…and then we come to the role of the church. Their role is a necessity, of course, to guide and oversee. Classes like [Murderers], [Criminals], and [Villains] have to be curtailed, and that’s not even taking into account the truly sinister plague and disease classes… But I digress. Is the Chruch not overstepping its bounds? Directing instead of guiding? Perhaps even causing harm. Forcing someone into an unsuitable class has many times led to the person taking on a darker path in their leveling, as can be seen in the case of the famous…

-Excerpt from Friend of the people, vol. 15, by P. Marat

—

The inn stood silent and dark, a tomb under fading sunlight. The wind rattled at the windows in a growing gale, with some of the draft managing to get through the loose boards of the wall, which sent a chill through everyone inside. The floorboards creaked eerily.

Marie sneezed.

“Achoo!”

Mireille jolted up in her seat, eyes going to the [Lady].

“Sorry,” Marie said. Didn't want to interrupt her.

They were sitting in the inn’s common room, a wide place with two long tables laid out inside. Mireille was working on new clothes, sitting near the outer windows with a blanket in her lap while Marie was just... waiting. Opposite her. Food was due soon.

The [Seamstress] checked over her needlework. “Ah—don’t worry about it. This isn’t a sensitive part, a few missed prods won’t matter much.”

Marie felt relieved and let out a held breath. “I’m glad. Would hate to ruin your work.”

Mireille put her needles down on the table, looking out of the window. It was starting to get dark outside. “Are you really feeling that cold? Would be a shame for you to catch the flu now.”

The [Lady] paused for a second—do I? No, not really—then shook her head. “I doubt I’ll get anything—I haven’t gotten sick once since I received [Picture of Health].”

The [Seamstress] sighed. “Your skills really do feel a bit unfair, you know. Still, you really aren’t cold? At al?”

“Well—a bit,” Marie admitted. They were right by the window, and the frame wasn’t that airtight. She turned her head, looking at the other side of the common room, towards the kitchen where the nice [Chef] woman was preparing the stew. “I think the stew will warm me up enough though—you don’t need to bother.”

Mireille quirked up an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I would be glad to give you a blanket. Or is it just that… you don’t want to receive a cloak or blanket from me?”

Marie looked back. “W-what are you implying there?”

“Please, don’t try that with me,” Mireille said, snorting. She waved an arrogant hand, waving away all objections before they even came. “You are being really obvious. Stammering like that at a little handkerchief attention…”

Handkerchief attention? She noticed that? The [Lady’s] cheeks reddened. “It’s not like that! I was just… exhausted in the morning. Don’t imply I’m a creep or anything.”

Mireille snorted. “I don’t care about stuff like that. Just spare me the excuses. It’s fun to watch you struggle.”

Watch me what now? Marie froze in place, staring. “Me, struggle?”

“We’re not all blockheads you know,” Mireille said, tapping her head. “But that one… you’ll need to be a lot less subtle.”

The [Lady’s] face fell to the table with a thud, and only a whimper left her. Yeah… this isn’t really going anywhere, is it? “Uuuuu—what am I going to do?”

Mireille hesitated, started to respond—

And then the door opened, and a delicious scent filled the space.

Both women raised their heads up, towards the now-open kitchen door, and felt hunger pangs. A smiling [Chef], a woman in her mid-thirties with her hair tied up and a relaxed smile, stepped inside, carrying a large pot of stew.

“I’m finally finished. Are you going to wait for your friends to come?” she said, kicking the door closed behind her.

Marie and Mireille looked at each other, an instant communication passing between them. They turned back.

“We’re fine starting early.” They said, synchronized by hunger.

The other door opened, and the [Innkeeper] stepped inside, carrying bowls. “I told you the wait would be worth it—if there’s one thing I’m sure of in life—my wife can cook.”

At least based on the smell, Marie agreed. “I look forward to it,” she said, giving a polite bow.

The man smiled, then set bowls in front of Mireille and Marie, then one for himself, at the end of the table. His wife set the pot in the middle of them, used a ladle to give everyone a serving, brushed sweat from her brow, then turned back.

“I’ve still got to finish one dish, so I’ll be back in just a bit!”

There’s going to be more food? Marie looked at the generous helping of stew in her own bowl and felt it would be quite enough on its own. It looked meaty. Lots of juicy chunks floated inside, cooked just right. The stew itself had a rich aroma, and the potatoes and other vegetables inside sealed the deal.

She took her spoon in hand, scooped a good spoonful in it, making sure she got a nice big chunk of meat in it, then brought it to her mouth. Before eating, she took a moment to just enjoy the aroma. Hmm, even my Family’s [chefs] rarely made stuff this appetizing. What’s the secret?

