One-Sided Relationship
"Coo coo!--- One seems to be the whole. The whole seems to be one. The chorus of carrier pigeons echoed around them.
It felt almost as if they were in the grand cathedral of a holy nation, the atmosphere so sacred. Amid it all, Cynthia spoke.
"That's my only condition for cooperating. When your plan is finished, Vice Warden Suhwa... or even midway through, if you like. Kill me completely and perfectly."
Her unwavering yet utterly empty eyes reflected Suhwa before her. Those eyes, which had deceived and been deceived time and again, no longer held her own emotions. No, they couldn't hold them. And so they were empty, yet full. Was it a desperate grasp at a straw that made her ask for death now? Even looking back, he couldn't find an answer.
"That's... unexpected."
"Is it?"
"I might look like some dashing playboy on the outside, but I haven't gotten my hands that bloody... and besides."
"Besides?"
"It feels like a waste to throw away an ally who can provide information this high-quality."
A faint flicker of emotion entered those empty eyes gazing at Suhwa—a touch of bewilderment laced with absurdity.
The expression of the woman who had seduced kings, nobles, and generals across nations began to crumble, until she couldn't hold it back any longer and burst out laughing.
"Ahahaha! What on earth... Ah---!"
It had been a serious answer on his part, and Suhwa's face soured. Like coaxing a sulky child, he offered her a biscuit, but she refused.
"Sorry. It's just that you were so adept from our first meeting—I thought you'd understand even if I used this language."
"You know full well I was an academy student until recently."
"Of course. I know exactly how 'diligent' a student you were, too."
"Ahem..."
"Your reactions are so fun. Anyway, when I say 'kill me,' I mean the person known as Cynthia. She's Cynthia, but also Peggy Bartanan, and any number of other names."
"...You want a new life?"
"Exactly. That's why I'm even here."
The biscuit Suhwa had refused slipped into Cynthia's mouth. The ten or so pieces were gone in no time.
"For someone seeking that, you've left quite a trail of clues pointing back to yourself."
"Wouldn't someone like you, Vice Warden Suhwa, come find me otherwise?"
Her face said it was the most obvious thing in the world. The nearby pigeons seemed to agree, tilting their heads at Suhwa with fixed stares.
"It sounds like you were waiting for me."
"Oh my. How romantic."
She left an ambiguous reply that was neither affirmation nor denial. Dimples like ink spots on soft rice paper shyly appeared. For a moment, he understood those who had fallen for that smile.
"It's a proposal where I lose nothing..."
"Right?"
"But one I can't really fulfill."
The chorus of pigeons fell silent.
"You don't crave the information I've given you... and what I'll give in the future?"
Information she'll give... What a terrifying way with words. She made even what hadn't reached his hands yet feel like a natural entitlement, stirring regret.
He did crave the information she'd offered. He wanted to scrape the bottom of the barrel and know it all. From profiles of major prisoners in Utopia who could aid his plans, to personal details on the correctional headquarters staff... Even Jepeto's info had flickered by.
But.
"If you're wavering, better not to do it."
"Pardon?"
"It's honey-pot info that makes me want to demand more even now. Honestly, with these documents and your cooperation, what I want to achieve here would be far easier and faster."
Cynthia, looking only mildly curious rather than deeply intrigued, sipped her tea.
"But."
"But?"
"In this world, there's no one who truly does anything for me."
The pigeons' gazes stabbed like daggers. In the space where their chorus had vanished, only the dry tick of the clock grated on his nerves.
Sunlight slipping through the window shattered against her necklace, reforming five times or so.
"Do you want assurance, Vice Warden?"
"It sounds like you're saying you could strip me bare and cooperate anytime you felt like it."
"You're not my type, though."
She made the expression that had driven countless men to lovesickness. Without the colored glasses of suspicion, even Suhwa might have wavered.
Not getting the bite she'd hoped for, Cynthia changed bait.
"I'm truly amazed. The academy I know wasn't this fine an institution."
"Hard to say it's that great even now."
She'd hooked him at last.
"They advertise it as a gateway where status doesn't matter—you can rise to imperial office, even nobility..."
"But in reality, it's mainly a camp dumping second and third sons or bastards from powerful families as hostages."
Shared interests turn people into chatterboxes. Especially when gossiping about someone or some group.
"The powerful families, the academy faculty, even the hostages themselves—they all know. They can't really achieve anything here."
"So no one expects anything from them."
"They just kill time with money from home. For the maximum period they can legally keep their enrollment."
Suhwa's face took on a faintly nostalgic cast as words poured endlessly from him.
"Then, like a dragon from a drought-stricken stream, a commoner student appears and says, 'You can do it if you try.' Mostly commoners."
Was it the last biscuit's bitterness? Cynthia's expression soured slightly as she finished.
"And the noble students reply, 'We were never allowed to try.'"
"You know the academy's situation inside out. Have I failed to recognize a senior?"
Her face was ambiguous, neither yes nor no. By now, not a single carrier pigeon remained in the room. Even the clock's ticking no longer grated.
"Vice Warden."
