Outside White Stone Mansion, deep within the shadowed forest.
A dark figure lay prone along the thick branch of an oak tree, her body pressed tightly against the trunk until she seemed almost a part of the tree itself.
Her black cloak absorbed the surrounding light, reducing her presence to an absolute minimum.
This was the most basic skill of an assassin: concealing her form, her presence, and even her killing intent within the environment.
Margaret had a natural talent for it.
She could remain as motionless as a stone, her breathing so faint it was almost impossible to detect.
For three full days, she had remained hidden three hundred meters from the perimeter of White Stone Mansion, using an expensive dwarven telescope to observe her target's every move.
The telescope had cost eighty gold coins. The dwarf craftsman who made it had proudly claimed it was his masterpiece, capable of letting someone count a target's eyelashes from hundreds of meters away.
Margaret had thought he was exaggerating.
But after actually using it, she had been forced to admit that the dwarf hadn't lied. The telescope's precision far exceeded her expectations.
It had certainly been worth killing the dwarf and taking the exquisite telescope for herself.
Through the lenses, she could clearly see inside White Stone Mansion.
The windows, the hallways, the rooms, all of them were within her field of view.
And her target, a black-haired young man named Orum, had every detail of his daily routine laid bare before her eyes.
Whenever Orum entered her sight, the branded emblem on Margaret's neck, a pair of antlers against a red background, would begin to grow faintly warm.
It was a strange sensation.
Almost as though an invisible thread connected her to her target.
It was a blessing from Bonshaba, the Goddess of Misfortune.
Through this brand, Margaret could sense the presence of other Chosen of Misfortune.
And right now, the brand was telling her that this black-haired young man was the prey she had come to hunt.
A cold smile curved Margaret's lips.
Found you.
My newest sacrifice.
She had already successfully assassinated three Chosen of Misfortune.
After every successful hunt, Margaret had offered her target's severed head to the Goddess of Misfortune.
And Goddess Bonshaba, in return, had granted her generous rewards.
Divine power poured into her body, her class advanced, and her strength increased.
Margaret had become addicted to it.
She wanted to offer Bonshaba even more sacrifices.
And gain even more divine power in return.
Margaret needed to break through her bottleneck and become a true Assassination Master.
And Orum was the final stepping stone she needed to complete that advancement.
It was eight in the morning.
Based on what she had observed over the last three days, Orum should still be asleep.
Margaret pressed her right eye against the eyepiece of the black telescope. Reflected in her pupil was the window of the second-floor bedroom in White Stone Mansion.
The curtains had been drawn open again.
Just as expected.
Through the window, she saw the black-haired young man curled beneath his blankets.
Margaret frowned slightly.
Orum kept an extremely regular schedule.
He got up at eight every morning.
No, more accurately, he was woken up by those two half-elf maids at eight every morning.
And even then, they had to coax him out of bed like some spoiled young nobleman.
Margaret watched as the half-elf maid with pale golden hair entered the room carrying a tray. On it were a basin of hot water and a towel for washing his face.
"Master, it's time to get up."
The maid's voice couldn't carry through the window, but Margaret could make out the general meaning from the movement of her lips.
It was the maid who seemed more innocent and naive.
Margaret didn't know her name, but she had memorized her appearance and mannerisms.
The maid walked to the bedside and gently shook Orum beneath the blankets.
"Master, it's time to get up."
Through the telescope, Margaret watched the maid's lips move.
She couldn't hear anything, but she could understand the general meaning by reading her lips.
Orum rolled over beneath the blankets and kept sleeping.
The maid shook him again, sighed helplessly, then sat on the edge of the bed and began gently coaxing him.
"Master, Sister Ristina has already prepared breakfast."
Only then did the black-haired young man lazily sit up. He yawned, stretched, and moved with the sluggishness of a bear just waking from hibernation.
The entire process took at least ten minutes.
Margaret's mouth twitched.
This was someone chosen by the Goddess of Misfortune?
A useless man who couldn't even be bothered to get out of bed?
Margaret had seen plenty of powerful people.
Without exception, the truly strong possessed incredible self-discipline.
They rose before dawn to train.
They spent every minute and every second improving their strength.
But Orum?
He slept late and needed servants just to eat.
He even had maids help him get dressed.
He was completely useless!
Margaret unconsciously tightened her grip on the telescope until her knuckles turned white.
The red antler emblem on her neck was still radiating heat. The burning sensation clearly told her that this man really was a Chosen of Misfortune.
There could be no mistake.
But the contrast was simply too absurd.
The three Chosen of Misfortune Margaret had hunted before consisted of one mercenary captain and two Wanderers.
All of them had been experienced professionals with exceptional vigilance and formidable combat ability.
Every assassination had required meticulous planning, waiting for the perfect opportunity, and killing the target in a single strike.
But this Orum...
