Chapter Ten – I'm Joking... Don't Mind It
_ _ _
When a joke is spoken in the presence of horror, laughter becomes a ledge to fall from.
---
Night had fully ripened, and the city collapsed beneath a veil of stillness, disturbed only by a cold breeze sneaking in through the windows of memory.
Thus, the week passed in a peace unfamiliar with chaos—
a peace no one might be able to preserve anymore.
Ayan sat alone near the small stone table in the palace's back garden, where the moonlight spilled over his golden strands, glowing as if crafted from the moon itself.
The flame of a distant lantern shivered for a moment, then melted back into the shadows… Everything was still, as though time itself hesitated to move forward.
The scent of hot tea mixed with the fragrance of damp earth, and his sip was slow, contemplative.
Nothing in his features hinted at haste, as if he were guarding some quietude, or waiting for a thought worthy of the night.
He said nothing, but the silence surrounding him seemed to be listening to an inner stillness in his chest.
Then the quiet cracked with a soft voice, emerging from the shadow of the couch behind him
"I wish you a smooth road, Shira…"
There was no need for them to speak;
the rules had been clear from the start:
When one speaks, the rest remain silent.
Ayan let out a short sigh—
light, belonging neither to sadness nor joy,
just to that gray state separating one moment from the next.
Then he stood quietly and said without looking back
"Let's go."
He lifted the black mask and placed it on his face like a sacred rite, then pulled on a dark cloak that concealed his true color—
a color unfit for the night.
Ayan walked with calm steps, as if the night had grown accustomed to following him.
Raquel walked ahead in his usual silence,
and Ririta followed without a word.
None of them spoke—
as if a silent vow bound them—
not a rule, but a command asserting a dominance that never fades from sight.
That silence, though welcome, ended quickly when they stopped before the entrance of a dim tavern, where faded light and the scent of moisture and forgetting leaked from within.
Ayan paused briefly at the door, cast a sideways, sarcastic glance, and said as if whispering to himself
"So… a meeting in a tavern? I'm not even of age for my opinion to be recognized."
Raquel gave a faint smile that held only his usual malice, leaned slightly toward his ear and said quietly
"My lord… laws stand before you, not above you. And we are here to remove them—one by one, as you wish."
Ayan did not respond,
but his eyes shimmered for a moment with vague curiosity,
as if he liked the idea more than he showed.
Then he sighed and said
"Oh, you mean like the law now standing before you?"
Raquel raised an eyebrow, as though the question was the answer itself.
Then he bent again and whispered like reciting an old incantation
"The Lord is always right."
At that, their companion lifted her hood.
Her green hair made it seem like nature walked among them.
Her brown eyes blinked slowly beneath long lashes, and her long ears—
She wore an elegant dress devoid of ornament, blending luxury with stealth.
She bowed with artificial courtesy and whispered:
"Ririta greets the young marquis."
Ayan didn't move.
Didn't turn.
Didn't look.
He only lifted his hand lazily—
a gesture without interest.
It was enough that he knew she was female,
that she existed.
Nothing more.
Raquel had chosen her, and that alone was enough.
The elf replaced the hood over her head and silently joined their steps as they entered the tavern.
The moment Ayan's foot touched the tavern floor, the heavy scent of alcohol greeted him like mockery.
The clamor of drunkards,
their unruly laughter,
clinking glasses,
whispers like bleeding.
He paid no attention to the scene,
walking through with a passing glance as if everything around him was dull—
unworthy of his notice.
He approached the bartender with calm confidence, sat on the stool without removing his mask, and said in a cold voice, void of tone
"I'd like a steak… medium rare."
There was no logic to the request,
but the words came out as if they were a secret passcode already known.
The bartender sighed internally, then hesitantly reached under the counter for a small key.
But as his hand extended toward Raquel, the latter interrupted him with a subtle gesture toward Ayan.
Time paused.
The bartender, tense, looked between them—
as if awaiting a signal for life or death.
