The Mercenary King—Cahir—sat frozen, his fear palpable in the dim light of the office. His once-proud demeanor had crumbled under Theodore's overwhelming presence. Even the glint of crimson in Theodore's eyes was enough to make him avert his gaze, his heart pounding with dread.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Theodore's cold, commanding voice broke it. "Your name."
Cahir swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he answered, "Cahir. I'm forty... I—" He hesitated, his instincts compelling him to explain himself further. "I lost my wife when I was—"
"Enough." Theodore's tone was sharp, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I didn't ask for your life story. Just your name."
Cahir flinched, nodding quickly. "Understood."
Desperate to calm his nerves, he staggered to a cabinet, pulling out a dusty bottle of wine. His hands trembled as he uncorked it and poured a generous amount into a glass, but after a moment of hesitation, he discarded the glass and drank directly from the bottle. The bitter liquid burned his throat, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside him.
Sinking back into his chair with the bottle still in hand, he looked at Theodore with cautious defiance. "I'll obey you," he said, his voice steadier now, though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. "But only if you swear not to use me or my guild for... something evil."
Theodore's lips curled into a smirk, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in his crimson gaze. "How noble of you, Cahir," he said mockingly. "A man who would challenge the Marquess yet trembles before me... still concerned with morality."
Cahir stiffened but said nothing, his grip tightening around the bottle.
Theodore leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as his smirk widened. "Don't worry. I have no need for your conscience. I only require your obedience. Minor tasks, information, and resources. You'll provide them when asked, and you'll do so without question. That's all."
The Mercenary King stared at him for a long moment, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Finally, he nodded, a dry laugh escaping his lips. "Tied to someone else's leash again," he muttered, shaking his head. "But I get the feeling you'll make life... interesting."
Theodore's smirk didn't waver. "Oh, I assure you, I will."
Cahir drained more of the wine, his eyes narrowing slightly as he steadied himself. "Alright, my prince. I'll agree... if you truly can restore my daughter as you claim."
Theodore's expression darkened, his crimson eyes gleaming with a sinister light. He stood, walking around the desk until he loomed over Cahir. "Trust me, Cahir," he said softly, his voice like a velvet knife. "I always deliver on my promises. The question is... will you survive the price?"
Cahir met his gaze, the fear still there but tempered now by a flicker of determination. "I've survived this long. Let's see what you've got."
Theodore chuckled, a low, almost menacing sound, before turning to leave. "Good. Then let's begin."
Theodore watched with an air of calm superiority as Cahir hesitated, his emotions warring between doubt and hope. "Bring her body," Theodore commanded, his tone sharp and final. He waved a hand, and two mercenaries carefully carried the lifeless form of Cahir's daughter into the room, laying her gently on the cold stone floor before stepping back.
Cahir lingered, his protective instincts rising. "I don't trust you," he said, his voice tense. "What if you... do something inappropriate? Touch her clothes or—"
Theodore's crimson eyes narrowed with icy disgust, cutting him off mid-accusation. "Do you take me for a degenerate?" he asked coldly. "I'm a ten-year-old boy. Keep talking, and I might cut off your other arm for the insult."
Cahir flinched, the words stinging more than he expected. Without another word, he nodded to his men, and they reluctantly left the room with their leader, leaving Theodore and Belial alone with the body.
The moment the door shut, Theodore's expression shifted, his smirk returning as he raised a hand and summoned a swirling portal of shadow and fire. The air grew heavy, charged with an unearthly energy as the portal opened, revealing the dark expanse of the underworld. From within, Mimi emerged, her figure ethereal and haunting, carrying little Luna in her arms.
Belial tilted his head, his crimson eyes curious. "How did Luna survive inside the underworld? That place devours the living."
Theodore didn't look away from the portal as he replied, "The shadows follow my emotions. They knew Luna was no threat, and they protected her for my sake."
Belial nodded, though his expression suggested he was more impressed than he let on.
Theodore's gaze flicked to Mimi, who stood quietly, her form shifting subtly between mist and solidity. He pointed at the lifeless body on the floor. "It's time. Take the body."
Mimi's lips curved into a delighted smile. "Finally," she said, her voice echoing with an eerie resonance. "It's about time I feel human again." Without hesitation, she dissolved into a swirling mist and descended into the body, seeping through its mouth, nose, and eyes like a dark vapor.
Moments later, the body twitched. The lifeless fingers flexed, and a shudder ran through its form. Then, with a gasp, Mimi opened her new eyes. The transformation was seamless. She sat up, stretching as if testing the limits of her new vessel. Little Luna, her face lighting up with joy, ran to her and threw her arms around her.
"Mimi!" Luna cried. "You're back!"
Theodore's smirk deepened as he watched the reunion. He strode to the door and flung it open, calling for Cahir.
When Cahir entered and saw his daughter sitting upright, alive, his breath hitched. He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Amara..." he whispered, stepping forward as if afraid she might vanish. When she smiled and called him "Father," tears streamed down his face. He collapsed beside her, wrapping her in a trembling embrace. "You're back! My little girl... you're back."
Mimi played her role flawlessly, her arms around him as she sobbed, her voice quivering with feigned emotion. "I've missed you so much, Father..."
Meanwhile, Theodore and Belial exchanged amused glances, their expressions betraying nothing but silent mockery. In Theodore's mind, he couldn't help but find the situation amusing. Look at him, so happy with his 'daughter.' If only he knew the real Mimi will never return. His precious child is dead. What sits before him is just a shadow, a puppet.
Belial chuckled softly under his breath. "She's quite the actress, isn't she?"
Theodore nodded, his smile cold. Let him believe in his delusion. A loyal dog is easier to control when it thinks it's been rewarded.