Chapter 13: The Heart that Melts

Chapter 13:
The Heart that Melts

 

IT WAS ALREADY well past nightfall when they arrived in Anichidey, which looked much as it had when they first arrived by cart: wrapped in a veil of darkness. Even the sporadic lights shining like beacons from the few inhabited homes felt dimmer than the previous night, though that was probably due to their sheer exhaustion.

The sound of their feet scraping across the dusty streets echoed loudly in the night. Their legs felt heavy, but the allure of being so close to the inn drew them in like moths to a flame. After turning the last corner, they finally caught sight of the building.

Flum broke out into a grin at the thought of Milkit sitting patiently in their room, awaiting their return. She glanced over at Stude’s house and noticed that the light was out. Asleep, maybe? Sure, people in small towns tended to be early risers, but it still seemed kind of early to go to bed. Maybe he’d just gone out somewhere.

As they walked past Stude’s house, Flum suddenly stopped. Sara kept going another few steps before she noticed Flum was no longer with her and turned around in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

Flum slowly turned her head and glanced at the house’s front door. Her face was white.

There were no lights on inside, but the front door was half-open. A lace curtain outlined the window, beyond which Flum caught sight of a cup laying on its side on the dinner table.

Her mind raced.

Dein’s goons had used their magic to trap her and Sara in the cave. They’d heard the cave was filled with monsters and that no one ever returned, and were probably convinced that Flum and Sara had met the same fate. So then, what would they do upon returning to town?

She caught a whiff of blood in the air, drawing her to Stude’s house.

Dein and his goons were only adventurers in name. He used his influence in the guild to lord it over the West District, stealing whatever they pleased without a second thought, like the snatch-and-grab they’d tried to pull on Leitch. Far from the church’s knights or royal guards in a small town like this, there was little to keep them in check.

Flum put her hand on the door and pushed it open. She was instantly met with the overpowering coppery scent of blood. The flickering light of a dying candle was the only illumination in the room.

No, theft was small potatoes to guys like this. Fraud, violence, and even murder meant little to them. Dein was probably livid at having their attempt to rob Leitch thwarted and his underlings captured by the church knights.

So what would he do in revenge?

Flum stepped over the threshold. The wooden floor creaked under her shoes as she walked into the dining room, which looked as if it had been ransacked. There was a man slumped face down on the table, a knife protruding from his back and his blue shirt stained red with blood.

She’d never seen him before. Maybe one of Stude’s friends who came over to visit?

Flum squeezed her hand into a fist and clenched her jaw. Looking at the floor, she noticed a trail of blood leading away from a chair and past her feet.

So there were still more victims.

Her eyes followed the blood trail down the hall.

This was all so unfair.

The floor creaked under her feet as she traveled to the bedroom. The door was ajar. Flum hesitantly pushed it open; the hinges cried out in objection, startling her.

Killing her and Sara wasn’t enough for Dein and his men. Murder was little more than a diversion to them. They must have felt compelled to strike anyone who’d had any interaction with Flum and Sara, too.

At least, that was the best Flum could to do comprehend the sick logic that had gone into the creation of the horrific scene in front of her.

A man and a woman lay motionless on the bed. Even in the darkness, she could still make out what happened: an old woman lying on her back, and a younger man laying over her, as if to protect her.

Stude and his mother.

The whole room was filled with the smell of blood.

They’d lived completely normal lives and had done nothing wrong. The only sin they’d committed was giving Flum a place to sleep for the night.

Flum began to scream.

It was the only way she could give voice to the burgeoning dark emotions that took hold of her as she blamed herself for the fate that had befallen her friend. Her cries weren’t fueled by a sense of wronged righteousness but something far simpler: rage.

This was absolutely unforgivable.

Consumed by fury, Flum flew out of Stude’s house in a mad dash, her exhaustion long forgotten. Sara called out to her in confusion, but Flum ignored her and continued on toward the inn. If those bastards had laid a hand on her…

She drove herself forward, her feet pounding so hard on the floorboards that she worried they’d splinter.

