“My, my, what a gift this is,” smiled a woman whose heels echoed as she walked into the room. I recognized her immediately. She was the one who guided me through the palace.

“What do you want?” I asked while bouncing my arms off my waist, trying not to look suspicious. Where the hell did my knives go?

“Wait, you two—”

“Zip it, Roger!” He took a few steps behind. “If another word comes out your mouth, I’ll cut your tongue off,” I spoke loud enough for only him to hear. Sylvia must’ve enjoyed his scolding since a sardonic grin plagued her face.

I couldn’t afford Roger’s stupidity. Whatever it was, it had to involve me. Did the king want to see me again? But why would he send all these guards along with Sylvia? Something wasn't right. Great, why did Roger and Owen have to be here? Now they’re involved with whatever this was.

“Why do you sound so tense? I’m just here for a quick chat, nothing else,” she cheered, prancing around the room.

Ya, sure. Those armored guards wouldn't be surrounding us. I ran my hands around my waist once more. Where did my daggers go? Did I take them off? That couldn’t be. I always carried them. Could one of the boys place it somewhere when I was asleep?

I quickly glanced at the miniature square table between the beds. Nothing besides a lamp was there. The table did have a drawer, but the guards made it unreachable.

There was no point. I guess I had to play Sylvia’s game.

“Whatever you want, just spit it out.”

Her legs stopped moving as her gray eyes stared into me. I took a nervous gulp. Those eyes weren’t pleasing to look at. “Oh my, you’re not much of a talker. What a shame. I was hoping to get to know you a little better.”

“Cut to the chase already.”

My blunt attitude went over her head. She took a long sigh, more of an exhale, “I enjoy a sweet appetizer before I start the main meal. You, the skinny one, tell me, are you aware of Jill’s true nature?”

I pulled him behind me. “Owen, you don’t have to answer.”

She was a sword's length from me, moving her fingers in weird motions in front of her face. “Oh my, yes, he does. You see, I’m trying to figure out if they know your story.”

“My story?”

“Yes, your story. Your life before Raphtlia, your life with her, after her. Do they know the person you truly are?”

Raphtalia? How… How did she know her?

“How do you know that name…?” My voice was as soft as it got.

With a snicker, she said something uncanny, “You really don’t remember, do you?” Then, let out a gentle sigh, “I shouldn’t be surprised, but oh well.”

What was she talking about?

She took a step closer to Owen, maintaining a distance, clasped her hands, saying, “My, my, now, let’s get back on track, shall we? Owen, is it? Are you aware of the Baraic Cult?”

He shook his head. “No idea.”

“Owen, it’s nothing serious—”

“Jill, is there a reason you are so against me speaking to him? It should be fine if you’re not hiding anything… right?”

My fists clenched by my side, and I rolled my shoulders back, glaring at Sylvia. There was no reason for her to verbally attack Owen, but judging by her stance, she wasn’t going to back down. I couldn’t do anything stupid to jeopardize their safety. Calm down, breathe, and try not to leak emotion.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“The Bariac Cult was a decently known anti-bandit group. They raided bandit bases and kept the peace for defenseless villages. On the surface, they seem like a heroic group. But once you dive deeper into the onion, you start to see flaws in the heroic cult, particularly on Jill’s behalf.”

Stay quiet. Don’t feed the flame. No matter how tempting it was, I couldn’t show any emotion. Owen did the same. He didn’t peep a word or move the slightest.

Sylvia continued. “She’s killed many people. Most of them were bandits, but some of them were her good friends. Let’s use Ruby as an example. Remember her, Jill? Ruby was the commander of the Baraic Cult. That was until Jill brutally murdered her in broad daylight.”

“I didn’t murder Ruby. Don’t twist the story around.”

“Oh, but you did. You are the reason for her demise. If it weren’t for your senseless desire, she would be alive. You and I both know that. Cruel, isn’t it? Isn’t it an issue being with someone who has slain countless lives? Isn’t it an issue being with someone who hid this from the people she adores?”

