The body of the assassin had grown limp on the floor, and his blood pooled around his lifeless body. It smelled of metal in that room, but I hadn't noticed it for so long now. I looked next at Katerina-her face pale, lips parted as if to talk, yet words failing. Her wide eyes betrayed her, while her trembling fingers clutched the doorway.
I stepped forward, my boots crunching against shards of glass from the overturned desk lamp. My voice, cold and steady, broke the silence.
"Don’t worry, this beast tried to assassinate me in my own office."
Her gaze darted to the body on the ground as I lifted my boot and planted it firmly on the assassin's face. The sickly squelch of flesh meeting leather echoed in the room, and I sneered down at him in pure disgust.
"Pathetic," I muttered.
I looked up at Katerina again, her body frozen in place like a fragile porcelain doll about to crack. She was trembling, though whether from fear or anger, I couldn't tell.
"Why are you afraid?" I asked, my voice soft but laced with something darker. I took another step toward her, tilting my head slightly as I studied her. "I wouldn't hurt you.
She didn't say a word. Her lips quivered, like some word was forming there, but nothing came. My patience was wearing off.
"This must be your first time seeing a dead body," I said, trying to make my voice sound sympathetic. "You'll get used to it.
Her silence was a further annoyance, and I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "If you're not going to say anything, can you at least call the servants to clean my office? I can't sit in this mess all day.
I reached my hand, slick with the assassin's blood, out and rested it carefully upon her head. Her hair felt soft against my palm, but the blood painted her in streaks of red that ran across it, as some monstrous work of art.
"The needle tears a hole," I whispered almost to myself, "and I must mend it.
Katerina didn't move or change her expression. Then she jerked her head once, and her lips arced in that weird, cynical smile. It was chilling.
"Go," I said, stepping backward. "Hurry up."
Her movements were stiff and jerky as she turned and left the room without another word. I watched her receding back, my gaze staying on her until she disappeared down the hall.
I let out a sigh, wiping my hands on a cloth nearby as I walked to my chambers. The bloodstains on my clothes were itching, and I needed to change.
---
Later in the Day
The office was immaculate: the broken glass had been removed, the blood scrubbed away, and a new desk brought in to replace its damaged fellow. The servants had done well, though I made a mental note to have them work faster next time.
I sat at the new desk, leaning back in the chair as I surveyed the room. Everything was in its proper place again. The chaos was gone, replaced by order-my order.
A low chuckle escaped my lips, which burst into a full-throated laugh. It was my world: I commanded it, ordered my thoughts, and thereby gave meaning to the things I would live through. In short, even the plot to get rid of me from life sounded so minor, a pit-stop, as it were. That nothing could go off track came out in a voice bursting with certainty.
The sun blazed in through the window, casting the room in hues of warmth, but something like a chill had settled upon my chest. One of those passing thoughts fleets across one's mind-a whisper of doubt, a shadow of something I couldn't name.
But I shook it off.
This world was going well for me. Nothing could stand in my way.