Margaret took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
Perhaps it was only an act.
Perhaps he was concealing his strength.
Perhaps he had sensed danger and was deliberately pretending to be useless in order to make his enemies lower their guard.
Margaret decided to continue observing.
She had encountered far too many cunning prey to allow herself to be deceived by appearances.
A true assassin never became careless simply because her target appeared weak. Even a lion used its full strength to hunt a rabbit.
Before long, Orum finally got out of bed after enough coaxing from the maid.
He slowly washed his face.
Slowly brushed his teeth.
Slowly got dressed.
Every movement radiated laziness.
Margaret's frown deepened.
If this was an act, it was far too convincing.
Once Orum finished dressing, he left his bedroom and went downstairs to the first-floor bathroom.
Margaret adjusted the angle of her telescope and continued tracking him.
A few minutes later, Orum emerged from the bathroom and entered the dining room.
The two half-elf maids had already prepared breakfast.
Margaret noticed that the two girls looked almost identical. Both had pale golden hair, ice-blue eyes, and delicate faces that looked like finely crafted works of art.
They were probably twins.
"Once I've butchered Orum, I'll rip out their intestines and tear apart those pretty little faces too."
The beauty of the two maids stirred a trace of jealousy in Margaret, and the vicious thought immediately surfaced in her mind.
She continued watching.
Orum sat at the dining table and began breakfast.
A golden fried egg rested on a silver plate beside several slices of smoked bacon. A silver fork held bread fragrant with wheat, while a silver cup contained warm milk. The entire breakfast looked refined and filling.
Orum apparently couldn't even be bothered to move his own hands. He had the two beautiful half-elf maids cut his food into pieces and deliver it directly to his mouth.
Judging from his expression, he considered this perfectly natural.
The entire meal proceeded at an unhurried pace, without the slightest sense of urgency.
After breakfast, Orum would play chess with the maid whose expression was always cold as ice.
Margaret didn't understand the rules of the game.
But she could tell that Orum was terrible at it.
He lost almost every match.
Whenever he lost, the maid would draw a card from a pink deck.
Then she would blush and hurry away.
Margaret narrowed her eyes.
That pink deck...
What exactly was it?
She couldn't make out what was printed on the cards.
But from the maid's reaction every time she drew one, Margaret could make a few guesses.
After playing chess, Orum would go into the backyard.
This was the part Margaret looked forward to most.
The backyard sat in a blind spot of White Stone Mansion and couldn't be seen from any of the second-floor windows.
That meant that if Orum was secretly training back there, Margaret would have no way to observe it.
Reality proved that Margaret had been overthinking things.
Orum went into the backyard for one reason.
To sunbathe.
Yes.
Just to lie in the sun.
He would recline on a bench in the backyard for a while, then return inside.
The entire process lasted less than half an hour.
Margaret could hardly believe her eyes.
This man...
Was he really a Chosen of Misfortune?
She was beginning to wonder whether something was wrong with her brand.
But the heat coming from it was unmistakable.
And every time Orum appeared within her sight, the sensation became stronger.
There could be no mistake.
He was the target.
By evening, the sky gradually darkened.
Magic-stone lamps lit up inside White Stone Mansion.
Warm orange light shone through the windows.
Margaret watched Orum walk into the dining room.
The two half-elf maids had already prepared dinner.
Exquisite dishes covered the table.
Orum sat at the head.
The two maids stood at either side, serving him.
They cut his meat, poured his wine, and handed him napkins, every movement elegant and perfectly coordinated.
Margaret frowned again.
Did this man really need his maids to feed him?
His hands weren't injured.
His body was perfectly healthy.
So why did he need someone else to serve him even while eating?
Margaret couldn't understand how someone this hopelessly lazy could possibly have caught the attention of Lady Misfortune, Bonshaba.
Dinner lasted half an hour.
Orum leisurely enjoyed his meal, occasionally chatting with the two maids and telling amusing jokes that made them cover their mouths and giggle.
He appeared to be in an excellent mood.
After dinner, Orum returned to his second-floor bedroom.
Margaret watched the innocent maid, Carolina, carry a basin of hot water into the bedroom.
She helped her master wash his face and hands, then left the room.
Margaret assumed Orum was going to sleep.
She was wrong.
About half an hour later, the icy maid, Ristina, entered Orum's bedroom carrying a tray.
A teapot and teacup sat on it.
Margaret's pupils contracted slightly.
Tea?
At this hour?
She suddenly had an unusual feeling.
Sure enough.
Soon after Ristina entered the room, she drew the curtains closed.
The interior became impossible to see clearly.
That had been the situation on the first night.
Margaret had thought that was ridiculous enough.
But what she observed over the next two days completely overturned her understanding of the situation.
Margaret took a deep breath.
Was this Orum even human?
Even a young adventurer in the prime of his life wouldn't be able to keep that up.