Owen grabbed a chunk of his short hair, spiked it up, and plopped it onto his head like a mop. “And why tell me all of this?” His eyes doze off into space, not caring about Sylvia’s words.

“You—You don’t seem to give two shits, do you?” Sylvia, who sounded concerned, took a few steps back.

Owen snapped back to reality, his eyes fixed on the woman. “Jill killing people? A bandit–defense group? Ya, that would be an issue if she was still that person. Right now, I don’t have the slightest care since she isn’t who you claim she was. Jill makes sure we eat before she does. She never complained about going hunting during the frosty winter, knowing everyone else couldn’t do it. She’s the type who smiles away all your pain. But you’re right about one thing. It’s an issue living with someone who refuses to leak their past. You want to know so much, but every time you ask, it feels like she’s pushing you away further and further. She stores everything in an unpoppable bubble. Maybe it’s because she thinks we’ll see her in a different way. But I hope she knows she doesn’t have to worry about that. The Jill right now is the Jill that we know. Her being a murderer—or whatever—and her right now are two different people.” He turned his head towards me. The way his eyes twinkled when his lips curved couldn’t be described in words. “So we’ll continue to care for this Jill, regardless of who the old one was.”

There was a light feeling in my chest—a feeling I wanted to forget. Those last words replayed in my head over and over. Owen wasn’t the type to express his kind-heartedness. It was different, but a wonderful difference. It was the type of difference I wanted to see more of.

But… But I was relieved they didn’t care about the past. They viewed me as the present, not of who I once was. Knowing that set me at ease.

Roger stepped ahead, his arm hovering across my chest. “Ya, I don’t even know what’s going on right now, but Jill’s a hell of a person. Sure, she’s intimidating at times, especially if you make too much noise. She randomly yells at us for anything ‘stupid’ we say or do. Even though she’s on the masculine side, she has a sweet girly—”

“Alright, alright, zip it before I gauge your eye out.” I grabbed Roger’s shirt and pulled him behind me. His words evaporated the bittersweet feeling.

I wanted to hide my face with a blanket. Roger had to have said something obnoxious. His claims weren’t even accurate. I’m not intimidating. And I'm not masculine. At all!

“Why are you red?” He whispered. “I’m tryna help you out.” I backhanded Roger in the gut. He crouched with a silent squeal.

Sylvia sarcastically clapped. “My, my, what a speech. Both of them were extraordinary. It swayed my hunger for the entrée.” Her sarcastic tone, paired with her actions, created an urge to violently break her rib cage.

“Quit jogging around and reach the finish line already. Tell me what you’re really here for.”

She glared at me with winter eyes. They reached into my soul, snatching it away from my body. Of all the eyes I’d encountered, hers were the most terrifying.

“Jill, when you eat your food, do you devour it in one bite?” She leaned into my ear, “Or do you let it savor in your mouth?” She whispered, then proceeded to nibble my earlobe.

To play it safe, I stood there unbothered. One adverse reaction, and we’re all done.

She continued on, “But for the sake of time, I sure should rush to my entrée. She switched to a toneless, guttural voice. “So tell me, why did you kill him?”

“I don’t follow.”

She gave a blank look. “You don’t follow? She cracked up with maniacal laughter, pulled out a knife, and fiddled around with it. “You don’t follow! How can you say something so absurd with a straight face?” She faced her palm towards me. “Let me demonstrate how absurd your statement was!” Laughing like a maniac, she sliced her palm open.

Blood rolled down her hand and onto her arm. A few drops puddled on the floor. I wasn’t sure how to react. My mouth was dry. I frantically checked on Owen and Roger, who were both captivated by what was happening.

“Look at the warm blood dripping down! So… amazing! I wonder how yours would look. Would it have the same crimson color? Will it roll down smoothly or clog in chunks? Will it taste like a royal desert? So many unanswered questions.”

My heart beat like a drum. I couldn’t stay quiet anymore. I had to say something to ensure the best possible outcome.

I took a dry gulp, “What’s the purpose for all of this?”

“Purpose? My, my, you are trying to play dumb. Fine, allow me to be more direct. Why did you kill the king?”