As I laugh, both of them look towards me. Perhaps through the lens of scrutiny, or perhaps analyzing my weakpoints and what best way to kill me. Either way, it doesn't change anything. Even as they stare at me, in utter silence at what is happening, not a single word leaves my mouth. It is only when I finish, do they finally take the initiative. Thinking to myself, I wonder who will speak up first.

Breaking the silence, it is the boy who does so.

"So, you are already here, Aedi." He utters, an undertone of disappointment coating his words. "Am I right to suspect that you are after the bounty?"

The woman, in turn, laughs.

"Ah, but you should already know. We're all here for one thing, and one thing only." After stating that, she starts staring in my direction, casting a wink.

Gross. I think whatever remained of the humour in my body just evaporated. What the hell is she trying to imply here? And more than that, what's the relationship between that boy and her? Cause for god's sake, I'm not a detective who can figure everything out. If they're actually partners and I've been wrong about him not wanting to kill me all along, I think I'll really feel like an idiot.

I grind my teeth and look at her with the intent to maul her. It's foul, but there's no reason to hide my distaste.

"Explain yourself, or I'll kill you." That's the best warning I can offer.

As empty of a threat as it is, I don't have any better options. Right now, I don't have the capacity either mentally or physically to kill her. But even so, it's a gambit I have to make.

A gambit that completely and utterly fails in its presence. Moments after, I see her laugh again. It's all really obscene. From smoking yet another cigarette to casually placing a hand on her hip, it's painfully obvious that what I said had zero effect.

Besides the painful reminder of being perceived as weak, I think I just hate everything about her in general. At heart, we're fundamentally different people. Not only is she a magician, a rare class of people born with an insurmountable amount of talent, but I can see that she's also enjoying tormenting me.

Whether that annoys me because we're similar in that regard is another matter entirely. If she keeps this up, I just might actually try to kill her.

My best hope is that she answers my question and that we each go on our respective ways before my anger reaches its limit.

However, something about this lack of response makes me believe that isn't going to happen.

"It's simple, really. There's a serial killer on the loose, and a bunch of people have been called to solve that issue."

In other words, the woman shouldn't even be after me.

"That has nothing to do with me. I'm not the one you're looking for." I reply in a more aggressive tone than before. Unwarranted or not, I don't think anyone would appreciate being accused of killing countless innocent people. Besides the fact that I'm far better than that is the question of evidence.

In the first place, I haven't killed anyone. Not a single person, throughout all my twenty-six years of existence, has died to me, and yet I'm still being punished. The whole accusation sickens me to my stomach.

I don't know who I want to kill more right now. That woman, or the serial killer who's actually responsible for all of this.

Either way, though, I look to see the results of my appeal for innocence.

To put it simply, Aedi's expression isn't one that I expect. Neither disbelief nor distrust, it's instead one of complete faith and confidence. It's as if she's saying that she trusts every single word that came out of my mouth. Not even in a manner thats make believe, or is supposed to trick you either.

No, for some reason, she doesn't doubt my words at all.

But that just makes it all the worse.

If she trusts me so easily, then why was she so willing to attack me in the first place?

"True. You're probably not the serial killer."

Those are the words that come out of her mouth.

Now, all that's settled, I shouldn't be killed on the spot. Maybe interrogation or being taken in for an interview, sure, that's fine. Anything is fine but me dying.

Anything besides that.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"But, until the serial killer is actually caught, there's no difference." Her face, which glows with regretful joy, casts a glance at the boy. An expression that betrays her murderous intent and animosity, there's no mistaking it.

"You've become a target. And unless you either kill all the bounty hunters in this city or catch the one responsible, you're going to die."

No matter what I do, there's no escaping a fight. Now that I'm operating on thought and logic again, I think the idea of me dying is scarier than before. While not enough to make me frightened, it's enough to make me swallow the saliva in my mouth. If we had fought earlier, I'm pretty sure I would have charged head-on. But now, it's different.

You can't just make someone feel like they're going to die, then live, then die. I can't keep up with this tonal whiplash without at least some time to think it over.

Accepting that fact in silence, I tug at the collar of my shirt to let some air in. Cool to the touch, it's the precise sort of wind that makes all the sweat on your body worth it. But, now that I think about it, it doesn't really make sense. There's an uncomfortable sweat all over my body, and it's winter. In addition, I don't think I'm nervous either.