Then handed the key to the small hand that hadn't even lifted its face toward him.
Ayan took it slowly, his eyes still on Raquel, and murmured with a sarcastic tone
"I thought you removed the laws for me. Seems you let this one slip through."
Then he climbed the stairs with cold steps—
no haste, no concern.
Before vanishing from sight,
he paused at the first landing,
turned his masked face and said in a commanding tone
"Stay here. Both of you."
Raquel bowed with discipline, and Ririta followed in silence.
Ayan continued his ascent without a glance back.
After a moment, Raquel sat on one of the bar stools,
as if the scene didn't concern him in the slightest.
He looked at the bartender, who hadn't moved, then said calmly
> "A glass of wine… light on the alcohol, if possible."
The bartender obeyed quickly.
After receiving it, Raquel took only a sip,
then began spinning the glass slowly between his fingers, watching the swirl as if it were a mirror.
Then, without warning, he said:
"Weija. Twenty-five years old. Male. Height: 175 cm. Your mother, sixty.
Your father… dead.
Your wife works at the market.
And your daughter loves candy, doesn't she?"
The bartender froze.
His hands stiffened.
The glass in his other hand began to shake.
Raquel smiled—
a narrow, inhuman smile.
Because he was far from being ordinary.
Farther even than forgetting itself.
"Her birthday's next week, right? You must be thinking of a gift."
The bartender glanced at Ririta with trembling eyes,
but all he received was a brief nod.
Then she turned her face in silence.
Raquel leaned closer and whispered:
"Don't try anything… You'll regret it."
Then he leaned back on the stool and continued as if recalling an amusing thought
"You made me look like a fool in front of my lord.
How do we make up for that, I wonder?"
Silence.
Then he looked at his glass for a moment and said coldly
"Maybe… by sending your head as a gift to your daughter?"
He left the sentence hanging in the air,
then sighed slowly and added as if apologizing
"Just joking, don't take it seriously."
But the words barely landed—
for his claws had already passed through the bartender's chest before he could respond.
---
{Ririta}
I was sitting at my desk as usual, organizing the endless papers, unaware of the time.
Night had already reached its midpoint—
which meant no one should be here…
And yet, I heard soft footsteps in the adjacent hallway.
I didn't wait for an explanation.
I grabbed my magic staff and, with a light touch, concealed my long ears, as protocol demanded when assuming human form in times of danger.
Then I stepped forward.
There was a moving shadow,
its voice calm—
more like a whisper strolling through a graveyard.
It said
> "My lord enjoys removing the laws before him."
I froze.
I couldn't make out his face or features,
but his words alone were enough to plant doubt.
I cast a quick spell—
but before it could reach him… it vanished.
No trace of it,
as if the air had swallowed it without care.
He didn't move.
Didn't assume a defensive stance.
Didn't raise an eyebrow.
Just kept talking, as if I were part of the walls.
For a moment, I felt like I was the one being infiltrated—
not him.
Then he said, with a hint of mockery
"Seems the security officer here can't tell the good from the dangerous."
"You'll be punished.
Poor thing—especially when they learn you're an elf… to the core."
I took a step back without realizing it.
The threat wasn't just in his words,
but in the way they were spoken.
Each sentence felt like a death sentence being read slowly.
And
As if it were a court of execution reading its verdict slowly.
Only a faint sigh escaped him,
and then I felt his gaze pierce through me.
...
No,
not the gaze,
but his presence.
As if he were seeing my soul without permission.
As if he were turning it over between his fingers.
I stammered
"What do you want?"
He looked at me with an arrogant surprise and said
"Pathetic… that you still haven't grasped the situation."
I didn't wait for him to finish. I cut him off, saying
"You're wrong… You said your master removes the laws. Let's bargain on that."
He lowered his head for a moment, then lifted it again to its usual position, as if resetting a mask he was born wearing, and replied calmly:
"Very well… let's begin."