But she had to keep going, she needed to keep going. There was no time to spare.

They’d hear her coming, but would they even care? If they would run, then let them. If they wanted to stand and fight, then so be it. But no matter what they did, even if they were to drop to their knees and beg for forgiveness, even offering their flesh up to the gods themselves, Flum would see to it that they were not redeemed.

 

***

 

Earlier that night, Milkit had sat on the edge of the bed as she waited for Flum and Sara to return. With nothing around to entertain herself, and no real desire to walk the darkened streets, she simply sat there in the dark, waiting for time to pass. This didn’t bother her. She was used to being left alone and ignored.

She kicked her legs as she watched the hands of the clock slowly continue their journey. Flum and Sara had only taken lunch with them, so they must have planned to be back this evening. And yet, despite the fact that it was already quite dark out, they still weren’t back.

Milkit could feel a looming sense of anxiety come over her.

“You’re fine… I know you are.”

The darker it got, the more worried she grew. After a while, her heart was pounding so fast she felt it would burst. She brought her hand to her chest and could feel it thumping away, hard.

“Master… Sara…”

She worried for them dearly.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps in the hall. Two sets, in fact. Milkit quickly jumped to her feet and jogged toward the door.

“Master, you must be…”

She swung the door open.

“…tired?”

Two grown men stood before her.

One, his face covered in piercings, reached down and grabbed her face through the bandages. She tried to scream, but the man’s hand muffled any attempt at making noise, and her captor just laughed sadistically.

The other man’s right arm was covered completely with tattoos. He leaned over the first’s shoulder and looked at Milkit. “Now what do we have here??”

The pierced man offered up a cruel smile. “She’s not much, but I think she’d make for a better hole to get off in than that old hag or the other guy back there.”

Judging by his voice, it was clear that he was high on something. The man gripped Milkit’s face even harder and shoved her back toward the bed. She tumbled backwards onto the mattress, feeling her body tense up with fear as the man climbed up and sat on her. If she wasn’t careful now, who knew what he would do to her?

“Ah, so I see you’ve calmed down, hun. I guess you’re used to this?” He started yanking off his shirt.

She didn’t…couldn’t reply.

“Why so quiet now, girlie?? C’mon, speak up! Answer me, dammit!!”

The pierced man yanked Milkit’s head up by her hair and slapped her hard across the face several times. Her continued silence only seemed to incense him further, but then his outburst suddenly subsided just as quickly as it started. He smiled, let go of her head, and shook off the stray strands of silver hair that still clung to his fingers.

“Hey, I’m really sorry ’bout that. I just tend to slap girls around when I get too excited, y’know? Most of ’em don’t make it. A real shame, y’know. But I just really love to see a girl suffer. Can’t get enough!”

Milkit began to sob quietly.

“Aww now, don’t you cry there, lil’ lady. But I think it’s ’bout time you started answering me. You’re a virgin, yeah?”

Milkit nodded.

His face immediately went serious. “I can’t hear you.”

“Y-yes.”

“You need to answer my question more specifically.”

“I’m…I’m a virgin.”

“Speak up!!!”

“I’m a virgin!”

The man’s grin broadened at the clear discomfort in her voice.

“Gyahahahahaha!! Wauhahaha! Man, I just love embarassin’ little girls like that. I guess boys really never do grow up, huh? Hahahaha!”

He pulled his dagger from its sheath and pressed it against her chest before slowly dragging it up, cutting open her blouse and exposing her bra. He smiled darkly down at her.

“So how d’ya wanna die?”

“Die…?”

“I can stab you in the mouth or maybe slit your throat? How about stabbing you in the heart, that might be easier?”

How was Milkit supposed to choose the method of her own death? But if she didn’t say anything, he might get mad and start hitting her again. She knew she needed to answer, and fast.

“What’s with the long face, girlie?”

Her time was up far sooner than she anticipated. The man’s face contorted in anger and flushed a deep crimson. Sudden mood swings were common among junkies, and it was clear even to Milkit’s eyes that he was using one of the many illicit substances running rampant in the capital. There was no reasoning with him.

