“Think… you’d let me live?”
“Hmm… No,” Elysian answered honestly, not seeing the point of lying. “I could bring you more pain, though.”
“Maybe, but I ain’t blind… to the fact that I’m dying soon… whether you do nothin’ or not. And you know… what’s really funny? I’m starting to see it… as the best damn gift… this life ever threw my way.”
“Then you are welcome for bestowing upon you the greatest gift in your life,” Elysian quipped, offering a slight grin. “They’ve always accused me of being too cruel to my enemies. This just proved those critics wrong.”
“Rascal,” Grimscar muttered, his eyes narrowing at the shamelessness of the boy.
Ignoring the thug’s retort, Elysian’s expression turned serious as he pondered for a moment before deciding to continue. “Hmm… To answer your question… Yes, the reason why you find yourself in this predicament is due to the girl earlier and her friend whom you took.”
“That girl is a damn wh*re, and… her friend too. Both of ‘em… are filthy wh*res. Why… why the hell does a noble like you… give a damn?” Grimscar rasped, his breaths ragged and labored. Pausing for a moment, a twisted thought crossed his weary mind. “Wait… You ain’t… mixed up with those two, are you?”
Scowling, Elysian snatched a dagger from the floor and flung it towards the thug’s other shoulder.
“Ugh!” Grimscar grunted, his teeth clenched in pain.
“You realize I’m just a child, right?” Elysian asked, scoffing at the man’s insinuation. “What can I expect from someone as base as you?”
“A child?” Grimscar responded, coughing as he attempted to chuckle. He just couldn’t help himself but feel amused at the young noble’s mention of the word ‘child. Did any child even act like this? And if they did, then the abyss had truly risen to Creation. He was perplexed as to why this boy was behaving in such a way. Before he met his end, he at least wanted to know the reason why he died. “If not that, then why? Aren’t I… doing you a favor?”
“A favor?” Elysian inquired, casting a sharp glance at the man. This response piqued his interest.
“You said… it’s your damn duty to clean… this place of scum like me. Ain’t I doing you… a favor by cleaning your damn street… of wh*res?”
Elysian sighed and shook his head at the response he got. “I don’t think you understand the fundamental difference between you thugs and them,” he remarked, pausing for a moment as he formulated the response he would give. “You see, Mr. Crimson Talon, I’m a businessman by nature. Those individuals you referred to as wh*res contribute to my city. First, they pay their taxes. Despite your low opinion of them, they are legitimate businesses. Through their operations, they directly contribute to the wealth of my city. And as a tax-paying, legitimate business, isn’t it just right that we protect them from any threats?”
“Second, even if you deemed their profession as lowly, they provide entertainment to my people, boosting morale and fostering a happier citizenry. When people are content and happy, they are more inclined to work even harder. This, in turn, results in increased disposable income, leading to higher tax revenues and bolstering the overall economy of the barony; thus, more money for me and my family.”
“Third, they offer rest and entertainment for travelers and visiting merchants. If these people are happy, they’re likely to spend more, which will make my people earn more, and me, wealthier. Moreover, consider this: if they have a positive experience at these establishments, they will also form a favorable opinion of the city. Not only will they return and conduct more business with us, but they will also spread the word about what a remarkable city Ironspire is. This, in turn, attracts more visitors to our city. That’s marketing, you fool. And it’s completely free. I don’t have to spend a single penny, yet it significantly boosts my wealth. Isn’t that great?”
“You, however, Grimscar, I don’t see what you contribute. I understand you might argue that you also pay, perhaps even a heftier amount than them. But you see, you don’t pay the proper authorities. In short, you don’t pay your taxes. Instead, you pay off those corrupt officials who pocket that money. Not only does it fail to contribute to the greater good of my city, but it also fosters more corruption, ultimately leading to the decay of Ironspire. And you act as though you own this city. Tsk, the audacity! Not only are you not contributing, but you’re also robbing the people who do, thus affecting revenue. Isn’t that so grating?”
“Second, your reign of terror and oppression in the city will make my citizens feel unsafe. When they feel unsafe, they will become unhappy. And when they are unhappy, they won’t work diligently. Thus, they will earn less money. Do you know what happens when they earn less, Grimscar?”
The thug just averted his gaze.
“They will pay less taxes, directly impacting my bottom line. Worse of all, they will lower their spending, affecting the businesses in the city and ultimately impacting my revenue. Just the thought of it makes my blood boil.”
Suddenly, Elysian grabbed another knife from the floor and swiftly aimed for the thug’s leg, landing a precise strike. “I’m sorry about that, Grimscar. But you can’t blame me, though. If you were in my shoes, you’d likely do the same,” he stated, sighing and feigning dejection. “The mere thought of my wealth being impacted by your actions is just beyond infuriating. It’s akin to extending hospitality to a guest only to be robbed in the face. Wouldn’t that enrage you, too?”
Remaining silent, the thug just gritted his teeth in pain.
