"So, Ed-boy... where are you going?" Bridget leaned lazily, her casual tone masking the menace in her posture.
"To my lady, of course," Edward replied without hesitation, his voice steady as he adjusted his gloves.
"As expected, it's always about your lady." Bridget's lips curled into a sly grin.
"To be frank, it'd be foolish of me to think you'd show up here without her."
"Now you understand," Edward said with a faint smirk.
"You'll let me go, won't you?"
Bridget let out a low chuckle, shaking her head slowly.
"But it seems you still don't understand why I'm standing here, blocking the only exit from this building."
Edward sighed, his smirk fading into a look of irritation.
"No, I know exactly why you're here. I just don't care about that drill-haired woman's problems."
Bridget's grin vanished instantly, her eyes narrowing as her voice dropped into a growl.
"Dare to insult my master?!"
Before Edward could react, Bridget lunged at him, her hand snapping toward his ankle like a whip. Her grip was solid and unyielding, her strength radiating through the air.
Edward, however, was quicker. Sensing the slight shift in her stance, he dropped his body suddenly, twisting like a coiled spring. The unexpected motion forced Bridget's grip to falter for just an instant—long enough for him to kick the whiskey bottle lying beside her.
The bottle spun through the air in a perfect arc toward Ren, who caught it with a single fluid motion. His sharp reflexes made the catch look effortless, though his expression betrayed mild annoyance at being dragged into the chaos.
The maneuver gave Edward the chance he needed. Twisting free, he leaped back, landing smoothly on the ground below the staircase. The sudden movement put a wide distance between him and Bridget.
"Confiscate that, buddy," Edward called out to Ren with a wry grin.
"Don't feed this animal any more."
Ren caught Edward's words with a faint tilt of his head, his sharp black eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at the whiskey bottle in his hand. He didn't reply immediately, but the flicker of annoyance in his expression was hard to miss.
Bridget barely glanced at the bottle, her focus laser-sharp on Edward.
"Clever," she muttered, her voice tinged with annoyance. "You're both trying to split my attention. But I don't care about the whiskey. My friends still have plenty."
Ren, standing silently with the bottle, raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze back to Bridget.
As if on cue, Felicity tipped back her bottle, draining it with a loud gulp. She lowered it with a satisfied sigh, then slipped a polished flask from her sleeve. With a quick glance to ensure no one was watching too closely, she casually poured the last few drops from the bottle into the flask and sealed it with a practiced twist.
Tucking the flask into her pocket, she flashed a sly grin.
"Sorry, mate," she said, shrugging nonchalantly.
"I'd share, but mine's already gone."
At the same time, Cecilia, who always carried herself with refined elegance, lifted her bottle to her lips—but this time, she tilted it back and gulped hurriedly, the liquid sloshing audibly as she drank. Her movements were frantic, almost desperate, a sharp contrast to her usual composed demeanor.
When the bottle was finally empty, she lowered it with a gasp, her cheeks flushed. Without hesitation, she wiped her mouth with her long sleeve in a graceful motion, her expression shifting immediately into one of serene poise. Folding her hands delicately, she let out a soft sigh, as if nothing had happened.
"Oh my, such a fine drink," she remarked, her voice calm and elegant, as if she hadn't just drained the bottle like a parched sailor.
"You don't even realize it's gone until it's too late."
Bridget's head snapped toward her friends, irritation flaring in her eyes.
"Why didn't either of you share it with me?!"
Cecilia snapped back, her tone sharp.
"Don't be ridiculous. You hogged most of the bottle already, and now you want our share too?"
"Yup," Felicity chimed in, lazily pointing at Ren.
"And now that's the last one. Over there."
Bridget's eyes shifted to Ren, her expression darkening as she approached him with a menacing aura.
"Now, Cathay boy, be a good lad and hand it over." She extended her hand, palm up, in a mockingly polite gesture.
"Don't falter, buddy. You keep that—you're doing a noble job by confiscating that drink," Edward said with a smirk.
Ren raised an eyebrow, his grip on the bottle tightening slightly.
"This behavior is entirely unbecoming of servants representing noble masters," he said, his voice calm but laced with a sharp undertone of disapproval. It was as if he were weighing whether to scold them further or simply extricate himself from the scene. With a measured glance at the bottle, he added,
"I'll keep this out of reach, ladies."
Bridget's eyes shifted to Ren, her expression darkening as her attention locked onto him. The air seemed to grow heavier as she took a deliberate step forward, her movements slow but brimming with quiet menace.
