The High Priestess and her two ladies-in-waiting descended the grand marble staircase. As they moved, the warm, ecstatic energy that had radiated from Venus while she was clinging to Hermes vanished. Her expression flattened into a mask of chilling, porcelain perfection—the look of a Goddess peering down at subjects who had already been judged and found wanting.
Ylla and Daliah flinched, instinctively stepping a few inches further behind her. The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees.
Why is she in such a lethal mood now? Ylla wondered, watching the rigid set of her master's shoulders.
At the base of the stairs, Chief Zamor was waiting. The moment Venus's boots touched the final step, he dropped to one knee, pressing a hand to his chest in a formal salute. His guards followed suit, their armor clattering against the floor in unison. With a bowed head, the Chief raised his arm, offering a small, silver communication device.
Ylla stepped forward, took the device, and retreated.
"I am certain you are neither blind nor deaf, Chief," Venus said, her voice like a silk cord tightening around a throat. "After all, you saw it with your own eyes, didn't you?"
"Y-yes, Your Excellency," Chief Zamor stammered, remaining genuflected. "I witnessed everything. I am deeply sorry for the... the pressure I placed upon the poor man."
Unbeknownst to Hermes, Venus had orchestrated a silent theater. Using a high-grade relay device called a [Wart], she had broadcast the audio of her private "interrogation" and Hermes's respectful defense of the Chief directly to Zamor's receiver. She had wanted the Chief to hear Hermes's "noble" words—even if the act of the "interrogation" itself had been half-genuine obsession.
"Poor man?" Venus repeated, her eyes locking onto the top of Zamor's head. "You call him 'poor' despite the fact that his merchant assets keep your village from sliding into the dirt? Next time, choose your words with more grace. 'Innocent' would be far more accurate. Did you hear his undying respect for your office, Chief?"
"Yes, Your Excellency. Loud and clear," Zamor answered, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.
"Then you regret messing with a man of such character?" Venus's hand reached out, her fingers cold as ice as they brushed against the Chief's cheek.
"Y-yes," Zamor whispered. Internally, however, his mind was screaming. I don't care how he sounds! He's the mad Don! He's the monster of the West!
"As of tonight," Venus announced, her voice projected so that every guard in the hall could hear, "I hereby declare Hermes Archnemesis—Lord of this village, Don of the Archnemesis, and Hero of the Neue Fiona Church—cleared of all crimes filed by this court. The Heavens have spoken. He is free."
"What? You've got to be kidding me!" Zamor blurted out, momentarily forgetting his station as he looked up in shock.
Suddenly, a brilliant, soft light bathed the hallway. A single, pristine petal of a Sampaguita flower—the sacred symbol of the Goddess Gaia—materialized in the air, drifting slowly until it landed on the Chief's shoulder.
"The Goddess has accepted my decree," Venus said with a terrifyingly sweet smile. "The case is closed."
"No way... even the Goddess?" Zamor's lips trembled. The physical manifestation of divine approval was a weight he couldn't argue with.
"Ara, should I refer to him as Aljen the Merchant? Oh, silly me. Forget it," Venus said, her tone shifting to a mock-playful lilt. "Let me stick this into your heads: Anyone who dares to touch this man becomes an enemy of the Church. And an enemy of me."
She offered her hand to be kissed, but Zamor didn't move. He stayed frozen, his face darkening with a sudden, desperate resolve.
"I am sorry, but I cannot," Zamor declared, his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and fury. "He has to pay. You saw the files, Your Excellency! He's the true Hermes. He's the bastard who kidnapped my eldest daughter! He's not even a pure-blooded Italian—just an arrogant, mixed-blood brat who brought chaos to my territory. The crimes are real. The pictures are real. Your 'miracle' won't change the fact that he is a criminal!"
Venus closed her eyes and clutched her hands together over her chest. When she opened them, the "angel" was gone. The amethyst of her eyes seemed to swirl like a poisonous mist.
The guards lowered their heads, trembling. Even Ylla and Daliah felt a surge of pity for the Chief. He was a dead man walking.
"Ara... it seems you need a moral example to help you understand," Venus whispered, leaning in so close that Zamor could smell the lilies on her breath.
"There was once a woman in a white robe—I forget her name—who frequented the parlors of Romue. My friend saved her from a fall, but instead of thanks, she pushed him away with a look of pure disgust. An hour later, her lover approached my friend. The man claimed my friend had molested her and demanded a massive 'compensation' or he would call the police. Ridiculous, isn't it?"