Anticipation building, she brought the spoonful to her mouth—

Then the door was smashed open. “Don’t touch that soup!” Came a [Doctor’s] orders, as Olivia jumped inside, body poised to jump and boots filthy from mud. Fayette followed her in, skirts also wet from mud, and looked in Marie’s direction.

The [Maid] made a quick hand-signal, covering her mouth, and nodded at Marie. She needs me to use [Control Conversation]?

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Marie activated it, kept her mouth low to the table, then spoke a quick word. “What?”

The [Maid] kept a hand in front of her mouth, then nodded to the side, towards the [Innkeeper] who was staring with surprise. “[Appraise] him. Fast. And be ready for a fight. [Murderer] somewhere nearby.”

Marie tensed, felt out at her power source to make sure her magic would be ready, then looked at the man. It was a gross violation of privacy, but if Fayette was like this… she used the skill, and the man suddenly shivered as an invasive cold wave went through his body. Information came to the [Lady’s] mind.

[Innkeeper of Lonely Hearths — level 25]

He tensed along with everyone else, staring at Marie. The [Lady] looked around the room, then relaxed her tensed muscles. “Sorry mister—maybe my friend made a mistake.”

Everyone relaxed, and Marie sneezed again, covering her mouth.

A fake sneeze this time, she quietly spoke to only allies. “Not yet. Just a moment…”

I’ve been fooled once before—the wait period is not too long…

She took the hand off, smiled gently at the man, and gave him a small bow. “Pardon my rudeness.”

He leaned back in his chair, spoon in hand. “Ah—don’t worry about it. There have been dark rumours…”

Marie nodded, bringing the spoon back to her mouth. Waiting. Just a moment more—for the cooldown—

Then she used [Appraise] again and the [Innkeeper] shivered, more this time.

[Innkeeper of Eternal Rest — level ??]

And then everything rushed to motion. The [Innkeeper’s] face hadn’t changed, but his eyes…

Something was appearing by him, dark spectral figures. Then, the windows slammed shut one by one, and the room’s doors disappeared. Not good. Nobody was quite by the man, and he was on his feet, getting up and reaching for something—

Marie reached for that one ability, the best way to buy time.

“[Elegant Tea Party]”

—

Her hunch had been right.

Fayette gripped her broom tight as she looked around the room. Everyone had frozen in place—activating a capstone skill tended to do that.

That short moment, when everyone was waiting for something—a reaction. The [Innkeeper] most of all. He was very carefully standing in place, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

Nobody moved.

Silence. Silence dragged on and on—only the wind giving instrumentation as it rattled at the windows. And then it was broken.

A chair slowly being dragged over the wooden flooring. Then being slammed into place in one violent motion. It cracked onto the floor loudly, and as Fayette instinctively glanced at it for a split instant, the [Innkeeper’s], face shifted. When she looked back, there was no more carefree smile, nor a nervous readiness—just a vicious sneer.

Then he sat down onto that chair and started laughing.

“Ah—etiquette. I feel it. A skill like this, I've only seen it once. Not against me, no—a [Lady] stopped a fight that was about to erupt. I remember marveling at that feeling. Such power. To adjust... Force others to stop—to bend them to your will.”

His eyes shone “True power.”

Fayette just stared. At the man whose veil had been ripped off so fast. But he did not seem bothered in the least. If anything, he was the most at ease out of everyone in the room. Utterly confident—an [Innkeeper] inside his inn.

But not just an [Innkeeper]—a [Murderer].

It had been quick for her and Olivia to figure out. Nobody from town missing, but there was still a steady stream of victims. Travelers. And where did travelers stay in these corners? At what place did all travelers gather? Where would it be easiest to catch travelers unaware, then dispose of them quietly?

The inn.

Still, speculating was one thing, and seeing it confirmed another. Olivia’s glare was dark, Mireille was frozen, eyes wide, and Fayette felt her skin crawling. A [Murderer]. One of the foulest things she could imagine… And she had just been right next to him, even leaving Mireille and Marie here?

She gripped her broom tighter. I can handle this. Just another piece of trash corrupting this world.

But just how should they handle this? In that brief instant, she had sensed him activate something. Phantasmal figures had appeared by him. How dangerous was he? And his wife was also somewhere nearby… Would the [Elegant Tea Party] help?

Can we get him angry? To break etiquette?

Fayette turned, and Marie nodded at her. At least she was safe—can she get him mad?

