Snake In Disguise

The boy who had emerged from the darkness was none other than Cian Lambhart, the son of the sixth Earl of Lambhart. Despite the dim lighting making it difficult to identify the figure, Cian was certain that this person was the spy, the assassin he had been wary of.

"Why don't you put down the knife and have a conversation with me?" he suggested, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. However, the figure remained on guard, gripping the knife tightly and exuding an aura of caution.

Cian raised his hand to demonstrate that he bore no arms. "I assure you, I am incapable of causing you harm. Even if I were to attack, you would overpower me in an instant. I possess feeble physical abilities and have no training in swordsmanship. Isn't it rather uncivilized to brandish your weapon against a weak, unarmed boy?"

The figure grew even more cautious as they observed the boy's composed demeanor in the face of imminent danger. They couldn't help but wonder how someone could remain so calm despite the threat of a deadly weapon aimed at them.

Despite the figure's increasing wariness, Cian remained outwardly composed, masking his inner fear. Deep down, however, he was trembling with anxiety. He couldn't let it show, though. The knife the figure wielded posed a serious threat, and Cian knew its intended target was the person inside the room—Maya.

Cian's request for the figure to lower the knife was not simply an attempt to disarm them. It was a desperate effort to safeguard both himself and Maya from imminent danger. He needed to stall the figure and prevent them from entering the room at all costs.

Inside his mind, Cian quickly strategized his next moves, calculating how he could outmaneuver the figure while protecting Maya.

"Alright," Cian relented, realizing that getting the figure to lower the knife might not be possible. "If you won't put it down, then let's maintain this distance and converse from here. We'll stand five meters apart. Does that work for you?"

The figure remained silent, still on guard.

"I'll start with a question then. What do you plan to do to Maya once you enter that room?"

Again, the figure offered no response.

"Are you planning to take her life?"

This time, the figure nodded, confirming Cian's suspicion. Their intention was indeed to kill Maya.

"Why?" Cian pressed further. "Is it because Maya saw you when you were fleeing down the corridor earlier? Are you trying to eliminate any potential eyewitnesses to protect your identity as the spy? Is that why you want to kill her?"

Once again, the figure remained silent, refusing to provide any answers.

Cian, aware that his inquiry might meet a wall of silence, mustered the courage to pose the question nonetheless. "If you're unwilling to answer, then allow me to inquire: who's the one pulling the strings behind your covert operations? Who's the mastermind that hired you to spy on us?" he demanded, bracing himself for disappointment. Yet, to his astonishment, the enigmatic figure parted her lips.

"Duke..." the figure uttered softly, her voice trailing off into the darkness. The melodic tone of her voice hinted at a feminine presence, while its youthful timbre suggested a similarity in age to him.

The title struck a chord, conjuring images of a man with a notorious reputation—the Duke of Horselle. A direct relative of the royal family, his mother herself a sibling of the previous king, the Duke was no stranger to scandal and infamy.

Greed, like a relentless shadow, clung to the Duke's every action. Despite being caught multiple times engaging in illegal activities such as slavery and human trafficking, his head never met the cold, unyielding embrace of the guillotine. The threads of power woven through his veins, his royal blood, and his familial ties safeguarded him from the consequences that would have befallen any common criminal.

'That duke is a scoundrel, through and through,' Cian thought, his contempt for the man growing.

However, the assassin's next words pierced through him like a blade, shattering his preconceived notions and leaving him stupefied.

"...Duke... Micesse," she murmured, completing the name. Cian's eyes widened to an almost unnatural extent, as if they were on the verge of escaping their sockets.

"What...?" he gasped. "...Are you telling me the truth? Was it really Duke Micesse who hired you?"

A pregnant pause lingered in the room, as the figure contemplated their response. Finally, she spoke. "Yes, it was the Duke who hired me for this task."

Cian's mind was reeling. The man he had once perceived as kind and honest, with his bulging belly and distinguished mustache, had turned out to be a snake in disguise.

