Emil

Ronny’s greasy body flopped to the ground with a loud thud. Dead. The look of horror in his final moments suited him well.

Emil tossed aside the blood-stained knife his hands. The warm, viscous sensation of the Grenze executive’s blood on his fingers felt gross. He took a deep breath and brushed aside the irately long hair dangling across his face. Finally, this disgusting job was coming to an end.

“Hello, Emil.”

The Cleaner greeted him with a large smile, his tone bright and cheery as if the two of them were meeting at a tavern for drinks. Instead, they were currently in the foul basement floors of a drug facility, surrounded by a sea of gore.

“Van,” Emil said, frowning at the Cleaner’s attitude. The man in front of him was his senior in the Steiger organization.

“It’s been three weeks. I’m glad to see that you’re well. However—” Van’s voice suddenly dropped. His nonchalance disappeared. His eyes gleamed with murderous pressure. “—why did you kill Ronny? I don’t remember giving you the clearance.”

In the corner of his eyes, Emil caught the top of the black tendrils writhing at the edge of Van’s shadows. His Gift beckoned, eagerly awaiting as if it had a will of its own, threatening to shoot out at a moment's notice.

Emil clicked his tongue. What a farce. “It’s because you were taking too damn long.”

“…Huh?”

“If your objective was to kill him, then do it quickly, you sadistic freak,” Emil complained.

Van narrowed his eyes. “I never said anything about killing him. What if I needed to interrogate Ronny for information?”

“Then you would have started torturing him instead of playing with your food,” Emil spat, “Stop fucking with me, Van. I know this is your idea of a stupid prank. I don’t have the patience for this right now.”

At his urging, the bloodlust in the air suddenly vanished. The tendrils poking out of Van’s shadow disappeared. Realizing his ruse was exposed, Van inexplicably puffed out his face and stomped the floor cutely, pretending to throw a childish tantrum.

“But c’mon, Emil! He was a villainous bastard! Don’t you want to see his hideous, arrogant face all terrified, shaking, stuttering, and begging to live?! It’s so amusing to hear the excuses they come up with!”

Ugh. Emil grimaced, suddenly remembering how draining it was to deal with his senior. Van was a frivolous man with perverse tendencies. He was probably normal once, until his time with Steiger inevitably twisted him into the clown he was today. If the kingdom knew that Steiger employed fools like him, the entire organization would lose all of its mystique and infamy.

Van burst into laughter. Emil’s disgust must have been written across his face.

“Oh, how I missed your hilarious reactions, Emil,” he said as he wiped the joyous tears leaking from his eyes, “Anyways, if you knew I was coming, why didn’t you just kill him to begin with?”

“I didn’t know it was you,” Emil sighed, “The witch didn’t tell me anything. I had no idea that there was even supposed to be a raid today. I held back in case she wanted Ronny alive.”

“Fair enough.” Van nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good work. You made it easy for me to find you by emitting mana.”

Emil shrugged him off. “It’s standard procedure. You don’t need to praise me for it.”

“Wow, how cool.”

Emil rolled his eyes. “If that’s all, then I’m leaving.”

Van’s silence gave him the clearance to leave. Emil immediately turned around and made his way towards the staircase leading to the facility’s ground level. He had been stuck in this place for the past three weeks, masquerading as Ronny’s body guard. The horrific things that he had to overlook and endure to maintain his cover nearly drove him insane.

He was sick of it.

He just wanted to go home.

***

Mia

Mia glanced at the clock. One hour past midnight. The tavern had already emptied itself—even the last of its unruly patrons had stumbled home in their drunken stupor.

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She sat down by the countertop, alone, soaking in the somber candlelight. And waited. The rhythmic sway of the pendulum clock quietly ticked away in the background.

After the silence grew unbearable, she let out a disappointed sigh. Guess he’s not coming home today either.

Mia stood up and walked towards the pile of dirty bowls and cups hidden beneath the countertop. She needed something to distract herself. Something to occupy her hands. Something to pry her mind away from the resurging memories of that terrible day.

Four years had passed since the incident that took away the lives of all their friends at the compound. Mia was fifteen now. Her hair grew long. Her body matured. The boyish looks that she was insecure about vanished as she blossomed into a respectable young lady. But her time remained still—trapped in the gruesome tragedy.

Why?

She couldn’t understand it. Why did they get caught up by that Exalted’s rampage? Why was her home destroyed? Why did her friends meet such a disturbing end? Did they do something wrong? Was that an act of divine punishment?

Emil told her over and over again that it was all just bad timing. A coincidence, borne from a random series of unfortunate events. Mia couldn’t accept that. It felt too cruel, too indifferent, too cold. There had to be a reason. There had to be someone to blame.

