With a faint sound, the dagger was easily pulled out from the chest of the man in the black suit. Blood sprayed instantly from the wound on the side, turning into a mist of vivid red.
The holder of the dagger was a tall woman with her hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing only a deep purple tube top and black leggings. She gently wiped the blood from her blade. Around her was a castle hall as luxurious as those in ancient Europe, with the ground covered in pungent bloodstains. Dozens of corpses in black suits lay scattered on the floor, most of them still clutching firearms.
"The Osland Family, truly fragile," the woman's voice carried a hint of faint arrogance, cold and indifferent.
Her footsteps moved lightly and carefully among the bodies, avoiding the blood on the ground. Her black leather boots were completely free of any bloodstains.
Suddenly, from among the bodies, a man struggled to rise, his face covered in blood.
"Jila... Jila Osland... why... why?"
