Alia's heart raced wildly, and the sound of footsteps grew louder. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead without her realizing it. She quickly reacted, sneaking around to hide behind the curtains, trying her best to blend into the darkness. Her ears strained to catch every movement of the approaching steps.
Through a gap in the curtains, she glimpsed a soldier in the corridor. The soldier, holding a rifle, walked with steady and deliberate steps, clearly patrolling the house. Alia knew that if she was discovered, the consequences would be dire.
What should I do? she cursed inwardly, her situation worsening by the second. She gently moved a few steps to the side, trying to avoid the soldier's line of sight, but she knew she had no way out now.
Just as she was on the verge of despair, suddenly, powerful hands grabbed her waist. There was no warning—Alia didn't even have time to react. She was yanked up into the air before she could make a sound. The force was swift and light, as though she was being carried away, her body taut with tension but powerless to resist.
They moved through the corridor, leaping over obstacles, quick and precise, almost like shadows in a gale, darting through the various corners of the house. The air was thick with tension and excitement; Alia's heart seemed ready to burst out of her chest. Every twist and jump sent her mind spinning, but they never once drew attention.
Eventually, they broke free from the house, entering a dense grove of trees. The surroundings were silent, save for the faint rustling of leaves stirred by the night wind. Alia took a deep breath, feeling the temporary safety.
She suddenly wrenched herself out of the powerful embrace, turning to face her rescuer. The figure before her was tall, draped in a black hooded cloak that obscured most of his face. Only his deep, penetrating eyes, visible beneath the lowered hood, hinted at a profound mystery.
"Who are you?" Alia's voice was sharp and alert, her mind still racing from the recent danger. She hadn't fully recovered from the tense moments, and her instincts remained on high alert.
The man didn't answer immediately, just stood there quietly, his gaze fixed on her. The shadow of the hood nearly concealed his entire face, with only his deep eyes flickering in the darkness, as though they could see through everything.
Alia gripped the dagger in her hand, ready to defend herself, but she also knew she couldn't confront this mysterious man head-on. Her eyes tracked his every movement, trying to glean any clues from his stance and aura.
After a long pause, the man finally spoke, his voice low and calm, yet it stirred a strange unease deep within Alia: "I'm just another thief like you. I came here to steal from this mansion. The moment you entered, I saw you and followed you."
Alia's face changed instantly, her eyes cold and sharp. Her alertness surged to its peak, and she instinctively took a step back, scanning the surroundings. She tried to suppress the fear rising within her, though her tone betrayed her anger and suspicion. "You're a creep."
Although confident in her thieving skills, it was clear this man was far superior to her. The fact that he had followed her without detection proved that he was no ordinary thief.
This guy is definitely not simple. Alia analyzed in her mind. He didn't seem as straightforward as he appeared. The way he blatantly spoke to her, it felt as though he had control over the situation, always a step ahead.
Her wariness intensified, and a fleeting thought sent a chill down her spine—Has he been plotting something bigger from the beginning? Am I just a part of it? Perhaps he's been observing me closely all along?
"Who exactly are you?" she asked instinctively, her voice cold, filled with suspicion.
The man still didn't answer immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if studying her response. His gaze was heavy, almost like a silent pressure that seemed to dissect her inner thoughts inch by inch.
"I'm simply looking for someone to pass on my skills to. I've observed you, and I believe you have the talent for it. Become my apprentice."
"Dream on." Alia responded sharply, her eyes flashing with wariness and resolve. She clearly wasn't going to trust this mysterious man's words easily. She knew that trust was a luxury on this dangerous path, and the man was likely trying to use her talent for his own purposes. She scanned him briefly, then spoke slowly, "But thanks for saving me. If you ever need help, just mention my name—Alia—at the Beggars' Guild. I'll help you out when the time comes."
The man didn't press further. He simply chuckled lightly, his tone unexpectedly relaxed and surprisingly compliant. "Oh? Alright then."
As the breeze blew by, the man's hood was lifted, revealing a face marked by scars. Under the moonlight, his features appeared rough, and his eyes glinted with a cold, murderous intent. He looked far less like a common thief and more like a battle-hardened soldier, exuding a pressure that made the air feel heavier.
However, Alia's reaction was unexpectedly calm. She showed no surprise, no unnecessary questions, just a quiet nod as if to signal that she had lost all interest in engaging with him. Without a word, she turned and walked away, her steps light but firm, as if she had never lingered on his identity or motives for even a second.
As she walked farther, the man murmured: "Interesting, very interesting. She could help us achieve that goal."