There had to be.

Clink!

Her eyes grew wide, horrified. The glass plate that she was cleaning suddenly had a long crack running down the middle. Most of the tableware used in this tavern were made from wood or clay. The few glassware available were reserved for serving guests of high status. Glassware was absurdly expensive, but infinitely more brittle and fragile. In the midst of her thoughts, Mia lost track of what she was cleaning.

Dammit, the owner is going to chew me out for this. She groaned, dreading the inevitable conversation.

The tavern door suddenly crept out.

“Sorry, we’re close—”

She froze. The rest of the words remained on her tongue unspoken. She stared blankly at the visitor. Jet black hair, long enough to his shoulders. A boyish face with glimpses of scars lined across his jaws. Dark bags crowded beneath his large eyes—deep in opulent blue as he stared at her sheepishly.

The next thing she knew she was in his arms. Mia dove into his chest. The warm feeling of his body was blissfully comfortable. Familiar.

“You’re late,” she finally said.

“Sorry, Mia,” Emil replied. His gentle voice danced in her ears. “I’m home.”

***

After a few minutes of embracing in silence, Mia finally let him go.

Emil took a seat by the countertop. Mia brought him a cup and fetched one of the unopened bottles on display. Unprompted, she poured him a drink. As the barmaid, she was no stranger to the detriments of alcohol. Yet even so, sometimes a bit of poison healed more than any remedy.

Emil drank slowly, letting the bitter taste quench his throat. Mia watched him with a faint smile. He had grown noticeably thinner since he left for his assignment three weeks ago. She reached out to grab the coarse strands of hair dangling to his shoulders.

I should give him a haircut. And feed him well.

He eventually set the cup down. A pensive look drawn on his face.

“How’s Raz?” he finally asked.

Mia flinched. The candlelight flickered hesitantly. Couldn’t this have waited till tomorrow? She didn’t want him to ask about Raz. Not yet at least. He just got home. It was already late into the night. Emil, however, didn’t seem content to wait.

After a brief silence, she gave in, gathering the courage to respond, “He’s not great.”

Emil’s eyes grew wide. Mia felt her chest was going to explode.

“Show me.”

Reluctantly, she led Emil to the second floor of the tavern. There were three rooms at the end of the hallway that the owner had set aside for them as part of their contract. Mia opened the farthest door to the right.

She was immediately assaulted by the faint, astringent smell of antiseptics and smoky incense. She placed down a candlewick by the entrance. At the back of the room was a tall man lying prone on a bed.

Raz.

He was covered in bandages from head to toe. The exposed areas of his body were mired in patches of red. He was still, almost unmoving. It wouldn’t have been unreasonable to think he was dead, if not for the occasional rise and dip of his chest.

They were staring at the only other survivor of that terrible tragedy.

“…He’s spending more time unconscious these days. And when he’s awake, he’s rarely lucid,” Mia explained as tears gathered in her eyes, “He keeps screaming. I think he’s reliving what happened on that day.”

Emil shook his head. “I thought the medicine was supposed to help with that.”

“We’re running low. I’ve been rationing the dosage—”

“Mia!” he suddenly shouted. His eyes were frantic, spittle flying in the air as he continued to yell, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I would have gotten more!”

Stop.

“…How am I supposed to do that?” Her lips quivered. Tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Please don’t speak anymore.

“You’re not home.”

He doesn’t need to hear this!

“And I never know when you’ll be back…”

She immediately regretted saying those words as soon as she saw Emil’s face twist in horror. His eyes went wide. His jaws dropped as if he couldn’t believe what he had just done.

The apologies came next. Mia closed her eyes. She knew that Emil didn’t mean it. He had just returned from his assignment. He was exhausted. Emotions were high.

The three of them were the sole survivors of that tragedy. And because they were orphans, they only had each other to rely on. Losing Raz meant losing one of their last family members.

She knew that Emil was trying his best to give the two of them a better life. She didn’t understand the full extent of his job—only that he looked increasingly tortured each time he returned from an assignment. Whatever he was doing ate him alive. And he only endured because of her and Raz.

Mia glared at Raz’s sleeping body. Her heart shrieked with guilt at the nasty thoughts spiraling in her head. Words that she would never dare to speak aloud.

I know it’s wrong of me to think this way.

She recalled the fond memories that the three of them shared in the past—laughing, telling stories, eating food before drifting asleep in each other’s warmth.

But sometimes I really wished—

Over time, those warm memories were slowly replaced by the cold, lonely nights of changing Raz’s bandages, cleaning him from his own excrement, and sobbing to herself by his beside.

The endearing feelings that she held towards him quietly changed to bitter resentment.

–you didn’t survive that day.