NOVEL NEXT Chapter 39 Poor Seris
"You're too stunned to speak," Seris whispered, releasing Reth's collar.
She examined him. "Why are you wearing that?" Her gaze fell on his rumpled shirt and tatty servant boots.
"And the makeup. it doesn't look quite right."
"Uh—"
In response, steps came from close by.
Seris tensed, and then she snatched at his wrist. "Come along," she breathed.
She dragged him to a half-open door. The ancient wood groaned, but she did not desist. She opened it and pulled him in.
It was dark and dusty. There was a broken chair in the corner, and shredded sheets on the ground. Evidently deserted.
"Who owns this room?" Reth questioned, resting against the wall.
"No clue," Seris grumbled, glancing through the door slit before closing it softly.
The air reeked of age. A weak sliver of light illuminated the silver mask in her hand. Reth remained motionless, dripping wet and hunched over in his crumpled disguise.
His false scar and runny makeup now seemed stupid—like an ill-fitting costume. His heart still pounded, and Seris's hold hadn't eased.
She leaned against the door, arms folded. Her dark dress mingled with the shadows. Her eyes regarded him, keen and inscrutable.
"So," she said at last, her tone gentle but piercing, "you're a waiter now? That's quite a fall from assassinating nobles."
Reth shifted uncomfortably, his sore arm throbbing. "Better pay than being a bodyguard," he replied with a feeble smile.
She shot him an eyebrow. "The makeup aspect of the job as well?"
He patted his cheek. "Not my decision."
He wavered. He could not say Asthia. "And you? Why are you dressed like a thief?
Seris snorted. "Not a thief. Just stuck here—like you." Her gaze narrowed. "You don't belong. That accent's an imitation. And those are stableboy boots, not servant ones."
"They're comfortable."
"They're not."
Reth's smile fell away. The poor light cast strong shadows on Seris's face, her look unreadable. Her lips curled—not quite a smile.
"You didn't reply me," Seris said. "Why are you really here, Reth? Wearing a servant's uniform, sneaking around like you're going to get caught?"
Reth's mind whirled. He could not tell her about the mana crystals or the mission—not yet, at least, until he understood whose side she was on. His [Threat Perception Lv. 2] hummed softly. No threat yet, but she was not simply asking—she was probing.
"You might ask the same of yourself," he replied lightly. "Nice disguise, costume. You're not exactly blending in either."
Her brows drew together, but she smiled. "Touché. Still, I'm not the one with bad cosmetics trying to pass as a waitress."
He shrugged, winces as pain flashed through his arm. "Sometimes you put on the act to get the job done. You understand."
Reth did not answer. The tension between them hung, thick and pointed.
Then he looked over at the door, reaching for an exit from the building tension.
".Did you see anything unusual out there?" he asked, his voice lower now. "At the party, I mean."
Seris's eyes scanned him, taken aback by the shift. "Unusual how?"
"I don't know," he lied. "The crowd. The noise. It felt. off."
She did not respond immediately. Her eyes went back to the door. Then, her frown deepened slowly.
"Now that you mention it…"
She cocked her head, listening.
The hallway was empty.
No voices. No footsteps. No music.
Seris stood up straight. "Why is everything so quiet?"
She pushed the door open. The hall beyond was deserted, torches casting odd flickers.
They moved forward. Every step was too loud.
They made it up the ballroom stairs—and stopped.
The party was still there.
Sort of.
Nobles, servants, guards—prostrate. Unmoving. Wine glasses leaning. Plates half-grasped. Musicians slumped over their instruments.
No one budged.
No one stirred.
Seris breathed softly, "What the hell…"
Reth felt a shiver down his spine. He moved forward.
Seris clamped onto his wrist.
Too late.
A ripple travelled through the air—like heat, but improper. It travelled silently from the middle of the room.
[System Alert – Foreign Influence Detected]
---
[Effect: Sleep Induction – Grade B]
---
[Warning: Magical Suppression Imminent]
Reth's legs collapsed—but something within him pushed back. A cold weight throbbed in his chest, a second heartbeat.
[Corrupted Intent – Passive Activated]
[Effect: Immune to Sleep Effect]
The pressure in his skull dissipated. His senses cleared. That second heartbeat throbbed cold and steady.
At his side, Seris staggered.
"No—" He caught her hand. His Corrupted Intent flashed on contact, like a shock of static.
She gasped, then blinked fiercely. Her legs firmed up.
"…What was that?" she breathed.
Reth scanned the room, looking for Asthia or Elenya. Nothing.
The banquet hall's gleaming appearance dissolved into strained quiet. Reth and Seris froze, her grip firm on his wrist.
A hum of faint power filled the air, as if magic nudged against their skin. Nobles around them had leaned over in their seats, glasses slipping from fingers and falling softly to the floor.
Chandeliers overhead flickered, casting long, sharp shadows on the marble.
And then Reth got a cold shock in his head—his [Threat Perception Lv. 2] telling him.
He glanced around the room without moving his head more than a little. The stair guards were out, bodies loose as fallen dolls. Asthia and Elenya weren't there any longer. He hoped they'd gotten out before the spell was cast.
"Get close," he breathed, hand resting against the concealed dagger beneath his sleeve. His tray of food was long gone, abandoned when Seris pulled him into this back corridor.
Before she could respond, something moved behind them—a shadow, too fluid to be natural.
Reth turned in a heartbeat, pushing Seris behind him. A hooded figure emerged from the folds of the curtains, moving silently.
Its cloak was rent at the edges, and metal flashed beneath it—a blade, drawn and poised.
[System Alert: Hostile Entity Detected – Unknown Assailant]
[Threat Level: Moderate. Lethality: Unknown.]
The figure was silent. It sprang, quick and precise, blade flashing for his chest. Reth dodged, reflexes honed, his dagger meeting the attacker's weapon with a flash of steel. The blow sent pain through his hurt arm, but he stood firm.
Seris didn't delay. She cut hard to the side, her own blade flashing. She tried for the figure's ribs, but the attacker spun with forced velocity, deflecting on a second blade drawn from its cloak.
"Two swords?" Seris grumbled, dodging a slash that ripped her sleeve. "Just great."