And what Margaret found even more unbelievable was Ristina's stamina.
That maid expended tremendous amounts of energy every day.
Yet the next morning, she could still work as energetically as ever.
Cooking.
Cleaning.
Serving her master.
Everything remained perfectly organized.
There wasn't the slightest sign of exhaustion.
"That maid probably isn't an ordinary person either. How can she endure all that?"
And what surprised Margaret even more was the innocent maid, Carolina.
She seemed completely unaware of everything happening around her.
Every time Ristina met her afterward, Carolina would enthusiastically approach her.
"Sister, is Master awake?"
"Sister, do you need any help?"
Carolina's ice-blue eyes were completely innocent, without a trace of suspicion.
Margaret almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
Was this maid deaf and blind?
Those two were flirting right beneath her nose.
And she hadn't noticed anything?
By the third day, Margaret had thoroughly figured out Orum's daily life.
Every day consisted of eating, drinking, sleeping, relieving himself, and flirting with his maids.
Margaret even began wondering whether Orum had been possessed by a succubus.
Otherwise, there was simply no explanation for such an abnormal lifestyle.
"That man's head is filled with nothing but filth."
Margaret mentally labeled Orum.
"He's practically a walking mass of hormones."
Her three days of observation finally came to an end.
Margaret lowered the telescope and leaned back against the thick tree trunk, closing her eyes as she sorted through the information she had gathered.
Every detail replayed inside her mind.
Orum's waking time, eating habits, range of movement, even how often he went to the bathroom.
She had recorded all of it.
This was an essential skill for an assassin.
Only by understanding everything about a target could one discover the best opportunity to strike.
"He probably couldn't even handle a few goblins."
Margaret mocked him inwardly.
She had seen plenty of so-called adventurers.
At least those people trained every day.
Sword drills.
Running.
Strength exercises.
But Orum?
Aside from eating, sleeping, and fooling around with his maids, he did nothing.
"With a body hollowed out by wine and women, he probably couldn't even defeat an ordinary strongman." A mocking smile curved Margaret's lips. "Much less stand against a professional assassin like me."
She recalled the three Chosen of Misfortune she had hunted before.
Those people had been genuine powerhouses, all exceptionally vigilant and highly experienced in combat.
Every assassination had required meticulous planning and patience while she waited for the best possible moment.
But this Orum...
He might as well have been a sacrifice delivered straight to her doorstep.
Margaret opened her eyes and looked toward White Stone Mansion in the distance.
The sun was setting, its fading light staining the entire building gold and crimson.
It looked warm and peaceful.
But in Margaret's eyes, it was simply a place soon to become a slaughterhouse.
"This Orum is so absurdly useless it's almost unbelievable," Margaret muttered. "He's nothing more than an ordinary spoiled wastrel. I can't see a single reason why Lady Misfortune, Bonshaba, would have chosen him."
Her right hand unconsciously brushed the red antler emblem branded onto her neck.
It was still warm.
Clearly telling her that this man really was a Chosen of Misfortune.
But why?
Why would Goddess Bonshaba choose such a useless man?
Margaret couldn't understand it.
"Great Lady Misfortune, why would you choose such a worthless piece of trash as one of your Chosen?" Margaret whispered. "Can even a god make a mistake in judgment?"
There was no response.
Of course there wasn't.
Gods never explained themselves.
Margaret shook her head and pushed the questions from her mind.
Whatever the reason, this was wonderful news for her.
Killing such a useless target wouldn't be much harder than wringing a chicken's neck.
"But that's perfect. It'll make completing my mission even easier." A cruel smile spread across Margaret's face. "Kill him, sacrifice him to Goddess Bonshaba, receive the divine power I need to break through my bottleneck, and finally become an Assassination Master!"
An almost fanatical light shone in her eyes.
Margaret could feel it.
The breakthrough she had pursued for so long was finally drawing near.
The barrier that had held her back for an entire year would finally be shattered by this hunt.
She thought back over her recent journey.
"At least I didn't waste those three whole days searching every corner of that remote little place, Blackwater Town, for nothing."
Her voice held clear dissatisfaction.
At the time, her brand had told her that the target was somewhere near Blackwater Town.
Margaret spent three days searching before finally learning that he had already left for Roen City.
She had been forced to abandon her search in Blackwater Town and follow him all the way to Roen City, traveling more than a thousand kilometers.
Her enhanced physique as a professional allowed her to endure such a grueling journey.
But there was no avoiding the mental exhaustion.
"Still, all that effort was worth it!"
Margaret clenched her fist.
"As long as I kill that useless Orum, I'll finally advance to Assassination Master!"
Margaret decided to act tonight.
No more delays.
Every additional day increased the chance of being discovered and introduced another unpredictable variable.
Besides, she could hardly wait to complete this hunt.
