Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

I tightened my grip on the hilt. His words were rough, but his intent was clear.

"…Then I'll accept it gratefully."

"Gratitude?" He finally turned, lips curved in that familiar crooked grin. "Think of it as a graduation gift… for my successor."

The words lingered, heavier than the loot between us.

For a long moment, I just stared at him.

The word successor dug deeper than I expected.

"You make it sound like you're retiring tomorrow," I said.

He gave a sharp snort, shifting the weight of his bundle onto his shoulder with one arm. "Hah. Haven't you been listening? I am retiring. Losing your right arm isn't exactly a career setback you walk off. I'd rather keep my neck than cling to my pride."

"…And you're fine with that?"

"Fine?" His grin faltered for the first time. A shadow passed through his eyes, brief but undeniable. "No. But life's not about being fine, kid. It's about surviving long enough to laugh about not being fine."

His words carried a heaviness I hadn't heard before.

I clenched the Fang of Hatsan tighter, the cold steel biting into my palm. For the first time, the dagger didn't feel borrowed—it felt like a responsibility.

"Then," I said quietly, "I'll make good use of it. I'll make sure it doesn't just end up as another trophy."

"Good." His crooked grin returned, though a little weaker this time. "That's what I wanted to hear."

The silence stretched between us, filled only by the faint crackle of distant torches and the ache of exhaustion settling in my bones.

...And after few moments,

Waving his only remaining arm, Doran hefted his packed bundle and pulled something free.

"Give this to the noble lady who cooperated with us."

In his hand was the staff Amelia had been searching for.

[Mystic Coral Staff]

[In the coastal waters of the Solhaven Empire's fertile eastern provinces, rare corals infused with natural mana are sometimes harvested. Shaped and refined, these corals are prized not only as luxury goods but also as conduits for spellcraft.]

[This staff, crafted from a coral branch and set with polished jade, is both a status symbol among the Eastern nobility and a potent magical catalyst.]

[Greatly enhances the proficiency of one chosen elemental magic.]

[Magic Power +5]

I raised a brow. "If you mean Lady Frost, she likely has far greater artifacts than this already, doesn't she?"

"Don't get greedy," he muttered, lips quirking despite the blood loss. "We owe that girl more than you think."

"…Relax, I wasn't planning to keep it. I do have a conscience, you know."

He gave a short laugh, though it was hoarse.

"Are you leaving?" I asked after a pause.

"Yes. I've taught what I could, and there's no reason to linger. The North is too cold, too barren."

A pang of regret struck me. If he stayed, his mind alone would be a great boon in the coming war with demons. His knack for unconventional strategies could turn the tide of battles. But the North demanded strength, not half-measures. For a man missing an arm, survival here would be cruel.

"Where will you go?"

"The West is my homeland," he said, "but after tonight, the ducal house will have every hound sniffing my trail. Safer to disappear East. Maybe I'll just sit by a river and fish until I'm forgotten."

The East… I'd have to head there anyway, once the disaster stirred. Perhaps I could visit him then.

"…First, you need treatment. That arm—"

He cut me off with a snort. "You're bleeding too, don't act noble. But between us, I think the one missing a limb should get patched up first."

I exhaled slowly, the words caught in my throat. For all his bravado, his pallor was worsening by the second. Sweat slicked his brow, and the bundle hanging from his shoulder seemed ready to drag him down with it.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered. "I've crawled out of worse."

"…With two arms," I shot back.

That earned me a thin chuckle, though it dissolved quickly into a pained wheeze. He steadied himself against the wall, his knuckles white.

"Listen," he said, voice low, "if I collapse before we reach a healer, you take the bundle. Don't argue. You're sharper than you let on, and if you can't handle the weight of some shiny baubles, then you've no business carrying that dagger either."

His words landed heavy. A test. A warning. A passing of something greater than just loot.

"…I'll get you to a healer," I said firmly.

He gave me a sidelong glance, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "There's that conscience again. Be careful with it, kid—it'll get you killed faster than any blade."

I tightened my grip on the Fang of Hatsan. "…Maybe. But without it, I'd just be another thief, sorry not any thief but an assassin thief. And I don't want to be just that."

For a moment, silence pressed between us again—thicker than before. Then, to my surprise, Doran actually laughed. Not the mocking, careless sound I was used to, but something quieter, more genuine.

"Hah… successor, indeed."

His steps faltered, and instinctively I moved to steady him. He waved me off with his one good hand, stubborn as always, but his pace had slowed.

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of horns echoed—guards combing the city, hunting for survivors of the chaos. The night wasn't safe anymore.

I adjusted my own bundle and glanced at the Mystic Coral Staff still clutched in my hand. Amelia would get this, as promised. Doran… Doran I'd make sure lived long enough to laugh about tonight.

"Come on," I said, pulling my hood lower. "Let's vanish before the hounds pick up the trail."

He smirked faintly, exhaustion etched deep into his face. "Heh. Spoken like a real assassin thief."

But his words this time carried no mockery.

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Author Note:

Thank you for reading the chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.