C171: Am I that scary?
Roson's gaze drifted to the distance, watching a figure that stood silently between the trees.
It was a small girl dressed in a black dress of elegant cut. In the girl's pale hand, she held a black umbrella, resting against her shoulder like a parasol. Around her, crows swooped and perched, circling her small form like loyal attendants awaiting their mistress's command.
The girl held the yellow contract page lazily between two fingers, her bright green eyes glancing over the word with an air of disinterest.
Afterward, she flicked her wrist and tossed it away as though it were unworthy of her attention. Her green eyes shone through the darkness, locking directly onto Roson's own gaze.
*Thump*
The moment their eyes met, Roson's heart gave a violent lurch in her chest, throbbing violently!
She watched, transfixed and unable to look away, as the girl's small lips moved.
Roson could not hear the words. Yet somehow, with each subtle movement of those lips, she could clearly discern what that little girl was saying.
["Get down."]
Unexpectedly and abruptly, Roson felt an invisible force seize hold of both her legs, dragging her down toward the ground!
"!"
Roson's mind spiraled into chaos as she was yanked downward, her knees striking the hard ground with bruising force. The force itself was not overwhelming, but the suddenness of it was enough to stun her completely.
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. Her pupils vibrated, and cold sweat poured profusely down her temples and neck.
'What is happening to me?!'
Even her hands, still gripping her twin daggers in defensive posture, trembled visibly. Part of the trembling stemmed from the lingering pain in her damaged eye. But the greater part of it arose from something far more primal.
Fear.
Fear of the unknown.
The violet mist that had blanketed the clearing had gradually dissipated, carried away by the passage of time and the shifting wind.
In the deep silence of the night, the cold wind picked up once more, whispering through the bare branches. Its rhythm fell into perfect synchronization with the frantic beating of her heart.
Suddenly, a soft, rustling sound of disturbed leaves drew Roson's attention toward the edge of the clearing.
The short black-haired maid, who had freed herself from the golden restraints at some earlier point, walked with graceful steps toward the source of the sound emanating from the tree line.
She bowed her head respectfully and raised one hand outward in formal greeting.
Roson's eyes flashed violet, her enhanced night vision capturing every detail as another hand reached out from the shadows to accept the maid's offered palm.
The little girl in the black dress, still holding her small umbrella aloft, walked slowly out from between the trees. Her hand was held gently by the maid's, and she came fully into Roson's view beneath the cold starlight.
Around her small form, the crows that had attacked Roson moments ago now flew in welcoming circles before settling upon the branches and the girl's shoulders, clustering around her like a dark, living cloak.
"Caw, caw!"
It was as though they were welcoming the arrival of Death itself.
Looking at the expressionless girl in the black dress, her serene features devoid of any human warmth, Roson's emotions descended into turmoil.
'Florence is a Foundation stage of the Vampire Path, the same as myself. She should unquestionably stand on Victor's side in this conflict. Yet, to compel even that lady to switch sides, and to receive such reverent courtesy from her besides, that girl is decidedly not normal!'
Was it hypnosis that bound the maid to her service, or had Florence submitted of her own free will?
Roson swept her gaze across the surroundings. Rudolph, still lacking his head, stood terrifyingly still amidst the forest, blood no longer flowing from his severed neck, his massive body awaiting some unseen order like a loyal hound.
Meanwhile, the lad with the bandaged head calmly straightened his torn coat, his green eyes regarding her with the same emotionless detachment one might reserve for observing a trapped insect. The narrow-eyed man smiled that same irritating smile, his silver cane resting lightly on his hand.
'Unlike that walking corpse, all of them appear very much alive and healthy. I do not understand.'
Under the effect of [Minute Observation], her mind unconsciously continued analyzing the situation.
'Why am I reacting like this?' Roson pressed one trembling hand against her chest, feeling her heart pounding loudly against her palm. 'Am I currently under some manner of suggestion or mental influence?'
Cold sweat slid down the back of her neck.
She had only just realized that, without noticing it, she had allowed raw panic to gnaw away at her composure.
'Telepathy. Control the dead. What kind of monster am I dealing with here?'
Now that she recalled it properly, staring at the small girl in the black dress surrounded by her gathering crows, the image stirred something buried deep within her memory.
It reminded her of a whisper that circulated in the corners of the underworld regarding that mysterious, nameless Path.
Many years spent in the dark corners of the world had taught her a set of rules for survival. Rules that separated the living from the dead ones.
Among those rules, there existed three warnings, passed from mouth to ear in whispers:
['Do not speak to the Deaf.
Dare not meet the gaze of the Blind.
Heed not the whispers of the Mute.']
'There is no way... such terrible fortune exists, does it?'
Suddenly, the Trader's ominous warning rang clearly in her memory.
[Unlucky. Ominous. Certain death.]
'Bloody Mona, why must this happen to me!'
Encountering someone from that Faction was certainly the very definition of bad, ominous luck!
And even if this little girl was not, in truth, from that Faction, the situation remained undeniably dire: she could command the dead, command a Foundation-stage Dhampir, and even employ some form of telepathy to toy with her.
Which meant the other party was unquestionably a person of influence. A high-stage Stagefarer, or an individual of immense wealth and resources, possessed terrifying Cursed tools and powerful subordinates!
'Why must someone like that appear in this village of all places!'
Her intelligence reports had surely never mentioned anything about this little girl's existence.
Roson swallowed hard, her throat dry, frantically devising potential escape routes while watching the other party with caution.
Florence finished guiding the little girl out from the shadowed forest edge. She stepped back with graceful deference, folding her hands neatly before her maid's dress and lowering her gaze.
