Chapter 3

Karl didn't move.

He stood on the steps, his wine glass falling to the ground and shattering. The wine flowed down the steps, red like blood.

"I said, come here."

He stepped back.

He bumped into a pillar behind him. He turned to look at Baron Campbell—my foster father. The baron was wearing a rumpled suit, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot; he had clearly been drinking all night.

"Gale!" the Baron's voice boomed through the hall, "Are you insane?!"

I ignored him.

I looked at Carl.

What were you doing while Arya was locked in the dungeon?

Karl was taken aback.

"What...what did you say?"

“I said—” I stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at him, “Where the hell were you when she was calling for her brother in the dungeon?”

Carl smiled.

His smile was forced. He licked his lips, his gaze drifting to the woman in the white dress in the crowd—Selena.

“We…we were celebrating.” His voice trembled. “Miss Selena has been made a saint, it’s an honor for the family. We opened champagne, we ate…”

"How many days has she been calling for it?"

"Wh...what?"

"I said, how many days has she been shouting like that?"

Carl swallowed hard.

“Five days,” he said softly. “They’ve been shouting for five days.”

"Did you hear that?"

"I...I heard it."

"Then what?"

“Then…and on the sixth day she stopped shouting.” Karl’s lips twitched upwards again, as if in a smile, but it was a smile more like a grimace. “She brought this upon herself. Colluding with heretics, she deserved it. Miss Selena needed her talent, she…”

He didn't finish speaking.

I moved.

Nobody could see it clearly.

One second I was standing at the bottom of the steps, and the next I was right in front of Karl. His smile froze on his face, and his eyes hadn't even opened.

My hand gripped his throat.

Pull it up.

He lifted his feet off the ground, kicking in the air. His hands gripped my wrists, his nails digging into my flesh. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. My thumb pressed down on his Adam's apple, and his trachea collapsed.

His eyes bulged outwards.

Stick your tongue out.

My crotch was soaked.

"She doesn't deserve it?"

I stared into his eyes.

"You're not worthy?"

I turned my wrist.

Click—

The sound was crisp.

Like breaking off a withered branch.

Carl's head lolled to one side, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. His body went limp, his hand slipped off my wrist and hung limply at his side. His eyes were still open, wide open.

I let go.

He grabbed him by the back of his collar and led him to the black iron coffin.

Raise your hand.

Throw him in.

Bang--

The body hit the bottom of the coffin with a dull thud. Its limbs were twisted, its head was tilted, and its eyes were still looking at me.

I closed the coffin lid.

"The first one."

The hall was deathly quiet.

No one spoke.

No one dared to make a move.

The nobles, dressed in their finest robes, huddled together, their faces as white as chalk. A woman tried to scream, but someone next to her covered her mouth.

Baron Campbell stood at the top of the steps.

He stared at the coffin, his face trembling.

"You...you killed him?"

I turned around.

Look at him.

"right."

"You're insane!" the Baron roared, pointing his finger at my nose. "He's your cousin! You're a member of the Campbell family! You—"

"I am not."

I interrupted him.

“I stopped being one the day you threw Arya into the mass grave.”

The Baron was stunned.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then swallowed it back. His face went from flushed to ashen, finally settling on a near-manic rage.

"Guards!" he shouted, turning his head toward the door. "Guards! Arrest this madman!"

Footsteps.

a lot of.

They surged in from all directions of the manor. Iron boots clanged on the stone slabs.

Thirty paladins rushed out from the shadows.

They wore heavy, silver-white armor with crosses emblazoned on their chests. They wielded enchanted greatswords, their blades shimmering with pale golden holy runes.

They surrounded me.

The sword tip was pointed at my throat, heart, and temple.

The leading knight was bald.

He held his sword, his eyes cold.

"Kneel down."

I didn't move.

"I said, kneel down!" The bald knight took a step forward, the tip of his sword pressed against my throat. "You killed Young Master Karl, a capital offense! Kneel down and confess now, and perhaps the Baron will—"

"Shut up."

I looked at him.

He paused for a moment.

"What did you say?"

"I said, shut up." I raised my hand and brushed his sword aside. "Get out of my way."

The bald knight's face turned red.

"Insolence!" He raised his sword, holy light exploding on its blade. "Kill them—"

He didn't finish speaking.

The air has changed.

The temperature dropped sharply.

The candles in the hall went out all at once.

Darkness surged in.

It wasn't ordinary darkness. It was the kind of darkness that swallowed light, viscous, like a swamp.

A shadow crept in from outside the door.

Like a tide.

Three thousand ghostly faces emerged from the shadows.

They stood silently in every corner of the manor—on the rooftops, on the walls, by the fountain, among the rose bushes. They didn't speak, they just stood there, their ghostly faces aimed at everyone in the hall.

There was no intent to kill.

There was no pressure.

Just standing there.

That's enough.

The paladins' expressions changed. They gripped their sword hilts tightly and took a half-step back. The holy light on their swords began to flicker, like candles about to go out. Some were trembling. The sound of iron boots clashing was crisp and rapid.

The bald knight swallowed hard.

"What...what is this?"

“My people.”

I looked at him.

"What were you saying just now?"

The bald knight fell silent.

He stared at the demonic faces, his hands trembling. The tip of his sword quivered, and the holy light was completely extinguished.

"Kneel...kneel down?"

"right."

I laughed.

The baron stood at the top of the steps, his face pale. He looked at the ghostly faces, then at me, his lips trembling for a long time before finally managing to squeeze out a sentence:

"Gail... what... what are you trying to do?"

I didn't answer him.

I turned my head and looked into the deepest part of the crowd.

Selena stood there.

She wore a white dress trimmed with gold and a crown of thorns on her head. Her face was hidden in the shadows, but I could see her eyes—a mixture of resentment, fear, and bitterness.

Her lips trembled as she watched Karl being thrown into the coffin.

“You…” the baron’s voice rang out again, this time a desperate roar, “You think you’ve won?! This is Campbell Manor! I have thirty paladins! I also have—”

"what else?"

I turned around and looked at his face, which was contorted with anger and fear.

"Kill him!" the baron finally shouted. "Kill him! Whoever cuts off his head will be rewarded with 100,000 gold coins!"

The greatsword gleamed again.

Holy light shone once more.

The thirty paladins gritted their teeth and took a step forward.

The tip of the sword was only half an inch from my throat.

I didn't even lift my eyelids.

"Take one more step forward."

I said.

"Give it a try."

No one moved.

The bald knight's sword hovered in mid-air, his hand trembling. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, dripping onto the sword and evaporating into white mist in the holy light.

He dared not.

They didn't dare.

I laughed.

She laughed very softly.

"Not kill?"

I looked into the bald knight's eyes.

"Then I'll kill him."

I raised my hand.

He snapped his fingers.