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Chapter 18
It was the deep of night, so late that even the last bird’s cries had faded into silence.
Cassis’s eyes snapped open the moment he sensed a presence. His body, trained by countless battlefields, moved on instinct before his mind could even assess the situation.
He reached for the sword that never left his bedside—then froze.
Snow.
The tiny kitten Rosalyn had left behind was curled on his chest, fast asleep.
Cassis quickly scooped the fragile creature into one arm and rolled sharply to the side.
Thud!
A burning pain flared across his shoulder, but he ignored it. His sword flashed out in the same instant, plunging into the intruder’s chest.
Thrust!
“Grrk…”
Blood spilled from the assassin’s mouth in dark rivulets. His body slumped forward, dead weight bearing down on Cassis’s blade. Cassis shoved the corpse aside.
Crash!
The body hit the floor with a heavy thud, sword still buried in its chest.
All the while, Cassis never loosened his hold on the kitten.
“…”
When he lifted his fingers slightly, Snow remained nestled against him, sound asleep, blissfully unaware. His strike had been so swift and silent the kitten hadn’t stirred.
Cassis set Snow gently down on the pillow. He could hardly clean up a corpse while holding a kitten.
He withdrew his blade, slicing away the assassin’s mask with its tip. A stranger’s face stared back—unknown.
‘A professional. I won’t trace him.’
Without hesitation, he flicked the blood from his blade.
Sshhk!
Droplets spattered, one striking his sleeve, blooming red.
“…”
His shoulder throbbed hotly. Not broken, but the cut was deep. He’d need to disinfect it.
And then—
“Sir Cassis? I heard a noise…”
Rosalyn Hayes.
The woman who, lately, kept his every nerve on edge.
She had suspected trouble, but—
“To think I’d be staring at a corpse in the middle of the night…”
Her crimson eyes swept the room. First the dead assassin, then Cassis.
Not the least flicker of shock. In her previous life as a detective, she had seen far worse.
She stepped into the blood-heavy air of the chamber.
“Are you all right? No injuries—ah, no, you are injured.”
Fortunately, she had thought to bring a candlestick. In the flickering light, his shoulder wound was obvious. His shirt was soaked in blood.
“Sit down. I know you’re capable, but let me treat—”
Her words cut off, breath catching.
A blade’s edge brushed her throat.
When?
It had been too swift. By the time she realized, cold steel was already kissing her skin.
“Who are you?”
His voice was frigid, enough to freeze her bones.
Her gaze lowered to the blade—still stained with fresh blood. She knew the kind of man he was: if he decided she was a threat, he would not hesitate.
And yet, her eyes showed no fear.
“You know me. Rosalyn Hayes. Master of the Hyde Information Guild. Thorn in the side of the Iron Knights.”
Her light tone only sharpened his glare.
“What are you after? Whether I was in league with that assassin?”
Cassis did not deny it.
“Correct.”
Rosalyn pouted.
“That’s cruel. Do I really look like the sort to hand you a kitten just to lull you into lowering your guard before stabbing you?”
Snow’s name entered the air, but neither of them glanced at the sleeping kitten. They both knew: the moment their locked gazes broke, this standoff would end.
“Think about it. If I really were allied with him, why would I stay? I’d have left the kitten, gained your trust, and slipped away. No need to hang around and risk suspicion.”
Her logic was flawless.
Even so, Cassis’s sword didn’t lower.
‘Of course he doubts me,’ Rosalyn thought. Because I did use the kitten to get inside. Not to kill him, but still.
But it was also true: she had no reason to stay and draw suspicion.
At last, Cassis relented.
“…I’ll watch you.”
The blade lowered. The threat passed.
“Whew. For a moment, I thought you meant to lay me beside him.”
She gestured to the corpse, but her joke met only silence.
“Well, at least throw a sheet over him. It’s unsightly.”
With his shoulder injured, Cassis couldn’t handle the body himself. He wordlessly yanked a blanket from the bed and tossed it to her.
‘Yes, yes, leave the chores to the assistant.’
Rosalyn obediently covered the corpse, then turned back.
“Now, sit. Let me see that wound.”
“Unnecessary. I can treat myself.”
His tone was as cold as when they had first met at the tribunal.
‘Colder, even.’
But Rosalyn only shrugged.
“You’re bleeding from the shoulder. Move too much and it’ll worsen.”
“If you insist on helping, fetch the medicine and bandages.”
“Where?”
He nodded toward the dresser.
A man who kept medical supplies in his bedroom—what sort of life was this?
Then again, if assassins visited him nightly, it made sense.
She retrieved the supplies. Cassis was seated on the bed, his sword poised at his shoulder.
Rosalyn’s eyes widened.
“What are you—?!”
“I’m cutting the fabric. Easier than removing it.”
“Or,” she countered sweetly, “you could just take off the shirt.”
Her heart quickened. This was it—the chance she had waited for, though not in this way.
When Cassis hesitated, she knew.
‘He’s wearing it. Even now—the necklace.’
Her eyes lingered on the topmost button of his shirt, fastened all the way up.
‘No one sleeps in clothes that tight. He’s hiding it.’
Feigning innocence, she said,
“Of course, it might feel awkward, disrobing in front of me. I understand. It’s clear you’re… conscious of me.”
“Utter nonsense!”
For the first time, his voice betrayed fluster.
“Cutting the sleeve avoids disturbing the wound.”
A reasonable excuse.
But Rosalyn wouldn’t waste this golden chance.
“You’re really going to hack at it with that enormous sword? Please. Let me.”
She leaned forward, producing a small dagger from her boot.
“Secret’s out, I suppose.”
Cassis’s eyes narrowed.
“Think I’ll stab you? If I meant to, would I really flash the weapon first?”
Again, her logic left him no ground. He stayed silent.
Rosalyn carefully gripped the fabric at his shoulder.
“Cutting now.”
Snip.
The sleeve fell away.
She paused, momentarily forgetting her mission.
Beneath the flowing blood, his arm was carved muscle overlaid with countless scars.
Slashes. Stabs. Gouges. A brutal map of battles past.
Even Rosalyn, hardened though she was, felt her breath catch.
So many wounds… how is he still whole?
She forced herself back to the present.
“…Too much blood. Let’s stop it first.”
She pressed cloth against the wound.
Cassis bent his head slightly. He made no sound, but the cords in his temple stood out with the pain.
“Hold it there with your other hand.”
Once he obeyed, Rosalyn readied medicine and bandages. Her hands moved with practiced skill.
“Hold this.”
Then she glanced at the other shoulder.
“You know, I think we’ll have to cut this side too.”
All along, she had been waiting for this chance.
“Wait—”
He realized too late what she meant.
“Don’t move. Or I’ll cut you.”
Rip!
The upper part of his shirt fell away cleanly.
