The air was filled with the pungent smell of whiskey, the salty tang of evaporating sweat, and the scent of the black leather jacket on the floor.
This smell belonged to Jessica Jones, old and peculiar, making William's brain buzz.
He lay motionless on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
He felt like an old computer, completely crashed after being crammed with hundreds of gigabytes of junk files.
He had just experienced a Category 5 hurricane, codenamed Jessica Jones.
No.
A hurricane at least had warnings, a projected path, allowing people to board up windows and hide in the Underground Room beforehand.
But she was different; she was a natural disaster herself, illogical in her actions, doing whatever she pleased, appearing with righteous indignation.
The other side of the mattress suddenly dipped.
The source of the "hurricane" sat up.
The bedsheet slipped from her shoulders, revealing a large expanse of firm, pale back.
The moonlight illuminated her toned muscles and old scars.
Those scars were like intricate contour lines on a map, each one telling a violent and painful story.
She didn't look at William, bending straight down, fumbling on the floor as if fishing something out of a river, picking up her jeans and crumpled T-shirt.
"Hey."
She spoke, her voice hoarser than when she was drinking earlier, probably due to the intense activity.
"Hmm?"
William squeezed out a word from his throat, feeling like his vocal cords also needed a reboot.
Jessica finally turned her head; in the dim light, her jawline was taut.
Her gaze had changed; before, it was like a burning Fire, aggressive, but now it was like cooled ashes, with more of an investigative quality.
She paused, as if considering what to say.
This was rare for her.
"You... got stronger?" Before William could react, she asked expressionlessly, "On drugs?"
This question was so Jessica Jones.
William almost choked on his own saliva.
He turned his head to look at her face, hidden in the Shadow, and for the first time, he felt that this woman, though dangerous, possessed a cruel honesty.
She never disguised herself with lies or pleasantries.
"Perhaps,"
He cleared his throat, making his voice sound less like he had just run a marathon.
"You unlocked my hidden mode?"
He saw a flicker of confusion in her eyes and decided to continue with the provocative remark.
"Last time was a public beta; the server was unstable, so I didn't perform well."
This half-truth seemed to work.
The scrutiny in Jessica's eyes lessened, replaced by a deeper annoyance.
She didn't ask further, quickly getting dressed, her movements as swift and efficient as a soldier preparing for a mission.
William also sat up.
He was about to say something, like "What are we now?" or "You still haven't paid for the door you kicked in," but Jessica spoke first.
She stood by the bed, her back to him, her figure almost completely blocking the light seeping through the door crack, enveloping him in a deeper Shadow.
"I came here today for one more thing."
Her voice was soft, yet it was like a stone dropping into Water, stirring cold ripples.
"It's... a farewell."
William felt all his thoughts, all his witty remarks and risk assessments, frozen by those two words at that moment.
He stared blankly at her back, that figure encased in jeans and a black T-shirt, exuding an aura of "do not approach."
A farewell?
Was there anything between them that warranted such a solemn word as "farewell" to define their relationship?
Client and insurance salesperson?
Troublemaker and unlucky guy?
Or... a temporary, undefined bedmate relationship that had just been established?
"Where are you going?"
William asked subconsciously, finding his voice frighteningly dry.
"To kill someone."
She said.
Those five words had no emotional fluctuation, yet they were more destructive than all the power she had just unleashed.
It was a desperation that bet everything, a madness that left no retreat.
"A bastard I have to kill."
She added, as if declaring it to herself, and to the entire damned World.
A chill shot up William's spine to the top of his head.
He suddenly understood.
He understood all her unusual behavior tonight.
That bottle of whiskey she drank like Water, that abrupt "I messed up," that almost violent "compensation."
That wasn't some damned compensation at all, nor was it a sudden surge of desire.
It was a person preparing to walk to their execution alone, squandering the last bit of proof of "being alive."
"You..."
William wanted to say something, but found any words seemed pale and powerless.
Tell her not to go?
What right did he have?
Wish her success?
That sounded like a cold-blooded bastard waiting for an inheritance.
William's mind raced at an unprecedented speed; all romantic sentiments, all ambiguous atmospheres, were thrown to the winds.
Jessica finally turned around, her eyes, astonishingly bright in the darkness, once again looking directly at William.
"I don't know if I'll come back."
She was calm, as if saying, "It might rain tomorrow."
After speaking, she didn't give William any time to react, turning and walking out of the bedroom.
Footsteps and the sound of the door opening followed in quick succession.
Just as that door was about to close, just a second before that dim strip of light was about to disappear, William, almost by instinct, shouted at the figure about to vanish into the darkness.
"Wait!"
Jessica's movement paused, her figure at the doorway stiffening.
Time seemed to stretch, the air solidified, only the refrigerator hummed.
She didn't turn back, nor did she speak, as if refusing to be held back with her silence.
William threw off the covers, not bothering to find a robe, stepping barefoot onto the cold floor, rushing a few steps to the bedroom doorway.
"You can't just go like this!"
Jessica let out a soft scoff, as if to say, "What right do you have to tell me what to do?"
"Have you forgotten what I do?" William's voice echoed in the empty apartment, every word clear, "I sell insurance, assess risks, and clean up messes. And you, Jessica Jones, are the highest-risk asset I've ever seen. I can't just watch my asset go self-destruct without a word."
He leaned against the doorframe, looking at that back, his tone never more serious.
With a bang, the apartment door slammed shut.
The room fell into darkness, a deathly silence.
-------------------------
Thank you for following my story. If you want to read it first, please visit my Patreon — there are about 30-40 chapters waiting there. Your support really motivates me to continue to release more stories!
👉[patreon.com/TripleCrown07]