Venus looked at her fingernails, her voice a sinister melody. "The woman even slapped my attendant. I respect that energy. Strong, healthy... racist. They were perfect for each other. You see, I am just a silly girl, so I love sweet-talking people like that."
She touched Zamor's shoulder. He felt like a viper had just draped itself over him.
"The man made his living on a wager," she continued. "He could swallow objects—billiard balls were his specialty. One evening, I challenged him. Twenty thousand luzers in cash if he could swallow a ball of my choosing. If he failed, his lover would belong to me. They were overjoyed. They thought I was stupid. They signed the contract with a laugh."
Venus's eyes turned sharper than a razor.
"I handed him the cue ball. He swallowed it, it lodged in his throat, and he choked to death right there on the floor. His lover followed soon after as per the contract. What he didn't know—and what I did—was that the cue ball was 1/18th of an inch larger than a standard billiard ball. Just too large to pass."
She leaned into his ear, her voice a chilling hiss.
"The moral of the story, Chief Zamor, is this: If I am willing to watch a stranger choke to death for my own amusement... what do you think I will do to you if you don't follow my simple request?"
The guards, men who had faced down riots and border skirmishes, crouched back in the shadows. They stood exactly four steps away, their breath hitched, paralyzed by the sheer, cold pressure radiating from the small woman in the white robe.
"Y-Your Excellency, forgive me! I have sinned!" Chief Zamor finally broke. He dropped his head, his forehead hitting the cold floor with a dull thud. "I take back everything! I didn't mean to disrespect him, or you. I didn't mean to betray the verdict! I was only... I was only following the law stated by our community!"
"Say his name," Venus demanded. Her voice was flat, devoid of the melodic warmth that usually defined her. It was the sound of a falling guillotine.
"S-Say again?" Zamor shuddered, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Say his full name. Say it," Venus insisted, her eyes narrowing.
"B-but I don't think it's necessary—" Zamor started, his pride struggling for one last gasp.
Fuckin' Hermes Archnemesis, Zamor cursed internally, his face pressed against the stone. You caught a big fish, you lucky bastard. This girl isn't a priestess; she's a monster in the flesh.
"You're in no position to refuse," Venus quipped, her tone sharpening. "Or would you prefer to see yourself sleeping with the fishes?"
Without warning, she shifted her weight and placed the sole of her silk-lined shoe directly on the back of his head, pinning him to the floor.
"F-forgive me! Please!" Zamor cried out, the weight of her foot feeling like a mountain of divine judgment. "Don't do something that could ruin your reputation!"
He began to frantically scratch his forehead against the floor in a desperate, groveling motion. The screeching sound of skin against stone filled the silent hall.
"I don't care about my status, and I don't freakin' care what people say about me," Venus dared, her voice dropping to a whisper that only he could hear. "All I care about is proving my point: that justice is served here and now. Now... say his name."
"H-H-Hermes Archnemesis," Zamor choked out, closing his eyes tight as the last of his dignity withered away.
The Priestess lifted his head slightly by the chin with the tip of her shoe, her face cast in deep shadow.
"HERMES ARCHMEMESIS, YOUR EXCELLENCY!" Zamor roared, tears finally streaming down his face as he screamed the name into the empty air.
"You're goddamn right," Venus praised sarcastically, finally stepping back.
This is a humiliating defeat! This is too awful! Zamor wept silently, his spirit crushed. Behind him, his henchmen squeezed their eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of their leader's total subjugation.
Daliah and Ylla stood frozen, their bodies trembling.
L-Lady Venus is terrifying, Daliah thought, her knees feeling weak. I didn't know this side of her existed.I'm glad I'm her attendant, Ylla added, biting her lip to keep from collapsing. If those eyes turned on me, I'd lose control of my senses. I have to make sure I never, ever cross her.
Venus began to pace slowly around the kneeling Chief, her footsteps rhythmic and predatory. "Chief Zamor, Hermes Archnemesis risked his life to save your children. Not to mention, Lord Hermes often defended you whenever I ridiculed your name. Instead of hating you, he scolded me, telling me to leave you be. I almost envy your relationship with him."
She stopped directly in front of him. "You gained his favor, and now you have to pay the debt. Or else, I will personally file a report to the Mafia Council regarding your 'competency.'"
"I know... I am truly sorry," Zamor muttered. He bit his lip so hard that blood began to seep from the corner of his mouth.
