A nobody to somebody

Agnes stared at him for a long moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, suddenly, she burst into laughter. It was a dry, raspy cackle, filled with something that Ethan couldn't quite place—amusement? Disbelief? Annoyance?

"An accident," she repeated, shaking her head. "Oh, you absolute idiot."

Ethan scowled. "It's the truth."

Agnes wiped the corner of her eye, still chuckling. "Brat, if I believed that, I'd have to assume you're either the luckiest fool in existence or the most incompetent killer I've ever met." She leaned in closer, her piercing gaze locking onto his. "That knife didn't just accidentally bury itself into a guard's throat with enough force to kill him instantly."

Ethan tensed, but he didn't argue.

"You planned to stop him," she continued, "even if it was just for a moment. You panicked. You acted. And the knife did exactly what you wanted it to do." She poked his forehead with a bony finger. "What other trouble are you in?"