The [Lady] turned, then spoke, not even looking at the man. Her voice dripped venom. “[Innkeeper of Eternal Rest]. I don't know his level. But that class... There is no doubt about it.”

He nodded calmly, a confident smile on his face. “Yes, you are correct.” A simple admission. No hesitation. No backpaddling he was just… at ease.

Fayette felt it was too much. Why is he so smug? “You have no shame for what you are?” she asked, glaring.

He quirked up an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face as he turned to her. “You, out of all of you, ask that question, [Maid]?” he winked. “I know my kin. We’re not that different, who are you to judge me?”

Those words… Judging—Fayette tried to deny them—but found she couldn’t speak. Me? Like a [Murderer]? It unsettled and outraged her—but she couldn’t get the words out. Something held them back.

But Marie was not silenced. She scoffed, outraged. “Really? The ‘we’re not so different, are we’—cliché talk? Really? Think of something better.”

He chuckled, turning back forward as he put a spoon into his bowl. “What’s wrong with the truth? Yes, you have discovered my nature, sadly. Very inconvenient for us all. I had no ill designs for you, you know? I’m not a fool.”

The [Innkeeper] looked around the room, giving everyone a polite nod. “I can see you are important people. I wouldn’t have done anything to you, had you not done this. Really, I don’t understand why my kin are ostracized so—killing for power and levels is the way of the world, is it not?”

Fayette still couldn’t speak, but… she had to do something. Face grim, she used [Dry Laundry] on the hems of her dress, getting the wetness of the mud out. The stains still remained, which was annoying, but it was a bit better. She approached the table.

Etiquette—she could help. There was a skill active. She would do what she could.

Silently, she took out a cup of tea, placed it in front of Marie, and started filling it. The [Lady] looked up, and met her eyes briefly. She had a piece of chalk in hand, and a sneaky vine of magic was extending out of her sleeve.

She also saw the silent plea on Fayette’s face. Tell him, please.

Marie nodded, took the cup, and turned back to the [Murderer]. He was just watching it all. Calm, but wary. His eyes never relaxed, even if the rest of his body did. Still waiting.

“It’s pretty obvious why your kin are reviled, you know,” Marie said, lacing her voice with scorn. “You kill the innocent, all in a perversion for levels. A backstab in the dark after breaking bread. No honour.”

He let the words wash past him, unruffled. A smile tugged at the man’s lips as he nodded up, at Fayette. “Really now? Has your friend there only killed those truly deserving of it, then? Has she ever used deception to kill?” He saw the answer in how Fayette froze in place and shook his head. “Ah—tut tut. Always so eager to lecture and preach, your type.”

Olivia was circling to his side, and Mireille was keeping her hands below the table, doing something. Just needed to buy a more time. But why is he so confident?

The [Innkeeper] smiled wide, then took a spoonful of the soup into his mouth and gulped it down. Fayette felt her stomach drop. What is in that? She looked Olivia’s way, and the [Doctor] shook her head. Guess I don’t want to know.

The man wiped some spilled soup off his lips, then chuckled. “Really, you should consider what I do a public service. I am pretty high up in levels, which makes me an asset to the country. And besides, I don’t kill randomly. There are many [Vagrants], [Beggars] and [Vagabonds] out these days—costing everyone money and resources. I just—” he looked at the [Maid], winking knowingly. “—clean out the trash.”

Those words shook her, and she froze in place. It was just a provocation, but something about them… No—that is… different. I don’t just—

The [Murderer] smiled, turning his gaze to the [Lady]. He gestured at the soup in front of her. “Now, I’ve taken the first spoonful, so why are you all hesitating? I am providing you hearth, home and food. Not accepting it would be rude, don’t you think? Breaking hospitality....”

Marie looked down at the soup and covered her mouth—grimacing.

Except she didn’t. The [Lady] quietly used [Control Conversation], and her allies heard her words. “This isn’t working. I have to stop the skill, or I’ll take even more backlash. Be ready.”

Fayette finally unfroze, forcing the man’s words out of her mind. She gripped her broom and looked around the room, taking quick steps forward. He can talk all he wants, but the end result won’t change.

Fayette started to circle the table slowly, and Olivia was doing likewise on the other side. The [Murderer] rose up from his seat, and reached forward for the soup pot. “Hey—no rudeness here. In fact, I’ll give you a bigger serving—”

The skill ended.

Fayette lunged.

The [Murderer] flung the pot of hot soup at Olivia, then jumped back and spoke. “[Sweet Dreams.]”

Something dark appeared in front of her, and Fayette—blinked.

Something…

Dark…