Reinhard looked down at the floor, toward the spot where Merope’s old body was still lying—the trace of a death that had just occurred a few minutes ago, blood beginning to dry between the marble tiles of the residence.
He let out a long sigh.
“I’ll have a maid clean up this corpse of yours.”
“Oh! Oh! I can do that myself!” Merope exclaimed, hurriedly stepping close to her own lifeless body, showing absolutely no disgust or horror toward a sight that should have made anyone shudder.
She squatted for a moment beside her own corpse, then turned to Elsa who was still standing and watching with an unreadable gaze.
“Elsa, I’ll show you my power,” she said, her tone as light as announcing a surprise gift, “you’re the third person I’m showing this to, after Reinhard and Felt.”
Elsa raised an eyebrow slightly, not entirely hiding the curiosity beginning to stir beneath her calm expression—a strange honor she never expected to receive from someone she had just killed with her own hands. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Merope raised her hand toward her lying body, her fingers moving with gestures familiar to Reinhard and Felt, yet entirely new to Elsa’s eyes observing closely.
This corpse will disappear.
There was no blinding light, no roar or any sound signaling something big was happening—just a light breath, and the body lying on the floor faded slowly like fog swept by the wind, leaving the marble floor perfectly clean; even the bloodstains that had begun drying earlier vanished without a trace.
For a fraction of a second, silence hung in the room—no longer the tension from before, but something closer to a reluctant admiration.
Elsa stared at the now clean floor for a long time, her eyes shifting slowly toward Merope who stood with a proud smile, as if she had just successfully performed a small magic trick.
“…Practical,” Elsa muttered finally, one of the few truly honest words out of her mouth since first setting foot in this residence.
Yet beneath her casual tone, something deeper began to spin in her head—no longer just a hunter’s curiosity, but a far more complex question about what manner of being she had just killed, and why death itself seemed like nothing more than a minor inconvenience to her.
“That’s why I’m not scared if you kill me again. After all, I can come right back, and cleaning up the leftovers is easy too.”
“Merope,” Felt massaged her own temple, her voice a mix of amusement and exhaustion, “please don’t talk about ‘getting killed again’ like it’s an ordinary thing.”
“Well, it is, right?” Merope tilted her head, genuinely not understanding what was wrong with her own logic.
Reinhard only sighed heavily, shaking his head slowly—a habit that seemed destined to repeat as long as Merope was by his side.
…..
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