10:23 AM | Training Room
Massive space. Hardwood floors gleaming even in the dim emergency lighting. Mirrored walls reflecting everything back at them. Equipment lining the perimeter, weights, bags, mats, things that looked vaguely medieval and possibly illegal.
Aveline stood in the center, arms crossed, posture perfect.
"Yuki. Front and center."
Yuki stepped forward, nervous energy radiating off her in waves.
"We covered knife basics previously," Aveline said, voice clinical and detached. "Grip. Stance. Basic defensive positioning. Now we advance to practical application under stress conditions."
She walked to a storage locker, movements precise and economical. Pulled out two training knives, one rubber, one wooden, both weighted to feel real.
Handed the rubber one to Yuki.
"Show me what you remember."
Yuki took the knife. Adjusted her grip the way Aveline had shown her. Settled into a defensive stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, knife held at mid-level.
Aveline circled her slowly. Predator assessing prey.
"Adequate foundation. Grip pressure: appropriate. Stance: stable but rigid. Weight distribution needs adjustment." She stopped in front of Yuki. "Attack me."
Yuki hesitated. "What?"
"Attack. Simulate hostile engagement. Execute what you've learned."
"I don't want to hurt you,"
"You won't." Aveline's tone was flat. Final. Absolute certainty. "Attack."
Yuki lunged forward, awkward, telegraphed, like someone who'd watched movies but never actually done this.
Aveline sidestepped effortlessly, barely moving. Tapped Yuki's wrist with two fingers.
"Dead. Your knife hand is exposed. Overextension leaves you vulnerable to disarm or counter-strike." She reset to neutral position. "Again."
Yuki tried again. Faster this time, more committed.
Aveline deflected with minimal movement. Swept Yuki's leading leg. She stumbled.
"Dead. Balance compromised. Center of gravity too far forward. Easily exploitable."
Adrian watched from the sidelines, fascinated despite himself. There was something hypnotic about watching Aveline work, the efficiency, the precision, the complete lack of wasted motion.
"Again."
They went through it over and over.
Yuki attacked. Aveline countered. Pointed out flaws with clinical detachment. Reset.
Attack. Counter. Correct. Reset.
Like a machine teaching another machine how to function.
Except Yuki wasn't a machine. She was getting frustrated, tired, embarrassed.
But Aveline just kept going. Patient in that cold, mechanical way.
Slowly, incrementally, Yuki improved.
Her movements got tighter. Less wasted motion. Better balance. Attacks became less predictable.
Fifteen minutes in, she managed to land a glancing touch on Aveline's shoulder.
Aveline paused. Looked at the spot where Yuki's rubber knife had made contact.
"Better."
Just that. One word.
But Yuki beamed like she'd won a gold medal.
11:07 AM
"Your learning curve is steeper than anticipated," Aveline said, stepping back and crossing her arms. "Natural kinesthetic intelligence. Muscle memory retention above average for untrained civilian baseline."
"Thanks," Yuki said, breathless but smiling.
"It's an observation based on performance metrics."
"I know. Still taking it as a compliment."
Aveline's mouth twitched. Almost smiled.
Didn't quite get there.
But something shifted in her eyes, acknowledgment, maybe. Or the closest thing to approval Aveline was capable of.
"Continue training. Repetition solidifies neural pathways. Muscle memory develops through consistent practice." She turned to Adrian. "Demonstrate defensive grappling techniques with her. I'll observe and correct."
Adrian stood, stretched, feeling his own muscles protest. "Sure."
He and Yuki paired up. Worked through basic holds, wrist control, arm bars, simple breaks and counters.
Aveline watched with clinical precision, eyes tracking every movement like she was recording it for later analysis. Occasionally stepped in to correct form with brief, efficient touches, adjusting an elbow here, repositioning a foot there.
Time passed.
The cold receded slightly, whether from the fireplace still burning in the living room, the physical activity generating body heat, or just getting used to it, Adrian couldn't tell.
But the tension eased.