Ren's sharp black eyes flicked to her, his grip on the bottle tightening ever so slightly. He wasn't one to flinch, but the shift in Bridget's stance and the weight of her intent made one thing clear: this was trouble best avoided.
Without a word, Ren's figure seemed to blur at the edges, like a shadow dissolving into the light. By the time Bridget's step closed the gap further, he was gone, leaving only an unsettling stillness where he had stood.
"What the—" Felicity and Cecilia muttered, blinking in disbelief.
Edward groaned audibly, throwing his hands up.
"You bastard! The plan was to lure her away, not disappear like that!"
Bridget's grin widened, though it lacked any real warmth. Her eyes narrowed like a predator locking onto prey.
"Looks like it's just you and me now, Ed-boy," she said, her tone dripping with dangerous amusement.
"Why don't you just grab your drink and let us deal with him?" Felicity asked, her voice calm but her eyes focused on Edward.
"You can't beat him," Bridget said flatly, her tone unusually serious.
"At best, the two of you could hold him off for a while."
"Then let's chase after the pretty boy," Cecilia suggested, though her tone wavered slightly.
"You fools," Bridget snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"This year's students bring things you've never dealt with before. That Cathay boy could easily cripple you if you're not careful."
Cecilia adjusted her glasses nervously, and Felicity's usual grin faltered. Neither spoke, but the warning in Bridget's tone was enough to unsettle them both.
Bridget cracked her knuckles, her gaze shifting back to Edward.
"Forget the Cathay boy and the whiskey. Focus on Ed-boy. He's trying to sneak inside—that's already a red flag," she barked, her tone brooking no argument.
Edward sighed, straightening up and rolling his shoulders.
"If you're that desperate to waste my time," he muttered, his tone sharpening,
"then let's get this over with."
Bridget's stance shifted subtly, her muscles coiling with purpose. Her smirk faded, replaced by a sharp focus as she adjusted her footing. The floor beneath her creaked faintly as she pushed off, her body a blur of motion.
With explosive force, Bridget lunged at Edward, her body twisting mid-air as she delivered a powerful right jab aimed directly at him. The sheer speed of her attack left Edward momentarily caught off guard. Instinctively, he crossed his arms defensively, forming a tight guard near the left side of his face.
Her fist collided with his forearm with a resounding impact, sending a sharp vibration up his arm. His left hand absorbed most of the blow, while his right hand braced against his left wrist, reinforcing the block against the immense pressure Bridget unleashed. Edward's feet dug into the ground as he leaned slightly to his right, stabilizing himself against her overwhelming force.
Bridget's strike didn't falter, her eyes narrowing as her punch pressed harder against Edward's improvised guard. The clash between her raw strength and his quick reflexes held for a fleeting moment before she pushed off, her body coiling to strike again.
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Bridget's right jab smashed into Edward's crossed arms with an audible thud, the force rippling through his frame. Her momentum kept her in mid-air, her body twisting with the sheer power of her attack. Edward grunted under the impact, his left arm absorbing the brunt of the strike while his right hand braced firmly against the pressure.
But Edward wasn't done yet.
Seizing the split-second opening, he twisted his hips sharply, his body coiling like a spring. His right leg swung upward in a swift, controlled arc, targeting Bridget's exposed left side. The impact landed with a dull thud, driving into her ribs with enough force to shift her mid-air trajectory.
Bridget's eyes widened slightly, her smirk faltering as the unexpected counter sent her hurtling sideways. Her body collided with the stone wall behind her, the echo reverberating through the quiet space. Yet, despite the impact, she landed on her feet with a controlled thud. Her fierce grin returned almost instantly, a spark of challenge blazing in her eyes. Edward adjusted his stance, steadying himself for whatever came next.
Bridget rolled her shoulders, the sound of joints popping echoing faintly in the tense air. She clenched her fists tightly, her knuckles cracking with deliberate menace, daring Edward to make a move. Tilting her head left and right, she loosened her neck muscles with a sharp motion, her smirk widening into something more feral.
"Girls..." she said, her tone calm but brimming with challenge.
"Looks like guarding this door wasn't a waste after all. We've found the problem we need to stop—for our masters."
Edward's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. He stood firm, his voice cutting through the air like steel.
"All of your masters can roll over and die for all I care," he said, his tone dripping with disdain.
"I just need to be by my lady's side—now."
"Ho ho, now that's something a bad guy would say," Bridget retorted, her stance shifting as she prepared to strike again.
"Girls... ready to restrain him."
