Upon returning to the restaurant, I wait near the entrance. At least it’s warm in here, even if I stand the entire time with a few other servants. However, the wait isn’t all that pleasant and it takes all my willpower not to glare or say something about the obvious kissing up everyone is doing.

Lord Makai sits elegantly at the table, lips set into a thin line. His eyes are dark and devoid of interest or emotion for that matter. Yet all those around him are grinning and speaking animatedly, as if he’s a close friend. Lebina and Artur are no different, although based on what I heard earlier they clearly don’t like Lord Makai. No one does. The whole restaurant has this tense, cold sensation that is seen through the constant glares, rushed footsteps, or stiff customers.

The lords and ladies stand, all bowing graciously to His Grace when lunch is over. Once again, I sit in the front of the carriage on the return, but once we arrive Jeffro attempts to give us guides again.

“Your Grace, please allow my children, Artur and Lebina, to escort you through the facility. Artur is next in line for this position and Lebina has grown up here nearly her whole life,” Jeffro says proudly, gesturing to his children that bow in acknowledgement.

Lord Makai cocks a brow then says, “The person next in line for your position is one most suitable for it.”

Oh, I wanna laugh so bad. Hold it in. Hold it in, Wallie!

“Return to your duties. My butler and I will tour the facility. Should we be in need of assistance, I will let you know.” Lord Makai ends the conversation with that, walking away unaware (but probably suspecting) of the fuming glares from Jeffro and his kids.

“Your pocketwatch, Your Grace,” I say once we’re walking through the quiet halls. I hand over the device that was safely stashed away in my pocket.

“Did you see anything?” Lord Makai asks quietly.

“Yes, well, heard to be more specific. On the fourth floor, office three, there was a woman shredding papers and a man ordering her to do so. He mentioned getting rid of the agreements and something about you being angry if you discovered your profits being sold off.”

“Is that so?” He hums. I suspected he’d be angry, but there’s almost a smile in his eyes.

Lord Makai stops outside a door leading to the large office we could see through the glass at the entrance. Before I open the door though, I ask, “You don’t seem surprised by the news, Your Grace. Is that what this visit is truly about? Were you already aware that someone was stealing from you?”

“Congratulations, Wallace, you’re not a total loss.”

I’d get angry about that but I’m already a bit too angry about something else. Maybe that’s obvious because Lord Makai tilts his head to the side.

“Does this happen often?” I ask, not even considering if I’m crossing a line by doing so until after I’ve already asked. Too late now though, might as well enjoy the view in hell if I’ve already sent myself to it.

“Do your workers often steal from you? There was one on the estate before too,” I say more to myself than him.

“You really do ask a lot of questions, Wallace, most of which have an obvious answer.”

That’s the only response I get because Lord Makai opens the door himself and steps in, leaving me behind with a scowl. I suppose big corporations often have someone inside taking money, but deep down I know it has more to do with who, or rather what, Lord Makai is rather than the corporation itself.

“Wallace!”

I jump at the sharp call of my name, quickly rushing after His Grace.

Sure enough, Lord Makai really must have known about the thieves because he beelines his way to certain offices or people that practically piss themselves when he calls for them. A terrified silence befalls the once chaotic workspace. All are waiting on the edge of a knife, wondering who will be next.

Twelve in total, including the two I spoke of, are sent to a room on the first floor to wait for whatever punishment they will receive. The office is simple, a meeting room with a table and chairs that are now filled. Lord Makai sits at the front. Few windows line the hall, allowing those that pass to see within, but none dare look. They practically run by in terror.

Now that all are caught, I stand awkwardly in the corner. A briefcase sits before Lord Makai. He’s pulling out papers slowly. Each one makes someone’s eyes widen in the room. Jeffro is with us, sweating profusely and wiping his face with a cloth.

The longer Lord Makai is silent, the worse it gets.

His eyes glow a bright red as an ominous aura pulsates around his suddenly rigid form. Magic seeps from his very pores like an invisible mist over the whole room. Like the train; the room darkens and glass cracks, there’s a feeling of sorrow and frustration in the air. I’ve been around magic before, but what Lord Makai possesses is dark magic that’s been banned for centuries.

