The stranger.
"Gah, finally," casually voiced a man descending from the stairs, partially obscured by the dark environment.
"Our duty isn't over yet. There's no reason for you to be here," stated the gray haired old man.
The newcomer kept walking down the stairs until he reached the same height level as the other two guards.
"Consider it to be. The higher ups have decided that this demon has outlived his already non-existent usefulness." The strange guard waved his vermillion-colored hair, mostly illuminated by the flames' light.
The young guard who stood by the wall swallowed some saliva. The doubt creeping in his gaze did not seem to go unnoticed by the others, either.
"So, what are we doing with him?"
"Nothing, for now. He'll be executed tomorrow, and then we'll all be free from this inconvenience."
"I see, I see…"
"Anyway, you two can leave now. I'll take over this guy."
The newbie almost thanked him, but the old guard questioned him. "Where is your partner? You know we're not allowed to leave this sack of shit alone."
The two of them kept talking back and forth, each with a goal. The old man didn't seem to trust the red haired guard, who insisted a lot on the fact that the higher ups told them to leave.
At one point, the elder stopped replying. Instead, he kept his silence for five seconds.
"..... Rookie, go get some candies."
"Wha-"
"Come on, I'm hungry."
"B-but the protocol-"
"Charles will stay here in your place. Now, go get me something to eat."
The newbie hesitated, but still left. Leaving the older guard and the strange guard alone. Guarding the single cell.
They spent the next two minutes in silence.
"... Charles."
"Yes, Oswald?"
"Who exactly told you about the execution?"
"Y'know, the higher ups did," answered Charles, still maintaining his composed yet hard to read behavior.
"Who exactly told you?"
"Uh, Miss Lavegna did."
"Alright..."
Charles rested his back on the wall, while Oswald closed his eyes.
Not even four seconds later, weapons appeared on the two guards' hands.
Charles swung a bleak pickaxe at Oswald's face, but a dimmed out spear altered its direction. The attack pierced the guard's shoulder with relative ease, yet…
"Lavegna's dead."
"Tsk."
With Charles' weapon stuck on the shoulder, the dimmed out spear moved towards the face of the red haired individual. In fact, it almost managed to land a killing blow.
Almost.
The attack that previously approached the head like a speeding bike, slowed down to the point that even a tortoise's movements would be faster.
"... Hah, I suppose it's done."
After the threat was neutralized, he repositioned the pickaxe and pierced the guard's chest with it.
Lying him down on the floor gently, he muttered a few parting words and snatched the key off his waist.
A fourth person slowly walked into the room. Her footsteps remained as light as a feather's fall, yet Charles managed to notice her presence.
"Aha, Anne. It's nice to see you, but I'll let you know I had everything under control."
"Of course you did. Not only did you blow your cover, but you also forced me to get involved so that our position wouldn't be compromised… But you still had 'everything under control,' right?"
The red haired individual stood proudly, as he opened the door to the cell.
"Well, now it's do-"
A pen's stained tip, as long and sharp as a short sword, pierced Charles' abdomen. A dark liquid spurted out of the wound, staining the rocky floor.
"Guh… W,wh-"
Retrieving the pen out of the demon's body, the backstabber watched as Charles' body collapsed.
"Do you remember questioning the bait part?... Yes, I kept that in mind."
The substance in the pen's tip spread through his body like flames in a forest, while he did nothing but gaze at the one who brought him here.
A masked female demon looked down on him, indifferently. The buttoned green overcoat blended in almost perfectly with the night environment, and the only traceable aspect would be the two holes on the coat's back.
Exactly where her two wings would sprout.
In spite of his feeble attempts to voice a sentence, no words left his mouth. Only bloodied coughs.
She kneeled down and almost met his face. Miasma emerged from a purple hexagon, which fluttered violently around her right index finger. The energy approached the demon's head at an alarmingly calm rate… And what happened when they made contact?
"Y,you-"
Followed by silence.
"... Good enough," she muttered, smiling. The scene before her appeared to be up to her own standards.
A collision between the skull and the wall gave birth to a small cavity on the structure's surface, along with a wound on Charles' head… Fatal enough for his own memory, but not deadly to the point it'd kill him.
"Hopefully, you'll be a good bait."
Wearing a neutral expression underneath the pink face-shield, she walked towards the still sleeping prisoner.
She broke the chains holding him down, and shook him a few times.
***
[Randall's POV]
'Eh?... Is it daytime already?'
It shouldn't be. Or maybe it should. I'm not sure.
"For fucks' sake, wake up."
A slap from an unknown source jolted me awake.
Opening my eyes, the strange sight of a cloaked humanoid with a pink mask greeted me.
The rather feminine, yet distant voice, and slim body almost led me to believe she could just have been a guard. If not for the scene in the back.
Two bodies rested on the floor, stained with both dark and red blood. One of them belonged to the old man, who was somewhere in his 40's. As for the other one, it was from one of the guards from the second shift.
In spite of the black blood pouring out of his body, the chest rose and fell slightly.
"At last. Come on Llen, we have to go," voiced the stranger, who got up and looked around.
'I suppose this body used to belong to someone named Llen, but…'
Who is that dude? I never heard his name during my stay at the Queen's residence. And I met many people throughout that month, too.
"Llen?"
"A-ah?"
She stared at me strangely. Or at least that's what it looked like, considering the way she tilted her head towards the left.
"Right. The weakening potion must be in effect… Drink this, it should let you go back to your regular condition after it takes effect," she stated, almost in an order-like tone, before taking out a bottle with a light liquid.
And shoving it down my throat. Forcefully.
Fortunately, it didn't taste as bad as the "weakening" potion. It also seemed to be far more fluid, too.
… Finally, air finally traveled unrestrictedly through my lungs. And for my hands to move freely without the weight of a hundred chains weighing them down.
Thus, I took this opportunity to voice a question. "Who… are you?"