Chapter 22: It’s best to have enough fun this time

Rantesti City’s underground tavern was hidden at the end of an alley that didn’t even have a name.

You had to go down about twenty stone steps and push open an iron-plated oak door to see the place.

The walls were built with old city bricks salvaged from ruins, the cement not even smoothed out, and yellowing moss stuffed into the cracks.

A few oil lamps hung from the ceiling, their flames flickering from the fumes of alcohol and human presence, casting the whole space in a dim, yellowish glow.

The air was thick with the smell of cheap ale and sweat, concentrated enough to be used as a weapon.

Seven or eight people sat in the corner.

They all wore masks.

Silver metal masks, with two black holes cut out for the eyes and a thin slit for the mouth.

The width of their shoulders and thickness of their arms clearly weren’t the physique of Eldronians.

They looked more like people from the north.

The table was covered with empty glasses and a few unopened bottles of liquor.

The leader pushed his mask up a little, revealing his chin and mouth, and took a gulp of wine.

Liquid spilled from the corner of his mouth, ran down his neck into his collar, but he didn’t wipe it.

“Well?”

“Did you get what the Imperial Guard asked for?”

The man sitting across from him nodded, the two black holes on his mask swaying with the motion.

“Almost. Not many people in Eldron know where that thing is, but I got it out of an old guy in the Imperial Archives.”

He pulled a folded square of parchment from his inner pocket, placed it on the table, and pushed it across with his finger.

“The location is on it.”

The leader unfolded the parchment, glanced at it, and a slow smile spread beneath his mask.

He refolded it, tucked it into his own chest, then raised his glass.

“Good.”

He said.

“Long live the Tsar.”

The others at the table raised their glasses simultaneously.

The silver masks gleamed in the lamplight, and all those pitch-black eye sockets turned in the same direction.

“Long live the Tsar—”

The sound echoed in the low underground space, absorbed by the brick walls, turning into a muffled hum that mixed with the countless rounds of spilled wine.

Someone in the corner began to hum a northern tune, its tone gloomy, as if sending off the dead.

“You.”

The masked noble extended a finger and beckoned toward the bar.

“Come pour the wine.”

Behind the bar stood a young boy.

No, looking closely, that frame was even more slender than a boy’s.

He wore a faded linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing two forearms so thin they looked like they could snap with a little force.

A dark vest worn over the shirt, a size too big, hanging loosely at the shoulders as if borrowed.

White hair—tied in a ponytail at the back of the head, the tips stained with something unknown, faintly showing a hint of dark red.

He came over with a bottle, poured half a glass of vodka into the leader’s cup.

The liquid hit the glass with a gurgling sound.

The noble tilted his head, examining him from behind his mask.

His gaze moved from face to neck, from neck to those ridiculously thin arms, then back to the face.

“Hey.”

He clicked his tongue.

“It’s a guy.”

A few people nearby let out agreeing laughs.

“But the face is pretty delicate.”

“Hey! Vasily, you want a guy too?”

“Guys are more exciting. I’m sick of women.”

The noble reached out to pinch the boy’s chin.

The boy stepped back half a step.

That hand pinched air.

“Hmph, you’re really perverted.”

The boy’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear amidst the laughter.

Its timbre was lower than his appearance suggested, with a texture like sandpaper on wood.

“Want a girl that badly?”

He put the bottle on the table, releasing his fingers from the mouth.

The glass bottom hit the wood with a dull thud.

“And you can’t even spare men. I’ve never seen such a hobby.”

The laughter at the table stopped abruptly.

Several masked people turned to look at him at once.

The leader’s hand still hung in the air in the pinching gesture, the smile beneath his mask frozen.

The boy didn’t look at them.

He raised his own hand, reached behind his head, and grabbed the root of the white ponytail.

Then he pulled it down.

The white hair tie came loose.

Short hair fell down, spreading over his shoulders.

White.

Pure white.

The dark red at the tips flashed in the lamplight, as if stained with something unwashed.

She brushed aside the fallen hair, revealing her full face.

The line of her jaw, the curve of her collarbone, and the body contours completely different from a boy’s, barely concealed by the oversized vest.

A girl.

The table fell silent for about three breaths.

“Mmm.”

She tilted her head, white short hair sliding past her eyes.

Her red pupils glowed unnaturally in the lamplight, like two coals just pulled from a furnace.

Her lips curled up.

“Then let me have some fun with you all.”

That smile made the leader’s back instinctively tighten.

He couldn’t explain why.

This girl looked like she was only half his weight, standing among a group of masked men like a white rabbit that had accidentally wandered into a wolf pack.

“You—”

The noble’s hand began to move down, reaching for the knife at his waist.

“What’s going on?”

Another masked person stood up, chair legs scraping the stone floor with a harsh sound.

His voice was half a pitch higher than the leader’s, and his breathing under the mask grew heavier.

“You’re a girl.”

Another person also stood up.

The girl didn’t move.

She stood by the table, hands hanging naturally at her sides, white short hair covering half her face.

