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Chapter 50 - Chapter 48:The Hoodie Girl[3]

The air felt tight, a palpable tension coiling between us. Susan's eyes darted between me and Maria, as if she were caught between her sense of duty and her survival instinct.

"So, Lady Maria," I began, leaning back slightly, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her squirm. "It seems like there's much more between us than it currently seems. And I don't quite know how to take that, this time."

Maria swallowed hard, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her sleeve. "That—that was—" She stopped herself, the words catching in her throat.

I gave her a polite, almost bored smile. "You know, stuttering isn't exactly a convincing defense."

"I—I'm not—" she started, then bit her lip, as if realizing anything she said would only make it worse.

Susan shifted on her feet. "Um, my lord, perhaps I should—"

"Yes, Susan, that's a splendid idea," I interrupted smoothly, turning to her. "Would you be a dear and leave the two of us alone?"

"Huh? Well, that's… quite a request," Susan muttered, glancing at Maria for help. Maria gave her a wide-eyed, silent plea — Don't leave me. Not this time.

"You know, Susan," I said lightly, though my tone carried an edge sharp enough to cut glass, "it's not like I'm going to eat your mistress. I just want to discuss a few things in private." I smiled faintly. "Unless you're that eager to be a witness? Hmm. I don't mind that either. But I should warn you — witnesses tend to make life difficult for themselves."

"I—I will leave immediately, my lord!" Susan bowed hastily, her hands trembling. "Lady, please have a… nice chat."

And before Maria could even blink, Susan was gone, practically sprinting out of the room.

"No! Don't you dare—!" Maria's voice cracked, but Susan was already halfway down the corridor.

I sighed. "Hush. It's finally just the two of us again." I smiled, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. "But don't worry, lady. I'm not holding a grudge or anything."

Her shoulders were tense, her breathing shallow. "I… I don't believe that."

"Believe what you wish." I set my teacup down, the porcelain clicking softly against the saucer. "I'm only here to get answers to my questions."

Maria lowered her head, unable to meet my gaze. "That's… that's… I'm sorry. Really sorry for slapping you."

"That's a good start," I said evenly. "Nice. But where's my answer?"

"I just—" she faltered, glancing away. "That was because of you! You—did you even think of what you did back there?"

I tilted my head slightly, amused. "Oh, now we're getting somewhere."

"You put a knife around my neck!" Her voice cracked with emotion. "You threatened me! And then you said—" her voice dropped to a whisper, "you said you were teaching the thief how to properly rob."

I gave a small laugh. "Hmm, indeed I did. What can I say? The man was terrible at his job. As a gentleman, I had to offer some professional advice."

Her hands slammed on the table, making the teacups rattle. "Professional advice? You call that a joke?!"

"Well," I said with a careless shrug, "I am known for my sense of humor."

She gaped at me. "You threatened me, mocked him, and—you just killed that robber right there!"

"Oh, I did not," I corrected smoothly. "I merely threw a knife at him. It's hardly my fault he wasn't a good catcher. The blade happened to find his eye, that's all."

Her voice rose, trembling between fear and fury. "Happened?! You deliberately aimed for his eye! I saw you!"

I tapped my chin, pretending to think. "Are you sure? Maybe you were too shaken to see clearly. Adrenaline does funny things to the mind, you know."

"I'm not mistaken!" she snapped, her fear flaring into anger again. "You're trying to twist it!"

"Maybe," I said mildly, smiling. "But let's be honest, Lady Maria—you didn't exactly complain when I saved your life. Or did you prefer being robbed?"

Her mouth opened, then closed again, no words coming out.

"See? Gratitude is a fragile thing," I mused softly. "One moment I'm your savior, the next I'm your nightmare."

She flinched, her eyes darting to the door.

"Oh, don't worry," I added, seeing her glance. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't bother with small talk."

"That's… not reassuring," she whispered.

"It wasn't meant to be," I replied smoothly. Then, with a faint smile: "Let's move on."

She clenched her fists, trembling slightly. "You're—impossible to talk to."

"I get that a lot." I gave a lazy shrug. "Usually right before someone storms out or faints. But don't worry, you're holding up quite well."

"Is everything just a game to you?" she asked suddenly, her voice shaking.

"Only the boring parts of life," I said with a faint grin. "Now, come on. You slapped me. You yelled at me. It's practically therapy at this point. I think we're making progress."

"Progress?" she echoed, incredulous.

"Of course. Conversation's the best medicine for fear," I said, taking a casual sip of tea. "Even if it's one-sided."

Her lips quivered. "You're enjoying this."

"Maybe a little," I admitted. "But only because you're so expressive. It's refreshing, really. Most people just smile and pretend."

