done it yesterday if I wanted. But if you don't want, I can ask Felix."
He snorted, like a lion whose territory had been challenged. "Come in. No one is allowed to touch you but me, you know that."
"Yes. Of course."
I stepped inside. The smell of his room was the same: ink, paper, and arrogance. The door closed behind me, and for a moment, the world felt too quiet. I stood a few steps from him, regulating my breathing, forcing my body to move slowly, with the wrong posture but convincingly. Every second felt like crossing a chasm without a bridge.
In my mind, every face appeared at once. Lina with her bloodied back. Reka with tired eyes. Joren holding money as if holding sin. Felix, willing to sleep just to protect me. This was no longer about me. This was about ending a source of poison.
Julian moved toward the table in the corner. I watched the broad of his back. My hand was still behind me, fingers pressing against the knife handle. One wrong move, and it would all be over—either victory or death.
I looked at him, trying to appear fragile, trying to appear desirous, while in my mind only one thought spun: this has to succeed, no matter the cost.
Julian was still standing with a glass of whiskey when I sat on the bed. My movements calm, almost lazy, and then I quickly slipped the small knife under the pillow before he turned.
He watched me from the corner of the room. "You're acting strange tonight."
I shrugged. "Maybe I'm just bored."
"Bored?" He laughed shortly. "Or are you planning something."
"Like what?"
"Like suddenly coming into my room with a face that's too calm."
"You always say I should come when you call. Tonight I just… came first."
He took another sip of whiskey and set the glass down. Slowly, he approached me.
"Since you want me tonight, you'll have to do the work."
I understood what that meant. I had to be on top of him tonight, and that was humiliating. I nodded slightly, as if it were the most natural decision in the world. Julian then dropped his body onto the bed, right on the pillow where the knife was hidden.
My chest tensed, but my face stayed neutral. I drew a slow breath, letting time stretch just enough for him to feel in control. His gaze followed me, tracing every movement as if I were still simply his property.
"You know, Slave," he said suddenly, voice softer than usual. "I'll be honest. If you weren't a Slave, I would marry you. I wouldn't even care that you're my sister."
The sentence made my stomach hollow. Not from being touched, but from disgust. I didn't answer. I just leaned closer, positioning myself over him, playing the role I'd studied for too long. My body moved slowly as his dick entered me, my movements measured, like an actor knowing exactly when to trigger the audience's reaction.
Julian's face changed. His eyes closed briefly. He exhaled softly, enjoying every movement I gave him. And he let his guard down. For the first time, he wasn't watching me.
And that was my only chance.
As his breathing grew heavy and his mind no longer fully intact, I leaned closer. My hand slid under the pillow. My fingers found the knife handle and in a single breath that felt like the last of my old life, I raised my hand and swung the knife into his throat.
Julian jolted. His eyes opened wide full of shock and disbelief. His hands hit my body with a wild reflex, pushing me off him. I fell to the floor, my breath caught, but my hand searched for the knife—which was still embedded in Julian's neck.
Blood flowed from his throat, warm, fast, but without a scream. Only a low groan from his broken throat, like an animal barely dying but unwilling to give in. His hands pressed against his own neck, trying to stop something that could no longer be stopped. The knife was still lodged on the left side, angled, not deep enough to take his life immediately.
Shit.
I should've slashed his throat. I shouldn't have hesitated.
I rose quickly, intending to pull the knife and finish it before he could think. But Julian was still alive. And Julian was always dangerous while breathing.
Suddenly his hand grabbed my hair, strong and brutal. My head was pulled back until my neck strained, and my vision spun. Before I could resist, my body was twisted by him. In a chaotic motion, my back slammed into his chest, cutting off my air instantly.
His other hand pulled the knife from his own neck. I felt the vibration of metal moving, then the cold touch on my neck.
"Bitch!" his voice broke, hoarse, barely formed.
I froze for a split second. The knife was no longer mine. Now he held it. His arm locked my body from behind. One hand pinned my shoulder, the other lifted the knife toward my neck. I could feel his heavy, chaotic breath right behind my ear. Blood from his wound stained my clothes, but I didn't have time to care.
I struggled. My elbow hit his stomach but not hard enough. My hands tried to reach his wrist, but he was stronger.
The knife touched my skin. Not stabbing, but close enough to make my whole body tense. I knew one small push and it would all be over. Not for him, but for me.
"You think… you can win?" he whispered, his voice broken and ragged.
I tried to stomp on his foot. He groaned but didn't let go. In fact, his grip tightened. My body felt small, fragile, like a slave with no power at all.
For a moment, I almost lost.
My hands trembled. My breath was ragged. The world narrowed down to the cold of the knife and the weight of his body on my back. Every plan, every courage, felt like nonsense.
I glanced slightly, enough to see his eyes from the corner of mine. His gaze was chaotic, full of pain, full of rage, but also… fear. And I knew that fear was my only opening.
I dropped my body suddenly, throwing off his balance. The knife missed my neck by a few centimeters. I used that split second to strike his arm with all the force I had.The knife slipped and fell to the floor with a sharp metallic clang. We fell apart. Then, I sprawled forward, he staggered back, clutching his neck that kept bleeding. I turned, crawling toward the knife, my heart pounding like it would explode.