But knowing that just makes things weirder. If I'm not sweating because I'm nervous, then the only reason I'm sweating is because of the temperature.

"MOVE!"

The sounds of footsteps erupt at the rhythm of a run.

"..Wha-?"

Before I can finish my word, I'm cut off. By a force directed to the right side of my body, I stumble backwards. In a second, the boy with the grasshopper mask is in front of me.

"APOLLO!"

He thrusts his right palm forward from underneath his robes. Just in time to conjure a shield, it deflects the tendrils of light that lunge towards me.

A hair's breadth from making contact with the shield, their appearance is all too clear. In reality, they aren't really tendrils. Faint as their bodies are, the shape and features of it are unmistakable.

What's attacking us are snakes. Radiant cobras that share the same properties as the glowing bright sun itself, but cobras nonetheless.

The snakes, upon contact with our only protection, implode. Into a burst of fiery light, I don't stop to see what will happen if I look at it. The surprise in my spine transforms into instinct. Immediately, I grab onto his cloak and run. I can't afford to risk this battle. To be honest, I have zero faith and confidence in this boy who sounds like a teenager.

"My my, I didn't take you for a coward, Camille!"

There's no mistaking that as a declaration of war. I swear to get back at her with a gesture of my middle finger before I continue my attention to where we're running.

"Huh?"

I feel something tug me forward. If we just ran out of the stairwell, then it must mean we're right in front of the railing. But, if I feel a hard iron bar compress over my stomach, then it must mean that I just got pushed over the railing. Which in turn must mean that we're in free fall right now.

"Fuck."

From a height of over 60 meters, all of the cold wind and pressure blow in my face at once. While I ponder over my incoming death, an indescribable feeling that I'm overthinking things overwhelm me. Normal people would call such a fall suicide, but I should know better. Even if I don't know why I will survive, I do know I will. If I've abandoned all logic, then the least I can do is cling to my courage. Without many other options, I hold onto the boy's cloak and brace for impact.

Swapping his mask for another inscribed with magical circles in the span of a second, an incomprehensible word leaves his mouth.

"Transfiguro!"

Our two bodies land upon the earth. As we touch upon the concrete, a crater forms in the wake of our feet. There is no real reason to be surprised, but I am anyway. The so-called magic, which I'm still unused to, is more than fascinating.

The seventeenth floor which is now high above me, reveals our pursuer. Her upper body, which leans over the side, waves a hand to me. Every part of my body wants to give her the finger again, but actually, I just do it. Nevermind the fact that I've done it once before or that I should be running. If I can insult her, then I damn well will.

Unlike what some might expect, I'm actually having the time of my life right now. That isn't to say that I'm not angry or a little bit wary of what is to come. It's just that, even so, those negative feelings aren't enough to displace my raw exhilaration.

My mind, which adapts further and further to what is happening, tells me to rush through the entrance. Guiding my partner to the metal door on the side, I kick it open. Straight away, the sounds and sights of the busy streets fill my senses.

People are in every angle, every crevice, and every part of my vision. And for once, that's a good thing. If I can buy time by using other people as a distraction, so be it. As I consider our plan from here on out, I see the boy jab his finger at an object in the distance.

A taxi. A car that should outspeed any human or normal being is just a road away. I inhale a deep breath in anticipation of our journey across. Then, I run. Through the lines of traffic and yells, we manage to reach the other side.

As I step onto the pavement, my hand knocks on the window of the taxi.

The sound of a window rolling down takes place over a precious two seconds.

"We'll pay anything. Just get us out of here."

Doing my best to not yell and startle the driver into leaving, I humble await his answer. Without even a response, the door to the taxi's interior swings open. We get in, shut the door, and I yell at some random location that appears at the front of my mind.

At the end of my instruction, the car speeds. Perhaps because all the cab drivers are like this, or perhaps he just understands our plight, we're able to get out of this area faster than I expect. In the process, I push my face to the window and stare at where the apartment once was. But no one comes out of the entrance.

In the aftermath of all the tension and adrenaline of before, I slump in my chair. A relief created from both the satisfaction of escaping an enemy and surviving, I look to the boy next to me. I'm happy he chose to save my life, but I still don't know why.

Now that we have some time to ourselves, though, I'm going to make sure that every question of mine is answered.