Margaret drew the pair of curved blades forged from snow-patterned steel from inside her clothes.
The blades reflected a cold gleam beneath the fading sunlight.
They were her most precious weapons.
Their edges were incredibly sharp, natural metallic patterns running along the steel, and they could slice through human bone with ease.
Black leather wrapped the hilts, providing a perfect grip.
Margaret gently ran her fingers along a blade, savoring its icy touch.
"Tonight, you'll drink blood again."
Standing on the tree branch, Margaret watched the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the horizon.
Golden light was swallowed by darkness.
The sky shifted from orange-red to deep blue, then finally became completely black.
Several hours later, night had fully descended, and Roen City fell silent.
Only the occasional barking of distant stray dogs and the rustling of leaves in the night wind broke the stillness.
The entire world seemed to have fallen asleep.
Only Margaret remained awake.
Midnight.
The time when humans slept most deeply.
And an assassin's favorite hour.
When the distant church bells rang twelve times, Margaret moved.
She silently slid down from the tree, drifting toward the ground like a wisp of black smoke.
Her feet landed without making the slightest sound.
The instant she touched the ground, her knees bent slightly, absorbing every trace of the impact.
Her weight spread evenly across both feet.
Not even a mark was left behind.
Margaret loosened the stiffness caused by remaining in the same position for so long.
Her joints gave several faint cracks before her body quickly returned to peak condition.
In less than three minutes, Margaret reached the outer wall of White Stone Mansion.
The three-meter stone wall might have posed an obstacle to an ordinary person.
To her, it was nothing.
She leaped lightly over the wall.
Once again, she landed without a sound.
She was as graceful and silent as a cat jumping onto a windowsill.
The backyard of White Stone Mansion was utterly quiet, save for the breeze stirring the leaves.
Margaret held her breath and carefully listened for the slightest movement around her.
Only after confirming that nothing was amiss did she continue forward.
Soon, Margaret reached the outer wall of the main building.
From her observations, she already knew that the room on the left side of the second floor was Orum's bedroom.
The window was closed.
Ristina had shut it for Orum to keep the night wind from blowing across her master's body and causing him to catch a chill.
Margaret gripped tiny protrusions in the wall with both hands.
Her fingers possessed extraordinary strength. Even on a smooth surface, she could find enough purchase to support herself.
Like a gecko, Margaret pressed herself against the wall and rapidly climbed upward, moving as smoothly as if she were walking across level ground.
Within seconds, she reached the second-floor window.
She hung from the edge of the window frame, body pressed tightly against the wall, and peered through the slightly open gap.
The bedroom was completely dark.
Only faint moonlight filtered through the curtains.
Margaret saw someone lying on the bed.
The black-haired young man was sound asleep.
His breathing was slow and steady.
He hadn't noticed the approaching danger at all.
"Now."
Margaret took a deep breath.
Then she activated the Wanderer class ability, Shadow Walk.
Margaret's physical body became insubstantial. In an instant, she transformed into a wisp of black smoke, as though her entire form were composed of countless tiny particles of shadow.
Under cover of darkness, Margaret became a drifting shadow with almost no physical substance and silently slipped through the window into the bedroom.
The entire process made no sound whatsoever.
It was as though a current of air had simply flowed into the room.
The smoke gathered inside the bedroom and reformed into a human figure.
Margaret stood beside the window.
Her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness.
She saw Orum lying on the large bed.
The black-haired young man lay there breathing evenly, clearly in a state of deep sleep.
He was completely unaware of the danger that had entered his room.
Orum looked so vulnerable and defenseless.
Like a lamb waiting for slaughter.
A cruel smile spread across Margaret's lips as her right hand slowly reached toward the snow-patterned curved blade at her waist.
Its icy touch made her blood race with excitement.
"I've finally reached this moment."
Margaret silently approached the bed.
Every step was so light that she seemed weightless, carefully avoiding any creak from the floorboards.
Her breathing and heart rate dropped to their minimum.
Her entire body entered the absolute state of an assassin preparing to kill.
Margaret's eyes locked onto the position of Orum's heart.
His chest rose and fell rhythmically with every breath.
Margaret raised the gleaming curved blade high in her right hand.
Its sharpened edge glittered with a deadly chill beneath the moonlight.
She had already aimed directly at Orum's heart.
One strike.
That was all she needed.
"Farewell, useless Chosen."
Margaret laughed coldly inside her mind.
"Thank you for contributing to my advancement."
Her wrist snapped downward.
The snow-patterned curved blade tore through the air with a vicious whistle.
She drove it straight down into Orum's heart!
The point struck exactly where she intended.
Margaret could even feel the resistance of flesh being pierced!
Her smile became almost manic.
She could hardly wait to see Orum's body curl up in agony while blood erupted from his chest like a fountain.
But at that exact moment, something went terribly wrong.
