Anything? What does he want with that? Oh, black, what does it matter? You might as well give him what he wants. The enforcer nodded to himself. “Yes, yes. Today, there’s a meeting between the three gang leaders in Amadora.”

The boy paused, then asked, “Any requirements to enter?”

Requirements? Why’s he using such big words? The enforcer groaned internally. “Yes, there’s a red-shirted kid in the alley where the meeting is being held. But you’ll need a password. You have to raise your hand and spread your legs to be allowed in.”

The boy nodded. Does that mean he’s going to let me go?

Suddenly, the boy crouched down, staring at the sickle with a cold gaze. Wait, what? What’s he doing? Shouldn’t he be moving away? Why is he getting closer? Fear gnawed at the enforcer. What’s this kid planning? He also noticed the beastwoman standing idly by. Why isn’t she doing anything to stop this? Is she stupid?

The boy sighed. The enforcer grinned through the pain in his slashed legs. He’s not going to do it. He scared me for a second there, but I can get this healed at the sanitarium.

But then, the boy raised the sickle in a way that left no doubt—it was about to come down.

What?

“No, wait! What are you doing? This is Canen! The garrisons will find you! You’ll be hunted down, killed, and maybe even your family! You don’t want that, do you? Stop. Please, stop. Sto—”

With a swift motion, the sickle sliced through the man’s throat. Warm blood sprayed from the wound, coating Karl’s hands. He looked at the enforcer, whose face was frozen in a mix of confusion, terror, and despair. Blood gushed from his neck, and his body convulsed as he tried to breathe, but he could only drown in his own blood.

Red dust drifted from the sky, settling on the corpse’s face, mingling with the blood. It was as if the world mourned the loss of life, sprinkling red roses over the scene. Karl stared at the dead man, indifference plastered across his own face. Why did I kill him? Was it to repay a debt to the beastmen, to silence him, or to train myself in the art of killing? There must have been a better way.

“Why did you do that?” The beastwoman slumped to the ground, cradling the dead enforcer’s body, tears mixing with the blood on her face.

What’s she doing? I saved her, so why does she look heartbroken? Karl frowned. “Shouldn’t you leave before the garrison guards arrive?” he asked, still puzzled by her reaction.

The beastwoman looked up, her voice trembling. “Why? You just killed me, you know!”

Killed? Karl locked his gaze on her. “Why do you say that? I saved you.”

“Saved?” The beastwoman tightened her grip on the enforcer’s body. “Everyone knows he always takes me. Everybody knows! What am I supposed to say when they find him cut open here? I’m not human. I won’t get a trial—I’ll be killed. I have kids!”

“Then just dispose of the body,” Karl suggested. It seemed like the next logical step. Sure, killing him may not have been the most thought-out decision, but it wasn’t devastating.

“Are you Antigonus? How does that solve anything? I’ll still be killed, and my children will suffer in the cold, or worse—they’ll have their fur plucked for some noble’s clothes.” The beastwoman’s sobs grew louder, despite the muffled noise of the market outside. Fortunately, no one had entered the alley yet.

Antigonus? The fallen empire’s royal family… Why would she call me that? Karl wondered if the current royal family had turned the name into an insult. Could it be that Antigonus’ name is now synonymous with foolishness? He pondered this for a moment before dismissing the thought. He didn’t have enough information to dwell on it.

Karl looked down at the corpse, at his handiwork. Was killing him a mistake? He had done it partly for himself and partly to help the beastwoman, to offer her some peace in a world that seemed devoid of it. His friend had made him promise to act for the good of the beastmen, but now it seemed like the wrong choice. Perhaps I lack power—power to change laws, rewrite morals, and do the impossible. If I had that kind of power, would I worry about the consequences?

As the woman cradled the corpse, begging for it to awaken, Karl felt a pang of frustration. This was the wrong choice. I was too hasty—impatient and reckless.

He looked at the woman for a long moment, then turned and walked away. There’s nothing I can do for her now. Though he had likely ruined her life, there was no way to fix it. He could give her money, but what would he tell Fredrick when he asked what happened? In the end, Karl would always prioritize his own freedom and survival above all else.

He eventually left the alley, the beastwoman’s cries echoing behind him as she mourned the inevitable downfall of her life. Wiping his hands with the leftover cloth from the cake he had bought, Karl picked up his umbrella, shielding himself from the red dust, and made his way back to the basement.

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His resolve had hardened. He no longer questioned his actions. From now on, everything he did would serve one purpose—his survival and pursuit of power. Until then, he would push aside all else… even the idea of utopia.

As he walked, the world around him sharpened. The sounds grew louder before fading into silence. Karl became hyper-aware of everything—the softness of his clothes, the wind against his cheek—before all sensations vanished, leaving him in a dreamlike state.

A figure appeared in the distance, its face blurred. The person stood on a high mountain, holding a pitch-black sword seemingly carved from stone. They wore a red cape that billowed in the wind, and atop their head sat a crown of thorns, dripping with blood.

A deep, commanding voice echoed from the figure. “Marry me, and I will give you time to enjoy before I evolve into you. Do you accept?”