"Oh, really? Our leader is sorry?" Venus asked, stepping behind him. "How cute. You tried to execute a Boss—the true ruler of this domain—for what? Justice? Or just your own self-righteous ego?"
"No, please! I was stupid! I won't ever do it again!" Zamor begged without looking back.
Venus clicked her tongue. "Your existence is a nuisance, and your empty brain needs a thorough washing. What if he had died? Did you think about the next act of your play? There is always a consequence."
She brought her heel down sharply on his hand.
"It hurts! It hurts! I'm sorry!" Zamor cried out, cradling his hand as she released it. "Please, don't send your knights to kill my people!"
M-My Liege, that's enough! I can't watch this! Ylla thought, her eyes welling with sympathetic tears.
"I won't send them. You know the rules, and so do I," Venus said, tapping her foot against his ribs. "But what happens if you succeed? Does it bring balance? No. It brings death. If the other Bosses learn of his execution, they will declare a territorial war. Since you aren't a 'Made Man' yet, they'll use it as an excuse to cede this entire village. You aren't just starting instability, Zamor; you're inviting the destruction of Neue Fiona."
"I'm so sorry! I'll pay for it, I swear to God!" Zamor slammed his head against the floor again, the impact actually cracking a tile. Blood began to smear across the stone.
Satisfied, Venus extended her hand. The broken man reached out, his lips trembling as they touched her knuckles in a cold, sweat-soaked kiss. Her lips upturned into a serene, chilling smile.
"I am returning to the Emorial Inn," Venus said, her tone returning to a business-like deadpan. "Ara, I almost forgot. Apologize to Sir Aljen—or Hermes Archnemesis, if you prefer. Tell him you are canceling the trial and releasing him before midnight. And don't forget to visit your children tomorrow. That is my other request."
"Request...?" Zamor lifted his head, shivering. "Your kindness is... outstanding, Your Excellency."
"He's waiting in your office," Venus added, turning toward the exit. "Make sure to entertain your guest properly."
"Waiting for me? But I didn't—Oh, I'm sorry!" Zamor apologized again, his memory failing him in his panic.
Aren't you the one who sent the note? Venus thought, shaking her head. Poor old man, you're going senile. You need a break.
"Reputation takes a lifetime to build, but seconds to destroy. Remember that," Venus said, her fingers sliding from his cheek to his chin in a final, dreadful caress.
She turned and glided out of the building, her attendants scurrying after her. The heavy doors shut with a hollow boom.
"T-thank you, Your Excellency," Zamor whispered to the empty room.
"Chief, are you alright?" one of his men asked, rushing forward.
"Get off me!" Zamor barked, pushing the guard away. He stood up, wiping the blood from his forehead. "Boys... never speak of this. Not a single word leaks out of this hall. That's an order."
He turned and began to climb the stairs toward his office, leaving his men standing in a state of stunned confusion.
Outside the stone building, the night air was biting, but it felt clean compared to the suffocating tension of the hallway. Ylla and Daliah bowed their heads, falling into step behind their master.
Suddenly, Ylla noticed Venus's stride falter. Her legs, usually so steady and graceful, buckled as if the weight of her divine authority had finally become too heavy to carry. Ylla rushed forward, catching her by the elbows.
"Gotcha! Are you alright, Your Excellency?" Ylla asked, her voice thick with worry.
"I... I'm okay," Venus whispered, leaning heavily into her attendant. Her face was pale, the terrifying "Goddess" mask finally crumbling. "I just need some rest. Take me back to the inn. I want to see the children."
"Your Excellency, you pushed yourself too much," Ylla scolded gently, though her heart ached. "Don't do that again."
"I'm terribly sorry," Venus replied, managing a weak, tired giggle as she scratched her cheek. "But I have to exceed my limit to reach my goal, you see. I know you girls are afraid of what I did. I showed you a side of me that... well, it wasn't very 'Priestess-like,' was it?"
My Liege, I wasn't scared because of you. I was scared for the floor you were cracking, Ylla thought, biting her lip to keep the remark inside.
"Your Excellency, I'm sorry for shaking like a puppy earlier," Daliah added, rushing to her other side.
"It's fine, Daliah. You don't have to lower your head," Venus waved her hands dismissively. Despite the darkness she had just unleashed, the warmth was back in her eyes.
I'm glad you're still the same master, Ylla thought, a small, genuine smile finally returning to her face.
"My Liege, what happened?" Mambo, their captain of the guard, rushed toward them from the shadows of the courtyard.
