Chapter 194: A blissful plea
“Guests?” Sayfein’s brows lifted slightly, his body jerking back a fraction as he tilted his head, gaze narrowing with subtle scrutiny. “Is something the matter?”
“No…” Kelen stepped forward, slow and almost deliberate, stopping beside a nearby table cluttered with dried herbs and tightly sealed jars. “We’re here for…”
He lifted his gaze to meet Sayfein’s narrowed eyes. “A commission.”
His fingers reached out, brushing along the edge of the table where a light film of dust had gathered.
He pinched some between his fingers, inspecting it with a quiet frown.
Odd. The texture didn’t feel quite right.
“A commission? Someone entrusted the esteemed guest to purchase medicine?” Sayfein walked out from behind the counter, his gaze drifting to Ilya.
He greeted her with a calm smile.
He rounded the table in front of the counter and picked up a towel resting nearby, wiping his hands as he continued.
“Apologies for my appearance. I was preparing several herbal mixes in the back room earlier.”
“It’s fine…” Kelen said, casting a glance toward Ilya, who appeared distracted while browsing the rows of items on the walls.
He turned back, stepping closer to the table where Sayfein stood, letting his eyes roam once more around the shop.
“For a pharmacist shop, not having price tags makes this place seem a bit suspicious.”
A quiet accusation, delivered flatly.
Sayfein smiled without a hint of offense, the same mild expression unfazed. “Ah, but of course. Most of my customers here are slaves or people with little means. If I labeled the prices, they’d leave before stepping through the door.”
He dropped the towel onto the table and added, “Besides, the prices here are far lower than what you'd find in the inner city."
"And since the city patrol rarely reaches this far, I can afford to be lenient.”
“Helping the weak, stealing from the rich,” Kelen murmured.
Sayfein’s smile widened, almost genuinely this time. “Respected guests’eyes are as sharp as a blade.”
“Just a knack for spotting liars,” Kelen replied flatly. “Though that’s not why I’m here today.”
“Ilya,” he called without raising his voice.
She turned at once, pulled from her quiet exploration of the store’s contents, and hurried over.
“I need you to check the back room,” Kelen said simply. “I’ll stay with him.”
Sayfein’s demeanor faltered instantly.
“Huh?” His smile collapsed into confusion.
But before he could step back, Kelen’s hand landed squarely on his shoulder, a firm grip with the weight of stone.
Sayfein gasped, his knees buckling as if gravity had doubled in an instant.
“G-guest!” he choked out, flushing red with panic as he hit the floor.
“What are you doing?!”
That reaction… too intense.
Kelen’s eyes narrowed. No, this man wasn’t just a local pharmacist.
He wasn’t a mortal.
Not quite.
But before the truth could stretch any further.
Creaaak...
The door swung open, and two shadowy figures entered, hulking men clad in full armor.
Their black helms reflected the dim interior light. They scanned the shop slowly, then locked onto the scene before them.
“What’s this? A thief causing trouble in the Lord’s territory?” one of them barked, his hand drifting to the hilt of a massive sword.
Tch.
Trouble.
Kelen hesitated, and from the side, Ilya gave him a quick, meaningful look.
Understanding her instantly, he pulled Sayfein to his feet and turned toward the knights with a polite smile.
“Ah, respected sirs. Apologies for the noise, there’s been a small misunderstanding.”
He kept his grip on Sayfein, who trembled under the sudden pressure building against his shoulder, the threat clear without words: speak carefully.
Sayfein’s panic rose in his throat, sweat beading across his forehead. “Y-yes… T-this gentleman wasn’t doing anything wrong, sir. I—I slipped! It was just an accident. I apologize for the confusion.”
“A misunderstanding?” one of the knights repeated, watching closely.
Kelen’s stare bore into Sayfein without blinking, and the man, now visibly shaking, nodded again and again, his voice thin.
“Y-yes, yes. A misunderstanding...”
“I see." The knight shifted, looking around the place, and the pair of cold eyes hidden behind the helmet landed on the three again, "Please be careful around here, despite our presence in this part of the city, there's no telling that a person wouldn't die here."
"Of course, we understand"
"Then pardon the intrusion,” the knight said gruffly. The two turned, leaving as suddenly as they came.
Once they were gone, a heavy silence settled in the shop.
Kelen slowly released his grip, and Sayfein dropped to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
His legs couldn’t hold him anymore.
He was trembling, pants damp at the crotch, lips parted as he struggled to breathe.
Ilya frowned, her gaze flicking between him and Kelen.
“I think we misunderstood him?” she said softly.
“Seems that way…” Kelen replied, his voice quieter now.
He patted Sayfein’s shoulder a few times, calm and composed. “Apologies for the scare, mister. Looks like we jumped to conclusions.”
“Ah—?” Sayfein stammered, barely able to put words together.
His lips pulled into a pitiful smile, close to tears. “Y-yes, I understand… P-please don’t hurt me. I-I just want to make a living here. I’ll return the herbs I stole, I swear—!”
...
Kelen’s expression shifted.
His eyes dimmed.
He let go of Sayfein entirely, the man collapsing like a discarded kite.
From beside him, Ilya caught the look on his face and murmured, “Not everyone’s evil, you know… Looks like the sentry guard’s report was right. Nothing suspicious here. Maybe the old man was just... overthinking it.”