He wrapped both his hands around her neck.

“So you wanna play rough, huh?? Man, virgins nowadays sure are frisky! Y’know, buddy, I’m really starting to worry about young girls these days. Gyahahaha!”

“Hya…hynnngh…”

As her vision began to fade to black, all Milkit could think of was her master and how she still hadn’t returned.

 

***

 

Flum stuck her head through the open doorway and screamed, “Milkiiiiiit!”

Three sets of eyes fell on her. There was a tattooed man, another covered with piercings, and Milkit, pinned to the bed and being choked out. Her clothes were torn open, and her pearly white skin was exposed to the open air.

Milkit managed to croak a cry for help.

“Master…”

Flum was clenching her teeth so hard she worried her jaw might shatter.

This was unforgivable. People who attacked completely innocent bystanders in a sick bid at revenge were little better than animals, in her opinion. In the name of the downtrodden and the victimized, she would make these monsters suffer.

“You’re done for.”

Even Flum was surprised at how cool and level her own voice was. She stepped toward the tattooed man.

“What the hell?! They said no one ever came back…!”

The man grabbed his knife, but that was as far as he got. The Souleater’s razor-sharp blade swung silently through the air and slid easily through his waist, cleaving him in two. He would never speak another word again.

At the end of her swing, Flum brought the sword back to the ready, spattering blood across the room and staining the pierced man’s face. The tattooed man’s upper torso slid off of his lower waist like a freshly felled tree before dropping to the ground. His head hit the floor with a loud thunk and his jaw chattered bizarrely, though no words came out. A moment later, his legs slid off the bed as well, staining the floor with a disgusting mixture of blood, guts, and other bodily fluids.

“Wha…” The pierced man gasped and wiped the spattered blood from his face. “Now wait just a second, you wench! I haven’t even gotten off yet!!”

He apparently still had more than enough will to live, though, as he quickly opened the window and dove outside, tumbling into the dark streets below.

“Wait here, Milkit!”

“Haaah…”

Milkit sighed in relief at the sound of her master’s voice as Flum hopped out the window after the man.

A desire to see blood burned brightly in Flum’s eyes.

 

***

 

Once outside, Flum found the darkened outline of the man against the even darker shadows of the night. It was hard to make him out, but he was still close enough to be seen with the naked eye.

She hefted her Souleater into the air with one hand and took off in hot pursuit. He was a D- to C-Rank adventurer at best. There was no way he could outrun her.

The man glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her footsteps, the metal rings in his face clanged together like a fire engine. The fear in his eyes was readily apparent as he watched Flum close in.

“No way! How in the hell can a runt like you keep up like this?! Dammit! He told me this would be an easy job! I’m supposed to go back to the capital, get my money, and live the life of luxury!!” He didn’t seem remotely concerned about the death of his comrade. “That guy and his old lady dropped like fleas! I should’ve been off and on my way home by now!”

“Do you really want those to be your last words?”

“Waaaugh?!”

Flum glared at him through the darkness. To the man’s shock and horror, she was now running side by side with him.

Realizing that running was no longer an option, he stopped and made one last-ditch effort to beg for mercy.

“Haah…haah…hyahaha. No need to be so angry there, lil’ lady. It’s not like I actually did anything to ’er. Listen, I’ll even pay you for the damage to her clothes. See? All better, yeah? They probably weren’t too very expensive, right? Who’d spend good money on a nasty little slave like that?”

He dropped to his knees and bowed till his forehead touched the ground. Flum stared down at him with a cold glare.

“Listen ’ere, I didn’t even do anything wrong! It was that tattooed freak that killed the guy and the hag!”

Flum couldn’t tell if he actually thought this would save his life, but it didn’t make much difference to her. She raised the Souleater high in the air. The dark blade blended seamlessly with the darkness, making it hard for the man to gauge just how long he had left to live.

“Flum, stop!!”

Sara’s voice interrupted her before she could bring the sword all the way down.

