The Second Adoption (5)
In the hushed heart of Handel, where silence had settled like a shroud, stood a modest two-story mansion with curtains drawn tight over every window. The walls encircling its spacious yard appeared, at first glance, to guard it thoroughly.
"...Have you found the target?"
"One moment."
But no one could call security perfect with just walls of that height and an iron gate with bars. Any warrior of decent Hierarchy could scale them without breaking a sweat.
In the moonlit stillness of the night, figures watched the mansion from afar. A man and a woman cloaked head to toe in pitch-black garb, their suspicious lurking beyond doubt.
Had this been the Imperial Capital Dersia, patrol guards would have seized them, grilling them on identity, purpose, residence—everything. Fortunately for them, this was no pristine capital but a mere small city, lax in vigilance. Lurking in alleys for ages, fixated on one mansion? No issue here.
They wouldn't get caught anyway. Both were 5th Hierarchy knights and mages.
No warrior in this city could pierce the woman's stealth spell. Or at least, not until yesterday...
"Found her. Second floor. Probably the bedroom. 'That guy' definitely isn't there."
"You sure? If he's hiding inside, we're both done for."
"Oh, come on, it's certain."
Not tonight, at least. The monstrous man who guarded the target tirelessly had unexpectedly left the city.
For this one night, the sturdy knight watching over the girl inside was absent.
The woman stowed her mana-shimmering staff and turned to the man.
"So, what now? Assuming he's really gone, this seems like the perfect chance..."
"...Hm."
The man pondered silently. Time for a decision.
Even if the monster was away briefly, who knew when he'd return? If they acted, better do it fast—abduct the target before he came back, flee the city, earn the organization's favor.
But...
"...It's tricky. The Lord's orders were just to monitor the mansion, not abduct the target."
Hesitation was inevitable.
Their directive from above: surveil the mansion in this city where Maxwell died. No mention of seizing opportunities to kidnap.
Strictly, follow orders only. Both knew it.
But the woman, a touch anxious, added cautiously,
"Still, if we miss a golden opportunity like tonight and the Lord finds out we did nothing..."
"...Ugh..."
She trailed off, but they both knew the rest. Their master's fiery temper was no secret.
"Sigh."
The man grimaced but decided.
He nodded at the mansion.
"No choice. Quick and clean. Kidnap the target before he returns, head back to base. The Lord will lose interest in this city once we have her."
"Well, clear mission. I like it."
The woman nodded, twirling her staff lightly. Faint mana spread, blanketing the area in artificial silence.
Whoooosh—
The man's silently drawn blade gleamed with verdant wind—attribute-infused sword aura, the mark of a 5th Hierarchy swordsman.
Plan was simple: Woman loosens surrounding gazes with magic. Man sneaks in, slices the gate clean. Storm the mansion, grab the girl on the second floor.
"Ready."
"Mm."
The woman spread her senses, murmuring. The man glided silently to the gate, footsteps soundless, presence faint.
He was confident even the mansion's owner wouldn't detect this approach.
And as he swung to breach the gate—
"I wouldn't cross that line if I were you."
"...!?"
A clear voice pierced his ear. He froze mid-swing, whipping his gaze toward it—the mansion's interior.
...When did she...?
A girl stood there, in thin nightclothes and a white negligee, clutching a large bear plush.
She should have been on the second floor moments ago. If the woman's detection was right—and it was.
He glanced back; the woman was equally stunned.
"What the—how..."
She'd spread her senses wide since deciding to act, encompassing the mansion and surroundings. No unnoticed changes possible.
Or so it should have been.
Her face twisted bizarrely; his eyes darkened.
And—
Shing!
"Oh my."
He aimed his gate-cutting blade at the girl beyond. Ready to unleash the wind if needed.
The threat was blatant, palpable even to a seven-year-old.
Yet why?
The girl hugging her incongruous bear just blinked.
As if the blade posed no threat at all.
Squirm—
First, irritation prickled him at her utter calm. Pride stung.
How dare she...?
His instincts screamed caution at the girl, souring his mood. Her nonchalance made it worse.
"Mm."
Of course...
Regardless, the girl—Beatrice—waved her hand lightly.
Screeech...!