For the first time since they'd arrived at the mansion, things felt almost... normal.
Or whatever passed for normal when you were trapped in a blizzard with a billionaire assassin who'd shot you in the face twelve hours ago.
12:34 PM | The Shift
They took a break. Drank water from bottles Aveline produced from somewhere. Caught their breath.
Yuki sat against the mirrored wall, rolling her shoulders, face flushed from exertion.
"You're a good teacher," she said to Aveline, surprising herself with the admission.
"Instruction is data transfer. Efficiency depends on recipient comprehension rate and retention capacity."
"Just say 'thank you,'" Adrian muttered, leaning against the wall.
"Why? She made an observation. I provided technical clarification."
"Unbelievable."
Yuki laughed, small, genuine, the sound warm in the cold room.
Even Aveline's expression softened. Microscopically. So slight you'd miss it if you weren't watching.
But Yuki was watching now. Always watching. Trying to figure out what was real and what was performance.
Still unsure.
Still remembering that smile. That laugh.
The pleasure in Aveline's eyes when she'd killed.
Yuki pushed the memory down. Focused on the present. On the woman who was teaching her how to survive instead of the woman who'd enjoyed watching people die.
Maybe both could be true.
Maybe that was the most terrifying part.
She stood, rolled her neck, gripped her training knife with newfound confidence.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this," she said, voice carrying an edge of pride.
"Competence is developing within acceptable parameters," Aveline agreed.
"Maybe..." Yuki's grin widened. Just slightly. Testing. "Maybe I could even take you down now."
Silence.
Adrian froze mid-sip.
Aveline's head tilted.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like a predator noticing movement.
Her eyes locked onto Yuki, sharp, cold, calculating.
"You sure about that?"
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
All the warmth from moments before evaporated like it had never existed.
Yuki's grin faltered. Just slightly. But she'd committed now, and backing down felt worse than pushing forward.
"I mean... I've been doing pretty well, right? I landed a hit earlier. Maybe I could,"
"You landed a hit," Aveline interrupted, voice flat and clinical, "because I allowed it. Positive reinforcement. Psychological conditioning to maintain training motivation and prevent discouragement."
Yuki blinked. "Wait, you let me,"
"Every attack you've made, I've calculated seventeen different counters before you completed the initial motion. Every opening you've exploited, I created intentionally. Strategic vulnerability exposure to build confidence without actual risk." Aveline stepped forward, and suddenly the room felt smaller. "You've been operating within a controlled simulation designed to foster skill development. Not actual combat."
The words landed like hammer blows.
Yuki's face flushed, embarrassment mixing with something darker. Anger, maybe. Or fear.
"So I haven't actually improved at all,"
"You've improved significantly. Baseline comparison shows measurable progress." Aveline's expression didn't change. "But improvement relative to zero competency is still insufficient against trained operatives. You've progressed from completely helpless to marginally capable. Against me?" A pause. "Still helpless."
Yuki's jaw tightened. "Prove it."
Adrian stood straighter. "Aveline,"
She raised one hand. Silencing him without looking. Eyes never leaving Yuki.
"You want empirical demonstration?"
"Yes."
Aveline walked to the equipment locker. Pulled out a wooden training knife, sharp edges, weighted properly, could absolutely cause damage with enough force behind it. Real consequences in miniature.
Handed it to Yuki.
"You'll use this."
Yuki took it, confused, adrenaline starting to spike. "What are you using?"
Aveline reached into her pocket. Pulled out a black marker. Uncapped it with a soft pop.
"This."
Adrian stepped forward. "Wait, what,"
"She has the weapon," Aveline said calmly, holding up the marker like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
"I have a writing instrument. Full-contact sparring. Every mark I make represents a kill point. Throat, heart, femoral artery, subclavian artery, liver, kidneys." She paused. "You land a hit with your knife, it counts. Legitimate damage potential."
Yuki stared at the marker. Then at her wooden knife, suddenly feeling its weight differently. "That's not fair. I could actually hurt you with this."
