"You dare interrupt me?"
The air in the room grew heavy—heavy enough that I felt the bedframe creak under the sudden atmospheric pressure of her killing intent.
"Princess... wait... I was sent by—" The assassin tried to speak but was cut off by Elena.
"I don’t care who sent you," she hissed, walking toward him with slow, rhythmic steps. Her crimson mana began to lick at the floorboards, charring the wood where she stepped. "You saw something you weren’t meant to see. You entered a private sanctuary. And most importantly..."
She reached the man and grabbed the hilt of the sword pinning him, twisting it just a fraction.
"You interrupted a very important moment."
The man’s eyes bulged. He looked at me, his gaze pleading for help, but I stayed silent. My eyes flickered for a second, showing me his mana—it was thin, flickering like a candle about to be snuffed out by Elena’s raging sun.
"Wait, Elena!" I called out, "If he was sent by someone, we need to know who. Killing him now just alerts them that we’re onto them."
Elena didn’t turn around, but her shoulders tensed. The red glow in the room pulsed.
"He’s an assassin, Rio," she said. "Or a spy. Either way, he’s seen too much of you. And too much of us."
She turned her head just enough for me to see the side of her face. Her eyes were still glowing, but the confusion was back, warring with her rage. She wasn’t just protecting me from a spy; she was protecting the secret of her own ’miserable’ hunger.
She turned back to him and clamped her hand onto his arm. "Wait, wait Princess! I am willing to tell you everything!" he protested, his voice cracking with desperation, but Elena wasn’t listening anymore.
The logic of a witness or the value of information had been drowned out by a dark, surging possessiveness.
She tightened her grip and twisted his arm with a clinical, terrifying force.
Crack!
The sound of bone snapping like a dry twig echoed through the silent room. The assassin’s mouth flew open to scream.
"Ghhhhh—!"
I watched from the bed, my ’Void Gaze’ involuntarily picking up the chaotic flare of his mana as his nervous system went into shock. Elena didn’t let him finish the cry. She reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back against the stone.
Slap!
The sound was sharp, like a whip-crack.
"Shut up. You are too fucking loud," she hissed.
The man groaned, a low, guttural vibration of agony that barely escaped his throat.
"Urrrgg—"
It wasn’t even a shout, and yet Elena’s hand flashed again.
Slap.
"I told you to fucking shut up."
"Urg," the man whined, his eyes rolling back.
Slap.
Even for the smallest sound he made subconsciously, she hit him. It was no longer an interrogation; it was a rhythmic, brutal silencing. Each time he tried to form a syllable, her palm met his face.
"Prin..."
Slap.
"So..."
Slap.
"I apo..."
Slap.
The man’s head bounced against the wall with every strike. His mask was beginning to tear, revealing a face bruised and swollen beyond recognition.
I could see Elena’s back—her muscles were coiled, her breathing heavy. She was venting every bit of the frustration, the confusion, and the "miserable hunger" she felt for me onto this unfortunate soul.
"Elena, that’s enough!" I finally stood up, my feet hitting the floor. "He can’t talk if you keep hitting him!"
She froze, her hand mid-swing. She didn’t turn around immediately.
"He wasn’t going to talk, Rio," she said, her voice eerily calm now. "He was going to beg. There’s a difference."
She let go of his hair, and the man’s head slumped forward, chin hitting his chest. He was barely conscious.
"Now," she whispered, leaning into the man’s ear. "Tell my brother who sent you, and I might consider being generous."
"I... I..." The assassin tried to speak, but the words were thick with blood and the swelling of his jaw. His face was a mangled map of bruises, yet the sheer terror of Elena’s presence forced him to push through the agony.
"P-prince Aries sent... to destroy Rio just... enough not to kill him."
"Rio? Destroy?"
Elena’s mana, which had been a flickering flame, suddenly expanded into a roaring furnace of crimson light. The shadows in the corners of the room didn’t just retreat—they were vaporized.
The man realized the fatal error he had just made. The casual way he had used my name, combined with the word ’destroy,’ had stripped away the last of Elena’s restraint.
"S-sorry! Sorry! I-I am so sorry!" he stammered, his body convulsing against the stone wall. "I mean... I mean Prince Rio! I meant no disrespect to the Royal bloodline! Please!"
He began to plead, his voice cracking with a primal terror that only comes when you’re staring at your own death. "It was just an order! Prince Aries... he said the ’Trash’—I mean, the Prince—! He wanted me to break his legs, to ensure he couldn’t leave his bed for the coming banquet! That’s all!"
"That’s all?" Elena whispered.
She snatched the hilt of the sword and ripped it out of the masonry with a harsh, metallic screech. Without the blade supporting his weight, the intruder slumped forward, hitting the floor with a dull, sickening thud.
"Break his legs?"
Elena’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it resonated in the corners of the room like thunder. She didn’t look at the man on the floor. She looked at her own hands, which were trembling from a rage so absolute it seemed to be vibrating her very soul.
"You speak of my brother as if he were a piece of furniture to be dismantled," she said, her voice devoid of any human emotion. "Aries thinks he can send a common rat into this room to touch what belongs to me?"
Suddenly, the assassin’s body began to burn up with red fire.
"You had your chance."