I almost lost.
And I couldn't lose.
I nearly reached the knife when Julian lunged at me like a wounded animal. My chest slammed against the floor, my breath shattered. I kicked with all my strength, but he kept dragging me. We wrestled on the ground, hands clawing, breaths colliding. The knife rolled slightly farther away, as if mocking both of us.
His hand grabbed my hair and yanked hard. My head slammed against the floor repeatedly. My vision spun, my ears ringing. The pain made my knees shake, but it also sparked something more dangerous than fear.
I groaned, gathering the last of my strength. With a desperate move, I grabbed his hair back, pulling his head until our faces were aligned. In a wild reflex to survive, I bit his ear as hard as I could. The metallic taste filled my mouth, hot and bitter. He screamed, his body jerking, then released me while clutching the side of his head.
That opportunity lasted only a split second. I rolled, grabbed the knife, and sat on him again before he could rise. My hands moved without calculation, wild, chaotic, driven by panic and years of accumulated anger. I didn't count how many times I stabbed his chest and face. I only knew I couldn't stop.
And finally, his body stopped fighting. My breath was ragged, my arms trembling. The world suddenly went silent, as if all sound had been ripped from the room.
I released the knife from my grip and moved away from his lifeless body.
I did it.
I did it.
My eyes scanned the room. Chaos everywhere. I couldn't freeze. Time was chasing me. I got up and hurriedly put my clothes back on with trembling but quick hands. No room for feelings. No room for doubt. I grabbed a large bag from the corner of the room and started stuffing it. Money from his walletz the expensive watch he always bragged about, rings on his fingers, few small jewelry on the table. Even his pen, because every item in this house was valuable for survival outside. I worked fast, like a thief finally feeling justified in stealing.
Once done, I entered Victoria's room, my body smeared with blood. Seven pairs of eyes immediately fixed on me, as if staring at a monster just emerging from their own nightmare. Victoria was tied to a chair, pale, breath rapid. Behind the bookshelf, the large safe was open, and several bags lay on the floor. I threw the bag from Julian's room onto the floor.
"What are you doing, you flithy slave?" Victoria screamed. "Whose blood is that?"
"Julian," I answered calmly.
Her hysterical scream erupted. She thrashed, her voice trembling between anger and fear, but I ignored it.
Then Reka turned to me, her face tense. "What do we do with her now, Kara?"
I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I crouched in front of Victoria, running a blood-stained finger across her cheek. Her face tensed as she realized the blood wasn't hers.
"Shhh," I hissed.
"You're going to die," she said, voice trembling but still trying to sound authoritative. "You think you can run? You're not just against my family. You're against the world."
I stared at her sharply. "The world you mean has been dead since it let slaves live like this. I'm just making sure the corpse is properly buried."
"Without us, you're nothing," she hissed.
"Without you," I replied coldly, "we can be human."
Reka stepped forward and handed me the knife with trembling hands. I took it, pointing it at Victoria's neck.
"This is for my mother," I said quietly. "And for all that you poisoned without remorse."
Victoria spat at my face, but no words came from her mouth anymore. My movements were swift and precise as I sliced her neck from left to right. Her body went limp instantly, it didn't take long and she was dead just like that.
The room pressed down with silence. I stood and looked at them all. Seven people who had just witnessed a side of me they had never seen before.
"Did you get everything?" I asked.
"Y-yes, Kara," Reka answered, her voice nearly breaking. "Everything."
"Good. We're leaving now."
I lifted the bag and stepped out. They followed without hesitation, like a line of people who finally knew where they were going.
As we descended the stairs, Mila whispered, "What about Connor? You have to kill him too."
"No need."
"So we burn the house?" Joren asked.
"No."
"But that was the plan."
"I don't want Felix to die," I said. "If the house burns while he's still asleep, he and the guards die too."
They were silent.
"Then what?" Reth asked.
"Let Connor live. He will be a witness. The media will devour his story. The world will know this system can be toppled."
"Are you sure he'll do that?" Siva asked.
"He will," I replied. "And he'd probably hunt us too. So we have to move faster."
On the ground floor, they still grabbed a few valuables from the living room. I let them, but only briefly.
"Enough. No time." I said.
Reka stepped forward. "Kara, you need to clean yourself."
I looked down at my body. "Ah. Yes. You're right."
I went to the sink. Cold water ran over my face and hands. The red gradually disappeared, replaced by my pale skin and my eyes that sharper than before. I stared at my reflection and reliazed, I was no longer a slave and I was no longer a victim.
Reka handed me Victoria's clothes, and I changed quickly.
We exited through the front door. Not running, nor sneaking like thieves. We walked fast, orderly, like people who finally knew where they were going. After making sure the seven had stepped through the gate first, I paused at the doorway. My eyes scanned the yard, left and right, then rose to a corner of the roof. A security camera was still on, its light small but aware, like the last eye of this house.
I stared at it without blinking. There is no fear, no regret. Only hard, quiet exhaustion. Then, I raised my hand, flipping my middle finger directly at it.
"Look closely," I whispered.
Then I turned and went to join them, leaving the house without fire, without sound, without a single farewell.
I did it.