The instant the sharpened blade entered Orum's chest, its point pierced the thin layer of skin and cut through the superficial muscle fibers.
But in the next instant, the edge struck something impossibly hard and became completely stuck.
It couldn't penetrate another fraction of an inch.
"What?!"
Margaret could clearly feel the enormous resistance traveling through the blade.
It was nothing like cutting into bone.
It felt more like trying to carve through a suit of armor forged from solid refined steel with a dull knife.
Every attempt to force the blade deeper sent a numbing shock through the webbing of her hand.
The reason was simple.
Every bone inside Orum's body had been transformed into a [Bull-Headed Troll Skeleton]!
There was even an additional layer of bone protecting his heart, like a breastplate embedded inside his body, blocking the sharpened blade.
Margaret's pupils instantly contracted into pinpoints.
Every instinct she had developed as a professional assassin screamed a warning inside her mind.
The prey before her...
Was far more dangerous than she had imagined.
"Impossible!"
Margaret screamed inwardly.
"Human bones aren't supposed to grow there!"
Margaret had spent fifteen bloody years as an assassin and personally killed more than a hundred people.
Never once had she encountered anything this bizarre.
She gritted her teeth.
The muscles of her face twisted from the immense effort as both hands clamped tightly around the hilt.
Veins bulged across her arms like coiling dragons.
She poured every ounce of strength in her body into the thrust.
She was going to punch straight through Orum's bones!
Under the enormous pressure, the steel blade began to tremble violently.
A teeth-grating hum came from the metal.
The noise was high and piercing.
In the silent bedroom, it sounded especially unnatural.
Then, in the next instant...
Crack!
A sharp, decisive snapping sound exploded through the darkness.
It sounded like the tolling of a bell announcing a death sentence.
Margaret's heart seemed to stop for an instant.
In the dim moonlight, she watched in horror as the curved blade snapped cleanly in half.
The upper half spun through the air in a short arc toward the nearby wall.
It struck with a metallic clatter before falling onto the thick carpet with a muffled, hopeless thud.
Margaret stood frozen in place, still holding the remaining half of the weapon.
She looked as though she had been struck by lightning.
Her mind went completely blank.
Every thought was swallowed by the impossible scene before her.
All the experience and techniques Margaret had accumulated through more than a decade as an assassin suddenly became meaningless.
Because what she was seeing lay completely outside everything she understood.
How could human bones possibly be harder than steel?!
At that moment, Orum's eyes snapped open.
A strange blood-red light glowed within them in the darkness.
Deep inside his pupils, it seemed as though flames from the abyss itself were burning.
He looked like an ancient monster that had just awakened from its slumber.
The moment Margaret met his gaze, a tidal wave of pressure crashed over her.
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs.
Adrenaline surged to its limit in less than a second.
Her most primitive survival instinct overwhelmed every trace of reason and arrogance.
"Damn it!"
Margaret immediately discarded the useless broken weapon.
Her body launched backward like a spring compressed to its absolute limit.
Her toes tapped the floor three times in rapid succession.
She became a black shadow racing toward the window.
It was her only escape route.
Her reaction was fast.
But another figure moved at a speed far beyond human limits.
Like a cannonball fired from behind her, it shot forward.
A huge hand clamped around Margaret's neck like an iron vise.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Orum's voice was icy and devoid of the slightest trace of human emotion.
The strength in that hand was terrifying.
Five fingers dug deep into Margaret's flesh like iron clamps.
They nearly crushed the bones of her neck.
The immense pressure didn't even allow her to scream.
Only strangled clicking sounds escaped her throat.
Margaret's feet instantly left the ground as Orum lifted her into the air with one hand.
Her body twisted and struggled helplessly in midair, like a black rabbit caught in a hawk's talons.
"N..."
Margaret's face rapidly turned dark purple.
Her eyes became violently bloodshot, veins bulged across her skin, and her entire face twisted into a horrifying expression.
She struggled with everything she had.
Both hands clamped around Orum's wrist as she desperately tried to pry apart his fingers.
But his hand might as well have been cast from solid steel.
No matter how much force she used, no matter how deeply her fingernails dug into him, she couldn't make it move even slightly.
Margaret's legs kicked helplessly through the air.
Her feet occasionally struck the edge of the bed, producing soft thumps that sounded unnaturally clear in the silent night.
It was the hopeless sound of death approaching.
Throughout it all, Orum's face showed no expression whatsoever.
He watched Margaret struggle with cold indifference.
There was no pity in his eyes.
No anger.
Not even the slightest emotional fluctuation.
It was as though he were simply watching a dying insect make its final futile struggle.
Crack.
A crisp sound of breaking bone suddenly echoed through the room.
Margaret's cervical vertebrae shattered beneath the tremendous pressure.
The noise was horrifyingly clear.
All strength instantly vanished from her body.