"Correct. Which means if you land a hit, it's valid. Represents real threat neutralization." Aveline's expression was unreadable, blank as a mask. "But you won't."
"Why use a marker?" Adrian asked, something clicking in his head. "You have training knives. Wooden ones. Rubber ones."
Aveline paused.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Something flickered across her face, too fast to identify, but it was something.
"Margin for error," she said finally. "If I use a blade, even wooden, even rubber, muscle memory may override conscious control. Years of training create automatic responses. The marker ensures I cannot accidentally cause injury beyond superficial marks."
Translation: She didn't trust herself not to hurt Yuki if she held an actual weapon.
The realization settled over the room like snow.
Yuki swallowed hard. "You're... being careful. With me."
"I'm being practical. Injured assets are tactically suboptimal. Training casualties serve no operational purpose."
But the way she held the marker, loose, non-threatening, almost gentle, told a different story.
Aveline shifted into a ready stance.
Relaxed. Fluid. Weight balanced perfectly. Utterly, terrifyingly confident.
"Whenever you're ready."
Yuki gripped her knife tighter, suddenly very aware of her heartbeat, loud in her ears.
Adrian stepped back. Gave them space. Wished he had popcorn. Or a camera. Or any way to stop what was about to happen.
But he didn't.
So he just watched.
And waited for Aveline to prove her point.
12:37 PM | The Demonstration
Yuki circled left, trying to remember everything she'd learned.
Stay balanced. Don't overextend. Watch her eyes. No, watch her center mass. Eyes lie. Bodies don't.
Training Room | 12:34 PM
The room smelled like sweat and old wood. Dust motes floated in the cold afternoon light filtering through the barricaded windows. Outside, the storm still raged, howling, relentless, indifferent. Inside, the air was thick with tension.
Yuki's grip on the wooden knife was too tight. Knuckles white. Palms slick with nervous sweat.
She'd been training for what, an hour? Two? Felt like days. Like her entire life had condensed into this cold room, this wooden knife, this woman who moved like physics didn't quite apply to her.
Aveline stood across from her. Relaxed. Arms loose at her sides. Marker held casually in one hand like a cigarette, like something harmless.
Waiting.
Yuki's pulse hammered in her ears, too loud, drowning out thought.
Just one hit. That's all I need. Just prove I can,
She lunged.
Fast.
Hard.
Committed.
Everything she had.
The knife drove forward, aiming for Aveline's center mass, just like she'd been taught.
Aveline moved.
Not rushed.
Not panicked.
Just... moved.
Sidestep.
Smooth.
Effortless.
Like a matador evading a charging bull, lateral movement at a 45-degree angle, establishing dominant position while Yuki's momentum carried her forward into empty space.
Yuki's blade cut nothing but air.
She stumbled, caught herself, spun around.
Aveline was already walking away.
Back turned.
Not even looking at her.
Just pacing toward the far wall like Yuki wasn't worth the attention, like she'd already forgotten she existed.
What the,
Rage flared hot in Yuki's chest, burning through the cold.
She's not even taking me seriously.
"Hey!" Yuki shouted.
Aveline didn't stop.
Didn't pause.
Didn't acknowledge.
Yuki broke into a sprint. Knife raised. Adrenaline burning through her veins like fire.
I'll make you look at me. I'll-
Aveline's hand rose smoothly over her shoulder.
Still walking.
Still not looking back.
The marker glinted in her fingers.
Her thumb flicked.
Pop.
The cap sailed backward through the air, small, black, tumbling.
Yuki's eyes tracked it, too slow, too late,
THWACK.
Pain exploded across her right eye like a flash grenade going off behind her skull.
"AH, FUCK!"
Her vision went white. Then red. Then watery blur.
She doubled over, hand flying to her face, knife forgotten, clattering to the floor. Tears flooded instantly, hot, stinging, involuntary.
She tried to blink. Couldn't see. Everything was smeared shapes and burning pain.
