Dark
"Some beasts are raised in cages. Others in human hearts."
"I want to kill him too! But what can I do if Father refuses to let me deal with that lunatic myself?"
Samon's voice was tight with frustration.
"Etienne should serve as an example—that bastard. Let him be a warning. If anyone lays a hand on me, even my father's most trusted right-hand man will regret it."
In the shadows at his feet, the assassin clicked his tongue silently.
How can a mere 'Little Duke' speak so casually about slaughtering innocents?
For all his handsome features, his master was vicious and cowardly in equal measure. Lacking the courage to confront the Minister head-on, he was forever reaching for knives in the dark.
Still, the shadow did not forget his role. A hound does not judge its master; it only obeys.
"Yes, my lord."
Otherwise, I'll be the one thrown into the pot when the hunt is over.
Count Etienne's Residence · Minister's Office
On the third floor, in Etienne's office, Medea and the intruder who had entered before her were locked in silent, brutal struggle. Their bodies rolled across the polished floor, hands and feet striking for any advantage.
As they grappled, the magic circle beneath them flared to life in a burst of blue light, swallowing them both.
A sensation like falling from a cliff seized her body—weightless and crushing at once.
Clap.
She hit the ground, hard, this time on something slick and damp. Cold wetness seeped through her clothes. The smell of mud, grass, and stagnant water flooded her nose.
The circle had transported not only Medea, but also the man entangled with her.
There was no time to see where they'd landed.
She pinned his shoulder beneath her and, using the weight of her entire body, drove the thin dagger still deeper into the wound she'd already made.
He did not flinch.
With his uninjured arm, he simply tightened his grip around her throat.
There was no emotion in his eyes.
They were the eyes of a man for whom killing was no more significant than deciding whether to crush an insect between his fingers.
For a brief instant, the clear golden eyes visible through his mask caught the light.
They were terribly familiar.
"Akares...?"
The strangling hand paused.
In the next heartbeat, their positions were reversed. Medea found herself pinned beneath him, the weight of his body pressing her into the wet ground.
Rip.
With his free hand, he tore at her mask, ripping it away in a single rough motion.
A pale face, framed by tangled silver hair that had come loose from its bindings, was exposed against the darkness.
Cesare looked down at her with a grim, shadowed gaze.
"It's been a while, Princess."
His voice seeped out from beneath the mask, low and unhurried.
He made no attempt to deny who he was. He acknowledged it easily, even as he held her life in his hands.
"Does noble Valdina blood enjoy midnight excursions to places like this?"
Though they stood ankle-deep in a reeking marsh, his tone carried the lazy courtesy of a man making conversation at a ballroom.
"I'll forgive this of the royal family."
Medea's response was cool, almost bored.
"How generous."
Cesare laughed, a low, genuine sound.
Even cornered, this little Princess shows no hint of fear.
He couldn't tell if that arrogant composure on such a delicate face was infuriating—or strangely appealing.
Medea studied him in turn.
The "mercenary" mask wasn't metal—just plain cloth. So the iron mask from the rumors was a fabrication.
If he isn't hiding burns, then there's another reason he conceals his face. Is that why he slipped into the Minister's house in secret?
"I'm afraid I can't simply let you walk away."
"I've never allowed anyone who recognized me to live."
His fingers tightened around her neck again. His tone was slow, almost amused—but his eyes were ice.
He meant every word.
"And if I say I have no intention of talking?"
Medea's voice remained indifferent. There was neither anger nor fear in her green eyes.
"Trying to strike a bargain at a time like this?"
"We both have reasons to bury what happened tonight."
As the Princess of Valdina, she had no intention of letting news of her midnight visit to Etienne's mansion leak.
And whatever brought Cesare here, he clearly wasn't meant to be seen either.
It was a reasonable argument. As long as they each held something over the other, a deal was possible.
Cesare's eyes narrowed, intrigued despite himself.
Medea moved.
