The room fell into silence, tension thick in the air.
Then, suddenly, Samuel coughed, choking on his drink before letting out a sharp pfft, spitting vodka all over the table. His eyes went wide as he stared at Lukas like he’d just grown two heads.
"The Royal Knights?" Samuel whispered harshly, his voice filled with disbelief. "What the f*** are you thinking?"
Lukas leaned back in his chair, his face cold and unflinching. Saber’s reaction didn’t faze him in the slightest—it was almost amusing.
Lukas turned his gaze to Samuel, who sat frozen, staring at the envelope as if it were a ticking bomb. His face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"You’re insane," Samuel said shakily, though his hands betrayed him as they reached for the letter. He hated this. He hated Lukas for always putting him in impossible situations.
And yet, he couldn’t refuse. He never could.
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Samuel took a deep breath, glancing at the letter in his hands before his thoughts spiraled. He remembered the deal with the Duchess, how Lukas had tricked him into being the pawn.
Samuel sighed heavily, his nerves eating at him. "What’s in this?" he asked.
"It’s better if you don’t know," Lukas replied, his voice calm but unnervingly firm. "I’m giving it to you as a helper. It’s going to save countless people from a terrible fate. Knowing what’s inside would only cause trouble."
Saber, who had been silent for a moment, suddenly stiffened. His mind flashed back to the events of the past month, pieces clicking together. He turned to Lukas, his expression a mix of disbelief and realization.
Lukas noticed and gave Saber one of his signature smiles—calm, sincere, and chillingly manipulative.
"What are you two scheming now?" Samuel asked, his voice laced with unease.
"Just deliver it to the Royal Knights," Lukas ordered. "They’ll know what to do. Don’t get involved, and don’t investigate the contents. If you take one wrong step, you’ll regret it."
"Also, since it will help you expand further, you know the deal right."
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"Yeah, you will have 30% of the profit each month."
Samuel’s hands trembled as he took the envelope, placing it in the drawer. As he did, a small pile shifted, and a polished deck of cards fell onto the table.
"Huh? What’s this fancy deck?" Saber asked, his curiosity piqued. The packet had crossed blades printed on the cover.
Samuel picked it up and smirked faintly. "Oh, these are new. Designed by someone I know. I called it Club of Blades. No official rules yet, but they’re supposed to work like tarot cards for entertainment."
"Was the designer a priest?" Lukas asked, his tone calm but curious.
Samuel blinked. "Yeah. How did you know?"
Lukas didn’t answer, his expression unreadable, but Saber leaned forward eagerly. "Can I see them?"
Samuel opened the deck, flipping through the cards thoughtfully before setting them down. "Why don’t you pick one?"
"Why?" Lukas asked, raising a skeptical brow.
"Because the designer said the card you choose reflects your personality," Samuel explained with a smirk.
"Seriously?" Saber asked excitedly, rubbing his hands together like a child about to open a present.
Lukas scoffed. "What are you, a kid? You actually believe that nonsense?"
Saber ignored him and quickly picked a card, holding it up to Samuel. "What does this one mean?" he asked eagerly.
Samuel stared at the card, his lips twitching into a nervous smile. "It’s the Blade of Darkness."
The card depicted a black, glowing sword surrounded by ominous smoke. The blade pulsed with crimson veins, like it was alive, and the ground it rested on was cracked and bleeding. Above it, a crescent moon hung in an empty sky, stars being swallowed by the void. At the bottom, the words were etched in jagged script: "The wielder carves not enemies, but fate itself."
For a moment, even Saber seemed unnerved as he studied the image. "Creepy," he muttered, setting it down.
Lukas only smirked, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
Samuel leaned back in his chair, shuffling the cards idly as he glanced at Lukas with a sly grin. "Why don’t you pick one too?"
Lukas didn’t bother to hide his irritation. "No."
"Oh, come on," Saber chimed in, clearly amused. "You’re not scared, are you? Big bad Lukas afraid of a deck of cards?"
Lukas shot Saber a sharp glare, but the man’s smirk only widened.
"Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just for fun," Samuel added, his tone coaxing but persistent.
"No," Lukas repeated firmly, crossing his arms.
Saber groaned, throwing his hands in the air theatrically. "Fine, I’ll force you then." Before Lukas could react, Saber leaned over and shoved the deck toward him. "Pick one. Humor us."
Lukas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You two are insufferable." Reluctantly, he uncrossed his arms and reached for the deck.
As his hand hovered over the cards, a strange sensation washed over him. The air grew heavy, pressing against his chest like an invisible weight. It was subtle at first, then sharper—a quiet pressure that seemed to hum with unease.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. His usually steady hand trembled slightly as he hesitated. Why do I feel like this is more than just a game?
The thought lingered, unnerving him. For a brief moment, Lukas considered activating his spectral vision to inspect the cards for any hidden enchantments or spirits. But he held back. Old Martin still hadn’t taught him enough about dealing with spirits, and he didn’t want to risk something unpredictable.
Suppressing the tension in his chest, Lukas finally moved his hand, fingers brushing lightly over the cards. He felt an almost imperceptible pull as his fingers landed on one. Carefully, he lifted it from the deck.
The card was unnerving from the moment he turned it over. It depicted a robed figure shrouded in shadows, its skeletal hands gripping a massive scythe. The blade gleamed ominously, dripping with a faint, ghostly glow. Behind the figure, a desolate field stretched out under a blood-red sky. At the bottom of the card, etched in stark black letters, were the words: Blade of Death.
Lukas stared at the card, his breath steady but shallow.
Samuel and Saber leaned in to see, their expressions immediately darkening. Saber squinted, his eyes narrowing as a chill ran through him.
"It’s Death," Saber muttered, his voice low and almost reverent.
The room fell silent with the tension so thick it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath.