Isolde was tied to a wooden chair. She didn't know whether she should be grateful or not—thankful that her head hadn't been shot the moment she was caught in a room she wasn't supposed to enter.
But something kept bothering her. The man who had pointed a gun at her head had looked… surprised when she turned to face him. There had been something in her face—something that made him lower the weapon that should have blown her brains out. And now here she was, bound and helpless, while that same man stood calmly in front of her, lighting his cigar.
He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke through both his mouth and nose before speaking—a voice deep and cold.
"I didn't expect that bastard Lucien to go this far," he said, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.
"Did Lucien send you here to look for evidence that could put me in prison?" he asked, hitting the mark with chilling precision.
Isolde chose to stay silent, but the man stepped forward and yanked the device from her ear.
With one hand, he crushed the earpiece into pieces, and in that moment, Isolde knew—this man was dangerous.
The door to the room swung open. A man entered, dragging along two others—the bodyguard Isolde had seen before sneaking in and the woman who had helped her infiltrate the building disguised as a replacement dancer.
The two were thrown to the floor on either side of Isolde—left and right—by the man she remembered as the one whose access card she had stolen.
"Mr. Severin, I was set up!" the bodyguard pleaded desperately.
"I had nothing to do with them. Madam Liora tricked me—she said this woman was just a temporary replacement for Mary. Madam Liora is one of the key people managing this place, so I never imagined she'd betray us."
Blood was dripping down the bodyguard's face from a wound on his head, blurring his eyes and running into his nose.
"I admit I was careless. I shouldn't have let a stranger in." He bowed deeply, face twisted with fear.
"Please, don't kill me. I swear nothing like this will happen again. Please forgive me, just this once."
The man addressed as Mr. Severin nodded slowly. The bodyguard's eyes lit up with momentary relief—but his smile vanished the instant Severin tossed the crushed earpiece toward him with his bare hand and subtly moved the cigar in his other.
It was a small, ambiguous motion—but not to those in the room. They all understood. Perhaps it was the instinct of prey sensing danger—but they knew exactly what that gesture meant.
They were right. It was a signal—a silent command.
And the man who had dragged in the bodyguard and Liora—Nikhael—raised his gun and pointed it at the bodyguard without hesitation. The bodyguard panicked, rubbing his hands together, begging the man not to shoot.
"Please, Mr. Nikhael, don't shoot! Mr. Severin, tell him not to shoot! I promise to be loyal to you. I'll serve you better, and I'll do everything right. Please forgive me this once! I'm begging you!"
Isolde watched the man referred to as Mr Severin, studying the blank expression on his face—as if his subordinate's desperate pleas meant absolutely nothing to him.
"If I forgive your mistake and take you back like nothing happened, then the others will think it's fine to make mistakes," Severin said calmly.
"I have to set an example so this doesn't happen again. You already knew the risk before you ever started working here: make a mistake, and you die."
He took another drag from his cigar and exhaled the smoke, unbothered by the deafening crack of the gunshot fired at the bodyguard's head.
Thud!
The body hit the floor, his head blown apart. Isolde squeezed her eyes shut in horror. Her body trembled at the sight, her face damp with the spray of the man's blood. The image was burned into her mind.
There was only one thought spinning wildly in her head. This man named Severin is dangerous.
Truly dangerous.
And Severin knew she was afraid. She could see it—the corner of his lips curled into a grin. He was enjoying this. Isolde was certain: Severin took pleasure in the fear radiating from her.
She held her breath, convinced that she was next. She was positioned between the two victims. The bodyguard who had just been shot was on her right. Maybe she'd be the next to die, and Madam Liora would be the last.
"What about you, Liora?" Severin asked, turning his attention away from Isolde.
"Don't you have any last words?"
Isolde didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. Severin wasn't speaking to her—not yet. But in the end, her fate would be the same. She would die with a bullet to the head, her brains scattered across the floor.
"I didn't have a choice, Severin," Liora said, defending herself, "Lucien threatened me." One of Severin's brows rose.
"So you're more afraid of Lucien than you are of me? Have I been too soft on you all this time? Is that why you had the guts to betray me? You saw it with your own eyes—every time Lucien tries to smuggle people in here to spy on me, they all end up dead. By my hand or my men's."
"You were one of the few I valued, Liora. You did your job well. This entertainment business has run smoothly thanks to your help. You trained the girls and managed them flawlessly. But I think it's time. Time for someone else to take your place."
Then, Severin moved his cigar again. Another shot rang out. Another head was destroyed. Now, only Isolde remained. The gun—the very same one that had just killed two people—was now pointed directly at her head.
Isolde froze. She held her breath as if by doing so—by not moving, not breathing, not even blinking—the bullet might not come. The gun might not fire.
From the start, Isolde had known this mission was dangerous. The moment Lucien came to her with that tempting offer, she knew it would never be easy. Big rewards always come with significant risks.
She was ready to die before even stepping into this place. After all, even in prison, she would've died—beaten to death by the other inmates.
But now… why? Why was her body shaking so violently now?
Why, deep down—deep in the most hidden part of her soul—did she not want to die?
Or was Isolde simply afraid of the pain itself?
Even she didn't understand her feelings. Severin stepped closer to her, drew on his cigar, and exhaled the smoke right into her face.
"You're not the first person Lucien has sent here," he said, "He's sent plenty before you—and they all died by my hand. But did you know… Lucien lied to you?" He raised his hand and pressed the lit cigar against Isolde's neck, making her wince in pain.