What hit me? Where,
Panic clawed up her throat.
She forced her eye open. Blinked hard through the tears. Vision swam.
Looked left.
Empty.
Looked right.
Empty.
The room tilted. Her breath came short and fast.
Oh shit.
She's behind me.
A hand shot out from the shadows.
Fingers tangled in Yuki's hair like iron claws.
Cold.
So goddamn cold.
Yanked.
Yuki's head snapped back violently. Her neck stretched, exposed. Every pulse point vulnerable. She gasped, no air, no leverage, no way to fight back.
The marker pressed against her throat.
Cold tip.
Wet ink.
Right over her carotid.
Aveline leaned in close. Her breath was hot against Yuki's ear, contrasting sharply with those freezing hands.
And she smiled.
Yuki felt it more than saw it. The shift in Aveline's breathing. The faint hum of satisfaction, almost a purr.
Not a smirk. Not a calculated intimidation tactic.
A real smile.
Wide.
Hungry.
Delighted.
Like this was the best part of her day.
"Predictable," Aveline whispered, voice soft and almost affectionate.
Then she dragged the marker across Yuki's throat.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Left to right.
The ink was cold. Wet. It spread across her skin like,
Blood.
Yuki's brain short-circuited.
The marker felt exactly like blood.
Cold. Viscous. Spreading with terrible certainty.
Her body believed it before her mind caught up.
I'm bleeding. She cut me. I'm dying. I'm-
Her knees buckled.
The wooden knife clattered to the floor, forgotten, meaningless.
She collapsed forward, hands flying to her throat.
Wet. Sticky.
Dead. I'm dead. I'm DEAD-!
Training Room | 12:36 PM
"And you're dead."
Aveline's voice. Flat. Clinical. Final as a judge's gavel.
Yuki lay on the floor, chest heaving, hands still pressed to her throat like she could hold her life in.
She forced herself to look.
Black ink. Not red.
Not blood.
Just marker.
Just-
But her body didn't believe it. Heart still hammering against her ribs. Breath still ragged. Hands still shaking like she had hypothermia.
Aveline crouched beside her. Expressionless. The smile was gone, folded away like it had never existed, like Yuki had imagined it.
But she hadn't.
She'd felt it. That pleasure. That hunger.
"Kill window: 2.1 seconds," Aveline said, pulling out her phone and showing Yuki the stopwatch. "Target fixation. You committed to the chase without accounting for counters. The moment I disengaged, you should've reset defensive posture, reassessed threats. Instead, you pursued directly into an execution zone."
She paused, studying Yuki with clinical detachment.
"Eye strike forces immediate panic response, pain, tears, disorientation. Approximately 1.3 seconds of complete vulnerability. While you were compromised, I repositioned to your blind spot. Hair grab secures full cranial control with minimal effort. Throat exposure becomes automatic, mechanical response to forced head position." She tapped Yuki's throat where the marker line was. "You never had a chance. From the moment you charged, outcome was predetermined."
Yuki stared at her.
Couldn't speak
Couldn't move
Aveline stood. Extended her hand.
Yuki took it instinctively.
And flinched.
Ice.
Aveline's hand was freezing. Colder than the air. Colder than metal left outside. Like touching a corpse pulled from a freezer.
"Why are your hands so cold?" Yuki blurted, the question escaping before she could stop it.
Aveline pulled her upright effortlessly, like Yuki weighed nothing. "Side effect. Metabolic. You'll adapt."
"Side effect of what?"
"Existing." Aveline released her, and the cold vanished. "Go wash the ink off. Bathroom. Now."
Yuki stumbled toward the door, legs unsteady, still touching her throat like she might find a wound there, like the ink might turn to blood if she wasn't careful.
Training Room | 12:38 PM
Adrian stood frozen against the wall.
He'd watched the whole thing.
Every second.
The sidestep. The cap throw, Jesus Christ, she threw the cap into Yuki's eye, the hair grab. The throat mark.
And the smile.