“Third, your mere presence alone will instill fear in the travelers and visiting merchants, making them feel unsafe in this city. This will undoubtedly lead them to reconsider visiting Ironspire, resulting in decreased earnings for my people, which will also decrease my income. The news will then spread that Ironspire is unsafe, and the next thing you know, no one will want to visit my beautiful city. Worse of all, merchants may cease doing business with us altogether out of fear. Do you know how tragic that would be? Many of the citizens would be out of work, thus decreasing my money again. Do you know where all your actions are going?” he asked before sighing again; this time he wasn’t pretending. “Just thinking about it is already hurting my pocket.”
Pausing for a moment as he caught his breath, Elysian’s expression softened into a sad smile, almost apologetic. “I'm sorry for my monologue just now, Grimscar. It's just that this topic gets me so emotional. Look, my throat is now parched,” he rumbled, pointing to his throat. “I didn’t even bring any water. I never expected to talk too much tonight.” His voice suddenly grew dangerous again as he added, “I just thought all I would do tonight is kill.”
Elysian studied the thug, who flinched from his intense stare. “Aside from all those reasons, the major sin, you and your ilk have committed is that you’ve messed with my people. They are citizens of Ironspire, you scum—they are my people. And you are not. Do you think you can just stroll your way in here and mess with them?”
Grimscar swallowed hard before his throat tightened as he saw the smoldering hatred burning in the depths of the boy’s eyes.
“Who do you think you are to come into my city and terrorize my people? If you were doing this in other cities, I might not care. If you were targeting my enemies, I might even applaud you. But you chose to mess with a citizen of Ironspire. It doesn’t matter if they are wh*res or homeless drunkards—they are still my people. Scum like you who oppress the powerless deserve to be treated much worse. Acting high and mighty with just a little power…”
Elysian stopped talking, turning his eyes towards the dark corridor. “Amara.”
The young woman slowly emerged into the light, revealing her current self. Her makeup, once meticulously applied and considered essential by society’s standards, was now washed away, leaving a mess resembling the work of a five-year-old child learning to take up art. However, this paled in comparison to the emptiness in her eyes as she seemed to drift, lost in the labyrinth of her own mind. Her fair, porcelain face failed to accentuate her features as it once did, lacking the fire and resolve that once ignited her gaze. Yet, despite it all, there remained a haunting beauty that couldn’t be denied. A beauty now tinged with sadness tugged and pierced anyone’s daring heart.
While observing the young woman, Elysian wanted to say something, but he remained silent instead; his words failed him. He knew all too well the anguish contained within that frail figure of hers, seemingly too small to contain the agony she bore. At any moment, she could crumble. No amount of comforting words could alleviate the depth of sorrow she endured. Even time might not grant Amara refuge, forever imprisoned by a past unforgotten. Witnessing her in such a state tore at his heart, for he understood that feeling all too well. Both of them stood as a living testament to the world’s cruelty, where the vulnerable and powerless remain trapped in an endless cycle of tragedy.
Just as Elysian predicted, she broke. All that anger and pain couldn’t be contained; it had to go somewhere. So, that seemingly lost woman with a thin frame suddenly came alive; shrieking a wordless scream, a demon of fury in all its glory, running toward the source of all her agony. Pulling the relic stabbed at the thug’s left hand, she plunged it into Grimscar’s heart, killing him instantly.
The thug didn’t even scream. He met death in the eye, welcoming it as a mercy. Truly, it was a relief, considering the horror he had endured. He dreaded the thought of being at the hands of the vindictive boy again, who was seasoned in a game called cruelty.
‘Grimscar should have suffered more. Isn’t that just my selfishness, though?
Hmm… Yes, it is. Even though I have a chance now to change it all. It couldn’t be denied that I’m still a captive of my past; a prisoner to my own failings. The only way to bring closure to it is to change it completely and right the wrong.
In her case, though, it’s her grief and vengeance. She should mete it out as she sees fit.’
Consumed by pure hatred, Amara didn’t notice that Grimscar had died. She pulled the knife and stabbed him again and again until her hands and clothes were drenched in crimson. Each thrust of her blade was a desperate attempt to erase the pain and injustice caused by this ruthless man. No matter how much she tried, her pain was still there, and her friend would never return.
‘She’s still lucky. Not everyone can have their vengeance. Even though it will not completely erase the pain. Having to serve your vengeance will ease the pain somehow.
Hmm… Would it, though? I didn’t have mine in the past, so I wouldn’t know.’
Elysian caught the knife on the blade mid-swing, cutting the palm of his hand and drawing blood. Despite the wound, he paid no heed to it; his attention was solely on the distraught young woman before him. “Amara, stop,” he murmured gently, his gaze full of concern and sorrow. “He’s dead. No matter how many times you stab him, your friend wouldn’t come back.”
Amara slowly turned to the young noble while staring at the ground. “Young master, he killed Layla,” she said, her voice trembling from pain. It was an agony she’d never known before in her young life—something raw, cruel, and terrible. “She is dead.”
“I know.”
Looking up, Amara met the gaze of the young noble and asked, “What should I do now?”
“Cry. Grieve. You need to mourn your friend. After that—live. You need to live.”
Amara suddenly dropped to her knees, collapsing to the floor as she wept. Her cries echoed throughout the room, carrying the raw anguish of her grief.
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