The Butcher’s Smile

The manor burned, its stone walls now consumed by fire and choked with smoke. The glow of the flames twisted the shadows across the corridors, turning noble decor into eerie silhouettes.

A lone figure dashed through the inferno, dodging collapsing beams and burning drapery. The butler, his breath came in ragged gasps, his voice hoarse as he called out.

"My lord! My lord, where are you?!"

Then, a blast.

A door was ripped from its hinges, exploding outward in a shower of splinters and fire. The butler stumbled to a halt, his breath catching in his throat as a monstrous creature stepped out of the room.

A beast of living fire, its form shifting like molten rock cracking under its own heat. Its charred skin pulsed with glowing veins of like lava, jagged horns curling from its head, their tips white-hot. Its burning eyes, two molten slits, fixed on the butler.

The butler clenched his jaw, his hand instinctively finding the hilt of his sword. There was no time for hesitation.

He shifted his stance, feet steady, ready to strike, but then, a voice, calm and lilting, interrupted from behind.

"Honestly, I never expected such a modest little manor to feel like a maze. So many halls, so many doors… quite the surprise for a place famous for its poverty, don't you think?"

The butler stiffened, slowly, he turned, and there she was.

The woman from the stable emerged from a side room, standing before a grand, charred door.

The firelight caressed her pale skin, flickering golden reflections against her smooth cheek and dark hair. Her golden eyes gleamed, half-lidded with amusement, and her lips curved into a slow, elegant smile.

Dangling from her grip like a discarded doll, was a girl.

Pink hair streaked with yellow locks framed her terrified face, her twin-tails swaying as she struggled.

Her breath came in frantic, wheezing gasps, her fingers clawing at the woman's hand and her legs kicking desperately, but it was useless, her captor did not budge.

"Y-You…" she choked, her voice weak, strangled. "Let… me go…"

The butler's grip on his sword trembled.

"M-My Lady…"

The woman chuckled, a soft, velvety sound.

"Oh, so she's the highest authority here? Well, that certainly makes this easy."

She tilted her head, considering the girl as though inspecting a trinket.

"Now then, little lady," she purred, "tell me where is the treasure of the barony?"

The girl's trembling fingers dug into the woman's wrist, her eyes wild with fear.

"I… I don't know… Let… me go!"

The woman's smile never wavered, but her grip tightened. The girl let out a strangled cry, her body convulsing in pain. She kicked harder, struggling with all her strength, but the hand around her neck held firm.

"Now, now," the woman sighed, her voice gentle, as if scolding a wayward child. "Lying only drags things out unnecessarily. Wouldn't it be so much easier if you just told me now? That way, no one has to suffer needlessly."

The butler stepped forward, his sword inching higher, but the woman's smile widened.

She adjusted her grip slightly. The young lady's body jerked as the pressure around her throat increased.

"You see," the woman murmured, "it's much harder to avoid accidentally breaking someone's neck than it is to breathe. So let's not make me act on reflex, shall we?"

The butler froze, the meaning was clear. One wrong move and the next head of the family would live up to the name.

His jaw clenched, his grip on the sword unsteady. He had never felt so powerless in his life.

The young lady let out a choked cry, her nails digging into the woman's arm, but her captor barely seemed to notice. She merely continued to smile, like she was holding something delicate, fragile, yet completely in her control.

Then, a heavy thud echoed from the far end of the corridor.

The butler flinched. The woman turned, golden eyes narrowing slightly.

From the smoke, another figure emerged.

Another monster, just like the first, but this time, it wasn't alone.

The creature lumbered forward, dragging a man with a black mustache and short dark hair disheveled in its grasp. His body was battered, his clothes dirtied with soot and blood.

His high boots clicked weakly against the scorched floor as he struggled in the monster's grip.

The woman exhaled softly, tilting her head, her golden eyes flickering with satisfaction.

"Ah… finally," she murmured. "a better talker."

Without hesitation, she tossed the gasping girl aside. The butler barely managed to catch her, gripping his lady protectively as she coughed and trembled in his arms.

The woman's attention was no longer on them.

She stepped forward, eyes gleaming, her lips curling as she regarded the battered man.

"The landlord I presume?" she purred, "Now, let's try this again. Where is the treasure of the barony?"

The Baron struggled on the cold stone floor, his breath ragged and uneven as he forced himself up onto his elbows. His face, pale with fear, twisted in confusion.

"What treasure?" he gasped. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The woman looming over him clicked her tongue softly, a gentle, almost motherly sound.

"No," she murmured, tilting her head. "That's not the right answer, Baron. Try again."

A gloved hand reached into the folds of her midnight-black cloak, drawing forth a dagger with an absurd shape.

Its blade was sinuous, like a serpent frozen mid-slither. The hilt, inlaid with dark gemstones, seemed to absorb the light of the fire rather than reflect it. 

The Baron's breath hitched. He pushed himself backward until his back met the damp stone wall, his entire body trembling.

"Please! I swear to you, I have no idea what this treasure is! Take everything I own, my wealth, my lands, just spare me! Spare my daughter!" He turned his pleading gaze toward the girl, who stood frozen in the butler's arms, her wide eyes locked on the scene before her.

The woman sighed, crossing her arms as her sharp gaze flickered to the trembling girl. A slow smile curled her lips, and she closed her eyes as if contemplating the idea.

Ah," she mused, her voice shifting into a melodic cadence. "The caged bird is thrust before the wolf, feathers bared, trembling. A plea, a promise, an offering of innocence to shield the trembling hands of the shepherd. Tell me, dear Baron, do you truly believe that you are smart? I would give you bold, and maybe hopeless, but there's one thing you're not, and it's lucky."

The Baron's breath came short and fast.

