Bad Luck [1]

"N-No... I...ylll... tayk..." the assassin sputtered, struggling to form coherent words as the pain overwhelmed him.

Adrian raised a hand, signaling his guard to stop mid-strike. The blow halted just inches from the assassin's ribs, leaving him gasping for breath.

"Go on," Adrian urged, his voice devoid of warmth.

The assassin's eyes were wide with desperation, but as he was about to speak, Adrian interrupted, his tone sharp and knowing. "It was Nymera, wasn't it?"

The man's reaction was almost imperceptible, but Adrian caught the brief widening of his eyes before he quickly shook his head in denial.

"No! It wasn't her! It was Mr. Kall!" the assassin insisted, his voice filled with panic.

Adrian's lips curled into a cold smile. "Mr. Kall? You mean the bald, fat-bellied fool?" He chuckled, as though the idea was absurd. The assassin hesitated, then nodded rapidly, eager to seize the opportunity to shift the blame.