Shrewd and Deceitful

"Other people have already found out about the surveillance cameras."

Guinevere smiled from her chair behind the desk. Ercilia stood firm before her, expression cold and impassive.

"My, Ercilia. Are you helping us out?"

It had become almost a weekly routine. She would visit the training ground and call her up to her office. For the rest of the day, she would be made to entertain her while she would look down at her like some dog – a pet. It was times like this that she missed her position as the mafia's heiress.

Guinevere could make use of her however she wanted to.

And Ercilia had no choice but to obey each of her orders.

"No. Just making a comment. I'm sure you already knew that," she clarified, still looking detached.

"That I did," she said, seemingly amused.

"So, you know what I do at night."

"Right up to where you destroy our poor birds? Yes."

"And yet, you're not stopping us."

Guinevere took a long sip from her cup, making a content purr at the end. Ercilia kept quiet as she waited for her response.

"What can you do, anyway? You're powerless, Ercilia. Even if you manage to rile the whole group against us…" she told her nonchalantly, putting her cup down on her desk.

"Dare to do that, and we kill everyone. Not you, Ercilia. By now, your dear little friend must have told you how valuable you are, but everyone else will die, and their blood will be on your hands, darling."

It was then that Ercilia realized that not all of the information Delaney overheard was by chance. Guinevere and the others used her.

"And going outside?"

"That will proceed as planned. We have a personal stake in that, after all."

Ercilia stills upon hearing that, her eyes bulging wide open. Guinevere reached out to take her hands and held them together roughly.

"What do you mean?" she breathed shakily, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"You'll know when it's time, love…" she muttered, holding her hands tighter.

"Now, run along and play with your friend. Make sure to impress us all, Ercilia."

---

Every time Ercilia questioned why she was still living, Drystan would always appear in her mind.

It kept her going. Her dependence on her memories of him was almost unhealthy. But it kept her going.

By the time Ercilia turned eighteen, losing her fellow candidates to the mafia's VIP clients had become a common occurrence for her. New faces would show up, some leaving almost as soon as they came.

But today, Delaney is finally graduating.

They are sitting under the tree again - their tree. Ercilia is braiding her hair at the moment, helping her prepare for the ceremony later that evening.

"Two more years, Ercilia. I'll be waiting for you," she had told her.

"I'll catch up to you soon, Delaney," she had said to her in return.

Even after Ercilia finished her task, she held the braid in her hands - almost as if she was scared of letting go. Delaney noticed the heaviness in the air but did not say anything.

Candidates who had reached twenty years of age without being 'eliminated' would leave the training ground as the mafia's newest pros. Though any position guarantees that they'll stay alive, the atmosphere inside the place is such that sooner or later, they'll want to be independent – the leader of a group or someone who works alone.

Being awarded the post of a mere assistant was usually considered a slap on the face.

Hence, when Delaney was awarded a supporting position in front of all the trainees, everyone noticed the way her hands clenched into fists - the general agitation of her countenance. But they could never question them about their decision. Never.

And unwittingly, Ercilia imagined herself on the very same stage, receiving the position of an independent hitwoman or a leading figure. Envious eyes would be fixated on her - so different from the pity and ridicule that they saw Delaney with.

It was illogical. They all had to suffer the same any position. Still, hierarchy existed nevertheless - and within Ercilia herself. She had already known that Delaney would be an assistant. She and Guinevere had discussed it the evening prior.

"Delaney is indeed talented, but I doubt that she will do well in working alone…" was what Ercilia had told her.

"She seldom makes a move without consulting me, and I think being independent is one of the greatest requirements of a full-fledged pro."

"So, in short, you want Delaney to continue being subservient to you…?" was what Guinevere had replied with a laugh.

"You want her as your assistant?"

She had bowed her head in shame. Then, she had admitted, "I've found her quite useful, and with me as her superior, I doubt she'd endanger me to try to gain a higher position.

Ercilia wondered if it was the place that had changed her – or if it was the shrewdness inside her all along. Perhaps, this was why Ruxandra suggested her in the first place. It was because she knew she would thrive there.

Guinevere had given no clue as to what she thought of Ercilia's proposition, and instead, she had only ordered her to meet her again after the graduation ceremony the next day.