Ercilia was fifteen the first time an elimination took place.
It was during combat training. She had heard a scream and turned in its direction - only to see a familiar girl. It's one of her acquaintances. She crumbled on the floor, shrieking in horror.
Ercilia watched as an attractive, debonair man in a sumptuous suit walk towards the girl.
"Hmmm... Satisfactory..." he drawled as he observed her closely.
"Have her sent to my place."
She knew then that this man was a client - a VIP, more particularly. The mafia entertains such people. They are all business tycoons and big shots who have so much money to spare that they can even buy human lives.
"That's Mr. Iorwerth Isis," her opponent informed her as she rose back on her feet.
She is an older girl - someone who's been there longer than the others. Ercilia had sought her out a couple of days after she arrived in that place.
"Mr. Isis? Is he famous?"
"He owns massive estates and manages a conglomerate. Filthy rich. So, he gets to do whatever he wants. They say that he likes to collect women and keeps them as his 'concubines' or something. Like the kings back in the old times. But he never marries."
They all continue to watch as the guards pick up the girl and carry her off into another room. She keeps screaming on top of her lungs and flailing about in a desperate attempt to break free.
Then, Ercilia's feet reacted before her brain did.
Memories she had of that girl had suddenly flooded her mind at that moment - every detail was crystal clear, especially her smile. Whenever she beat her in a fight, she would always stand up again and try her best nevertheless.
She doesn't know her name, but even so, she can't find it in herself to stand still as she gets dragged away.
"Hey! Let her go-"
The overseers caught Ercilia before she could follow them. Iorwerth turned back in surprise and confusion upon hearing the commotion.
By that time, she was already restrained. He handed the girl over to another overseer, and slowly, he approached her. Now that she has a closer look of him, she realizes just how handsome he is - a symmetrical face, plum-violet hair and irises, and a toned figure.
Iorwerth reached out his hand to her and dragged his finger over her cheek - slowly, suggestively. It's as if he's seeing Ercilia like some shiny, dainty ornament.
"How pretty," Iorwerth breathed with a sultry smile, sending chills down her spine.
"Mr. Isis, I must ask you not to hurt our girls," Guinevere chimed in from behind her, suddenly appearing from the shadows with a 'service' look plastered on her face.
"This girl. May I have her?"
"I'm afraid Ercilia is a prime candidate, Sir. She's not a merchandise."
"Hmph. Pity."
Ercilia glared at him for all she was worth, trying not to let him see how shaken she was. She wanted to scream at Iorwerth - to order him to let the girl go, but her mouth forgot how to form words.
She can sense that he's a dangerous man. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, she's afraid to get involved with the likes of him.
So, in the end, Ercilia could do nothing but allow the overseers to drag her out of there and follow Guinevere - with Iorwerth watching all the way.
---
"That was brilliant, dear...!" Guinevere roared with amusement.
"Absolutely brilliant! You've won over all of them now!"
Ercilia was baffled, and it showed. Guinevere only became even more giddy upon noticing this.
"You're a natural..." she continued to compliment.
"You might have done it unaware, but you have definetly won over the few enemies you still had! Oh, you cunning little girl!"
"Wait, what...?" she blurted out, dumbfounded.
"That's not what I intended. I just-"
"You just reacted?"
"Yes."
"Do you really believe that?"
Guinevere walked nearer, lacing her fingers through her hair. Ercilia had to restrain herself from swatting her hand away.
Even now, she's not used to her affectionate gestures, and in fact, it disgusts her.
"You don't need to pretend around me, Ercilia."
"I'm telling the truth, Grandmother. It never even-"
"Never even crossed your mind? Oh, I'm sure."
She gritted her teeth in anger. It seems that she's misunderstanding this on purpose.
"I'm not like you," Ercilia hissed.
"On the contrary, darling, you remind me so much of myself that it's eerie," Guinevere confessed.
She turned her head defiantly, unable to take any more of this. It may have been years since she came there, but she refused to believe that those years have made her like her.
"May I go now?" Ercilia asked, scowling.
"You may..." Guinevere said then trailed off with a smirk.
"But ask yourself this, dear. Are you acting out of kindness or self-preservation?"
"Goodbye, Grandmother."
She kept her voice monotonous, careful not to betray the sudden dread occupying her mind - for the first time in her life, she was questioning her own motives.
---
It wasn't the first time Ercilia had cried herself to sleep, but no other night had been this bad.
The fact that she didn't even know the poor girl's name hit hard. She regrets this facade where she pretends to keep people at a distance and still gets irreparably attached.
'How pathetic. Utterly pathetic.'
Needing some fresh air, Ercilia decided to sneak out to the field for a bit.