"N-No! She doesn't know anything either!" He shook his head violently, his face contorting in horror. "I'm begging you, do not harm her!"

The woman chuckled softly, an unnerving sound that sent a chill through the corridor.

"You're still trying this?" she said, her tone light, almost playful. "Alright, let me tell you in simple terms since you want to play dumb. I have no interest in your little bird. No, dear Baron, you are the one who will receive everything that is meant for you. Every cut, every second of suffering. She will not feel a thing. But you… you will have the privilege of enduring every single second."

The Baron shuddered, his body drenched in cold sweat. His gaze darted toward the butler, his mind racing. Then, in an instant, his eyes widened.

The butler immediately understood the signal.

Without hesitation, he moved in a blur of motion. In one swift strike, the blade of his rapier pierced the woman's chest.

The impact sent a sharp gasp past her lips, her eyes widening. Blood bloomed like a dark rose against the fine silk of her attire.

The daughter let out a sharp inhale, frozen as she watched the woman stagger. The Baron wasted no time.

"Run! Now!" he bellowed, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his daughter's wrist.

The girl remained petrified, her breath caught in her throat as she witnessed the butler twist the blade free from the woman's chest. Then, with a final, fluid motion, he spun on his heel and severed her head cleanly from her shoulders.

The dull thud of her head collapsing to the ground barely registered in the girl's ears before she felt her father's firm grip pulling her forward.

The Baron and his daughter ran through the crumbling remains of the manor, their breath ragged and desperate.

Smoke filled the halls, burning their lungs, but there was no time to think about that now. They had to escape.

The girl's legs burned with every frantic step, but her mind was somewhere else. A cold feeling ran down her spine, making her flinch as a sudden thought struck her.

"Father!" she gasped. "Albert, what about Albert?!"

Her father didn't hesitate, his grip tightening around her wrist.

"He'll be fine!" he said firmly, leading her down another hallway. "He's a former knight. He doesn't need us to stay behind for him."

"But...!" She turned her head, glancing back toward the flames. "There were two monsters, he's alone!"

"Dusteria," the Baron snapped, his voice sharp. "It's his job to fight for us! Now keep running!"

They were nearly at the exit. Just a few more steps and...

An explosion rocked the estate.

The blast sent them both flying, the force ripping through the corridor like a beast's roar. The world spun as they were flung through the open doorway, crashing into the garden with bone-jarring force.

The Baron groaned, his body aching from the impact. He turned his head. "Dusteria..."

Dusteria groaned, her consciousness flickering as she struggled to lift herself from the dirt. Her head spun, she pushed herself up onto trembling arms, her breath ragged, and then a sharp sound split the air.

A rapier stabbed the ground inches from her face.

Her breath hitched, her dazed eyes locking onto the gleaming steel, before widening in sheer horror.

Impaled through the middle of the blade was a decapitated head. Albert's head.

His mouth was stretched into an unnatural grimace, eyes frozen wide in agony, blood dripping thickly down the polished steel.

Dusteria's scream tore through the garden as she scrambled backward, her body shaking violently.

Then, that voice.

Calm, lilting, amused.

"My, my… you two didn't waste a second running away. Such a shame… you put me in quite the situation."

The Baron's body tensed. Dusteria turned her trembling head toward the voice.

She emerged from the shadows, stepping into the glow of the burning manor, completely unharmed.

Her golden eyes gleamed with amusement, her pale skin flawless, her long, dark hair cascading in perfect waves over her shoulders.

Her head was still attached as if she had never been decapitated.

"You see," she continued, tapping a finger to her chin, "I wanted to reward his dedication. I wanted him to feel every moment, to carve my affections into his flesh like the most devoted of lovers…" She sighed, shaking her head. "But you were so fast... you forced my hand. I had to end him quicker than I wanted. That's rather rude of you."

The Baron crawled backward, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief.

"What are you?!" he spat, his voice raw with fear. "Albert killed you! I saw it! He... he cut off your head!"

The woman chuckled, a soft, almost pitying sound.

"Oh, Baron," she murmured, shaking her head, "getting so tense like this… it'll only make you bleed out faster."

She took a slow step forward, dagger glinting in her hand. The blade gleamed in the flickering firelight as she twirled it lazily between her fingers.

Her gaze swept over the Baron's trembling body with the curiosity of an artist studying a canvas.

"Now then," she mused, tilting her head, "where should I begin? The hands, perhaps? There's something poetic about taking away a man's ability to fight back, to sever the fingers, one by one, and contemplating the masterpiece of an incomplete hand. The way they twitch, grasping at nothing."

Her eyes narrowed as she as she took another slow step forward, dagger gleaming between her fingers.

"Or maybe the tendons? Sever just the right one, and you'll collapse like a marionette with its strings cut. But no… that's far too quick. Too dull."

She ran her fingers slowly down her own side, tracing where ribs lay beneath the skin.

"The ribs… A careful incision between them, deep enough to nick the lung. Every breath will be agony, shallow and gasping, like a drowning man trying to stay afloat. Such beautiful suffering."

Then, she smiled, wider, brighter, delighted.

"But if you have to be effective... Skin peels so easily with the right technique. Strip away a piece here, a piece there, and suddenly, you'll feel the air itself sting like fire. Such an intimate sensation, don't you think? A person reduced to raw, trembling flesh, shivering with every breath."

The Baron's breathing turned shallow, his body locking up in sheer terror.

"Yes," she whispered, lifting the blade. "That would be..."

And then, she stopped.

Her golden eyes, once filled with amusement, flickered with something else. She stared forward, then, softly, she chuckled. But this time, it lacked its usual playfulness.

Standing in the garden, trembling, was Bel.