In a flash, she pulled a compact crossbow from within her cloak. The motion was so quick it blurred.
Without a flicker of emotion crossing her face, she fired directly at his chest.
Whirr—
The bolt cut the air with a vicious hiss.
It never reached him.
As though he had anticipated her the entire time, Cesare knocked the crossbow off its line, then snatched it from her hands and flung it aside in the same motion.
The arm that had thrown the weapon twisted and pinned both her wrists above her head, pressing them firmly into the wet ground.
He leaned down, close enough for her to see her reflection in his golden eyes.
"It'll be troublesome if you treat me the way you treated the Regent, Princess."
At the mention of the Regent, her eyes widened for the first time.
"You think no one sees it?"
"Pinatelli, the Queen Mother, the Minister—they're all dancing at the end of your strings."
"You can fool anyone in Valdina, Princess."
"But not me."
His voice oozed arrogance, absolute confidence.
"If I die here, everything you've done will come to nothing."
His grip tightened around her throat.
Was this truly the end? Medea's vision began to blur at the edges.
I'm not afraid of dying.
But—
Ssss...
Something black and sinuous rose from the muck to her right.
A water serpent with a triangular head, its scales oily and dark, fixed upon Medea—pinned and helpless—as its first target.
It had been watching them, biding its time.
Instinct chose the easier prey.
Its jaw unhinged, rows of needle-sharp fangs bared as it struck toward her exposed throat.
Cesare moved first.
Shing—
Silver light flashed in the dark.
The snake's head flew, black blood splattering across the wet earth. A few drops ran down the length of Cesare's sword.
Medea froze.
Why did he save me?
The beast had been aiming for her, not him.
There was no time to dwell on it.
Squelch.
From the stump of the severed neck, two new heads burst forth, writhing and hissing.
They slid back into the swamp, watching warily with beady black eyes, the memory of Cesare's strike now burned into whatever passed for their instincts.
Around them, other shapes stirred.
One by one, eight more heads rose from the murky water, circling, their killing intent turning the air sharp.
"...Hydra."
Medea's whisper barely disturbed the air.
So this is the secret of this space. The reason everyone felt secure entrusting the acceptance letter to Etienne.
A legendary demonic beast as a guard dog.
"There is a magic circle in my office that will take you where the report is hidden. But there..."
The Minister's earlier confession resurfaced in her mind.
He'd smuggled in the infant Hydra illegally and raised it, binding it to himself so it answered only to him.
"You brought a demonic beast into Valdina," she had snapped at him. "Into a land protected by the Philosopher's Stone. Are you mad?"
"I-I know. I know my sins," he'd stammered. "It can't leave this space. The restrictions ensure it will never be released upon Valdina. But without my name, it's impossible to retrieve what it guards..."
"It's... just difficult."
Difficult, he says.
If he weren't already locked up, I'd be tempted to strangle him myself.
Beside her, the mercenary let out a short, derisive snort.
"Bringing a monster into a sanctuary protected by the Philosopher's Stone. Impressive."
There was no fear in Cesare's eyes as he regarded the Hydra. Only contempt.
"Pathetic, inside and out."
His scorn wasn't just for Etienne—but for a Valdina so decayed that a mere Minister could pull this off under their noses.
Behind the Hydra, something glimmered.
A white, luminescent sphere hovered above the swamp, untouched by the foul water below.
Inside it, she saw the outline of a scroll, perfectly dry, perfectly preserved.
There it is.
Medea's green eyes flashed.
She shoved Cesare aside, scrambled to her feet, and snatched up the crossbow he'd thrown earlier.
Without a second's hesitation, she sprinted toward the Hydra lurking in the deepest part of the swamp.
A hand clamped around her arm.
"Are you out of your mind?"
The Princess, the Mercenary, and the Hydra ## The Beasts Awaken
A mask falls. A monster stirs. And the hunt—begins.
Fangs in the dark.
[ To Be Continued ]
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