"His daughter's disappearance might have something to do with the other similar cases."
Kelen heard Ilya's words clearly, each syllable etching itself into the space between them.
His gaze drifted slowly to Sayfein, studying the man’s expression, as though trying to see through the surface, searching for the smallest crack in his composure.
No matter how hard he looked, there didn’t seem to be any.
Sayfein’s demeanor didn’t falter.
Even when Kelen activated a subtle lie-detection skill secretly, the results returned clean.
Still… something about him didn’t sit right. It was too seamless.
He doesn't know why, but Sayfein's presence gave him a very, despairing feeling.
Like a beacon of darkness... He felt a tug at his heart.
Kelen narrowed his eyes, but the skepticism didn’t linger long.
Beneath Ilya’s stunned look, he exhaled slowly, then gave Sayfein’s shoulder two light pats and gently helped him to his feet.
"I’ve never seen someone quite like you,” Kelen said, the words slipping out with a half-curious smile.
His hood dipped slightly as his head tilted, the unruly fringe casting a shadow over half of his left eye. “You really are just a little thief, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes?” Sayfein stammered, caught completely off guard.
Sweat pooled at his temple, and his lips trembled as though he’d been shoved face-first into a storm.
He looked exactly like a helpless mortal cornered by an Awakener, panic, confusion, and desperation all at once.
It was too convincing.
Kelen lingered in that thought for a moment, unsure whether he was impressed or suspicious.
But the consistency in Sayfein’s behavior, from the beginning until now, gradually wore down his doubt.
At the same time, Kelen also spread his divine mind towards the backroom. But with a glance, there was nothing else there.
No signs of anything suspicious.
'this shop is quite small' Kelen narrowed his eyes.
With a slight sigh, Kelen pulled away, turned on his heel, and walked toward the door. “Let’s go. Seems we’ve got the wrong guy.”
Ilya’s eyes trailed after him, then shifted back to Sayfein.
She paused, her expression softening as guilt flickered across her face.
Sayfein responded with a strained, awkward smile, one hand fumbling behind him to brace against the edge of the table.
His legs still hadn’t steadied completely.
Ilya hesitated, then turned and hurried after Kelen, slipping through the shop’s entrance and vanishing into the street outside.
Inside, Sayfein remained still for a few moments. The silence sank into his skin.
He let out a soft breath, smoothed out the creases along his clothing, and turned toward the back of the shop.
His steps were light now.
The damp patch around his crotch remained.
His face, though slightly smudged, regained its usual composure, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips, his eyes half-lidded in that familiar gentle curve.
Strands of his hair swayed as he walked beneath the lantern glow hanging from the ceiling.
The backroom was simple, a workshop laid bare.
A large wooden table sat at its center, surrounded by jars, small hammers, half-assembled goods on the shelves, and tools stained with herbs.
Bundles of dried plants slumped in one corner, the scent faint but present.
Mortars and pestles littered the other side, traces of green and brown powders still clinging to their edges.
But Sayfein didn’t stop there. He crossed the room and moved to the far corner, there was a hidden door there.
Covered under a formation. A very high end formation at that.
Inside was a bedroom, if it could even be called that.
There were no decorations, no sign of warmth or personal touch. Only a single bed stood in the center.
On it lay a woman.
Her robe, once white, was disheveled and stained.
A thick towel gagged her mouth, and her limbs were tightly bound to each corner of the bedframe.
Her breathing came in labored gasps, straining through the cloth.
Sayfein stepped in, brushing his fingers along his chin thoughtfully. His head tilted as he studied her.
“Aww... what a shame,” he murmured, voice almost wistful. “You heard them, didn’t you? Two more fools sniffing around for clues.”
His footsteps echoed against the floorboards as he neared the bed.
Slow, deliberate thuds.
He sat on the edge, eyes settling on the woman’s face.
Her head twitched in his direction, and her whole body tensed.
She looked like she wanted to scream, her voice muffled and raw, eyes red, veins strained beneath the whites.
Desperation throbbed in her stare.
Sayfein ignored it.
“I was really hoping they’d barge in, just to be sure. Maybe tear this place apart.”
He sighed.
“But no… just my little performance was enough. They walked away like nothing happened.”
A pause.
“How boring…”
Then, as casually as someone peeling fruit, his hand slipped to her side.
There was already a circular tear in her robe, and beneath it, a raw wound, a hollowed chunk carved into her side, muscle and flesh trembling visibly with each shallow breath.
With two fingers, Sayfein pinched off a piece of her flesh.
The woman arched violently against the restraints, a muffled, guttural scream wracking her throat.
Sayfein brought the torn piece to his lips and bit into it, slowly, deliberately.
His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the taste. Blood smeared across his mouth, trickling down his chin as he licked his lips clean.
Her tears streamed down, soaking into the gag.
Her limbs jerked violently against the restraints, each movement more frantic than the last.
She wasn’t trying to resist.
She was trying to survive.
“Keep squirming for me…” Sayfein’s voice dipped, a strange, blissful note creeping in. “Ahhh, that’s it.”
“I don’t want you to die too soon. I’ll give you more healing potions later… we’ll keep this going for a while, okay?”
Her eyes widened in terror, a raw plea hidden behind the thick cloth. She thrashed, every movement and cried for mercy.
But Sayfein only smiled wider.
“That’s the spirit.”