Cecilia adjusted her glasses with a flick of her fingers, a knowing smirk curving her lips. Without a word, her hand dipped gracefully into her cleavage, disappearing into the folds of her uniform. A moment later, she tugged sharply, and a vivid red rope began to emerge—its diameter thick, about half an inch, with a polished texture that gleamed faintly in the light.
At each end of the rope, small steel hooks gleamed wickedly, their curved tips polished to a mirror shine. The hooks swayed slightly as the rope continued to unravel, their faint clinking adding a metallic rhythm to the spectacle.
The rope kept coming, as though she were pulling an endless coil from a hidden abyss. Each movement was smooth, deliberate, and oddly mesmerizing, the contrast of the bright red rope and the glinting hooks against her dark uniform only adding to the absurdity.
By the time the rope was fully drawn, coiled neatly in her hands, Cecilia lifted it with an air of casual triumph. The hooks dangled menacingly, catching the light as she gave the rope a testing flick.
"Dare to threaten my lady's safety, huh?" she said with a sly wink, spinning one end of the rope effortlessly. Her smirk deepened as the sharp hooks danced ominously.
"Now, what binding suits you?"
At the same time, Felicity leaned back slightly, her expression unbothered as she casually reached down and lifted the hem of her skirt. The motion was entirely shameless, revealing the dark sheen of her black pantyhose and the compact leather harness strapped securely to her upper thigh. Beneath the thin, translucent fabric, a faint glimpse of her white and blue striped panties peeked through, adding an unintended yet unmistakable layer of brazenness to the scene. Felicity, however, remained utterly indifferent, her demeanor as casual as if she were tying her shoes.
The snug holster cradled a folding baton, its polished surface catching the light in a brief glint. With a practiced motion, she reached for it and unclipped the baton with a faint click, sliding it free in one smooth movement. The baton extended with a satisfying metallic snap as she tested its weight with a slight twirl.
"Haaah, I thought I'd get some leisure today," Felicity sighed, flipping her skirt back down without ceremony. She tilted her head slightly, her tone carrying an air of playful exasperation.
"Well, I guess this beats listening to my master drone on about etiquette."
Edward's gaze hardened, his brows knitting briefly before smoothing out into a calm, calculating glare.
Edward's muscles tensed as the three opponents moved in unison, their intent clear. Felicity was the first to act, darting forward with her baton aimed low, targeting his legs. At the same time, Cecilia's rope snaked through the air, the hook glinting as it swung in a wide arc toward his side. Bridget hung back for a moment, her sharp gaze locked on Edward, her body poised like a coiled spring, ready to strike.
Edward sprang into action. He sidestepped Felicity's swift lunge, her baton striking the floor with a metallic crack. Spinning on his heel, he narrowly evaded Cecilia's rope, the hooked end slicing through the air where his ribs had been a moment before. But before he could fully recover, Bridget launched herself forward.
Bridget's fist came crashing toward him, a powerful right jab that carried the force of a battering ram. Edward crossed his arms just in time, forming a tight guard as her punch connected. The impact reverberated through his entire body, forcing his feet to dig into the ground to absorb the blow. The sheer force left his arms trembling, but he held firm.
Before he could counter, Cecilia's rope lashed out again. Edward twisted his body to dodge, but the second hook snagged the edge of his sleeve, jerking him slightly off balance. Felicity seized the opportunity, her baton striking toward his exposed ribs. Edward dropped low at the last second, rolling out of the way as the baton sliced through the air above him.
Edward's roll ended just as Bridget lunged again. This time, her fists swung in wide arcs, forcing him to duck and weave to avoid the crushing blows. Each swing carried enough power to leave cracks in the stone floor when they missed, a stark reminder of what would happen if they connected.
Cecilia's rope coiled and struck like a viper, forcing Edward to leap back to avoid being ensnared. The hooks clinked faintly as the rope whipped past him, their sharp tips grazing his jacket. Edward grabbed a nearby wooden chair and swung it into the path of the rope, tangling it briefly. Cecilia pulled sharply, snapping the chair apart, but the momentary delay gave Edward just enough time to reposition himself.
Felicity darted in again, her small frame a blur as she aimed a quick series of strikes at Edward's knees and torso. Edward blocked one strike with his forearm but winced as the baton's stored energy discharged on impact, sending a jolt through his arm. His expression tightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face as he deflected her follow-up strike with a sharp kick.
The three attackers pressed on, their movements chaotic yet coordinated enough to keep Edward on the defensive. Bridget threw another punch, the sheer force of her strike causing the air to ripple. Edward sidestepped, using her momentum to angle her toward Cecilia. The rope wielder pivoted gracefully, avoiding collision, and lashed out with another precise attack.
