Third Person POV
Location: Abandoned Train Station — Outskirts of Wan State
The abandoned station was silent enough for the wind to sound like whispers. The air smelled of old rust and forgotten rain.
An elderly, frail woman in a faded maid's uniform shuffled along the rusted tracks. Sweat rolled down her temples, soaking into the thin strands of gray hair clinging to her skin. When her shoe crushed an empty plastic bottle, the sharp crack sliced through the silence.
She flinched violently.
Her eyes darted behind her. Nothing moved—only the shadows of broken pillars and twisted railings.
Clasping her trembling hands, she drew a long breath, wiped her forehead, and forced herself onward.
At the point where the tracks forked, she stepped off and headed toward the abandoned station building. With each step, her breaths grew heavier, her nerves tighter. She smoothed her palms against her dress, trying to absorb the sweat, before reaching for the door handle.
But the door creaked open on its own.
Her pupils widened. Her heartbeat throbbed painfully in her ears.
She stepped inside.
A soft, singsong whisper drifted through the empty room—high-pitched, almost doll-like.
"Even an apple can make your eyes tear up."
"..."
"H-Hello? Is anyone here?" The maid spun around and froze mid-breath.
A slender young woman stood behind her, framed by the dim light. Bright red hair tied into two high ponytails. A red ballerina gown that hovered around her like a ghost of silk. Red-striped stockings stretching up her legs. Glossy blood-red shoes that glimmered even in the dust.
Her gloves were faint crimson.
Her makeup was every shade of red ever imagined.
A white lollipop stick protruded from her mouth. When she pulled it out, the sweet glistened—completely red.
The maid swallowed.
The red-clad woman walked toward her, each step slow, measured, and chillingly graceful.
"I've heard a lot about you from my mistress," the maid said, her smile widening unnaturally. "She says that of all the Five Foes, you're the most audacious. That you never miss. That you are… excellent at what you do."
The red clad lady paused. Her red lips stretched into a crescent.
"Miss Piper Redding", the maid said cautiously.
Piper let the lollipop fall. It hit the floor with a tiny tap.
She crushed it beneath her heel, the sound crisp and final.
The maid's eyelids fluttered rapidly as she whispered, voice thin and trembling, "This… this is why my mistress wants you to kill Lady Jade Maple… and make it look like an accident."
Piper's smirk sharpened.
She drifted behind the maid; there was a faint sound—and when the maid spun around again, Piper was gone.
Only her own trembling breath remained.
***
MEANWHILE IN THE CRIMSON OAK'S MANSION
A world away from rust and dust, the Crimson Oak study smelled of lavender polish and expensive perfume. Sunlight glinted off gold-framed art, bathing the room in soft luxury.
The maid stood stiffly before Regina Crimson Oak, who leisurely flipped through a fashion catalogue as though murder were merely housekeeping.
"So," Regina said without looking up, "you're telling me Piper Redding accepted the task? Hazel will be dealt with?"
"Yes, Mistress," the maid answered, bowing low.
"That's good." Regina turned a page, smooth and careless. "If Hazel dies, my daughter will finally stop crying that she cannot become Mrs. Blackwood."
"M-Mistress," the maid hesitated, "Lady Scarlet does have many suitors…"
Regina's eyes finally lifted—cold, sharp.
"And all of them together cannot amount to Alexander Blackwood."
The maid fell silent.
Regina exhaled slowly, waving a hand as if sweeping away the woman's doubts. "Now… how much did I promise to pay you?"
"Fifty thousand farqus, Mistress," the maid replied eagerly.
"Right."
Regina opened a drawer and sifted through its contents.
"No one knows you hired Piper Redding for me?"
"No one, Mistress."
"Good." Her voice dropped—cool, unbothered. "And neither will you."
"I—I won't tell anyone," the maid whispered quickly. "I swear."
Regina nodded lightly. "I know."
She tossed a bundle of cash onto the table. The maid grabbed it instantly, clutching it to her chest with sparkling eyes.
"Thank you, Mistress!"
Regina studied her with lazy interest.
"What's your name?"
"Hale, Mistress."
A polite smile touched Regina's lips. Hale turned toward the door, her mind already racing with plans—food, clothes, a better life—
"Hale?" Regina called softly.
Hale paused.
"You know what they say about blood money?"
Hale turned her head slowly as her frail neck would allow her—just as something metallic caught the light at the corner of her eyes.
"The owners never get to spend it."
The shot echoed through the luxurious room.
Hale collapsed, blood spilling across the polished floor. Regina stood with slow, deliberate elegance. She walked over, nudged the corpse with her shoe, then crouched and pressed a disturbingly gentle kiss to the maid's cold lips.
"Thank you, Hale. In four days, my daughter will be the only woman in Wan State worthy of the title 'Mrs. Blackwood.' You truly have done well."
She rose, picked up her phone, and dialed calmly.
"Come clean this mess."
She ended the call and smiled.
***
LATER THAT DAY AT FEDERAL HOSPITAL, WAN STATE
The sharp scent of antiseptic filled Elena's lungs as she sat in the Chief Nursing Officer's office. Calls echoed faintly through the hallway, and somewhere far off a heart monitor beeped steadily.
But Elena heard none of it.
Her thoughts pressed heavy against her ribs.
"Look, Nurse Elena," the Chief said, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, "it isn't difficult. You dress nicely and attend the Blackwood party. You saved Mrs. Blackwood's life and…"
"And what exactly does that have to do with me attending a rich man's celebration?" Elena cut in, voice tired but firm. "The donation was made. That's enough."
"Not for long," the Chief replied, tone softening but not relenting. "Which is why you need to go. When people hear how a nurse consultant diagnosed one of the most powerful figures in Thide Country, they'll want to invest. And then this hospital—our patients—will benefit."
Elena pressed her fingers into her temples. The sharp ache at her neck did nothing to calm the storm building inside her. Suddenly she slammed her hand against the table and stood.
"I'll go," she said, jaw tight. "But just this once."
"Thank you, Elena—"
But Elena was already out the door, footsteps fading down the hall.
"It's in four days!" the Chief called after her.
Her voice echoed through the corridor, unanswered.
She sighed, rubbed her forehead, and turned back to her documents— though her thoughts remained far from paperwork.