That fucking smile.
He'd seen killers before. Plenty of them in his years with NPU. Cold professionals. Detached executioners. People who killed because it was necessary, because it was their job, because someone had to.
But this?
Aveline had enjoyed it.
Wide grin. Eyes half-closed like someone savoring expensive wine. Like she was tasting the moment, rolling it around, appreciating every note.
Like it was art.
His stomach twisted.
Aveline turned to face him. The smile was gone now, vanished completely, replaced by that blank, neutral mask she always wore. Professional. Controlled. Empty.
"Problem?"
"No."
"You look disturbed." Her head tilted slightly. Curious. Analytical. "Elevated heart rate. Shallow breathing. Micro-expressions indicating distress."
"I'm fine."
Her eyes narrowed. Assessing. Calculating. Running whatever algorithms ran behind that cold stare.
She walked toward him. Slow. Deliberate. Each step measured.
Stopped close. Too close. Close enough that he had to look down slightly to meet her eyes.
He could smell her, faint traces of gun oil, unscented soap, something metallic he couldn't identify.
She leaned in.
Whispered.
"You saw the smile, didn't you?"
Adrian's breath caught in his throat.
She knew.
She'd caught him watching. Knew he'd seen the mask slip. Seen what lived underneath.
"Good," Aveline continued, voice barely audible, intimate in a way that made his skin crawl. "You should see it. Should understand what you're working with."
Pause.
Her eyes locked onto his, pale, cold, empty as winter sky.
"Monsters like me keep people like you alive in situations like this."
The truth of it hit him like cold water.
She was right.
Whatever she was, whatever hollowness lived behind those eyes, it was the only reason they were still breathing.
Aveline stepped back, breaking the moment. "Kitchen. Fifteen minutes. You're learning soup."
She walked toward the door without waiting for agreement.
Adrian stood there, heart pounding, trying to process what he'd just seen.
What he'd always known but never wanted to acknowledge.
Yuki returned from the bathroom, face clean but eyes still red, still shaken.
They looked at each other.
Neither spoke.
What was there to say?
They followed Aveline to the kitchen.
Kitchen | 1:18 PM
The kitchen was warmer than the rest of the house, heat from the adjacent living room fireplace seeping through the open archway. Flickering orange light cast dancing shadows across marble counters.
Aveline moved through the space with surgical precision. Every motion deliberate. Economical. No wasted energy.
She pulled ingredients from the industrial refrigerator. Bread. Eggs. Vegetables, carrots, celery, onions. Chicken broth in a carton. Avocado. Herbs.
Lined them up on the counter like surgical instruments before an operation.
"Today you're learning soup," she said, turning to face them. "It's cold. Soup is more efficient than ramen for sustained warmth. Higher caloric density. Better nutrient profile. Longer satiation period."
She paused.
"I'll walk you through each step. You'll execute. I'll supervise and correct."
Yuki opened her mouth to protest,
"We don't know how to,"
"I'm aware," Aveline interrupted. "That's why I'm teaching you. Incompetence is correctable through instruction and repetition. Pay attention."
Kitchen | 1:22 PM - Toasting Bread
Aveline demonstrated first. Adjusted the toaster settings with precise finger movements. "Medium-high heat. Two minutes per side. Visual assessment for golden brown, not black. Burned toast is wasted resources."
She sliced bread from a fresh loaf, perfect twelve-millimeter thickness, measured by eye with frightening accuracy.
"Your turn."
Yuki took the knife. Cut too thick, uneven.
Aveline's hand closed over hers. Guided the blade.
Ice cold.
Yuki flinched but forced herself not to pull away.
"Like this," Aveline said, voice clinical, impersonal. "Steady pressure. Consistent angle. Let the knife do the work, forcing creates uneven cuts."
The next slice was better. Not perfect, but functional.
"Adequate."
Cutting Avocados
"Pit removal first." Aveline halved an avocado with one clean motion, knife through flesh, twist, perfect separation.
