Darkness enveloped the room, as if preparing to witness the impending retribution. Moonlight seeped through the tall windows, slicing the gloom with silver blades. The air carried a faint scent of burning candles, mixed with a cold, barely perceptible trace of fear.
Reinhardt pushed the door, and it creaked open with a barely audible sound.
In front of him, kneeling before the dresser, a woman with long dark hair rummaged through his belongings. Her movements were quick, nervous. When she heard the creak, her shoulders jerked, but after gathering herself, she slowly turned.
— M-my lord? — Louisa's voice was hoarse, tense, but she quickly composed herself, trying to appear unshaken.
Reinhardt silently observed her, motionless. His cold gaze bore into her face, making her fingers nervously clench.
— I… I just lost my ring! — she spoke hastily, raising her hand, which lacked the piece of jewelry. — It was my mother's ring, given to me before her death. I… I was cleaning your room and must have dropped it somewhere.
She tried to sound sincere, but her breathing was too erratic.
Reinhardt slowly stepped forward.
— A ring? — His voice was soft, almost gentle. — How interesting…
Louisa swallowed.
— Y-yes, my lord, I swear, I didn't…
— You poisoned me.
The air in the room grew heavy, as if the darkness itself thickened around her. Louisa paled, but didn't surrender immediately.
— W-what? My lord, I…
— Enough. — Reinhardt's voice remained calm. — You know I do not tolerate lies.
Her eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an escape. Then she suddenly lifted her head, her face twisting into a snarl of anger.
— And what else was I supposed to do?! — she spat. — They pay me pennies! I have worked here for years and earn no more than some street girl!
She took a step forward, her fists trembling.
— And that man… He offered me fifty times more than I would have made in this cursed house in years! You would have done the same!
Reinhardt tilted his head slightly, watching her outburst with mild interest.
— You sold your loyalty for a handful of coins? — he asked.
Louisa clenched her teeth.
— Loyalty? Ha! You never saw me as a person, only as a servant! And why should I waste my life working for you when I could simply… take the better offer?
Reinhardt smirked.
— In that, you are right. Your motives are your own.
Louisa, sensing a hint of leniency in his voice, lifted her chin.
— I… I can make it right, my lord! I was foolish. If you just give me a chance…
— Perhaps, — he interrupted. — If you got on your knees and begged for forgiveness, I might consider it.
Louisa straightened.
And then she smirked.
— You wouldn't dare kill me.
Reinhardt didn't answer.
— I know your secret.
She stepped forward, looking into his eyes with triumph.
— You are not as strong as everyone thinks. Your magical talent is only B-. I know you're nothing more than an overrated upstart!
She grinned, sensing her advantage.
— If I disappear, someone will suspect you. It's not in your best interest to kill me.
Reinhardt took another step forward.
— You are mistaken.
Louisa frowned.
— What?
The whistle of steel.
The blade cut through the air so fast her eyes barely registered the movement.
For a fraction of a second, it seemed like nothing had happened.
But then she felt the world tilt.
A dull sound.
Something heavy hit the floor.
Her body.
Louisa wanted to scream, but she couldn't—her lips no longer moved.
The last thing she saw was his cold face, a light, chilling smile, and the pure delight of killing in his eyes.
Blood arced through the air, splattering against the walls.
Darkness consumed her mind.
Reinhardt silently watched the lifeless body, feeling the scent of blood linger in the air. He bent down, grabbed the fabric of her dress, and wiped his blade clean.
— How easily people lose their heads…
He smirked, sheathing his sword.
Moonlight, reflecting off the pool of blood, created a ghastly, yet strangely beautiful pattern on the floor.
Casting one last glance at the dead traitor, Reinhardt slowly left the bedroom, closing the door behind him with the words:
— It's time to drag the rats from their holes.