Towering Figure

Agatha was engrossed in washing the dishes when she sensed an unusual presence, as if someone was observing her every move. She glanced around, only to be met with dark, resentful stares from Magdalene.

Ignoring the hostility, Agatha continued her task, unable to recall any wrongdoing she had committed against Magdalene. Magdalene, a beautiful woman with ample curves, worked as one of the waitresses. Agatha had noticed her flirting with Liam earlier when she had gone to the first floor to inform Camilla that dinner was ready.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden yank on her hair, causing her to groan in pain.

"What the hell are you doing? Why is everyone so obsessed with you? You're not even that attractive! Are you using witchcraft?" Magdalene's voice was loud and accusing.

Agatha tried to pull her hair free, but Magdalene's grip only tightened.

"What's wrong with you?" Agatha shouted, feeling the sharp pain from Magdalene's hold.

Magdalene gritted her teeth, her anger palpable. "I've been trying to get that man's attention for ten days! But he doesn't notice me, and then you come along, and suddenly he's interested in you. I knew you must have cast a spell on him, witch!"

The chef intervened to separate them, but despite his efforts, Magdalene refused to release Agatha's hair. As the pain in her neck intensified, Agatha clenched her fist and retaliated by delivering a powerful punch to Magdalene's cheek. The force of the blow knocked Magdalene down amidst the cooking tools.

Breathing heavily, Agatha adjusted her hair and tried to calm herself, her heart still racing from the altercation. Meanwhile, Camilla appeared on the scene, clapping slowly as if she was enjoying the spectacle.

Agatha rolled her eyes in exasperation and sighed. Camilla's twisted enjoyment in such situations was no surprise to her.

Deciding to focus on her work, Agatha resumed her chores as if nothing had happened. She noticed that Magdalene's unconscious body was no longer there, likely taken away by someone. Once she finished her tasks, she took a moment to massage her throbbing temples, pondering over Magdalene's sudden aggression.

What was the woman's problem? Why had she targeted Agatha with such violence when Agatha hadn't provoked her? And what was this talk about someone being interested in her?

Agatha was struck with shock when she recalled that Magdalene had been conversing with Liam earlier. Did that imply...? Agatha shook her head firmly. It was improbable that the man would take an interest in her. Perhaps he was simply inquiring about her when he saw her entering the hotspot. Yes, that was it. It was simply implausible, what Magdalene suspected. Perhaps he was merely spying, merely wanting to observe her.

That thought made Agatha feel even more unsettled. She should keep her distance from him. He exuded negative energy.

Lost in deep contemplation, she didn't realize that Aiden had already approached her. It seemed he had finished his self-studies with the books Camilla had given him.

"What happened, Aggie?" he asked innocently. "I overheard them talking. They mentioned you punched someone. What's the story, Aggie?"

Agatha accepted the glass of water with a sigh and took a sip. Afterward, she rinsed the glass and returned it to the container before embracing Aiden.

She noticed once again the numerous holes in his shirt and made a mental note to embroider them later. Despite living here with free food, her salary was meager, even though she was juggling three jobs. She earned just a silver each day, which meant she still couldn't afford to buy Aiden new clothes. But she was already saving up.

"It's nothing, Aiden," she said during their tender embrace. "Don't worry about me, okay? Just go back to your room and rest. I'll follow once I'm done taking out the trash."

Aiden didn't press for more information and simply nodded, kissing Agatha on the cheek before hurrying off. Agatha grabbed the bag of trash and carried it out of the kitchen. This was her final task for the night, so she hurried through it, eager to finally rest since she had to wake up early the next morning.

She made her way to the back of the establishment and placed the two large bags of trash into the waiting cart. The night was already quite late, and the cold air was biting, but the town was still awake and lively. The sound of the cheers inside were noisy, and there were still many people walking the streets. However, since the garbage cart was tucked away in a small passageway, no one could see her.

Agatha was on the verge of heading back inside when she once again sensed someone observing her. It felt like someone was stalking her from not too far away. A chill ran down her spine, prompting her to slowly lower her hand toward her thigh where a small dagger was concealed under her dress.

