Chapter 2 : Chapter 2
Chapter 2. Repent in Hell
“Do not be agitated, Mr. Klein. Clearly, I am here to deliver your late-night meal, am I not?”
“Late-night meal?” Klein repeated.
Perhaps it was the effect of the woman standing before him in a maid’s uniform—her calm voice combined with her striking appearance—but the vigilance that had just risen in Klein’s heart was gradually being eroded.
However, Eve did not intend to waste much time. Once the mission was complete, she still had other matters to attend to. She was in a hurry and hoped the other party could “understand.”
Her hand returned to the handle of the serving cart. Her gaze swept briefly over the Bible and the cross.
Just as Klein assumed she was about to present the supper, the white-haired beauty did not do as he expected. Instead, she continued speaking slowly.
“Hehe, I have long heard that Mr. Klein is a devout believer,” Eve said as she gently placed the red wine on the table before him, pressing it down over the Bible. “Even after doing those things, you still remember to pray with a cross. It is truly moving.”
Klein froze for a moment. His eyes had just been drawn to the year printed on the wine label, but now they locked once more onto the maid standing before him.
“What do you mean?”
The question hung in the air.
Eve did not answer. Instead, she reached toward the serving cart and grasped the handle of a dining knife.
When she drew it out completely, the blade glimmered with a cold sheen beneath the light. It was sharp enough to slice through the air—and just as easily through flesh.
Klein’s expression instantly froze. He sprang from his chair, the legs scraping harshly against the floor.
Fortunately, the carriage had excellent soundproofing.
Yet it was precisely because of that soundproofing that what followed would not immediately be discovered by the people outside.
“It means… I have come to send Mr. Klein to meet the God you have been longing to see,” Eve finally added calmly, as though she were merely commenting on today’s weather.
Clear skies turning cloudy.
But only you are the cloud.
Klein’s pupils visibly shrank. His eyelashes trembled as he quickly understood the situation. Yet he soon forced himself to calm down.
After all, he was a man who had weathered many storms.
A mysterious maid appearing out of nowhere, speaking words that sounded absurd—yet they struck precisely at the filthy secret hidden in his heart.
“Who sent you? Listen—whoever it is, no matter how much they are paying you, I can give you three times that… no, five times!” he said while staring intently at the knife.
Eve tilted her head slightly, a strand of white hair slipping out from beneath her maid headdress.
“I am very sorry, Mr. Klein. The only thing you can do now is, on my behalf, raise your head in Heaven… oh no…”
She suddenly paused, realizing something was wrong, and corrected herself seriously.
“You should raise your head in Hell and greet the twenty young girls who are accusing you from Heaven.”
Klein’s face gradually turned pale.
His voice trembled noticeably.
“Those… girls…?”
“Yes, those girls,” Eve said as she stepped forward once more, twirling the dining knife lightly in her hand. “Alice, fourteen years old. She was last seen walking home from school.”
“Mary, fifteen. She said she was going to the city to find work. She was never seen again.”
“Lillian—”
“Enough… enough!” Klein swallowed hard and instinctively stepped backward until he struck the table. The cross fell to the floor with a crisp metallic clang.
“I can explain… Those were… business! Just business!”
“Ah… I understand. I understand,” Eve replied with a smile as she stepped forward again. “Just like the business of a slaughterhouse. The only difference is that tonight, it is your turn to become the commodity, Mr. Klein.”
What Klein did not know was that Eve had not come here because of the missing girls.
She had only mentioned them casually, declaring his crimes to the God he claimed to believe in.
After all, she did not want to be accused of killing innocent people again.
Besides… someone like this deserved death.
Under the nature of the mission she had accepted, it was merely a convenient side task.
Seeing that she remained completely unmoved, Klein suddenly took a sharp breath. His chest rose and fell violently.
His eyes flicked toward the door.
Driven by pure survival instinct, he opened his mouth—clearly intending to shout for help.
SPLAT—
Unfortunately, he never managed to produce a sound.
The opportunity to break through the soundproof door was extinguished before it could even begin.
Her movement was so fast that it barely seemed human.
In the blink of an eye, she crossed the distance between them. Her gloved hand gripped the knife and traced a silver arc through the air.
The blade pierced precisely into Klein’s left chest.
It passed cleanly through his heart.
Klein’s eyes widened.
His mouth remained open in the shape of a scream, yet only a faint choking sound emerged.
Mechanically, he lowered his head and looked at the knife handle embedded in his chest. Then he looked back at the white-haired beauty.
In the final moments of his fading consciousness, those crimson eyes seemed like the key to the gates of Hell.
Eve released the knife and stepped back.
The crimson blood spilling out could not compare to the brightness of her eyes as she calmly watched his final dance before death.
His staggering body collapsed backward, striking the dining cart.
The cart tilted violently to one side. Delicate porcelain slid from the top shelf and shattered across the floor.
The already piercing sound of breaking china was swallowed by the thunderous crash of the cart overturning, echoing through the sealed carriage.
Eve slowly turned around.
Urgent shouting had begun outside the door.
“Sir? Mr. Klein? Are you alright?!”
Receiving no response, the door burst open.
The two guards from before rushed in.
When they saw Klein lying on the floor and the maid standing nearby, their expressions instantly changed from confusion to shock.
The guard who had searched Eve earlier reacted first.
“There’s an assa—”
WHOOSH—SPLAT!
A dining knife arrived faster than his voice.
It plunged into his throat, cutting off his shout.
He staggered backward, clutching the wound with both hands as blood poured endlessly through his fingers.
The other guard ignored his companion’s condition and immediately reached into the inner pocket of his suit, trying to draw something out.
But Eve was faster.
Both of her hands moved at once.
Two flashes of silver streaked through the air.
One knife embedded itself into his heart.
The other sank deeply into his forehead.
The force was so great that his body was hurled backward by inertia.
The entire process lasted less than two and a half seconds.
Blood began spreading across the floor, turning the already red carpet into a darker crimson while staining the black suits.
Eve then heard more footsteps approaching rapidly.
At least five or six people—drawn by the unfinished shout moments earlier—were rushing from the far end of the carriage.
She did not hesitate.
Without wasting a second, she turned toward the window.
As the most important carriage on the train, the glass had been specially reinforced—thick enough to ensure both safety and soundproofing.
But to her, it merely added a slight degree of difficulty.
She lifted her right leg, spun gracefully, and drove a powerful kick directly into the center of the window.
The instant her boot struck the glass, there was no spiderweb of cracks spreading across its surface.
Instead, it shattered completely.
Glass fragments exploded outward.
The cold wind of the night rushed into the carriage, carrying the scent of grass and damp soil.
Eve glanced back at the approaching guards.
Then, without hesitation, she leapt through the broken window.
“Good night, gentlemen.”