Vilis is what it’s called; used by the God Tethros that brings death, chaos, and destruction. Those that practice it become twisted beasts known as Unborn, giving up their humanity in order to possess immeasurable strength. Lumen, gifted by Goddess Aena, is the opposite. Priests and Knights of Aena use lumen magic since it’s meant to foster peace, love, and creation. They are two very different forms of magic with very different feelings. And Lord Makai, how he came about and the magic he possesses, is purely vilis. It even leaves a bad taste in the mouth, like smoke and ash.

“It appears I have been too lenient to have allowed so many to take for so long,” Lord Makai speaks in a low whisper, hissed between his teeth. Although he sits at the table with his head perched in his hand like he’s bored, his eyes are deadly. “Trying to hide the truth by tearing up a few papers? What an insult. Do you think me a fool?”

“O-Of course not, Y-Your Grace!” A man sputters then whimpers when Lord Makai’s nose twists in disgust; his fangs press past his lips so that everyone in the room gives an audible gulp.

“I imagine your employer has promised to bale you out should you be discovered.”

I peer about the room at the word “employer,” finding a few stiffening and one of the women starts to cry hysterically.

“Bringing a lawsuit against all of you is the course of action to take, however, we all know how that will end. You will get a slap on the wrist and go home to bathe in the riches given to you by stealing from my loyal workers. That doesn’t sound quite fair, does it?” That’s a rhetorical question, but Lord Makai still waits for an answer that’s never given.

“I don’t much like being taken advantage of—” Lord Makai stands. Each step he takes around the table is louder than the last.

I’m pretty sure we’ve all stopped breathing, including me.

Lord Makai stands behind a row of workers. Only two turn to peer up at him. The others are shaking, fingers clenching helplessly into their pants.

“No one will be baling you out,” Lord Makai speaks. “Since none will be alive to stand trial.”

It’s my first week all over again. One moment everyone is alive and the next four are dead; their now headless bodies slide to the floor. Lord Makai’s sword is out, dripping red as the remaining eight scream in terror. The room erupts, bodies launching out of chairs, rushing for the door that won’t budge.

I shut my eyes, flinching after every scream and thud of a body hitting the floor until one voice, the crying woman from earlier, carries over the rest.

“P-Please, s-spare me, please, Your Grace!” She pleads.

I’m expecting her to grow quiet, but she never does.

“I am aware your boss threatened your position should you not comply, because of that, your fate will not be the same,” says Lord Makai. I think he has sheathed his sword. I don’t know because I refuse to look. I’m sick simply thinking about it.

“However, find a new job in a month, otherwise I will return to take your head too, is that understood?”

The woman doesn’t verbally respond. Her cries continue, mixed between gasps of breath and hiccups.

“And Jeffro,” Lord Makai calls. “You’re fired.”

“W-What? But Your Grace, I-I wasn’t involved!”

“You were too lazy to notice. I suppose your son really isn’t next in line, seeing as he is fired too.”

“Y-Your Grace, pleas—”

“Silence,” Lord Makai hisses.

I’ve yet to open my eyes. However, I feel someone standing by me and that is proven correct when Lord Makai says, “Wallace.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Higra told you the rules, did she not?”

The rules are still fucked, but I slowly open my eyes. Thankfully, I am not assaulted by a room of corpses since Lord Makai is standing before me. However, he’s covered in blood. Much like the first time I saw him, it’s in his hair, dripping from his mouth and staining his clothes, but he doesn’t appear the least bit concerned. There’s a distance, a cold stare and complete lack of empathy. I can’t lie and say it isn’t frightening.

“We’re returning to the hotel,” he says, finally stepping away so that I can now see the room. My stomach churns and I look away, refusing to acknowledge the corpses or the sound of my feet splashing in the blood on the floor. My shoes even squeak when I walk, telling me that I’m leaving a trail just like Lord Makai.

The ride back to the hotel is silent. My thoughts are anything but.

♱♱♱