Her arms fell limply to her sides, and her entire body sagged like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Only Orum's hand kept her suspended.
But Orum didn't release her.
For the sake of caution, he decided to make absolutely certain she was dead.
Orum carefully twisted Margaret's head clockwise through a full three hundred and sixty degrees.
Her face rotated all the way around.
The sickening grinding and cracking of bone echoed through the silent room.
It almost sounded as though her marrow were screaming while nerves snapped and blood vessels tore apart.
Margaret's neck bones were completely pulverized.
Her spinal cord was utterly severed.
There was no possibility that she remained alive.
Only after finishing did Orum release his grip.
Margaret's corpse collapsed onto the carpet beside the bed like a discarded rag doll, her body twisted into an extremely unnatural position.
Orum stood and looked down at the wound on his chest.
There was only a shallow bloody line across his skin.
The blood around the wound had already clotted.
Margaret's strike had caused nothing more than a superficial injury.
She hadn't even reached a blood vessel.
Orum crouched and carefully inspected Margaret's corpse.
His fingers paused against her neck.
There was a branded emblem there, antlers set against a red background.
Under the moonlight, it gave off a faint red glow.
"A Chosen of Misfortune."
Orum spoke softly.
A trace of coldness entered his voice.
He wasn't surprised.
Bonshaba was a goddess with a truly vile personality. Naturally, she would bring tremendous danger and troublesome problems into his life.
It was true that Lady Misfortune had helped him last time, back in Kardia Village, when she had instantly killed the troublemaker Korlindra inside his dream.
But Orum had never doubted the goddess's fundamentally evil nature.
Now she had chosen Orum as one of her pieces, intending to make him perform a chaotic, insane spectacle across her game board.
Orum snorted inwardly.
One day, he would show her exactly what happened when a chess piece turned around and killed the player.
If she really managed to piss him off, he would max out his strongest Monster Organ, the [Species-Compatible Reproductive System].
It would work even on gods!
Goddess of Misfortune, prepare to die!
Rapid footsteps suddenly sounded outside the bedroom.
They were frantic and disorganized, accompanied by restrained, hurried breathing and the rustling of skirts.
"Master Orum!"
The bedroom door was thrown open and struck the wall with a bang.
The flames of a candelabrum illuminated two slender figures standing in the doorway, casting wavering shadows across their frightened faces.
Ristina rushed in first.
Her long pale-golden hair was disheveled and scattered loosely across her shoulders.
She wore nothing but a thin silk nightgown and held a silver dining knife in one hand, its blade gleaming beneath the candlelight.
She had obviously grabbed the knife in a hurry after hearing the strange noises.
It wasn't particularly sharp, but at least it gave her some sense of security.
Carolina followed closely behind.
Her short golden hair clung messily to her forehead.
Sweat and fear had drained all color from her face, leaving her pale as paper, while her lips had gone bloodless from nervousness.
Their eyes simultaneously landed on the twisted corpse lying on the carpet.
Their pupils widened instantly.
For a moment, they almost stopped breathing.
"Ah!"
Carolina let out a suppressed scream, sharp and brief.
She instinctively stepped backward and nearly collided with the dressing table behind her.
The candelabrum almost slipped from her hand.
Ristina bit down hard on her lip, nearly drawing blood.
Fortunately, neither Ristina nor Carolina was an ignorant young girl who had never experienced anything frightening.
The destruction of the Lorran family, followed by the bloody fighting against the Green Calamity monsters after the Blazing Sun Tournament, had hardened them somewhat to the sight of corpses.
At least they didn't immediately vomit.
They saw Margaret's head twisted around at an impossible angle.
They saw the lifeless eyes.
And most importantly, they saw the alarming streak of blood across Orum's chest, even though the wound had already stopped bleeding.
"Master!"
Ristina's voice trembled, but she forced herself to step forward.
As his maid, she needed to confirm her master's condition.
She quickly approached Orum.
The candlelight illuminated his wound, revealing its clean edges and the blood that had already begun to clot.
Orum raised a hand, signaling that she didn't need to worry.
"It's only a superficial wound. The bleeding has already stopped, and it's healing."
His voice was as calm as ever.
It was as though what had just happened had been nothing more than a trivial interruption.
Carolina finally recovered her voice.
It was high and terrified, with a clear hint of tears.
"W-what happened? Who is this assassin? Why is she here?"
Ristina took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
She was the maid of this household.
She was Carolina's older sister.
She had to remain composed.
Her voice still trembled as she asked, "Master, was this assassin here to kill us?"
Despite the tremor in her voice, a sharp glint had already appeared in her eyes.
If the assassin had come to kill them, then they had already been dragged into some dangerous conflict.
She needed to prepare herself to fight.
Orum slowly turned around.
His right hand unconsciously moved toward his left shoulder.
