One more
Another mid-air grapple brought her to the mansion gates where two guards stood watch.
The guards glanced down as Mochi's silhouette streaked overhead.
No one in the garden.
A decoy lunged—saved for later.
Descending. Face about to smash into the wall—
The velocity from
A roll. A rough impact against the wall. Bottles wobbled precariously.
"Damn... hard to control."
Normally,
But with enough speed from
"Three miscalculations."
The Painters' trait weighed her down—approximately 2.5% increased mana cost stacking up.
Her two rings barely compensated.
And then there was the disastrous landing, which left her...
Mochi stood, examining herself.
Dusty linens. Messy hair.
Not ideal for infiltration.
"So let's risk it."
She grabbed a wine bottle and poured it over herself.
"System. This counts as blood, right?"
<...>
<...Bug tested, verified...>
"Don't fix it."
Lucky. Red liquid was coded the same as blood.
<...>
<...sigh...>
Dust and wine vanished from her clothes.
No need to blame clumsiness now.
"Three targets max."
Mask off.
She pulled out a hair clip—courtesy of the Guildmaster.
That woman predicted I'd be messy.
"No time to dawdle." She clipped her hair into a ponytail as she walked.
"Mission: Start."
--------------------
Elodie Briarwood seethed.
"Hurry up! No slacking!"
"Y-yes, Head Maid!"
A maid scurried off with a dish as Elodie turned to berate another.
The Marquis hid in his office. His wife was dead from the plague.
And now Sheryl Amberstone was returning—"healed." No more excuses to exile her. No more hiding the ledgers.
"Tch."
Her temper flared at every flaw.
A yell over dusty curtains.
Another over a poorly held vase.
A third at a maid's ponytail—
A tickle on her neck. A jolt down her spine.
Elodie blinked. That ponytail maid... no.
Someone stood much closer.
She swung—slapping an innocent maid.
Wring her neck. Claw her skin.
She knelt, ready to—
"Elodie!"
Another jolt—this time snapping her awake.
What was she...?
Disbelief coiled in her gut as she stared at the maid's reddened cheek. Her doing.
"H-Head Maid Elodie..."
The senior maid's breath hitched.
The plague. The misery. All excuses—just like the ones she'd used against Sheryl.
"I..." She gasped. "I'm sorry..."
"Elodie..."
Silas, the Head Butler, rubbed her back. "You need rest."
Rest. Another excuse.
Twenty-five years of service. Yet she'd fallen for a wicked man.
"...Alright, Silas."
Her lips moved on their own, just like their legs.
His touch felt softer than her pillow.
Under the maids' scornful gazes, a ponytailed maid slipped past them.
Snatch.
Keys secured.
Mochi rushed toward a certain bedroom.
-----------------------
Click. Open.
"Locked and done."
The Head Maid's barren bedroom.
She smirked at the curtained window.
The training hall was just outside—where the Knight Commander drilled.
Her decoy strolled in, unnoticed.
As expected on Sheryl's chaotic return day—no garden patrols.
"Now... gamble time."
50% odds.
Silas usually carried spare keys, but the fool sometimes forgot.
A time-waster. But...
"I'm always lucky."
The
------------------
Ballas, the Southern noble, swung his sword wildly.
Each stroke reminded him of his lover watching curiously.
Of her offering cookies, begging him to rest.
Training was his escape. His grief.
"I'm sorry... Rosemary."
A knight and a maid—forbidden.
For the Southern Knight's code, he'd exiled her.
Screech.
The door creaked open.
"...Who?"
Maybe it was the dark room.
Maybe it was his guilt.
But when he saw the shadowed figure, he trembled.
Intruder? Or...
"Rosemary?"
She should be dead. No one survived the Western Outskirts.
Yet here stood a ghost of his recklessness.
"I-I'm sorry... Rosemary..."
His sword clattered.
"I was too young... too selfish..."
Knightly honor over her life. A choice he regretted.
He knelt, weeping.
The "ghost" tilted its head.
Step by step, it approached.
Then loomed over him.
Not to scorn.
But to devour.
"Raise your head, Knight Captain."
A melodic, cute voice.
He looked up—
Stab.
A flaming knife pierced his eye.
"Don't worry." Emerald eyes curved. "I'll make sure to relay how a traitorous scumbag died."
Emerald eyes gleamed as the blade sawed through to his throat.
A betrayer's sins burned away.
-------------------------
"Elodie... Sheryl's return troubles you?"
The Head Maid gasped as the corridor stretched endlessly.
"Y-yes..."
"Of course." Silas clutched his suit's button, one that his ill-burdened son fixed. "She needs... permanent convincing."
Elodie shuddered, twisting the ring on her finger—a reminder of her widowhood.
Her husband and son, lost to the plague.
The Marquis, oblivious to her pain.
And now his daughter?
She'd only helped Silas embezzle.
Only leaned on someone kind in this nightmare.
Only...
"Silas..." Her steps faltered. "Is this right?"
"What do you mean?" He fumbled for his key.
"Should we... go this far?"
Hatred warred with her aversion to bloodshed.
"It's the only way."
Click. Squeak.
"How?"
"A drop of poison in her meal tonight."
He pulled her close.
"Relax." His whisper was devilish. "Our anger ends here."
Her resistance snapped.
"Yes... After tonight, it's over."
Her eyes fluttered shut—
Then snapped open at the shadow behind the curtain.
The curtain flung aside.
"Silas—"
A dart pierced her gaping mouth.
Silas froze—
Slice.
His head toppled.
Stab.
Her neck was skewered.
"Hm... slower than expected."
Had Elodie hesitated? Mochi tilted her head, watching the maid gurgle around the steel in her throat.
Ah, well.
Knife yanked free. Blood sprayed. Corpse fell.
Elodie's dead eyes locked onto cold emerald ones.
No last regrets. Only silence.
<...calculating reward...>
"Great learning experience." Mochi stretched as flames purged the corpses.
"Shame. Her love faded as fast as her loyalty."
For a speedrunner who knew these characters inside-out, the cheating widow was just a time-save.
"Thanks for not grieving properly, Elodie."
Those two nearly cost her the run.