"Yes?"
"I think you feel repulsed by the part where I say 'I won't pry into your goals, intentions, or plans, but I'll cooperate.' Am I right?"
"Include that I can't think of a way to fulfill your goal, and you're roughly correct."
"Then, if I asked what your aims or intentions are here—or even in the empire—would you answer?"
"I..."
Could he say it? It felt like crossing a log bridge blindfolded. Worst cases, second-worsts, countless scenarios ravaged and vanished from his mind.
Just as the clock's tick seemed poised to grate again, a sweet voice whispered.
"It's burdensome, right? The path to understanding each other must start from suspicion."
"Can't deny that."
"Suspicion is like bottomless mud—the more you struggle to shake it off, the deeper you sink."
"That's all the more reason to clear it away, no? For a constructive relationship."
As if expecting the innocent lamb's question, the shepherd began to pipe.
"Yes. But we can't shed our suspicions right now and truly understand each other. We hold too many secrets, and our goals differ—whatever they are."
"Feels like hearing about an unsolvable knot."
Tell her one thing, and she acts like she knows two—the shepherd clapped delightedly.
"Perfect expression! Rushing a tight knot only tangles it more. That's exactly our relationship. We need time to untie it slowly. Forcing it now would just break everything. So I won't pry into your goals right now either..."
"And I don't need to agonize over future payment just yet?"
The shepherd looked ready to dance with joy. Tonight, the lamb would receive great reward.
"Conversing with someone who gets it is always such a pleasure. Time flew by."
"More exhausting than sparring with the mobile patrol captain."
"Wasn't it fun for you too? Joke aside—no compensation, but those documents are a gift."
"I'd join you for talks like this anytime."
Having said her piece, Cynthia rose and stretched lightly. Suhwa wasn't dull enough to miss the implication hidden in that gesture.
"I've taken too much of your time today. I'll be going."
"I enjoyed it too, Vice Warden Suhwa. Take care."
Suhwa left with a slight limp. The carrier pigeons were returning one by one, as if they'd gotten their fill of outside air.
'Relationships are best started with just the right amount of suspicion.'
She gazed at the spot Suhwa had left, her expression inscrutable.
'Those begun in suspicion end in understanding, but those starting from understanding end in...'
When all was over and the mask called Cynthia met death, what face would Suhwa Romanov make? Cynthia toyed lightly with the necklace at her throat.
A man with his hair tied back like a gisaeng's pretty boy emerged from the room. Now, only the target, Cynthia, remained inside.
Coo coo! Flutter flutter—The youngest, set to infiltrate via the outer wall, had arrived; pigeons erupted in noisy flight.
The two men exchanged glances through their masks and drew daggers from their bosoms.
Upon reaching the feather-strewn doorway, the leader said,
"One more time: don't kill her until we get the info."
Coo coo!
Instead of the expected reply, only pigeon cries answered. Discipline slacking before the mission—what the hell. Irritation surged as the leader turned.
"Guhk..."
White foam bubbled from the mask as his comrade collapsed.
"Who's the idiot wandering around after lights out?"
"...!"
Suhwa stood against the wall, gripping a dagger seized from the fainted man.
The other man leaped back, scattering hidden weapons from his sleeve.
Clang clang!
Suhwa bent at the waist with the explosive tension of a released spring, narrowly avoiding the deadly metal bits that whistled past.
Seeing Suhwa charge straight for his thigh, the man's face twisted.
This guy's no amateur.
A pretty boy who looked like he'd only fool around with women went straight for the vitals. Not a kill shot, but one to cripple mobility. He knew exactly where to strike in any situation.
Light. My body feels so light.
In contrast, Suhwa was swept in exhilarating euphoria. It felt like the battle-hardened muscles from academy days—unyielding duels with powerhouses like Boris, not the half-hearted 'easy does it' spars—were awakening.
The longer this dragged here, the better for Suhwa, worse for the foe.
As dagger clashes prolonged, the tilting psyche began manifesting in results.
"Kuh..."
Calm as a still lake, Suhwa racked up minor wounds on the man.
Thud! Slash.
Sacrificing a shoulder cut to shove Suhwa back, the man dashed inside.
By now, the youngest should've subdued Cynthia completely.
"Youngest, bring the hostage out...!"
"Guhk..."
"Oh my. More than one uninvited guest?"
Before the limp, doll-like youngest stood a blood-soaked Cynthia, smiling.
"How the h... Guhuk!"
Suhwa grabbed the stunned man's throat, whispering as he drove the dagger into the shoulder well.
"Stop."
"You... bastard!"
Like the youngest before him, the man collapsed without even a scream.
As Suhwa pulled the dagger free to stow it, Cynthia said softly,
"Don't pull it out."
"Pardon?"
Pale moonlight poured through the now-stilled blizzard outside. Between silver and crimson, Cynthia approached dancingly and murmured low,
"Pull it here, and it'll spray blood everywhere."
Words that tickled Suhwa's throat—You're already drenched in it—but he swallowed them.
Instead, he dragged the man out beyond the bars like trash.
"Of course, milady."