Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power

Chapter 457: Chapter 457: Hands

Chapter 457 – Hands

"Ah...father...father I think I am in love."

Romia whispered, her smile so unnaturally wide it was a chilling sight to witness. She leaned her back even further on the wall, looking around in hidden awe.

"The goddess indeed loves you, Asael." She slurred, "this much affinity is rare. Since when? Wasn’t it since the First Empress of the Damned Empire?"

Only her, the one known as the Maid of the Murdered Sun, was able to unleash such power of shadows according to the Historian of Threnovar.

That knowledge was not a soothing one, for Romia knew that the Goddess of Shadows never blessed a mortal just because he was a wonder for sore eyes.

Something was at play. Something dangerous. Yet it was that something dangerous that made her tremble in hidden, twisted joy.

’Don’t run away from me, Asael.’ She moaned internally. ’For the more you run, the more I want to catch you.’

’Have you forgotten? I am an assassin. I learned to always catch my prey. Even when it’s a romantical matter.’

She laughed harder, yet no sound escaped her mouth, as if the world had been muted. The scene was harrowing, as if alongside shadows, the very concept of sound no longer existed around her.

But that, that was not the work of Asael. It was her own. And that was exactly why her face twisted into surprise, then into recognition when a sound whispered through her ears at that instant.

"Are you done, Hora, with your folly? If yes, focus here. I have come from Master’s order."

Romia — her real name, Hora — looked with hidden distaste at the crimson crow standing majestically on a wooden spike at the far left.

The crow cocked its head, its eyes — black irises with web-like veins all over — resting on her without flinching.

Romia twisted her lips in distaste.

"Romia." She grated, losing the amused attitude she just had with Asael. "I told you to call me Romia."

"Pointless matter." The crow cocked its head, voice dismissive. "The Master requires an update of the task at hand."

"Still in the process."

The crow frowned strangely. "Time. Too much time has passed. Master is getting restless. You have been chosen because—!"

"Of my capabilities." Romia said, eyes dead cold. "That should tell you something. I know what I am doing."

"We wouldn’t dare to doubt." It croaked. "But time is speeding up. Can you not sense it? Can you not taste it in the air?"

The crow lifted its beak upward, tongue slithering out. "Can you not hear it? The Wheel is turning, turning and turning. Faster, and faster still."

At the words, Romia’s mind immediately went to that strange occurrence in that wooden house; when a wooden wheel turned upon itself when she was with Asael.

It was at that time that the man showed her something she still couldn’t forget.

A handshake.

She looked back at the crow, tilted her head. "Is the prophesied Child of Threnovar born?"

The crow fell silent for two breaths at the unexpected question, then with a rumbling voice, "There have been signs of it. But no certain certainty. However, the likely likelihood of that being true is high. So Master has said."

"Don’t doubt." Romia said, lifting her head overhead. "The Child of Threnovar is born."

The crow narrowed its strange eyes. "Source?"

"Do you know what a handshake means, Crow?"

"Who doesn’t know in our Organization? That’s our very Sigil. The hands, metaphors of two worlds colliding in a seamless manner."

"Only us know it, doesn’t it?"

"Aye."

"Yet I found another being who used that same handshake, Messenger." Romia grinned humorlessly. "Tell me what does it mean? Strange coincidence? Oh but no. Just like you have said, the Wheel is turning, turning, turning..."

Crow stayed silent, but its body was shaking. "He...he is born. No. He is reborn!"

"Oh yes, he is." Romia whispered. "His location eludes me, still. But I know a way. A way to know more about our beloved Child."

"Who is that person?"

"I won’t tell you."

"Why—!"

"I won’t, Messenger." Romia looked coldly at it. "So now go back to Master and tell him well: I am not slacking off. And soon enough..."

She disappeared into a wavelength of sounds.

"...everything shall be in his blessed hands."

...

Tack!

"YOU!" Loup shrieked, looking at the pink, wet underwear inside his hand. "What the hell is this!!!"

Dancer’s face twisted irritably at the loud voice of the overexcited wolf. "Lower your voice, damnit. And can you not see? This is an underwear. I got it from a gentle lady in a store two days ago. She refused to let me go without something to remember her by."

"You are weirdly specific, handsome man." White chuckled, sitting on the withered couch of Loup’s squalid house, looking with glowing eyes at Dancer. "But you shouldn’t be. My friend here is a virgin. So much of a virgin he fell in love at first sight with that muscled Princess."

White grinned. "The same Princess who was pursuing you." He spared a glance at Loup. "Jealous, newbie?"

"Like hell!" Loup growled, throwing the wet underwear away from him with a red face. "The Princess clearly wanted to kill him. And because of you,"

He pointed his shaking finger at Dancer sitting on the floor, hand on his chin. "We almost got caught in your mess! Why are you not saying sorry?"

Dancer sighed. "I already said sorry."

"You weren’t sincere!"

"How can you tell?" Dancer said. "Do you have power related to emotions? Or truth?"

"No, but—!"

"Then shut up, little stinky cub." Dancer scowled at him, then turned to the smiling White. "And you, pale freak, can’t you stop looking at me with such a smile? I feel ants crawling on my back."

"I have been cursed by looking at the ugly face of Newbie all these times." White said. "Now that I have a handsome one to admire, how can I look away?"

"I am not into men."

"I can be a woman for you. You like them how? Old and plump?"

Dancer froze, looking at him wide-eyed. "How do you know?"

"I have good instincts." White laughed, giving a small nudge with his head towards Loup. "He likes them hairy."

Loup’s face flushed red in both anger and embarrassment. "Damn you, girlish boy! Why do you always have to attack me?"

Dancer looked at the two boys laughing and bickering without care, and that despite the recent dreadful event. He was inwardly surprised, expecting them to shiver in fear.

But none of the two acted in a way a child would when royalty wished to swallow them up. His eyes twinkled, looking at them with newfound interested eyes.

’Ah, Cupid’s cursed face. Why not, then? Just why not? The pale boy is unsettling, but useful. He transformed into a cat. A shapeshifter? Extremely rare. I have never seen one, only heard of them.’

’The wolf boy looks simple, stupid even. But there must be something inside him for the pale boy to be with him.’

In any case, after the recent event, there was no way he could leave the two boys. Too risky, and he didn’t want anything risky on his lap at this moment.

His plan was unfolding just like he expected. Of course, there were minor issues, but nothing that could make him bash his head on the wall.

And he didn’t want to start it now. He was embarrassingly too handsome for such displays.

So just like that, Dancer came to a fundamental decision. He lifted back his head, staring at the boys who were returning his gaze, unflinchingly.

He smiled, making Loup curse at his handsomeness and White giggle like a girl in love.

"You see, there is a saying—!"

"Cut the damn bullshit and say what you want." Loup growled, crossing his arms on his chest with rebellious intention.

Dancer’s lips twitched.

White smiled, waving his hand lazily. "Don’t mind him. Virgin boys are easily triggered. Maybe you can help him loosen up. I have decided to abandon that task myself, alas."

Loup snapped his head towards White, barely stopping himself from driving his fist into the face of the pale bastard.

Barely.

Meanwhile, taking hold of his feelings, whispering to himself not to get angry at children, Dancer parted his lips once more,

"Let’s work together, boys."

—End of Chapter 457—