"Why? What possible reason could he have for employing an assassin like you to spy on us?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot disclose that information."

"Then why are you telling me who you're working for?"

"...I was only working for him because of the reward, nothing more. That fat man isn't deserving of loyalty, which is why I'm disclosing this information to you."

Cian's curiosity deepened. If the figure's loyalty did not lie with the one who had hired them, then where did it lie?

"So, your loyalty lies elsewhere?"

A bitter laugh escaped the figure's lips. "Loyalty? It's a concept for fools. All people are nothing but deceitful liars, hiding their true intentions behind a mask of false sincerity."

Cian maintained his silence, prompting the enigmatic figure to press on. "It appears to me that you too harbor a hint of deception. It seems you're concealing your true motives beneath that emotionless facade."

"I don't wear a mask to disguise my intentions. This is simply the way my face naturally appears."

"Is that truly so?"

Once again, Cian chose not to respond, but after a pause, he slowly parted his lips and inquired, "Tell me, what circumstances led you down this dark path?"

"Such a revelation is not one I would readily disclose to someone I have been surreptitiously observing, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well I suppose you're right..." Cian let out a resigned sigh, realizing that extracting any information from the enigmatic figure was a lost cause. It seemed that personal revelations were off the table, too.

A hushed stillness settled upon the room, broken only by a swift motion of the figure's wrist, causing the knife to vanish into thin air. "Is that all you wished to inquire? If so, then I shall take my leave. Oh, and fret not about the maid within this chamber. I shall spare her life. I must admit, though, that your servant holds a deep affection for you. Even from here, her voice resonates with unwavering devotion."

"Hmm? What voice? What are you talking about?"

"...Nothing at all. I was merely engaging in soliloquy when those words slipped from my lips. Now then, it's time for me to depart."

Just as the figure was on the verge of vanishing, Cian's voice cut through the air.

"Wait!" he called out, his urgency evident. "Are you truly telling the truth? Can I rely on your words regarding Maya?"

"Trust isn't a concept I embrace, but yes, I speak sincerely. I won't harm her anymore, and it appears she hasn't fully glimpsed my true identity. Killing her would serve no purpose."

Cian, finally catching sight of the figure's eyes, the sole feature visible beneath the veil that cloaked their face, detected the genuine intent emanating from their gaze.

"In that case," he declared, "I will place my trust in you."

At Cian's declaration, an unseen smile graced the figure's face, hidden beneath her veil. And with that, she vanished into the night, leaving no trace behind.

"...I suppose I managed to intervene in time and prevent any harm from befalling Maya," Cian reflected, his voice laden with relief. "I'm grateful that circumstances led me to be here at the right moment."

It had all been a stroke of happenstance. Restless and consumed by thoughts of Maya and the events that had transpired, Cian had ventured out of his room, unable to find solace in sleep. As fortune would have it, he happened upon the figure as she approached Maya's door.

"It seems I owe a debt of gratitude to chance..." he murmured to himself. With that, he made his way back to his room.

•••••

The next morning, Cian awoke with a start, as if emerging from a vivid dream. However, instead of a nightmarish scenario, he found himself tangled in the remnants of a pleasant yet perplexing dream.

"...Why did I have to dream of Maya without any clothes?" he muttered to himself.

His dream had been singular in focus, fixated solely on Maya in a state of undress. Every detail was laid bare before him, leaving little to the imagination.

"...Haaa..." Cian sighed, attempting to shift his attention elsewhere. Yet, as he moved, a peculiar sensation coursed through him.

Pulling back the covers that concealed his lower body, he discovered that the fabric around his groin area was damp.

"...Wh-What?" he stammered, his confusion mounting.

He had experienced a wet dream. However, being unfamiliar with the term, he assumed it was a mere case of nocturnal urination.

"Why did I wet the bed in my sleep? I mean, I'm old enough for that not to happen..."