She embedded the knife into the pit with controlled force. Twisted. It popped out cleanly.
"Don't stab yourself. Common civilian mistake. Control the blade, don't let momentum control you."
Yuki tried. Fumbled. The pit rolled across the counter like it was mocking her.
Aveline caught it without looking, hand shooting out with reflexes that didn't seem human.
"Again."
Yuki tried again, more carefully this time. Got it.
"Better. Improvement rate: acceptable."
"Water first. Rolling boil before egg insertion prevents cracking." Aveline filled a pot, set it on the gas range. Blue flames licked the bottom. "Six minutes for soft-boiled. Ten for hard. Timer mandatory, guessing creates inconsistent results."
She set her watch timer with precise taps.
"Adrian, you monitor. Alert me when timer completes."
Adrian watched the pot. Water bubbled violently. Steam rose in wavering columns.
The timer beeped, sharp, insistent.
"Now what?" he asked.
"Ice bath. Stops residual cooking from shell heat retention. Makes them easier to peel." Aveline demonstrated with smooth efficiency, eggs into prepared ice water with kitchen tongs. "Thermal shock separates membrane from shell."
Perfect.
Making Soup
This was more involved.
Chopping vegetables, carrots, celery, onions into small, uniform pieces.
"Small dice. Uniform size ensures even cooking. Variable sizes create texture inconsistencies, some raw, some overcooked."
Aveline handed Yuki the knife.
Yuki chopped. Uneven pieces, different sizes, nothing like Aveline's precise cuts.
Aveline reached over. Repositioned her grip with those freezing fingers.
Yuki jerked back instinctively. "Your hands, they're still freezing."
"Noted." Aveline didn't move, didn't acknowledge the concern. "Continue. Discomfort is temporary. Competence is permanent."
Yuki forced herself to stay still. Let Aveline guide her hand, ignoring the cold seeping into her skin.
The pieces came out cleaner this time. More uniform.
"Good. Learning curve: steeper than anticipated."
They sautéed the vegetables in oil, Aveline demonstrating the proper heat level, the timing, the stirring technique. Added chicken broth from the carton. Seasoned with salt, pepper, dried herbs she pulled from a rack.
The kitchen filled with rich, savory aroma that made Adrian's stomach growl audibly.
He stirred the pot under Aveline's watchful eye. The heat from the stove felt good, warmer than anywhere else in the mansion, almost pleasant.
Hot oil popped suddenly. Splattered onto Aveline's hand.
She didn't flinch.
Just wiped it with a towel like brushing off dust. Red welt already forming on her pale skin, angry and bright.
Adrian watched, disturbed.
That should've hurt. That should've made her pull back, swear, something.
But Aveline's expression didn't change. Didn't even blink. Just kept monitoring the soup like nothing had happened.
What the hell is wrong with her?
Kitchen | 2:15 PM
The soup was ready, rich, steaming, smelling like comfort and warmth.
Aveline ladled it into bowls with precise portions. Added the peeled eggs, sliced perfectly in half. Sliced avocado arranged on the side with geometric precision. Toasted bread for dipping, cut into triangles.
"Eat," she said, setting the bowls in front of them.
They ate.
The soup was incredible, hot, savory, exactly what they needed. The eggs were perfect. The avocado added creamy richness. The toast soaked up broth beautifully.
"This is really good," Yuki admitted quietly, still subdued from the training room.
"Adequate execution of basic techniques produces adequate results." Aveline stood, already cleaning with mechanical efficiency. "When you finish, I have something interesting to show you."
Adrian looked up. "What?"
Aveline's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile but wasn't quite nothing either. "You'll see."
She left the kitchen, footsteps fading down the hallway.
Adrian and Yuki exchanged glances.
"I don't like the sound of that," Yuki whispered.
"Yeah," Adrian agreed. "Me neither."
But they kept eating.
Because they'd learned one thing today: when Aveline said she had something to show you, you didn't have a choice.
You just followed.
And hoped you survived whatever came next.