Single for Eternity
Chapter 54: Saving a Maiden

Chapter 54: Saving a Maiden

Going upstairs, I picked one of the many rooms available. It was plain and modest—small, but functional. A single bed rested in one corner, its mattress rough and uninviting.

A wooden desk stood against the wall, its drawers slightly ajar, as if someone had gone through them not long ago. A single window let in the dim light from outside, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor.

There were no fans, no aether crystal-powered conveniences, nothing remotely close to luxury.

I dropped onto the bed, letting its stiff surface press against my back. A far cry from the heavenly, seductive, entrancing embrace of my own bed back home. My standards had risen.

But I didn’t sleep.

This place was dangerous. The people even more so.

So, I simply lay there, eyes half-closed, waiting—for movement, for an attack, for anything.

Seconds crawled into minutes. Minutes stretched into hours.

Nothing.

Not a creak in the floorboards. Not a breath of movement beyond the walls.

’Are they trying to lower our guard?’

The thought gnawed at the edge of my mind, an itch I couldn’t scratch. Paranoia was second nature by now. And paranoia had kept me alive.

Eventually, I gave up trying to rest and decided to get some fresh air. Rising from the bed, I dusted myself off and made my way downstairs.

...

The tavern was closed for business. The dim lanterns overhead flickered, casting shadows that danced like silent ghosts across the walls.

The barmaid swept the wooden floor with slow, deliberate strokes. Her movements were mechanical, almost rehearsed. Not far from her, the manager sat with his arms crossed, eyes locked onto her figure.

Not just watching.

Observing, his eyes were locked on her.

Too intently.

Something was wrong.

The tension between them coiled tight, an invisible thread on the verge of snapping.

’Isher cover blown?’

If it was, I needed to act fast. I couldn’t waste an opportunity to gain information.

Dusting off my clothes, I approached her, choosing my words carefully and softening my tone.

"Miss, may I have your attention, please?"

No response.

Not even a glance.

I wasn’t offended.

"Looks like we have a lover boy."

An annoyingly familiar voice.

I turned, already expecting to see Flavia standing there with that insufferable smirk.

I sighed. "Nope. Loving someone is something I’m incapable of."

She waved off my response with exaggerated dismissiveness. "Yeah, yeah. Of course. A stone-hearted fellow like you? Impossible."

Her sarcasm clawed at my nerves.

My fingers curled into a fist—a not-so-subtle warning.

Flavia must have noticed because her smirk vanished in an instant.

’Scared little thing.’

Moments later, footsteps echoed down the wooden stairs.

Mael stretched, his arms cracking as he let out a long yawn. "What’s going on?"

Ben followed behind him, rubbing his eyes, his massive frame making the staircase creak under his weight.

I turned to them with an overly sweet, endearing smile.

They flinched.

’No questions asked. The power of a well-placed fist. Ahahahaha.’

’I’m losing my sanity again, aren’t I?’

The two exchanged whispers, chuckling at something between themselves.

I coughed. "I was just trying to get some information. Nothing else."

At that, their expressions sobered, as if remembering exactly where we were.

Ben leaned forward. "Did you get anything?"

I shook my head. "Nothing yet. We should split up and search the town for information."

Mael frowned. "But what if something happens? What if we get atta—"

I cut in. "Then we make a ruckus. Blow something up, destroy a house—anything to send a signal. We’ll regroup immediately."

Flavia’s eyes gleamed. "Then let’s scavenge this place!"

Without hesitation, the others stepped out of the tavern. I waved them off with exaggerated enthusiasm.

’Now for the real problem.’

I turned back, catching sight of the barmaid slipping into a room on the ground floor, the manager following close behind.

His eyes—distant yet strangely lucid.

’She’s going to die, isn’t she?’

A quiet chuckle escaped me as I followed them, keeping my steps light.

...

I stopped just outside the door, listening.

Their voices filtered through the thin wooden barrier.

"Have you cleaned the floors?" the manager asked. His tone was flat. Empty.

"Yes, sir," she answered.

A pause.

"Have you cleaned the floors?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir."

Again.

And again.

Each time, his voice grew softer, yet more insistent.

Each time, she grew paler.

By the sixth time, he stood inches from her.

Her breath hitched.

His fingers twitched.

Then—

BAM.

Blood sprayed against the walls.

My hand was inside his skull.

A wet, slimy sensation crawled over my fingers. I flexed them, cracking my knuckles.

’Wasn’t his head a little too brittle?’

I looked down at the twitching corpse. Its destroyed head no longer resembled anything human—just pulpy flesh and oozing pus.

A sharp gasp pierced the room.

"What have you done?!"

I glanced up.

The barmaid’s mask had finally cracked.

She was trembling, her hands clenched into tight fists.

I crossed my arms, tilting my head slightly. "So now you acknowledge me."

She didn’t speak, but the way her eyes darted between the corpse and my bloodied hand told me everything.

I gestured lazily at the mess. "Was he your old man or something?"

She didn’t answer, but her expression was screaming.

Pain. Anger. Confusion.

I smirked.

’This is going to be fun.’

Her breath hitched as she took an unconscious step back.

But she didn’t run.

That intrigued me.

Slowly, I withdrew my hand from the mangled remains of her manager’s skull, wiping the dark sludge onto the side of my pants.

"So," I mused, my voice light. "Are you going to cry? Or..."

I took a step closer.

"Do you want revenge?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

She was hesitating.

Interesting.

Most would scream. Most would run.

But she just stood there.

I could almost hear the gears turning in her head, the frantic calculations she was making.

A survivor’s mind.

Good.

Because that meant she was useful.

And useful people?

They got to live.

For now.