Her eyes widened, the mix of fear and disbelief palpable. "You're… twisted."

"I prefer 'unfiltered.'" I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. "And, Lady Maria, unlike that thief—you're still alive."

Her breath hitched. "W-what's that supposed to mean?"

I leaned back, adopting an easy, relaxed posture as if her fear were just background noise. The harsh light above flickered, catching on my grin.

"Hahahaha! Relax, lady, I was just kidding!" I waved a hand lazily, letting out a dismissive laugh. "Just trying to lighten the mood. Nothing deep, nothing dark."

"R-really?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

"Yes, really. I will not lie to you—trust me." I flashed her a smile that could've sold sin to a priest.

"If... if you say so," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Her wide, wary eyes said otherwise.

"Well, Miss," I said, leaning my elbow on the table, "after all this talk, I realized something. Maybe this time, I'm the one at fault. My actions might've come off... the wrong way. Hmm, yes—I accept my mistakes."

"Are you for real?" Maria asked, blinking, utterly stunned.

"Yes! Who do you think I am? Some narrow-minded man who can't admit when he's wrong?" I sighed dramatically. "Oh, and about that whole slap thing—it was just me teasing you back. A tiny bit of revenge, you could say. I didn't scare you too much, did I, Lady Maria?"

"N-no, it's just... hard to believe, but—"

"My, my, are you doubting poor me?" I tilted my head, feigning innocence.

"No! No, it's not that—I believe in you, My Lord." Her tone was tired, like she was forcing herself to sound convincing.

"Good, good." I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice to something almost conspiratorial. "Now, Lady Maria, let's settle this once and for all—everything between us is mended, right?"

"I... I suppose so. As long as My Lord doesn't hold any thought of revenge," she said meekly.

"No, no, not that," I said with a light chuckle, easing the mood just enough. "I meant—there's nothing else you're hiding, right? No secrets tucked away?"

Her hands fidgeted in her lap. "No, My Lord. There isn't."

"Hmm. Good." I sat back, tone turning almost conversational. "Then, how about this—we tell each other a little about ourselves? Get to know each other better."

She blinked, hesitant. "How so?"

"I'll start." I straightened slightly, my tone adopting that easy, practiced confidence of a man used to holding an audience. "As you already know, I'm Evan Ravenshade—heir to the Marquis, only son, and all that heavy nonsense that comes with the name. Our house holds considerable weight in noble society, though we stay out of politics. Neutral, you could say—not siding with the Emperor, nor the Church, nor any of the bickering noble factions."

I gave a faint, sardonic smile. "But even with that neutrality, people still approach us. Which is why," I said, gesturing vaguely, "I prefer keeping my distance. Not getting too close to anyone—noble or commoner alike. My circle is small, limited... predictable."

"Predictable sounds… lonely," Maria said quietly.

I settled back, mimicking exhaustion. "Even when I came to the academy, people still approached me for only one purpose: to form connections somehow. Why can't people just live normal lives and cast aside the shadows of noble wear? It's rough."

"Well, sounds rough," Maria offered quietly.

"It was," I said. "And yet — and yet I found friends who meant something. Ryan, for one. Real. The others, Aron, Wilson, Tyler… they were different. Useful. Predictable. They chased influence like it was prey." I shrugged as if that explained everything. "That's how it is. Fathers with coin, sons with ambition. Everything eats at everyone."

"Quite the shame," she murmured.

"Hmm. But still, I found them good compared to others, as they didn't constantly nudge me with their family to form connections. It's just that there was something that still bugged me about them. They were quite the troublemakers. They were bullies, mostly bully commoner students."

"You know that, My Lord?"

"Yes, unfortunately. It's not uncommon that nobles bully commoners. Sometimes they do it because they want to feel in power, some to remind them of their place, as they aren't equal—dominance, inferiority, many reasons."

"Yes, I am aware as well. Many nobles bully commoners just because they perform well. They don't like that they rise to their equal; their superiority, their ego, gets hurt by that. But you are not like that, right, Lord Evan?" Maria said expecting.

"Hahaha! What do you think I am? I am Evan Ravenshade! I have no such thing that makes me feel inferior to anyone. I had everything—grades, power, mind, combat experience. And unlike others, I forced myself to rise so others can't get even close. So, such things as bullying are beneath me."

"I hadn't expected less from you, My Lord."

"Hmm. But that's what I said to myself... until I became the same as them," I said, my voice hardening, the façade utterly dissolving.

"There's a boy. An irritating boy. Whenever I see him, something inside me twitches. He's a figure I can't forgive. He makes me do things I don't want to do, but yet, I have to."