Her red pupils swept across the people at the table from left to right.

“Better enjoy this while you can.”

Her voice was soft, as if speaking to a lover.

“Of course—”

She reached inside her vest.

“Otherwise”

“—there won’t be a next time.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA—”

The laughter bounced off the walls, came back, bounced again, came back again.

The oil lamp flames shook violently from the sound waves, distorting the masked shadows on the walls into twisted shapes.

“Guards!”

The leader finally drew his knife.

The tip pointed at the girl, but his hand holding the knife trembled.

“Guards!!!”

The second shout was even louder, his voice cracking.

The girl tilted her head at him, her red pupils reflecting the knife pointing at her.

The tip was less than an arm’s length from her chest.

She didn’t even step back.

“Don’t rush, don’t rush.”

“Everyone gets a share.”

She flicked her thumb.

That small object arced through the air and landed under the table in the center of the hall.

Clink.

The sound of metal hitting stone.

Then she reached into her vest again.

Pulled out another.

Then another.

Then another.

Her fingers pinched those round metal trinkets, tossing them in all directions like scattering candy.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

The sparks of burning fuses lit up everywhere in the dim tavern, like someone had scattered a handful of stars on the floor.

The light of the oil lamps, the fire of the fuses, the light reflected off the silver masks—all mixed together, illuminating the girl’s smiling face in flickering brightness and shadow.

“You’re crazy!”

The person closest to the door, without even taking off his mask, turned and rushed up the steps.

His feet kicked twice on the stone stairs, body leaning forward, fingers straining toward the door handle.

“You’re a fucking lunatic—”

The thing buried under the steps went off first.

Then.

The entire underground space shook as if gripped and violently rattled by a giant’s hand.

Dust showered down from the ceiling, the oil lamps swinging so hard they nearly flew off their chains.

Several of the already loose old bricks on the walls were blasted off by the shockwave, revealing the dark soil behind.

Bottles rolled off the table, shattering into glass shards on the floor.

The smell of vodka mixed with gunpowder smoke, choking people until tears flowed.

The man who had rushed to the steps was lifted entirely by the blast wave, his back slamming into the corner of the stone stairs.

He bounced once, then lay still.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA.”

“The show’s just beginning!”

She tore open her vest completely.

Inside was wrapped an entire row.

Metal casings gleamed with a brass color in the firelight.

A single master fuse connected everything, burning toward the end.

Sparks raced along that thin line like a mad centipede scurrying wildly.

“Why isn’t anyone laughing!”

She shouted over the explosions.

“Is my joke not funny enough!!!”

The masked people began to scatter in panic.

Some dove behind the bar, some crawled under tables, some drew knives and slashed at the air, as if a blade could cut away the impending explosion.

The leader stood frozen with his knife, his face beneath the mask now completely pale.

His mouth was open, lips moving, but the explosions swallowed his words.

The girl looked at him, her red pupils reflecting the silver mask.

“You know,”

She took a step toward him.

The fire of the burning fuse danced on her white short hair, the dark red at the tips shining as if freshly bled from a vein.

“I hate it when people comment on my looks.”

She took another step.

“Especially when they say ‘it’s a guy.'”

Third step.

She stood in front of the noble, looking up at him.

They were about two heads apart in height.

The girl tilted her face up, white hair falling away from her forehead, revealing her full face.

Her red pupils stared unblinkingly at the two pitch-black eye sockets on the mask.

Her lips curled.

“Not enough woman?”

She said softly.

“Then let me give you something good.”

She reached out, gently placing the last round metal trinket into the noble’s palm.

Then she helped him close his five fingers around it.

“Hold it steady.”

She patted the back of his hand.

“This is a special treatment for you. Others only get to smell the scent. You—”

She smiled.

“—you get to enjoy the whole firework.”

The noble looked down at the thing in his hand, sparking and hissing.

His fingers wanted to let go, but the girl’s hand was still pressing on his, the strength completely unlike what those thin arms should be capable of.

“Oh, right.”

She leaned close to his ear.

“Remember to give a good review, and burial service is included~”

She let go and stepped back.

BOOM—!!!

The underground tavern’s ceiling finally gave way.

Several city bricks fell from above, then a beam, then more bricks, more dirt, more wood fragments.

The girl had already turned and walked toward the steps.

The explosion’s firelight surged from behind her, stretching her shadow into a long, thin black silhouette on the stone stairs.

Her white short hair was blown up by the shockwave.

“Have fun, everyone~”

As she pushed open the iron door, one last explosion came from behind.

The sound was muffled by the door, turning into a dull rumble like distant thunder.

The night wind hit her face.

Cool.

She brushed back her scattered hair, her red pupils flashing once under the moonlight.

About a third of the things in her vest hadn’t exploded yet.

Oh well, save them for next time.

A final sound of collapse came from underground.

She looked down at the back of her hand.

A few drops of blood were splattered on it, from who knows who.

She brought the back of her hand to her lips, stuck out the tip of her tongue, and licked it.

“Show’s over.”