For Chloe, life was just like a butterfly—beautiful and ephemeral, yet fragile and fleeting. Whenever she tried to touch it, the beauty transformed into a lukewarm bath of blood, slowly dissipating into the abyss.
Her claws were never meant to touch beauty; her hands existed only to bring doom and disaster. She was a natural-born killer, cold and efficient as an assassin. Many had fallen at her will—the powerful, the meek, everyone. Just like night curtains falling upon the sunset, her existence eclipsed the lives of many.
However, today, those very same hands had finally managed to save a life.
Serving potato stew on the table, Chloe sat across from the frightened Drifter. He stared at the bowl in front of him, hands trembling slightly. The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
“Eat,” Chloe said softly, “A good nutrition builds up your strength.”
“Are you… trying to poison me?” The Drifter asked.
Chloe was surprised. This was the first time she met someone who accused kindness of being cruelty. She squinted her eyes, imagining how harsh his previous life must have been for him to not recognize kindness. Perhaps coldness was the only language he understood, Chloe thought.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Chloe sighed, then gazed coldly at the man, “If I wanted to kill you, I could do it easily.”
The Drifter looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and confusion. “Why…why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you save me?”
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Chloe sighed, leaning back in her chair. Why was it again? A pity? Or a conscience? No… It was more egoistical than that.
“Because I believe everyone deserves a second chance. I’m trying to make up for the things I’ve done. Helping you is a part of that.” Chloe took a worn-out knife from her thigh, brandishing it in front of the Drifter. It was rough at its edges, with stains that would never fade. It was clear the knife had its days long past, but it was very dear to Chloe.
“You see, before coming to this village, I was a soldier. I was sent to the most dangerous battlefield to secure perimeter, carried out mass destruction, or assassinate key targets. My missions were always successful… until my last,” Chloe stopped a bit, relishing the past. “But those days are behind me. Right now, I’m trying to build a new life, a better one. And maybe, just maybe, I can finally help others along the way. That is why I help you.” She continued while sheating her knife.
The Drifter listened attentively, his expression complex. Chloe’s eyes softened slightly, and she gently said, “The only thing I could boast about myself is my cooking. You should eat while it’s hot.”
The Drifter hesitated for a moment, then took a tentative sip of the stew. His eyes widened slightly as the warm, savory flavors washed over his tongue. He took another spoonful, more eagerly this time.
Chloe watched him eat, a small smile forming on her lips. "See? Not poisoned," she said with a hint of amusement.
The Drifter only nodded, but it was enough to make Chloe’s heart warm. She then took her portions and ate together with The Drifter. As they continued their meal, the silence between them grew comfortable.
The Drifter seemed to relax more with each bite, the tension slowly leaving his body. Chloe watched him with a relieve. not only for the drifter well being, but also for herself. In her heart she thought, maybe, just maybe, she could find her redemption by helping this lost soul.
And in the process, perhaps she could finally find a way to heal her own.
“… Claude.”
Chloe raised her eyebrows, “Eh? What did you say?”
The Drifter looked up to Chloe and said again, “My name is Claude. Thank you… for helping me, uh, umm..”
Chloe smiled lightly, “… Chloe Abigail. You’re welcome, Claude.”