The mansion's gate swung wide with a wail like wailing ghosts.
The man recoiled instinctively, eyes narrowing.
Beatrice captured his reaction with her deep crimson eyes.
She spoke calmly.
"Nothing special. Just had the mansion's barrier open the gate."
"...What?"
"Strictly speaking, not my power. Just using the authority my foster father granted to control the barrier."
"..."
The man fell silent, staring blankly.
She didn't seem too young to grasp the gravity.
Some backing? Or a trap from the start?
His brows twitched as possibilities raced.
"Anyway, continuing."
Beatrice approached leisurely, like a nighttime stroll.
The man shrank back instead.
She smiled mysteriously.
"Cross that line you nearly did, and a signal goes to my foster father. Alarm magic or whatever."
"..."
"He'd drop everything and rush here, thinking I'm in danger."
Now she was mere meters away—one more step, blade's reach.
Yet why couldn't he thrust?
Instinct. Something wrong.
And—
...Dangerous.
Not a trap or third party—the pressure from the girl herself.
His hand trembled unwittingly; Beatrice smiled softly.
"Funny, right? Even as his daughter, I'm just a stranger girl he's known less than two months... Yet he dotes on me endlessly."
Then he realized: these words weren't for him.
"Funny, sometimes foolish. Probably because of that secret purpose he hides. But benefiting from it, it's complicated for me."
Just musing aloud. Organizing thoughts, venting emotions. Him as audience was coincidence; anyone would do.
Arrogant, leisurely—confident? Backed by what?
As his mind spun unprecedentedly fast—
"...Yeah, I talked too long."
Step.
"..."
Beatrice advanced. Now close enough to touch, breaths mingling.
The man gaped; the woman behind scowled in confusion.
"In conclusion, I won't let uninvited guests like you disrupt my father's business."
"...!"
Too late to notice.
His feet, once plain ground, were now a blood puddle unnoticed.
Splash!
Crimson waves lapped his ankles.
His face paled, body slick with cold sweat.
"Before we part, one question. Always wanted to say this line."
"W-Wait...!"
"Hm, catch your breath first..."
Her eyes gleamed blood-red under the night sky as she smiled beautifully.
“Sent by the Black Lotus Lord?”
“You trembling fools.”
Shwaaaaa—!
The blood pool at his feet boiled furiously, surging to engulf him before he could react. Trapped alive in the crimson cage, he'd perish without trace.
"...Huh?"
No chance for a scream. He vanished cleanly.
In this dark midnight in Handel, only one witness.
"Shall we follow? Your comrade."
"...!?"
The woman stared blankly at the spot, dreamlike—missing the girl whispering in her ear from behind.
Crack—!
A blood-red claw from the ground swallowed her too.
Despite her vaunted 5th Hierarchy magic, no resistance.
Clothes, staff, all sank into the bloody abyss.
Crunch, crunch—
The pool that devoured two adults in moments receded quietly to Beatrice's feet.
The only proof: gruesome sounds of flesh and bone being ground.
"...Urk..."
Having dispatched the clueless intruders who'd dared approach the mansion, Beatrice returned to her bedroom with the bear plush Kyle gifted her.
She'd played it cool and aloof against them, but couldn't just shrug it off.
Clutching the bedframe, she slumped to the floor, hand over mouth in agony.
Reflexive nausea, vivid flashbacks of their final terror.
Unpleasant—likely Black Lotus members, but...
Those fear-stricken faces before death? Not something to dwell on.
She'd seen plenty of horrors in five slum years.
But familiarity with death differed from dealing it herself.
"...Urp, haa, hic."
Trembling hand on the frame, lashes twitching.
Hand over mouth, dry heaves, chest thumps.
Calming alone, quelling revulsion, reminding herself it was necessary.
"..."
Lips bitten, composure returning, she reached fumblingly.
The large bear plush tossed carelessly upon entering—worn outside.
Glancing at her first gift from her father, she hugged it tight, breathing deeply.
...Daddy...
Imagining the black-haired man eased her.
Pale and weary, she crawled onto the bed, burrowing under covers.
Hugging the bear fiercely, eyes shut.
Forcing sleep in drowsiness, lips murmuring.
"...Come back soon, Daddy."
Riche feels lonely.