A scorching pain was spreading from there, like a red-hot branding iron pressed against his skin, making him frown slightly.
He could clearly feel Bonshaba's brand burning.
The heat didn't originate from outside his body.
It came from deep within his soul.
It was the resonance of a curse.
That reaction confirmed his suspicion.
Margaret had been one of Bonshaba's Chosen, and she had come specifically to assassinate him.
"No."
Orum's voice was calm and certain.
His eyes looked especially deep beneath the candlelight.
"She wasn't here to kill you. She came for me."
Orum stood and turned toward the two maids.
"Dispose of the body. Burn it to ash, then bury the ashes in the backyard. Make sure you clean everything thoroughly. Don't leave any traces behind."
Ristina and Carolina exchanged another look.
This time, worry and fear filled their eyes.
They realized that their master had become involved in something extremely dangerous.
But they had long since grown accustomed to obeying him.
Neither hesitated over Orum's command.
Ristina took a deep breath and forced herself to accept the grim reality.
"I understand, Master.
"I'll handle it properly. There won't be any traces left."
She put down the dining knife, walked to Margaret's corpse, and crouched beside it.
Then she began searching the body for anything that needed to be dealt with.
Weapons, insignias, identification, anything that might reveal Margaret's identity.
Carolina hesitated briefly before walking over to help.
Her hands were still shaking.
Her face remained pale as paper.
But she knew this was something she had to do.
Orum said nothing more.
He walked to the window and pulled aside the heavy curtains.
His eyes stared into the pitch-black night sky, deep and cold, almost as though they could pierce the darkness and see some distant being enjoying the wonderful performance Orum was putting on for Her.
Gradually, the sky began to brighten.
The eastern horizon turned pale as the faint light of dawn pushed back the darkness.
Morning mist drifted slowly through the courtyard of White Stone Mansion, covering everything in a hazy veil.
In the burning pit behind the mansion, the final wisp of smoke curled upward.
It twisted through the chilly air before scattering in the wind, carrying away the final traces Margaret, that deeply sinful female assassin, had left upon the world.
Ristina and Carolina stood beside the pit.
The exhaustion and terror of the previous night still lingered on their faces.
Faint shadows beneath their eyes testified to a sleepless night.
Together, it had taken them three full hours to reduce Margaret's corpse completely to ash.
The flames consumed her flesh.
They consumed her bones.
And they consumed all the evidence.
Ristina held a shovel and mechanically gathered the ashes.
They drifted in the morning breeze, forcing her to work slowly so they wouldn't scatter away.
She poured them into a pit they had already dug beneath the shade of an old tree in a secluded corner of the courtyard.
Few people normally paid any attention to the place.
Carolina carried a bucket of water and washed away the remaining ash and charcoal from the burning pit.
The water carried the black residue deep into the soil, ensuring that no visible traces remained.
Both girls moved mechanically, almost numbly.
Their eyes were distant.
Clearly, neither had fully recovered from the shock of the previous night.
The twisted corpse and broken neck had left a deep impression on them.
After filling the burial pit, Ristina planted a rosebush over it.
It was currently in full bloom, its beautiful flowers particularly striking beneath the morning light.
She packed soil firmly around its roots.
Her hands were covered in earth and ash, black and brown mingling together, much like the complicated emotions inside her.
"No one will find it now," Carolina whispered.
There was some relief in her voice, but also an indescribable heaviness.
"But now... that makes us Master's accomplices."
"Carolina, are you afraid?" Ristina asked softly.
A trace of confusion appeared in Carolina's ice-blue eyes.
She shook her head.
"Sister, I'm... not afraid. I just don't know what we're supposed to do."
Ristina remained silent for a moment before speaking softly.
"Carolina, remember this."
"No matter who he is, no matter what he's done or what he intends to do, he is our master. That's all you need to remember."
Her voice was calm and firm.
A complicated emotion showed in her eyes.
There was fear.
There was understanding.
And there was an attachment she couldn't quite put into words.
The two returned to the mansion and briefly washed themselves at the kitchen sink.
Cold water ran across their hands, carrying away the dirt and ash and gradually settling the shock in their hearts.
They changed into clean lady's maid dresses, the standard attire worn by noble household maids in Roen City.
Black full-length dresses with white aprons, with delicate lace decorating the collars and cuffs.
When they returned to Orum's bedroom, the room had already been restored to its original state.
It was as though everything that happened the night before had been nothing more than a nightmare.
The bloodstains on the carpet had been completely cleaned away.
The broken curved blade was gone.
Even the lingering smell of blood had disappeared, replaced by a faint scent of lavender.
Orum stood before a full-length mirror, already fully dressed.
There was nothing on his face to suggest that someone had been killed in his bedroom the night before.
His expression was as calm as ever, as though he had experienced nothing more than an ordinary moonlit night.