"She's exhausted. Where the hell is our pick-up?" Ylla snapped, lightly pushing Mambo back to give Venus some breathing room.
"In the parking lot, ready to move," Mambo answered.
"Let me carry your train, Milady. We shouldn't let this beautiful gown touch the dirt," Daliah volunteered, gathering the silk fabric.
"Thank you, Lady Daliah," Venus simpered, allowing herself to be led toward the waiting carriage.
Meanwhile, on the upper floor of the administrative building, a very different kind of woman was preparing for a different kind of night.
Ilona, the polished receptionist, stood in a darkened corridor. In her hand was a small slip of paper sealed with a butcher's axe—the mark of the Verdugo clan. She was no mere clerk; she was a high-level enforcer and spy. Beneath her professional uniform, her body was a walking armory: dozens of throwing knives, smoke bombs, and a lethal vial of poison tucked into her bodice.
Her mission was simple: gather intel and sow chaos. She had used her beauty to turn Chief Zamor into a "simp," a corrupt toy she could wind up and release at will. Single fathers were always the easiest prey.
But her "toy" had failed. He had been shut down by a teenage priestess, and now the plan was in jeopardy.
The Boss is thinking the same thing, Ilona thought ferociously. I pray to God that stupid Hermes takes the bait.
She had sacrificed everything for this mission—her pride, her body, even her dignity. I let that old man touch me, let his filth enter my womb, all for the power to finish this. And now that bratty priestess creates a loophole? I have to end this myself.
Suddenly, a cold, black hand tapped her shoulder.
Ilona bolted forward, spinning around with a knife already glinting in her hand. "Who is it?!"
"Fu~fu~, worry not, Ms. Ilona. It is I... the Informant."
A human-sized figure emerged from the shadows. It wasn't solid; its body was composed of a swirling black miasma that pulsed like a necrotic heart. It spoke with the raspy, whistling voice of an old man.
"What are you doing here?" Ilona demanded, though she lowered her blade slightly.
"I am here to assist. Two heads are better than one, especially when they are hunting the same wolf," the Informant hissed.
"Did the Underboss send you?"
"No. But we have mutual interests. I have a debt to settle with your target as well," the creature responded.
Ilona frowned, but before she could question him, the Informant's head tilted. "Hmm... they are coming. But they aren't the 'gift' I was expecting. Ms. Ilona, hide in that closet. We have uninvited guests."
"What? If they aren't friendly, I'll kill them," Ilona said, but she complied, stepping into the large supply closet.
"They aren't ordinary people," the Informant whispered, joining her in the cramped space and shutting the door. "My 'sister' is close, and I smell delicious animals. But I don't want to ruin the show. Give me some space."
"Don't touch me, or I'll gut you," Ilona warned in the dark.
I'm a straight lady, you filthy girl, the Informant thought with silent disdain. My heart belongs to my former master. Your body is already a ruin of the abyss.
The window of the Chief's office slid open with a ghostly silence. Four armed men, moving with military precision, slipped inside. Then, the air shimmered, and Elder Kilo appeared as if stepping out of a dream.
"The room is secured, Sir," a henchman reported.
"Good," Kilo's lips curled into a sneer. "Come forth, devious human. Let's end this right here."
Elder Kilo? Ilona thought, her eyes wide behind the closet slats.
Down the hall, Hermes stood before the heavy double doors of the office. He took a deep breath, his hand hovering over the brass handle.
"Is our defense ready, slime?" Hermes asked, his voice grave.
"Yes, Master. The 'Host' of the party is already inside. Be alert for the presentation," the slime vibrated.
"Set the mask to auto-mode," Hermes reminded.
"Affirmative."
Hermes pushed the doors open. As he stepped inside, a small, inconspicuous box dropped from his sleeve onto the floor. FLASH. A blinding strobe of white light consumed the room for a split second.
As the spots cleared from everyone's eyes, a fresh copy of the Virus Headlines slammed onto the Chief's desk, the ink still wet and sizzling as it wrote itself.
[VIRUS HEADLINES: EMERGENCY UPDATE]
Headline: THE BOSS ROOM IS LIVE!
Sub-header: Six Challengers have entered the arena. Probability of survival: [CALCULATING...]
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:
Rip them all apart until it is done.
Warning: Trash-talking increases critical hit rate by 15%.
Hermes stared at the five men and the Elder waiting for him.
"Well," he muttered, the slime mask clicking into its combat configuration. "I hope you all brought a change of clothes. This is going to get messy."