Standing opposite him, a woman dressed in an elegant blood-red gown said, “Yes.” Her face, too, was blurred.

The scene faded away. The sounds returned, and the heightened senses vanished. Everything settled back into its dull, muted state.

Is this another memory? It was as strange as the others. How can a boy who has always been a child have memories of adults? Karl didn’t try to make sense of it. In a way, they weren’t his memories, and a deep-seated fear warned him against accepting them. He was afraid that doing so would rewrite who he was.

Still, the benefits were undeniable. Karl felt a surge of strength, his body infused with renewed energy. But beyond that, there was something else—something nagging at him, just out of reach, though he lacked the understanding to grasp what it was.

____________

Opening the door to the house that seemed to be sinking into the earth, Karl stepped inside calmly. He froze at the sight of a figure seated on the bed.

With fiery red hair and glass-like black eyes, she wore an almost intoxicating smile. She was dressed in a white coat, buttoned on the left side of her chest. Unlike the usual attire seen in Canen, her outfit had a revealing cut around the bosom, exposing the fair skin of her upper chest. She also wore a long, flowing white skirt that reached her ankles. Despite the overall modesty of her clothing, she was undeniably beautiful. Her clothes, however, were lightly dust-stained.

The Vixen? Karl stifled a frown, closing the door behind him. His footsteps left red-stained prints on the dusty floor as he moved cautiously and sat at a desk to his left.

What is she doing here? Is she planning something against me? Maybe she was waiting for me to be alone. But how could she have known I would come here or even stay? His mind raced with possibilities, each one more undesirable than the last. Unlike a true Sanguine, he had no means to defend himself if she tried anything. That thought frowned his thoughts.

The silence stretched between them. She pulled out a black-backed apple. “Want one?”

Why would I accept anything from her? Karl glared coldly and shook his head, refusing the offer. How could he trust something with an unknown origin? He wasn’t naïve.

The silence returned, though her lips twitched—was she surprised or insulted? Karl couldn’t tell. He could only guess. Soon, the woman broke the silence. “I want to serve you,” she said dryly.

Karl was taken aback. This was completely unexpected. Serve me? Why? How? Who? His mind whirled with countless thoughts, but none explained. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

The Vixen watched him, her lips curling into a sweet, intoxicating smile. “Don’t you want me to serve you?” she asked softly. For a moment, Karl found her to be the most alluring woman he had ever seen. His body responded with warmth, yet there was something else. Despite the sensation coursing through him, he remained curiously in control, as if he were observing his emotions from a distance. Is she using some Sanguine power on me to get me to accept her? This feels like a trap.

Or was it desperation? Karl checked himself. Then, with a cold tone meant to convey that her power was useless on him, he said, “If you want to ask something, do it politely.”

The Vixen froze, though her body revealed nothing—she was clearly skilled at masking her emotions. Karl could see that much. In this situation, he wished he could read minds. That would be so convenient. He suppressed a sigh. “First, what’s your name?”

The woman hesitated but eventually answered, “Jean.”

No surname? So she’s not a noble. “Why do you want to serve me?” he asked.

There was a brief pause before she answered, “I can see your greatness.”

Greatness? Karl thought back to the white light event. He hadn’t dwelled on it much. It wasn’t that he lacked curiosity, but there hadn’t been any information to guide his search. He also wasn’t keen on revealing his own secrets just to get answers. No, he preferred to understand things first before exposing any information that directly concerned him. Now, it seemed that event had brought him a potential servant.

“What greatness do you see?” Karl probed.

“The greatness…” She stopped, a grimace briefly crossing her face before it vanished, replaced by a seductive gaze. “I don’t know exactly, but I feel like you hold secrets. Secrets powerful enough to topple the Empire?” Her final words seemed oddly phrased, as though she hadn’t intended them to be a question but had surprised herself with her own statement. Karl wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Secrets that could topple the Empire? Is she part of Fredrick’s or Anette’s faction? Or perhaps from one of the families Fredrick mentioned that still supports me? Karl pondered. But again, this was just speculation; for all he knew, she could be putting on an act. He suddenly remembered his plans.

Am I not attending the Poison Fang Gang’s meeting today?

Even if I don’t fully trust what she says, that doesn’t mean she can’t be useful. The question is, how useful could she be? Karl understood that being technically not a Sanguine, the extent of their abilities was beyond his grasp. It would be wise to gain a more comprehensive understanding of their powers, and through that, perhaps, find a way to use her.

In a neutral tone, he asked, “How many times have you evolved, and what abilities do you have?” He could have asked for the name of her branch directly, but as Fredrick had pointed out, some Sanguines might not even be aware of it and instead name their branches based on the evolutions they knew.

Jean remained silent for a moment, then grimaced and replied, “I’m a Vixen and a Hex-Bane.”

So Vixen isn’t just a nickname for redheads; it’s also the name of their evolution. Karl nodded.

“The Vixen has seductive traits and can give a man the most intense, pleasurable experience of his life,” she said with a somewhat proud smile. “We can also release a scentless pheromone that makes anyone feel irresistibly attracted to us. This is called Charm. It naturally fades after a while, but with continued exposure, a person can truly fall in love.”