"That filthy mouth of his probably told you all you had to do was sneak in here, find some damning evidence to throw me behind bars, and that'd be it, right? However, the truth is that there is no such evidence. And you foolishly thought you'd find it in this room. The evidence Lucien meant... wasn't an object. It was you." Isolde frowned, confused.
"From the start, Lucien sent you here to die. He couldn't find any real proof to bring me down, so now he's trying to create his own. He sends people here, hoping they'll die—so he can use that to frame me. But every time he tries, he fails. He can't prove it's me who killed them. No video, no audio—nothing that links their deaths back to me."
Severin's eyes flicked toward the shattered remains of Isolde's earpiece, lying near the dead body of the bodyguard. "Lucien didn't give you that to communicate," Severin said with a scoff.
"He gave it to you to record your final screams. To use your voice as evidence to send me to prison. That old bastard still hasn't learned his lesson. Devices like that don't work here. Cameras, phones, recorders—they're all useless in my territory."
No wonder Lucien's voice had gone silent in the earpiece ever since Isolde started dancing—until she ended up here. Severin reached out and grabbed her jaw, squeezing so hard that Isolde was sure her bones would break if he added any more pressure.
"But I'll give Lucien one thing: he's insane. He's so convinced I'm a monster for all the sins I've committed, yet he keeps sending people to their deaths—like he's any better. He's gotten so desperate that he found a woman who looks like his dead sister... and sent her here, thinking it might shake me."
Once again, Severin said something that made no sense to Isolde. What was he talking about?
He released her roughly, turned his back, and walked past his subordinate, giving him two light pats on the shoulder.
"Nikhael, kill her. Then, take all the bodies to the surgery room. Their internal organs are far too valuable to waste." Severin exited the room, leaving Isolde alone with the man whose access card she had stolen.
"You knew I took something from your pocket from the start," Isolde finally spoke, locking eyes with the man who had already killed the two others beside her. The man shook his head, the pistol still aimed steadily at her skull.
"I knew you were one of Lucien's people the moment I saw you dancing on that stage."
"If you knew from the moment I was on that stage, then why did you let me steal the card? Why did you let me into this room? Why didn't you just shoot me on the spot in front of all your loyal customers?"
Nikhael nodded, "That's part of it. We didn't want a scene. But the bigger reason was so Mr. Severin could see you. Because I thought... maybe Mr. Severin wouldn't want you dead. Because you're different from the others Lucien has sent."
"Different?"
"Didn't you hear what Mr. Severin told you earlier?" Nikhael replied.
"Lucien is insane. He found a woman who looked like his dead sister and sent her here to die. The person Mr. Severin was talking about... was you. You look exactly like Lucien's late sister—who also happened to be Mr. Severin's former lover."
Nikhael took a step closer, deliberately raising the muzzle of his SIG-Sauer P226 pistol to Isolde's head.
"I thought maybe Mr. Severin would spare you—because of that face. But I was wrong. Any last words?" Nikhael readied himself to pull the trigger, giving Isolde a moment to speak. But she shook her head.
What was there to say? Even pleading would be useless. The two people who lay dead beside her had worked under Severin himself—and they weren't spared. So what hope did she, a stranger sent by Lucien, have?
Isolde closed her eyes, resigned to her fate. Dying like this or dying slowly in prison from internal injuries... what's the difference?
At least this way, her mother would go free. At least this way, Isolde wouldn't have to worry about her anymore. She smiled faintly.
Yes… this was the best way. She was ready to die. She waited for the sound of the trigger—but just before Nikhael could pull it, the door swung open.
Startled, Isolde opened her eyes—and saw a woman running toward her, wrapping her arms tightly around her.
Who?
Who was this woman?
Why was she crying?
Why was she hugging her like this?
"Renata... big sister Renata…" the woman whispered through sobs. Nikhael, stunned, lowered his gun and pulled the woman away from Isolde.
"What are you doing here, Liraine?!" he barked.
"I heard it from Brother Severin. Please, Nikhael… I'm begging you, don't kill her. I don't want to lose Renata again!"
"But she's not Renata. Renata is dead," Nikhael snapped.
"Lucien sent this woman. This isn't about gathering evidence anymore—Lucien's trying to break Mr. Severin mentally. That's why he sent her. If we don't kill her now, she could become a threat to all of us."
Nikhael aimed the gun at Isolde's head again—but Liraine stepped in front of it, shielding her with her own body, "If you want to kill her, you'll have to kill me first."
"Liraine, Mr Severin gave a direct order. I have to follow it. He told me to kill her, and so she must die."
"No. I won't let her die."
"Don't make this complicated, Liraine. You know I can't disobey Mr. Severin's orders," Nikhael shoved Liraine aside—she stumbled and fell to the floor. Again, he lifted the gun and prepared to fire. But once more, he was interrupted—this time by a voice from the doorway.
"Nikhael. Mr. Severin is calling for you. You're to report to him now. And Liraine, he wants to see you too."
Nikhael glanced at Liraine, who let out a relieved sigh and wiped the tears from her face. She walked out first, with Nikhael trailing behind—but he stopped at the door and turned his head to look back at Isolde one last time.
"Pray that Mr. Severin changes his mind," he said. Then he closed the door, leaving Isolde alone in the room, flanked by two lifeless bodies on either side.
…