The little girl slowly lifted her head, her pale face turning toward Roson.
Her small lips moved.
["After her."]
Every hair on Roson's skin stood on end. An icy sensation crawled up her spine and gripped the base of her skull.
Under the cane’s influence, her suppressed inner emotions erupted in a wave of pure terror!
'Oh dear Mona, I beg you, please protect this poor soul!'
Without hesitation, Roson spun immediately away, entirely disregarding all the men surrounding her, and bolted into the darkness!
'I must escape this place!'
Her face drained of color, slick with cold sweat.
She could use additional contract pages, but what use would they serve, if that thing could simply snatch the pages from her hand before she could activate them?
Now that she knew the other party's identity, there was no need to remain here any longer!
'!'
But, the instant her feet moved, she felt a sudden, searing coldness blossom in her chest, accompanied by an intense pain.
Blood flowed from her mouth, spattering upon the grass below.
Roson looked down at her own chest in bewilderment.
A silver dagger had been embedded directly into her flesh.
'?'
When did this happen?
She had been careful. She could not comprehend the failure. None of those men had been holding a dagger when she had last surveyed them.
All the silver daggers used in the battle lay clattered across the ground, abandoned where they had fallen.
Roson's gaze snapped upward, her pupils dilating wildly as her heightened senses slowly returned, and she finally noticed a figure who had slipped directly beneath her.
'[Distraction!]'
Exploiting the chaos and surprise of the others, Roson had momentarily forgotten about this man!
With the [Minute Observation] page, she should have noticed Davis. Yet, there was just one thing she did not account for.
Her thought process could not withstand the sheer intensity of the ability. It forced her to focus on everything around her, yet paradoxically, that very focus made it easy to overlook some specific details.
And once missed, she might never even realize what she had overlooked.
It was akin to granting a frail person the ability to run at the speed of sound. If their body couldn't withstand the strain, then by the time they stopped, nothing might remain but a corpse.
Davis gripped the silver dagger in his trembling hand, his eyes bloodshot and feral with grief-fueled rage. He seized the weapon in his hand and plunged it furiously into Roson's chest again and again!
"How dare you... how DARE you!"
Davis threw his entire weight at Roson, and both of them crashed heavily to the earth, with Davis landing on top, refusing to cease the frenzied motion of his stabbing hand.
At that very instant, the blob of blood that had finally freed itself from the bucket surged directly toward Davis's head, stopping him from killing its master.
"!"
Since Davis was a complete amateur in the art of killing, the silver dagger had missed Roson's heart by a critical margin, allowing her to mount a desperate counterattack.
Davis toppled sideways off her body, struggling violently against the mass of coiling blood that engulfed his face, blinding and suffocating him.
"GAH! GET OFF ME! I WILL KILL YOU! I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!"
Roson remained sprawled upon the ground, the silver dagger still buried close to her heart.
She bit down her lip until blood flowed, and slowly, excruciatingly, drew the silver blade out of her own flesh.
“AGGGGHHH!”
She screamed aloud into the night, her voice cracking with agony, before hurling the dagger away with a loud, clattering sound that echoed through the silent trees.
Roson's face paled significantly, her complexion worsening as she weakly and wearily lifted her gaze upward.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Above her, the girl in the black dress looked down at Roson in suffocating silence. She stood silhouetted against the moon, her umbrella hiding its silver disc from view.
Beneath the moonlight, her shadow stretched across the ground, growing vast and elongated until it consumed all of Roson's figure within its dark embrace.
And in that darkness, the sharp green eyes shone with cold, luminous intensity.
It was as though... darkness itself had finally come to claim her.
Realization dawned slowly across Roson's face, her eyes widening.
"You... are..."
Darkness.
"...Blind."
The Deaf, the Mute, the Blind. All of them existed. All of them were here. All of them had targeted her.
Slowly, the little girl's lips curved upward into a small, unsettling smile. It was as if the girl were pleased that Roson had finally pieced the truth together.
Roson's heart exploded in her chest with primal terror. Her hands trembled violently, her lips quivered beyond her control.
"F-Forgive me! Please, I beg you, spare me! I shall never do this again! I shall never—"
Roson wept openly, tears streaming down her blood-streaked face. She turned and frantically crawled through the dirt with her hands and knees, ignoring the searing pain as her fingernails cracked and splintered against stones and roots.
Being pierced by the silver dagger had drained the vast majority of her strength. She was so consumed by panic that she seemed to have forgotten she was a Dhampir who could transform herself into a swarm of bats at will.
But even had she transformed, that flock of crows would have immediately descended on the scattered bats, forcing her to rematerialize back into human form.
It would have been useless regardless!
At that very heartbeat, the boy with the bandaged head lunged forward, plunging a dagger in his hand directly into her back.
"AAGGHH!!"
Roson's final scream reverberated through the cold night, scattering roosting birds from the distant trees.
In the last moments of her fading life, her dimming gaze flickered upward toward the little girl holding the black umbrella.
Toward her confused, puzzled face.
—
“The Blind?”
Looking down at Roson's pathetic, crawling figure, the little girl holding the black umbrella frowned slightly, tilting her head to one side in bewilderment.
“Am I that scary?”
Nearby, Davis, who had already freed himself from the blob of blood and struggled back to his feet, heard the girl's soft murmur.
He looked down at the small girl, his expression twisting into something complicated and unreadable.
When he noticed the girl's green eyes turn toward him, seeking an answer to her question, he averted his gaze and said nothing.
"???"