He was still wearing his brand-new outfit.
His upper body was covered by a silver-fox-fleece cotton-linen shirt that stayed warm in winter and cool in summer.
He wore durable, lightweight indigo trousers woven from monster spider silk.
On his feet were brand-new greater horned ox leather boots designed to support his extraordinary weight and strength.
It was obvious that Orum was preparing for a long trip.
Today was the day he and Felix had agreed to depart for a new commission.
"Is everything taken care of?"
Orum turned toward the two maids.
His voice was perfectly calm, as though he were asking about the weather.
Ristina and Carolina nodded together, forcing themselves to show natural smiles.
The smiles were slightly stiff, but at least they still looked graceful enough.
"Then I'll be going."
Orum left the bedroom first.
His steps were steady and his posture elegant.
There wasn't the slightest indication that he had gone through a life-or-death struggle the night before.
The two maids followed behind him, walking in perfect rhythm, a habit formed through long practice.
Sunlight streamed through the colored glass windows of the corridor and painted brilliant patterns across the floor.
It was dreamlike and beautiful.
As though everything from the previous night had vanished with the wind and a completely new day had begun.
The three reached the front entrance of the mansion.
The morning sunlight stretched their shadows across the stone pavement, leaving three distinct silhouettes.
Orum stopped and turned toward the two maids.
A rare gentleness entered his eyes, along with a hint of apology and gratitude.
"Take care of yourselves. I'll be back soon."
His voice carried a softness that was difficult to notice.
"Don't open the door for strangers while I'm gone. If anything unusual happens, go straight to the city guards."
Ristina and Carolina curtsied together, their movements proper and elegant.
"Have a safe journey, Master. We'll take good care of the mansion."
Orum nodded calmly, then turned and walked outside.
The black iron gates of White Stone Mansion slowly opened beneath the morning light.
Their heavy hinges produced a deep creak that sounded unusually clear in the stillness of dawn.
The moment Orum crossed the threshold, the morning sunlight pierced the thin mist and fell across his silver-fox-fleece shirt, giving the fabric a soft sheen.
His gaze crossed the stone road in front of the mansion and landed on a carriage waiting nearby.
It was a finely crafted carriage belonging to an adventuring company.
Its body was understated black, with a silver eagle emblem mounted on its side.
It was the symbol of the Ice Hawks Company, gleaming with a cold metallic light beneath the morning sun.
A young man sat upright in the driver's seat.
His brilliant golden hair looked like flowing molten gold beneath the morning sunlight.
Every strand gave off a warm, dazzling glow, almost like fragments of divinity scattered into the mortal world.
His emerald eyes were clear and deep.
There was a gentleness about him like a spring breeze, yet he also possessed the composure and confidence unique to a leader.
His unforgettable beauty, combined with the air of a warm and refined young nobleman, made it seem as though he carried his own halo.
Even if he simply stood still, he would naturally become the focus of the entire street.
He wore a high-quality cotton robe bearing the emblem of the Ice Hawks Company.
A brand-new ceremonial longsword hung at his waist.
Set into its hilt was a blue magic crystal the size of a fist.
It looked as though thousand-year-old ice had been sealed inside, and beneath the morning light, frost-like patterns could be seen flowing through its depths.
This was Felix Greymane, leader of the Ice Hawks Company and a powerful spellcaster who had advanced to the class of Dragonblood Sorcerer.
When Felix saw Orum approaching, a warm smile immediately appeared on his flawless face.
It was genuine and gentle, like sunlight in spring.
He extended his right hand.
His palm was slender but strong, his knuckles clearly defined.
Calluses from years of sword practice covered his hand.
They were a warrior's medals, nothing like the delicate hands of certain pampered nobles whose palms were softer than a woman's.
"Good morning, Orum. It's been a while."
Felix's voice was clear and resonant, carrying a warm lightness.
"Looks like you're ready. This mission is urgent, but with an adventurer as powerful as you helping us, I'm sure everything will go smoothly."
Orum stepped forward and took Felix's hand, using his strength to climb onto the carriage.
"It's been a while, Captain. Thank you for coming to pick me up personally."
Orum's voice was calm and courteous.
After spending so much time together, he had long since grown accustomed to interacting with Felix and the other members of the Ice Hawks Company.
Felix laughed cheerfully and waved a hand, the gesture graceful and natural.
"We're a team. Of course we should look after one another. Besides, your performance during the Blazing Sun Tournament earned the Ice Hawks Company plenty of fame. Naturally, I have to reward you properly."
"What's the objective of this mission?" Orum asked curiously.
Felix's expression became more solemn.
"Our target is hiding in the Everdusk Forest, a land overrun by the rampant growth of undead creatures."
"It has something to do with a fallen family and a bard."
"A bard?"
Orum blinked, immediately realizing the significance of Felix's words.
This was a professional-level bard!