Maria's expression darkened.

Let's see for how much more you will hide.

"Lucas Stout," I spat out the name like poison. "A fucking commoner, coming from a lesser place, yet he dared to come close to the only thing I held dear. I fucking hate that freak. Him, and everything about him, to the point I did what I thought was beneath me. Yes, he's the only person I bullied. I just can't help myself."

I leaned in, my gaze locking onto her terrified eyes, pouring pure, focused malice into every word. "I didn't just want to bully him; I wanted to annihilate his spirit. I beat him every day until he couldn't stand, but the worst wasn't the fists. It was the degradation."

"I forced him to consume things that would make the guard dogs vomit. Slugs and maggots I scraped from the communal bathhouse drain, and rotten, dissolving insects from the gutter. I would mix them with sour milk and force that entire sludge down his throat. I made sure he swallowed every single piece, every sound of his gagging and retching a sweet, addictive note to my ears."

Maria looked physically sick, pressing a hand to her mouth and shaking her head in silent plea.

"I didn't stop there. I bought a cheap pair of leather shoes, but before gifting them, I hammered rusted, jagged nails into the soles, points facing up, and filed the tips to a fine, septic point. I made him wear them and walk around the academy for a full day. Every single step was a fresh stab of pain, just to remind him that he was walking on the garbage of our society. He had to grit his teeth and smile because if he complained, the beating was ten times worse."

"And the drink? I got him a bottle of rough, unregulated alcohol—the kind that burns going down and poisons the gut. I poured it down his throat until he was violently ill, vomiting everything onto the stone floor. I watched him choke, his face turning purple, before he finally emptied his stomach."

I waited for the silence.

"Then I placed my boot on his neck and told him to clean it up. I made him lick up his own vomit from the stone floor. Every single drop of his failure and humiliation. I stood over him, tapping my cane, until the stone was spotless and his tongue was raw."

"I made him piss on himself," I repeated, my voice now a dry, theatrical whisper.

"I reduced him to a thing people stepped over, I took what mattered to him and made it worthless. His sword — the one his mother gave him, the way it bent in his hands and reminded him of home — I broke it where he could see. Not for sport. For effect. To teach him that nothing he loved could be trusted."

Maria's breath hitched. "You—"

"And the dog? I found the stray he used to feed. I didn't just kill it; I broke its legs first, one by one, letting Lucas listen to the snap and the escalating, agonizing whimpering before I put my hands around its throat. Then I slowly strangled it right in front of him. I made sure he saw the life drain out of its eyes—that last spark of futile hope extinguish. And he couldn't do a single thing. My friends and I covered every single trace."

Tears leaked down her cheeks now.

"But yet, you know, Maria, there was still someone that was helpful to Lucas. A girl who found him pitiful. She helped him, gave him some potions, talked to him."

"Their friendship started as simple pity, but Lucas has his own charm, making the girl feel something, —maybe comradeship, sence of belonging, I'm not sure, but something like that."

"They both made a beautiful garden with planted flowers. Well, that's mostly herbal plants, as the girl is an alchemist, it's her work. But Lucas still came to help, grateful for the girl's assistance. And as time moved on, the place became more than a rendezvous point where they both found comfort in each other's presence."

"But how could something like that be allowed to happen? I would never let that boy find peace."

My eyes narrowed, and my smile became predatory. "I destroyed the garden. I didn't just trample it; I brought strong, caustic acid—the kind that eats metal—and poured it over every single row, ensuring nothing would ever grow there again. I snapped every stem, turned all their hard work to dust, and then, to consecrate its absolute destruction, I urinated on the remains."

"Sto—stop it!" Maria finally hissed, clutching her head, tears streaming down her face, the memories flooding her.

"Aaa, the sight of both broken figures—the girl and the boy—" I mocked, leaning into her pain.

"I said stop it!" she shrieked, utterly broken, her hands digging into her skull.

"Hahahaha! Yes! The look of disbelief! The forced separation! As I made them both suffer! I forced the girl to never come close to Lucas again by forcing her own classmates to isolate her, turning her life into a quiet, miserable hell!"

"STOP IT, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" she finally snapped, the terror replaced by a blinding, desperate fury. She lunged, gripping my collar with desperate, shaking hands, pulling me forward.

"Hmm. Now all the hidden things between us are out in the open, don't you think, Maria?" I said, smiling, my eyes burning into hers, enjoying the final release of her fear. "The lie of the merchant daughter, the lie of the timid girl... all gone."

"Don't you recognize your own story? The pathetic girl who helped the wretched commoner, only to have her own life ruined by the Marquis's son? Tell me, Maria. Was the commoner worth the price of your soul?"

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