Does the Assassin Girl Dream of the Mana Doll?

The Fate of a Petty Villain

“Hahaha… It feels amazing, incredibly amazing,” Hans muttered to himself as he settled into the chair in what was once Greg’s room, the former guild master.

Downstairs, the sound of raucous laughter, rowdy clamor, and occasional shattering bottles reached his ears. It appeared that Gold and his lackeys were in high spirits.

With a mere fraction of his wealth, he had effortlessly bent them to his will. Witnessing Gold, the man who had once looked down on him, now obediently following his orders for the allure of money, filled him with immense delight.

Glancing at the documents in front of him, he realized that the sum he had given them was just a fraction, as his savings were still abundant. With that as his starting capital, he firmly believed that his own rise was now inevitable.

“But first, I need Ghost.”

Once he gained her loyalty, disposing of the bothersome Gold and his comrades would be child’s play. For now, he allowed them to revel in their fleeting joy.

Sporting a wicked smile, he reached for the glass on the table.

Speaking of nuisances, he had already rid himself of nearly all the guild members who dared defy him. It included the majority, but the consequences mattered little to him.

He felt as if he could hear a mocking voice saying, “That’s the extent of your capabilities,” he tried to dismiss it by stirring his drink.

“What do you know about what I’m capable of! You’re nothing!” he bellowed into the empty space, convinced that his words would fall on deaf ears.

“You seem quite agitated…” a soft voice echoed.

Startled, he quickly turned his gaze towards the source, revealing a slender figure cloaked in darkness. Illuminated by the moonlight, the figure came into view—expressionless face, long black hair, dressed entirely in black.

“G-Ghost?! Why are you here?” Hans inwardly panicked, assuming that Gold’s subordinates had failed, despite his warnings to exercise caution and never underestimate her.

His frustration surfaced, undermining his attempts to maintain composure.

“You chose the wrong person to team up with,” the figure remarked with detached irony, causing Hans’ trembling lips to quiver.

Being ridiculed even by someone like her was infuriating beyond measure. “Hah, s-say what you will. In the end, you cannot defy me!”

Hans had imagined countless scenarios of her return. He had rehearsed his lines for that moment and even practiced putting on the ring.

As rehearsed, the ring effortlessly slid onto his finger. “Now, listen to my every word!” he shouted, thrusting the ring forward.

She fell silent, coming to a sudden halt. Observing her stillness, Hans wore a satisfied smile, relaxing against the backrest of the chair. “How about that?! Now you’re at my beck and call. So what shall I have you do?”

“Heh heh heh… Heh heh heh… Heh,” a wicked smile escaped him. Though she had a meager physique, he thought to himself, I might as well have some fun with her.

“Are you done?” Her tone dripped with utter disinterest. It was a rare display of emotions from someone who seldom revealed any, yet she appeared inexplicably bored as she spoke.

“Huh…?” Hans abruptly sat up, staring at her with an expression of disbelief etched across his face.

Her emotions were difficult to read, but it was evident that the expression on her face wasn’t one of submission to him.

As this realization dawned upon him, his body involuntarily began to tremble. “W-What… is happening…?”

His gaze darted between the ring on his finger, then to her, and finally aimlessly scanning his surroundings before settling back on her.

“It’s Greg’s trick. He told me… ‘If you ever see someone wearing that ring in my absence, that person is a traitor. Dispose of them without fail.'”

Swish!

A dagger was unsheathed, without making a sound. The blade had been coated with soot to prevent any glimmers of light, a tool strictly for assassination. The message was clear—she perceived him as a target and intended to kill him.

His trembling intensified, and his complexion turned not just pale, but even a shade of blue. “N-No, stay away, stay away…”

“I’m not obliged to follow your orders,” she moved closer, inching toward him, and yet, there was no sound.

Is t-this real? Or just a bad dream?

Something touched Hans’s legs, snapping him back to reality. That touch grounded him. Carefully, he confirmed its position and was ready to make a move.

“I believe resisting is futile,” she spoke.

His altered expression was evident, as were his attempts to conceal something, but it all seeped out through his behavior.

With an exasperated sigh, Ghost took a step closer.

“Heh, s-shut up! Die!” Hans let out a madly grinning smile and a voice dripping with insanity as he swiftly produced a small crossbow.

He had completely forgotten about it until this very moment, despite keeping it for self-defense. Such was the depth of his agitation. He couldn’t even muster the composure to realize it himself. Nevertheless, with this weapon, he would find a way to survive. The thought sent shivers down his spine.

He took aim.

She had closed in, leaving a mere five meters between them. The distance was too close to miss.

An arrow was released, piercing through the space where she had been. Yes, it was in the past tense.

“…Huh?”

What just happened?

He couldn’t comprehend it.

Stab!

“Ah!”

A cold dagger slid into the back of his head. The sensation of his freedom being wrenched away, the suffocation, and the blood failing to pump to his head.

“You were kept in the dark. About the ring, about me…”

He heard her voice.

Her voice, which should have been right in front of him, inexplicably came from behind. He tried to turn around but lacked the strength, slumping against the chair’s backrest.

“You knew nothing, but you never found it peculiar. You never questioned nor probed. And yet, you took a reckless step… This is the kind of outcome one should expect in this line of work, wouldn’t you agree?”

How is she capable of accomplishing missions to such a degree?

Why did Greg place such blind trust in her?

These questions had never even crossed his mind.

“Goodbye.” A cold voice.

As Hans’ consciousness grew hazy, struggling to breathe, it was completely severed by the thrust of the blade.

Confirming that he had stopped breathing, she smoothly withdrew the dagger, displaying a naturalness that betrayed no resistance. She wiped the blade on Hans’ clothes and put it back into its sheath before heading towards the window.

She touched the hinges, releasing the mechanism. Silently, the window opened. As a precaution against intruders, a mechanism had been set up so that opening it unknowingly would produce a loud, jarring noise.

Hans should have known about it. But he didn’t notice. Naturally, the door stayed shut. If she had stealthily entered through the window, why was there no sound? How did she manage to infiltrate this room?

It must have been Hans’ own limitations that prevented him from detecting that sense of incongruity.

Looking out of the window, her gaze met Ellie’s. She signaled her instructions with hand gestures, and Ellie responded with a sign of acknowledgment, proceeding according to the plan. Having witnessed this, Letty herself headed toward the door.

“Well then, time to clean up…” she murmured to herself as she unsheathed her shortsword.

***

Author’s Note:

The feast of debauchery would turn into a tragedy.

Things were being reaped with indifference, too much indifference.

But that too was self-inflicted.

Up next: Purging

This place is not for you.