Just as I was about to snap the ropes with sheer strength, Elliot suddenly nodded, pipe still between his lips, as if he'd come to a realization.
"Of course. What could you possibly accomplish on your own? Without the Sinclair family’s influence, no one’s going to cater to you anymore."
"...?"
He asked the question and answered it himself.
I was leaning forward in my chair, about to break free, when his conclusion caught me completely off guard. The motion had tilted the chair backward, putting me in an awkward and noticeable position.
Elliot stared at me, his expression curious, as if he’d caught me red-handed.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at my shoelaces."
"..."
"See? Butterfly knots. Aren’t they pretty?"
I nodded toward my boots, directing his gaze to the laces. Elliot glanced down at them.
"Where’s the butterfly?"
"If this isn’t a butterfly, then what is? You need your eyes checked."
"It’s your shoelace that’s a mess."
"No, look closely. It’s cute. Want me to tie yours the same way?"
"Stop messing around and sit still."
"Okay."
Elliot let out a humorless laugh, his expression one of disbelief. He didn’t seem suspicious or particularly threatened, which worked in my favor.
Seeing his faint smirk, I decided to test the waters.
"I’ve got a question."
"I’ve got no intention of answering anything."
Elliot’s smile widened, annoyingly smug.
"You said you sent people to Brunel. Why? Last time I was there, it was crawling with monsters."
I pressed him lightly, trying to probe for information. But Elliot dismissed my question, brushing it off entirely.
"Tell me about our security flaws. If your answer’s good, I’ll make your death painless."
His tone was calm, but his words carried that psychotic edge.
I thought of the time I’d seen Elliot laughing eerily while stabbing Baron Wipend’s son in the thigh with a sword. This man was fully capable of killing me.
You bastard. Just answer my question already.
Clearly, this sly fox wasn’t going to give me the information I wanted without a fight.
Fine. I’d play along for now.
"This is Sinclair Hotel, isn’t it? Of course, you wouldn’t know the building’s layout better than I do."
"Then how did you get in?"
Elliot ignored my jab, pressing his question again. Damn it.
Recalling the general structure of Sinclair Hotels, I quickly came up with an excuse.
"Sinclair Hotels always install emergency ladders for each room."
"Emergency ladders? Listen, Sinclair. There aren’t any here. I checked everything myself."
He spoke with a self-assured smirk, showing no signs of doubt.
When building the hotels, my father had put a lot of thought into emergency evacuation routes. During the height of the Greydon Kingdom’s skyscraper boom, inadequate fire safety measures had led to frequent casualties. To address this, Sinclair Hotels had implemented emergency ladders and other safety features.
"They’re installed on the balconies. Check if you don’t believe me—there’s a balcony here, right?"
Elliot gestured at one of the men by the door. The man walked toward the balcony, crouched near the railing, and fiddled with something. Then he tapped the underside of the railing.
Clank. Thud.
The sound of something dropping echoed.
"Huh? Hey, boss. She’s right. There’s a ladder here—"
Graaaah!
The noise had attracted the monsters below. Growls and screeches erupted as they began climbing the ladder, shaking it violently.
The man holding the ladder swore under his breath.
"Damn it! Philip, give me a hand!"
The other guard rushed over, and together they struggled to pull the ladder back up.
"Tsk."
Elliot clicked his tongue in irritation as Philip lifted his rifle and fired below. Judging by the noises, the monsters had started swarming the ladder.
Bang! Bang!
...Idiots.
With monsters gathered outside, pulling down the ladder and making such a racket was bound to cause trouble. Did I have to explain that to them too?
Meanwhile, the guards were fully preoccupied with the balcony, leaving their defenses wide open. I had only brought up the ladder as a distraction, but this was working out better than I’d hoped.
I glanced at the tightly shut door. Even with all the commotion, no one came to check. Judging by the location, this was likely the top floor, and it seemed Elliot had it all to himself.
Which means I can do whatever I want.
If anyone did come, I could always use Elliot as bait. This was a camp built by a man playing king, after all. Taking down the king would end the game in checkmate.
Elliot, still puffing on his pipe, watched the chaos on the balcony with a calm air.
Don’t let your guard down.
This time, I put real strength into breaking the ropes.
Snap.
The sound made Elliot turn toward me. Before he could react, I grabbed the axe from the floor and held it to his throat.
His pipe fell from his lips, rolling across the floor. Elliot stared at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
"What the... How did you...?"
I smiled sweetly at him.
