It was night. Most of the town had settled into silence, with nearly everyone having returned to their rooms. Only the soldiers stationed along the perimeter and those patrolling the streets remained awake, their presence the only signs of life outside.
In one of the many houses, inside a quiet room, two people lay side by side.
The bed was not particularly large, though that was hardly surprising given how small the room itself was.
Until tonight, Bran had never found the narrow space uncomfortable. His malnourished body had always left him with more than enough room to sleep without a second thought.
Tonight, however, was different.
He was sharing the bed with someone. A very beautiful companion.
Her hair, still slightly damp from washing, rested within his view, and its faint, fragrant scent lingered in the air, filling his lungs whenever he breathed. She had her back turned toward him, facing the wall, but Bran could tell from the subtle stillness of her body that she was awake.
After several moments of silence, she finally spoke.
"Can’t sleep?"
"Not quite," he replied. "Just thinking."
She slowly began to turn toward him, and the bed gave a soft squeak beneath their shifting weight.
Her dress had become slightly disheveled from lying on the cramped bed, causing the fabric around her midsection to fall out of place and reveal a little more than intended, including the small mole just above her cleavage.
Her eyes were dreamy, her lips curved into a gentle smile.
She was beautiful as she was, without needing anything more.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"Currently? About you," he answered honestly.
The response startled Bella. "Me? But I am right here before you. Why would you think about me?"
Bran slowly raised his hand and gently brushed a few loose strands of her hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear.
"The old man is a fool to leave such a beautiful woman by herself. I have never seen you this close before... or perhaps I simply never realized it, but you are quite beautiful, Mother."
A faint blush touched Bella’s cheeks before a soft giggle escaped her lips.
"Flattering an old woman will get you nothing."
"I got a smile. What else do I need?" he asked, stunning her once again.
Bella had never imagined that her son could be such a sweet talker. She gently held the hand resting against her face before murmuring, "Bran... are you upset with Venessa?"
Bran snickered. "Let’s not talk about her. I don’t actually care about her much."
Bella hummed softly. "But you loved her so much."
"Once someone breaks my trust, all I feel toward them is hatred. And right now, in this house, you are the only person I don’t hate."
Relief and worry crossed Bella’s expression at the same time. She tightened her hold on his hand and whispered, "I will never break your trust. And, on the other hand, please try to talk to your brother more. He can be a little rash with his words at times, but he is a good person."
"That is your way of seeing things. I have long since lost hope in George or anyone else."
His hand slowly slipped from her face, settling around her waist instead. He drew her closer, pulling her against his chest as he quietly murmured, "And I don’t need anyone else. My family is right now in my arms."
Bella could not help but feel her heartbeat quicken as she rested in his embrace.
She should be feeling elated to hear that her son trusted her, but maybe it was the confined space of the room that caused her to feel a little warm.
In a long time, the two of them slept soundly. Both of them were wounded and broken. Who knew being with each other would make them complete once again.
....
The next day, Bran woke up earlier than usual.
There was apparently an advantage of having an entity that never slept.
He told the system that he wanted to wake up around four in the morning and here he was, standing outside the house, completely dressed.
He wasn’t completely awake but considering the necessity of this operation, he made the sacrifice.
"Alright, system. Make my morning good."
[Lumina: 250/10]
[Host, you are good to go.]
The stats were enough to put a smile on his face, but another question soon surfaced.
"Tell me, just keeping a job active without using any job-exclusive skills costs me Lumina as well?"
[Indeed, host. Every job comes with passive abilities, and maintaining those abilities consumes Lumina.]
Bran was a little disappointed by that answer, but he quickly moved on.
"What is the rate of expenditure for the Assassin job?"
[50 units of Lumina every hour without the use of any job-exclusive skill.]
Bran shrugged. That wasn’t too much. Besides, he wouldn’t be keeping the job active for long.
Today’s goal was simple. He wanted to assess the situation in the sewer and determine whether there was any opportunity to steal some gold.
His greed wasn’t driven solely by financial independence. He already had two possible paths in mind for what he wanted to do with his wealth: blacksmithing or potion crafting.
Both professions could provide him with immense wealth while also offering considerable support in battle. Which was precisely why, for the time being, he needed money. He needed enough to choose his third job.
"But before that..."
The sky was still dark, meaning he had roughly an hour before dawn. There was enough time to explore the sewer later. For now, he could visit somewhere considerably more interesting.
He turned back toward the house, but instead of entering through the door, he continued around to the rear of the building.
He reached the window that opened into the Governor’s office.
Naturally, it was closed and locked. And considering whose office it was, Bran expected more than a simple lock. There was bound to be an alarm, a trap, or some other precaution designed to catch anyone foolish enough to break in.
"Make me an Assassin."
The moment he activated the job, his perception sharpened. Details that had been completely invisible to him only a moment ago suddenly stood out with startling clarity.
A thin grey thread ran along the inner frame of the window, its color blending almost perfectly with the layer of dust coating the wood. A simple tripwire, but one that would be enough to trigger whatever mechanism it was connected to.
The lock itself was another trap. Tampering with it would likely alert the guards, or perhaps the old man himself.
Bran carefully ran a finger along the windowsill, feeling his way across the narrow strip of wood until he found a slight gap between the glass and the frame.
He applied a little pressure.
The central partition of the window tilted inward and the top section tilted outward.
Bran immediately caught hold of it and slowly lifted the lower half, moving with deliberate care. His movements were so controlled that the string remained taut without being disturbed, and the tiny bell attached to it never made a sound.
Only once he had created enough room did he ease himself through the opening and into the office.
Once inside, Bran released a long breath and glanced back at the window.
"You gotta be a good thief to be an Assassin."
A grin slowly spread across his face.
Because now, right before him, lay everything the Governor had spent years hiding. Dirty little secrets. Buried documents. Broken promises. Deals that were never meant to see the light of day.
Bran’s grin widened.
He might have just found the recipe for destroying his beloved father.