Chapter 9: I Am the God of Hellfire, Part 9

What was that about the plans of mice and men? In any case, Sam was too busy getting beaten up to make an effort to remember and get poetic.

Defending himself wouldn't reveal him as Satan's son. He would gladly do it, if it weren't for another boy holding him from behind while the other one pummeled him. They weren't very brave, but that mattered little in a real fight. And this was a real fight. Sam knew from the first moment that they weren't playing, even though they were just kids.

"You hit like a girl," he said, despite everything, twisting his head to spit blood to the side.

Impassive. Untouchable. He had to project that appearance if he wanted it to be real someday. Besides, the truth is it wasn't that bad. He had never been in a fight, never been hurt like this, but it wasn't that bad.

Moreover, he was too excited to feel the slightest apprehension.

The brat who had been hitting him, mostly in the face, as if wanting to ruin his beauty, stepped back. And he pulled out a knife from inside his jacket.

"Fine," said Ivor, "I won't hit you again. You asked for it."

Obviously they had made sure to drag him to a secluded place as soon as they caught him, but still, it surprised him that he had the balls to pull out a weapon on the mansion grounds. But, as they had said before, he had known from the beginning. That they weren't playing. Or at least Ivor wasn't, in particular. He wasn't one to throw stones, he supposed, but what crazy eyes he had.

Ivor brought the knife to his face with a trembling hand. Not from fear, but from anger. He rested the tip against his cheek.

Sam held his gaze, not even blinking. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear, of giving him what he wanted. But he wasn't afraid in the first place. Why would he be?

Ivor slowly made a cut across his cheek to his chin, taking great pleasure, no doubt, in marking his face. He doubted it would be a permanent scar in a world of magic, so he let him do it, striving to keep his face from moving even a bit in reaction to the pain. Even now, it was nothing more than a shadow behind his excitement.

"We know it was you," said Ivor. "Confess."

Even then, Sam only smiled sinisterly.

——

A few hours earlier...

Someone knocked on his door. It was Annabelle, so he let her in. She had finally found a moment to sneak away and come visit him. She had communicated that this was what she needed about half an hour ago, subtly, as she passed by.

He didn't want people to know they had a connection beyond the most superficial possible. Not yet. So early in the game, they would undoubtedly draw the wrong conclusions, they wouldn't even come close to the truth he needed to keep hidden, but it still wasn't convenient for them to start talking. Giving them reasons to examine his actions, analyze them.

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"I'm very sorry about Miss Evelyn's accident, sir." "Yes. I hope that's true." "I assure you it is, sir..." she said, suddenly tense, nervous. Exactly how he thought she would react, of course. Sam wasn't so stupid as to not know how ambiguous his phrase had been, but he had wanted to play with her. And she had given him a good reaction.

He smiled reassuringly, or at least tried to. "No. I mean, I hope it was an accident."

Sam wasn't a good actor. He had never needed to be an actor. He had been too busy living his life, fighting for every little thing he gained, to waste time pretending to be someone else. But he would have to learn, and fast. He was surrounded by nobles, after all. Snakes that lived in and constantly breathed that poison. He had to learn to fit in and be the one who ate the others, the last monster standing.

Now, Sam did what he could to appear to be suffering a complicated mix of feelings. Sadness, anger, and doubts. The latter was perhaps the most complicated. Because he had never been more sure of anything in his life. He had never felt so full of life, of determination, of desire to face the new day full of possibilities.

He wondered if that was what normal people felt when they woke up every day... It couldn't be, could it? He hoped not. Normal people already had too many privileges. The world was controlled by people like him, but it didn't matter how abnormal Sam was if he couldn't move in the same waters. He had never been behind the curtain, but drowning in the illusion constructed for the masses.

"Oh," said Annabelle. "You can't rule it out, can you? Of course not, in this family. Anyway, here's your advance."

Sam handed her what he had promised. More than enough money for the treatment in a bag that could be hidden in the maid's uniform. Again, it wasn't convenient for anyone to talk. He had thought about other silly things like an emptied music box, something easier to disguise, but there was no need to disguise something that people wouldn't see in the first place. Sometimes he overthought things.

"I haven't provided you with any information yet." "A deal is a deal."

Besides, he wasn't terribly interested. The deal had arisen from his attempt to obtain information about her and no one else.

"Thank you very much, sir." Annabelle made a deep curtsy. Sam took a glance without thinking twice. She had a spectacular pair of tits. "But... Is this really all you want from me? I'm not demanding anything, Mr. Wright, I'm yours, but I'd like to know what to expect."

Sam smiled. He had been doing that often lately. Tasting true power would do that to anyone. He had no shortage of reasons to be so happy.

"If you want more orders, don't call me Mr. Wright again. Call me Sam. You serve me, not my surname." That said, it was convenient to clarify that point. Let her get that well into her head.

Annabelle curtsied even more deeply if possible. More than her cleavage, he could practically see everything. By some miracle, her nipples were still escaping his vision for now. He couldn't know what kind of motives they had had in hiring her, but he had a very clear idea of what had been on the mind of the man (undoubtedly) who had designed the uniform.

"Of course, sir. Is there really nothing else? Is that all I have to do?" "Very persistent. Yes, of course there's more. But for now, that's all. I'll think of other ways you can be useful to me."

For a moment Sam considered a very specific way that she seemed to be practically asking for: to pull down his pants and force her to suck his cock. Any appeal that idea might have had or could have had paled in comparison to the excitement that still made his hair stand on end just thinking about his first murder.

"Just send that," he said slowly and after a while. "Make sure your mother receives the treatment she needs... And remember who you owe that to. To me. Not to my family. To me."

"I will always remember, my lord. I am above all yours."

She curtsied before leaving, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

I Am the God of Hellfire, Part 9: END