As she turned around, a wave of perspiration broke out on her skin, unsure of what she might encounter. But before she could take another step, someone forcefully pressed her body against the nearby wall.

Agatha's body tensed as a cold, damp, and foul-smelling mouth aggressively pressed against her lips. The weight of the person pressed against her made it impossible for her to move.

Her eyes widened with recognition as she craned her neck to see the man pressing himself against her. It was the maniac from the hotspot who had always given her lecherous stares.

"Get off—" Agatha attempted to speak, but before she could finish, the assailant forcefully kissed her again. His heavy hands tightly gripped hers, pinning them behind her back and eliciting a groan from her lips. His knees pressed against her legs, causing her pain. The impact of being tackled to the wet ground made her head throb, blurring her vision. Even the small dagger she had released was now far away in the shadows. She couldn't move or call for help. She was trapped.

The place was cold, dark, devoid of passersby, and filled with garbage—a perfect spot for crime. Agatha mentally scolded herself for not being cautious outside and becoming complacent. She had let her guard down, and now she was being pinned to the ground by a monstrous attacker.

Agatha attempted to kick, punch, and squirm, but her efforts didn't seem to faze the man assaulting her. She could taste alcohol and other vile substances on his breath.

Despite the overwhelming fear and despair, Agatha refused to give up. Summoning all her strength, she struggled to free her arms. As soon as one of her hands slipped from his grip, she delivered a powerful punch that made the man grunt in pain. She continued to strike him repeatedly, targeting his lips, nose, and eyes until her energy waned.

Taking advantage of the brief distraction caused by his pain, Agatha pushed him away. However, before she could fully regain her composure, another figure appeared suddenly. She was kicked in the side, causing her to lose precious seconds of breath.

"You bitch!" the man on top of her shouted, following it with a hard slap to her face that left her vision blackened for a few moments.

As the seconds passed, the man took advantage and tore apart her dress. He roughly gripped her breast, causing Agatha to cry out in pain, but his accomplice swiftly covered her mouth, their maniacal laughter ringing in her ears. In that moment, she felt a chilling familiarity, as if she had been thrown back into a dark past she had tried so hard to forget. Yet here she was, powerless once again.

Struggling with what little strength she had left, Agatha attempted to fight back, but the ordeal had weakened her considerably.

Desperate to scream or use her powers against them, Agatha found herself unable to open her mouth due to their firm hold.

When the man seized her legs, memories flooded back, crashing down on her with unbearable force. Memories she had tried to bury, memories that had shattered her heart.

Realizing that this might be her end, Agatha's fear intensified. What would happen to Aiden once she was gone? Who would care for the child? She knew that the Ravager would claim Aiden once she was no longer around, using him for his own selfish purposes.

No, Agatha refused to let that happen.

With the last ounce of strength she could muster, Agatha pushed the assailant off her. His weight pressing down on her was gone, as was the palm covering her mouth. Slowly, she rose to her feet, almost stumbling as her vision swirled. But she managed to find her balance. Trembling, she hugged herself to cover her naked chest, her breathing labored and painful.

Amidst the noises and shouts around her, Agatha scanned the area, her eyes widening in terror at the blood-soaked surroundings. The man who had kicked her moments ago lay lifeless on the ground, his limbs severed and a gush of blood staining his side.

The sight of the man's innards almost made Agatha vomit. A gleaming sword was deeply embedded in his heart, a swift and lethal blow that had ended his life instantly.

A few meters away, the man who had assaulted her was also lying motionless. A towering figure stood over him, his silhouette imposing against the faint moonlight. As the light unveiled the mystery, Agatha recognized Liam atop the man, relentlessly pummeling his face as if it were a punching bag made of feathers. The man was already engulfed in his own blood, unconscious, yet Liam showed no signs of stopping. His blows seemed to shatter bones with every strike, a relentless assault that continued until a final blow silenced the groans of the man who had assaulted her.