Edward ducked, grabbing the edge of a nearby table to swing it into Bridget's path. The heavy wood splintered under her next punch, fragments flying as she brushed the obstacle aside. The ferocity of the assault made it clear—Edward couldn't keep this up forever. He needed to break their rhythm.
Edward shifted his stance, his breathing steady despite the relentless attacks from the trio. His sharp gaze darted between them, taking in the way they moved. Felicity's strikes were precise and fast, but she relied on angles and mobility. Cecilia's rope was an extension of her, controlled with an almost unnatural fluidity. And Bridget, the powerhouse, simply relied on brute force, closing distance like a human wrecking ball.
He decided to disrupt their rhythm.
Bridget charged first, her fists swinging wide in an attempt to pin him down. Edward sidestepped, her punch grazing his arm but still carrying enough force to send a jolt up his shoulder. He pivoted sharply, his footwork smooth, and aimed a sharp right hook at her exposed side. His fist connected with a solid thud, but Bridget didn't flinch. Instead, she grinned, stepping forward as if the blow had only fueled her.
"Nice try," she growled, her voice steady despite the faint tightness in her breath.
Edward's eyes narrowed, noting the subtle tension in her stance. She wasn't invulnerable, even if she acted like it.
Before Bridget could follow up, Felicity darted in from the side, her baton whirling in tight arcs. Edward spun to meet her, his fist lashing out in a sharp jab. It caught her shoulder, the impact sending her skidding back with a surprised grunt.
"Damn!" she hissed, rolling her shoulder to shake off the sting. Her eyes narrowed, and she adjusted her grip on the baton, her movements more calculated now.
Edward didn't have time to press the advantage. Cecilia's rope lashed out, the hooks spinning in a deadly arc toward his torso. He ducked low, letting the rope pass over his head, and surged forward to close the gap. His fist shot out, a quick, precise strike aimed at Cecilia's midsection. The blow landed, forcing a sharp gasp from her as she stumbled back, clutching her side.
"You've got a nasty punch," she muttered, her usual composure faltering for a split second. But she quickly regained her balance, her eyes sharpening as she began to circle him more cautiously, her rope spinning defensively around her.
Bridget didn't give him a moment to recover. She came in hard, her fists swinging with unrelenting force. Edward raised his guard, blocking each strike, but the sheer weight of her punches drove him back. His arms ached from the impact, but he used the momentum to his advantage, shifting his weight and delivering a swift kick to her ribs. The kick landed cleanly, but Bridget barely reacted, stepping into his range with a smirk.
"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her tone mocking but tinged with a hint of strain. Edward noticed the faint flush on her cheeks, the telltale sign of her endurance starting to wane.
Felicity and Cecilia regrouped, their earlier confidence replaced with caution. Felicity darted in again, her baton swinging in a blur of tight arcs. Edward deflected most of them, his movements precise, but the baton's stored energy made each block more taxing. One strike grazed his ribs, sending a sharp jolt through his side. Edward gritted his teeth, retaliating with a swift roundhouse kick. The blow connected with Felicity's thigh, causing her to stagger back with a sharp intake of breath.
"Okay, that one hurt," she muttered, her voice tinged with annoyance. But she didn't charge back in immediately, instead circling cautiously, her baton spinning idly in her hand as she recalibrated.
Edward's gaze flicked between the three of them. Bridget's endurance was impressive, but the repeated hits were starting to take their toll. Felicity was faster than him but clearly wary after tasting his strength. And Cecilia, though precise, was keeping her distance, using her rope more defensively now.
"They're adapting," Edward thought, irritation flashing in his eyes.
"Great. More wasted time."
Edward shifted his stance, his sharp eyes locking onto Felicity. His movements turned deliberate, focused. He pivoted to avoid Bridget's punch, the air rippling from her missed swing. The stone cracked beneath her fist, but Edward didn't let her brute strength intimidate him. Instead, he darted around her, drawing her into motion and forcing her to adjust constantly.
Bridget's frustration began to show, her heavy attacks missing by inches as Edward kept moving, leading her in wide arcs. Her gritted teeth and flaring nostrils betrayed her mounting irritation, but Edward stayed just out of reach, his calm and calculated demeanor unchanged.
His attention shifted to Felicity, who darted forward with her baton, swinging in a blur of tight arcs. Edward sidestepped her first strike, the baton narrowly missing his ribs, and followed with a sharp jab aimed at her shoulder. Felicity twisted away, her movements fluid and evasive, before retaliating with a quick, low strike toward his knees.