"Shall we have a proper conversation now?"
Just as the ladder was fully retracted, the two men at the balcony turned and locked eyes with me. They froze when they saw me holding an axe to Elliot’s throat.
"You. Come over here and tie him up," I said, nodding toward the man called Philip.
The two rifle-toting men exchanged uncertain glances and looked at Elliot, waiting for his direction. Elliot, in turn, scolded Philip sharply.
"Philip, we’ll deal with you later. Who tied up Sinclair so sloppily?"
Even after seeing me break free with his own eyes, Elliot underestimated my strength.
It was understandable—no ordinary man could break ropes of that thickness.
"Our elegant Lady Sinclair," Elliot began, speaking as if scolding a child, "has probably never used that axe to kill a single monster. Dangerous things like that aren’t for ladies."
He spoke patronizingly, but when his men hesitated, he laughed and gestured to them.
"Go on, give her what she wants. It’s entertaining, isn’t it?"
The two men, reassured by Elliot’s calm demeanor, smirked at each other and spoke mockingly.
"She’s got some guts, I’ll give her that."
"Feisty little thing."
They chuckled amongst themselves, making light of me.
Still holding the axe aimed at Elliot, I waited for one of them to step within my range. As soon as one did, I lashed out with a sharp kick.
Thud!
"Argh!"
The man was sent flying and slammed into the balcony railing, collapsing unconscious. He didn’t move again.
Philip and Elliot were so shocked they didn’t even react, staring dumbly at the fallen man.
"As you were saying," I began, addressing the remaining men. "How did you think a ‘small little girl’ like me managed to get through a monster-infested hellhole and make it here alone?"
The remaining man, Philip, finally turned his gaze back to me, his face pale. I nodded toward him again.
"Tie him up. Unless you want to end up like your friend."
But Philip didn’t budge, frozen in place.
Sighing, I leaned in close to Elliot, my voice dropping to a whisper.
"Your lackeys don’t seem to understand commands. Or maybe they think if you’re dead, they’ll take your throne instead?"
Elliot’s face twisted in rage. At my taunt, Philip panicked and fumbled with his rifle, unsure of what to do. Elliot snapped at him.
"What are you waiting for?! Shoot her!"
The moment Philip raised his rifle, I yanked Elliot forward, using him as a human shield.
Bang!
"Ack!"
The bullet grazed Elliot’s side, leaving a shallow wound. It wasn’t fatal, but if I hadn’t pulled Elliot forward, the shot would’ve hit me instead.
If I let these bastards run wild, they’ll just keep doing the same atrocities over and over. They kill without a second thought.
My hand tightened around Elliot’s collar as a surge of anger welled up. My mind burned hot, but then...
"Don’t listen to the words of trash, Miss Cherry. Their filth will stain your soul."
Ethan’s voice echoed in my mind. Just like that, the heat in my head cooled, the anger subsiding.
Every time I felt the urge to unleash my power recklessly, Ethan’s words came back to me. Surprisingly, they worked to calm me down.
Once I regained control, I noticed Philip staring at me, visibly trembling. He kept looking back and forth between the smoking barrel of his rifle and Elliot, who was coughing up blood.
"Damn it! E-Elliot! Are you okay?!" Philip cried out.
Elliot spat bloody saliva onto the floor, glaring at Philip.
"Philip, you bastard... If I die... you’re next..."
This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.
It wasn’t even a life-threatening wound, but here he was, spouting what sounded like last words. What a drama queen.
I released my grip on Elliot’s collar, letting him slump to the floor. He groaned and writhed, unable to get back up.
"How... How do you have this kind of strength...?"
Elliot muttered as if possessed, staring at me in disbelief.
Lifting my gaze, I saw Philip pointing his rifle directly at my face. The long barrel shook visibly—not from my trembling, but from his.
"Y-you... Are you infected...?"
It seemed he thought I was manifesting monstrous strength as a symptom of infection.
I smirked, full of derision.
"If I were infected, do you think I’d still be this lucid? Idiot. And if you’re going to shoot, don’t step into my range."
I grabbed the barrel of the rifle and bent it upward, the steel groaning under the pressure. Philip’s eyes widened, darting between me and the now-useless weapon.
"W-what the hell are you?!"
"I’ve heard that question so many times, I’m considering preparing a Rocket X-style line for it."
"What are you talking about?!"
"Oh, you’ll see."
Without hesitation, I struck the back of Philip’s head, knocking him unconscious.