Whether you believed in Origin or not, murder was, after all, still wrong. Someone like Sara, who believed so strongly in the good of humanity, couldn’t stand by and watch this happen.

“Stude and his mother are alive!!” Sara cried. “I cast healing magic on them, and they’re okay again!”

“But what about that other guy they killed, Sara? They aren’t innocent.”

“That…that’s true. But not every death should be answered with death. There are more appropriate punishments!”

“Ha…hyahahahaha!”

The pierced man lunged toward Flum from behind and brought his dagger to her neck. His look of fear had now been replaced with a fierce, maniacal grin as he smiled over Flum’s shoulder at Sara.

“Hyahaha! Nice assist there, girlie! Who woulda thought a nun would help me kill this little brat? Ya know, for a moment there I thought I was done for! Gahahaha! But nope, this lil’ lady of the cloth saved me. Praise be!”

The goon was in high spirits now, assured of his victory. Sara stood there in shock, unable to get out a word.

“Hey, Sara…” Flum said.

“Whoa, whoa! All I have to do is press down and you’re gonna be spraying blood all over the place, y’know. Shouldn’t you be crying? Begging for mercy, maybe?”

The man’s attempts at intimidation didn’t have much impact on Flum. They only reminded her of Jean, the man who had sold her into bondage in the first place, and the slave trader who bought her.

Even the best and most noble person, Flum thought, could only be pushed so far once you’d robbed them of their dignity. She could never—would never—be as good a person as Sara.

“You know, I said this before…” she started again.

The man pressed the dagger harder to her neck. “What, no apology? In that case, I’m just gonna have to kill ya!”

A thin trail of blood began to snake down Flum’s neck. She didn’t seem to even notice the pain as she continued, “This world is full of pieces of trash that never repent, never learn, and frankly, would be better off dead.”

As she finished saying these words to Sara, the man dug down with his knife until it broke through in a shower of blood. Flum stumbled forward, took the knife from her neck, and threw it to the ground.

The man looked on in shock. “Wh-why aren’t you dead?!”

As the collar of her shirt grew red with blood, she raised the Souleater and swung it down.

“Wait, stooooooo…!”

He threw his arms up in a feeble attempt to protect himself, only to have them both lopped off. Blood drenched the street. He was losing so much blood that death was a foregone conclusion.

But Flum wasn’t done yet.

“Aaaaugh! Wait, no, please…!”

“He who kills so easily now begs for mercy?”

“That’s…that’s different! I don’t wanna die!!”

Flum looked at the pathetic expression on his face, lifted her sword, and rammed it straight through his head. The top of his skull spun through the air and disappeared into the dark night sky. A trail of blood in the sand left a grotesque marker for where it could be found.

“You’re right. Listening to someone beg for their life isn’t half-bad.”

The decapitated body tensed for a second, until all brain functioning ceased and what remained of the pierced man went limp. The blood pouring from his head and the small puddle forming at the crotch of his pants made for a rather macabre scene.

Flum gave her sword a shake to remove all the flesh and blood still stuck to it before allowing it to disappear in a burst of light. She headed back to check in on Milkit.

As she passed Sara, she reached out and patted the girl’s head gingerly.

“I’m sorry, Sara. But this is the path for me.”

She hadn’t always been like this. It was the circumstances of her life that had brought her here. After being betrayed again and again, Flum had come to finally see and accept the darkness that the world had to offer.

“Flum…”

Sara’s voice was hardly above a whisper. It was like the Flum she’d known was gone, replaced by an entirely different person.

As Flum headed back to the inn. Sara could only stand in the street, alone with her thoughts and the stars.

 

***

 

Back in the hotel, the bedroom reeked of death. Milkit sat squarely in the middle of the bed, scrunched up into a ball in an attempt to hide her exposed chest.

Flum’s heart ached to see her suffer. She stepped in close and put her hand to Milkit’s cheek, feeling the subtle warmth radiate through the bandages. Finally, Milkit spoke up, though her demeanor was decidedly gloomy.

“He destroyed these lovely clothes you bought for me… I’m so sorry, Master.”

Flum could have dealt with Milkit being angry with her, demanding to know why she hadn’t returned earlier. Even though she knew Milkit still didn’t understand that it was her every right to think such things, having her apologize was almost too much for Flum.

She looked down and shook her head, biting her lip hard in an attempt to fight back the tears threatening to overflow at any moment.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“Of course there is. Any gift from you, Master, should be treated with the utmost respect.”

“And what I’m saying is that you are way more important to me! Not clothes, okay? Forget about the stupid clothes. They’re…they’re nothing! What I care about is…definitely not that.”

Flum pulled Milkit’s face close to her chest and hugged her tightly. She was warm, her heart was beating, blood was flowing through her veins… She was alive. Milkit was still alive. If she’d arrived even a few minutes later, she may well have lost her, too.

The thought alone made her sick to her stomach.

“Master, are you crying?” Milkit looked up at Flum, whose shoulders were shaking. Her voice wavered as she tried to speak.

“Of, of course I’m crying. I’m crying at how weak and useless I am.”

Milkit desperately wanted to do something for her master but was at a complete loss. She reached up to hug Flum back but then hesitated and looked at her own palm.

She’d been told by several masters in the past that she was worthless and had believed that to be true. But now…now, things were different. Now, her current Master, Flum, was telling her that she was important. She didn’t quite believe it, yet, but it saddened Milkit to think that any damage inflicted upon her caused Flum such despair.

That was what hurt her. Not what she’d endured herself, but the thought that her master was truly upset by it. She felt her heart tense at the thought of that and her eyes well up.

“Milkit…” Flum looked back down at Milkit, her eyes red from crying. “That must’ve been really scary for you, right?”

“Scary?”

“I mean, you look like you’re about to cry. You were scared, weren’t you?”

Milkit raised her hand and tapped at her eyes, feeling moisture on her fingertips. She tried to describe her emotions as best she could.

“I had thought it quite unlikely Master would return to rescue a mere slave like myself. I can’t say if what I felt was fear or not, but as the man attacked me, I found myself imagining how wonderful it would be if Master did come to save me.”

She hadn’t exactly been expecting it to happen. It had been more like a far-fetched dream, a fantasy you indulged yourself.

“I’m truly sorry for making all these bold assumptions, Master. Perhaps I’ve allowed myself to take your kindness for granted.”

“Bold? No, not at all! You can expect, even demand, whatever you want of me, Milkit! I’ll do my best to make it happen!”

“But that’s…”

“That’s fine! Don’t think of us as slave and master, but Flum and Milkit! And even then, I was still too late. I wasn’t able to protect you.”

“Not at all. You saved my life, Master. If anything, I’m the one who failed to protect your beautiful gift.”

She just wouldn’t let the clothes go.

“Gah, will you just forget about the clothes? Seriously!”

Flum clung tightly to Milkit, and the two fell back onto the bed. She pressed her cheek tightly against Milkit’s and whispered into her ear. “When we get back to the capital, we’ll go shopping again, okay? I’ll buy you something even prettier and more expensive.”

“It’d be such a waste on me.”

“Fine! You can fix these clothes first. And then I’m gonna buy you a whole wardrobe of outfits and dress you all up in each and every one of them. Maybe then you’ll understand what I mean when I say that it’s not the clothes that are important, but the girl in them.”

“I’m…not sure I understand.”

“That’s fine for now. I’ll just keep buttering you up until the day comes when you do finally understand, even if it takes the rest of our lives. I’m going to see to it that you’re happy, Milkit, happier than anyone alive has ever been.”

Flum pressed her face tightly against the comforter and began to sob, unable to explain the feeling of immense sadness that gripped her heart in that moment. Milkit knew the tears were for her but still couldn’t understand why. Why would anyone ever cry for her? Why would someone want to make her happy?

So, she did what felt right in that moment. She reached out, ever so slowly, and wrapped her arms around Flum. She didn’t quite understand what meaning this action held, but it was what she chose to do.

Her heart felt warm in her chest. That much she knew.