Edward jumped back, his boots skidding slightly against the floor, but Felicity pressed on. Her baton came down in a vertical swing, forcing Edward to raise his arm to block. The impact jolted through his muscles, the energy within the baton humming faintly with each strike it absorbed.
They exchanged blows in a rapid rhythm—Felicity's baton lashing out like a viper, Edward dodging and countering with precise, calculated punches. Her weapon clipped his forearm once, the faint hum growing louder, but he barely flinched, his focus narrowing as he gauged her movements.
Cecilia's rope flicked toward him, the hook glinting as it curved through the air. Edward twisted sharply, avoiding the rope as it snapped back toward Cecilia's hand. Bridget closed in with a wide punch aimed at his head, but Edward ducked, using her missed swing as cover to pivot back toward Felicity.
He stepped into her range, his fist snapping out to meet her baton mid-swing. The collision was deafening. The baton discharged all its stored energy in an explosive crack, the force sending a shockwave through Felicity's arm. She cried out, stumbling back as her grip faltered, clutching her hand against her chest.
"That hurt," Felicity hissed under her breath, her voice strained. She tried to mask her pain, but Edward's keen eyes caught the subtle tremor in her grip. He knew she was trying to hide her injury, adopting a more defensive stance.
"He's focusing on Feli," Cecilia muttered, her voice low but audible enough for Bridget to catch. Her tone carried a mix of realization and irritation, her sharp eyes tracking Edward's movements.
Cecilia's rope lashed out, the hooks spinning in a deadly arc toward his torso. Edward leapt sideways, dodging one end, only to have the second hook loop around toward him. He twisted sharply, the hook missing his arm by a hair's breadth. But Cecilia's precise strikes forced him to break his focus on Felicity, keeping him from pressing his advantage.
Bridget roared, her fists swinging in relentless succession. The increase in her speed was undeniable, her blows now coming in tighter, faster arcs. Edward deflected one with a raised arm and sidestepped another, but the force of her attacks was driving him into narrower spaces. Her endurance might be waning, but her sheer power and Cecilia's coordination were putting him under constant pressure.
Edward shifted tactics, aiming to control the fight's tempo. He feinted toward Bridget, drawing her into another missed punch, then lunged at Felicity again. His quick jab targeted her weakened side, striking just below her shoulder. Felicity gasped, stumbling back as her baton slipped from her grip momentarily before she caught it again.
"Not giving me a break, are you?" she muttered through gritted teeth, her movements now slower and more cautious.
Edward kept his expression neutral, but the satisfaction of disrupting her rhythm was evident in his precise footwork and the confident way he repositioned. He turned his attention briefly to Cecilia, whose rope spun in tight defensive patterns. She was keeping her distance, her strikes calculated and ready to punish any overextension. He noted her controlled breathing and sharp focus, a stark contrast to Bridget's relentless aggression.
Bridget charged again, her fists a blur of motion. Edward ducked under one swing, countering with a sharp uppercut to her ribs. The impact made her pause, but only for a moment. She grinned through the strain, stepping back into his range without hesitation.
"As usual still tough," Edward muttered to himself, his frustration growing. He glanced at Felicity, who was still recovering, and at Cecilia, who was preparing to strike again.
Bridget's fists came faster now, her frustration evident in the ferocity of her attacks. Edward dodged and deflected, but the combined efforts of Cecilia's rope keeping him contained and Bridget's relentless assault made the fight unsustainable. He needed a new plan.
Edward leapt backward, his movements fluid as he gained distance. Bridget hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she realized his intention. Cecilia's rope snapped toward him, but he twisted midair, avoiding it with a hair's breadth of space.
The three maids regrouped, their movements slower but deliberate as they watched Edward land smoothly on his feet. While their breathing wasn't heavy, the strain of the fight was evident—Cecilia adjusted her glasses with precision, Felicity flexed her baton hand as if testing her grip, and Bridget rolled her shoulders with an exaggerated motion, her fierce grin faltering for just a moment. Edward steadied himself, his gaze sharp and unwavering. For a moment, no one moved. It was a brief but necessary pause, the combatants taking stock of the damage and recalibrating their strategies.
Edward's arm throbbed from the earlier impacts, but he ignored the pain. His sharp eyes swept over his opponents, noting Felicity's subtle wince, Bridget's constant adjustments to her stance, and Cecilia's rope coiled tightly in her hands, ready to lash out at a moment's notice.
The silence stretched for a beat longer, tension crackling in the air like static. Edward exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking toward the door behind them.
The fight wasn't over, but he knew continuing here was no longer advantageous.