Richard raised his gaze to observe the female assassin.
In that fleeting moment, the assassin caught a glimpse of a fleeting disappointment etched upon Richard's countenance.
"It seems, in truth, that you are afraid of pain; you are perhaps even weaker than you imagined," he remarked. With a slight shake of his head, he turned to find a scrap of cloth and, after exerting some effort, stuffed it into the assassin's mouth.
She struggled, voicing muffled protests, but none of it could halt Richard as he bent down once more to continue his explanation.
"Now, let us move on to another muscle in the calf; this one is called the soleus. I know not if you have ever seen a sole fish. Even if you have not, upon observing this muscle, you should be able to envision the creature's form. The function of this muscle may be less critical than that of the tibialis anterior we discussed earlier, yet it holds its own importance.
On one hand, it aids in straightening the foot; on the other, it accumulates force when the body walks or runs. Without this muscle, every sprinting record would likely lengthen by several seconds. The repercussions of its damage are evident—as you feel now, one slice and your right leg becomes increasingly weak, unable to extend its full length, and furthermore…"
"This one is known as the gastrocnemius, and its function… if destroyed…"
"This muscle is the extensor hallucis longus, as its name suggests, and its duty is to… if severed…"
Richard continued his discourse, each word enhancing the assassin's agony, a boundless terror encircling her from all sides, nearly overwhelming her. It was only the last whisper of her will to endure that kept her from shattering.
Time slipped by, and at last, Richard concluded his exposition of the calf's muscular structure. He slowly rose, wiping the blood from his hands, and extracted the cloth from the assassin's mouth.
Upon removal, the assassin uttered no screams; rather, she fixed a glassy stare upon Richard and, from the depths of her throat, repeated, "Kill me, kill me! Hurry, you demon!"
"The issue is…" Richard elongated his tone, "that I do not yet wish to take your life, for I still seek information from your lips."
"No! I will never tell you! I will never speak! Kill me, just kill me!" the assassin cried passionately.
Richard raised an eyebrow at her obstinacy and replied, "Given the current circumstances, I believe if I were to apply just a bit more pressure, you would surely divulge everything I wish to know. After all, you are not far from complete psychological collapse. However…"
He momentarily paused, squinting at her beneath the dim light, continuing, "However, at this stage, even if you refuse to speak, I have already learned quite a bit. For instance, a skilled assassin such as yourself commands a price far beyond the reach of ordinary individuals, yet your resolute stance indicates you have likely received ample compensation. Moreover, alongside those benefits, threats loom—such as the safety of your family.
Such activities can only be orchestrated by someone powerful, likely of noble blood. To be frank, I have spent most of my years within the castle, preparing for various matters, and I have never strayed far from the baronial territory, nor have I offended any notable person. Yet there seems to be someone actively seeking my demise—there cannot be many who would go to such lengths.
Analyzing the situation, the name of the one who attempted my assassination is almost palpable. If my conjectures are correct, it could well be my elder brother, whom I have not seen for many years. He has long been 'gaining experience' in the matriarchal noble houses.
Logically speaking, he has taken ample time, yet continues to remain absent—perhaps he finds my existence too perilous. Maybe he believes that with a brother like me—not quite a wizard but close enough—by his side, his ascension to the title would be inevitably jeopardized. Although such notions are foolish, they are not without rationality, and his ensuing actions are entirely explicable."
Richard leaned closer to the assassin, a hint of sardonic humor in his voice as he remarked, "So, should I now politely greet my brother—Edward Angrel?"
The assassin's eyes widened in shock; she took several deep breaths to steady her racing heart. After a prolonged stare at Richard, she suddenly exclaimed, "Now I understand why someone would go to great lengths to see you dead. It is because you are too intelligent—so cunning that everyone else appears foolish. You are a wizard, a demon. A person like you must die! Must die!"
"Ah, is that so?" Richard replied with a smile, his demeanor unperturbed. "But the harsh reality is that the one who dies here is not I, but you. In truth, from a certain perspective, you are merely a tool, one who has executed his task without guilt. Thus, my letting you go would serve to demonstrate my great mercy."
The assassin's eyes gleamed momentarily.
Richard continued, "However, I am no saint. After all, it is you who sought to kill me and nearly succeeded. I am a rational man, all too aware of the consequences of releasing a beast back into the wild. Hence, the ultimate conclusion is that I must eliminate you."
"You truly intend to kill me!" The assassin's voice grew fervent, desperation evident as she cried, "I carry many secrets! If you kill me…"
"No need for that," Richard interrupted her. "I have learned all I wish to know; the remaining details hold little significance. Thus, you may freely perish. Truly!"
With those words, Richard advanced toward the assassin, unsheathing his knife without hesitation.
Yet, the blade did not meet any part of her flesh. Instead, with a swift slice, it cut through the ropes binding her.
With a resounding crack, the bindings fell away, and the assassin was immediately freed. However, due to her extended confinement and the injury to her right leg, she did not retaliate at once. In truth, confusion engulfed her mind, the situation making little sense.
Wasn't he supposed to kill her? Why had he severed her bonds? Did he intend to let her go? What was the purpose behind her torment? What in the world did this nobleman want?
As her thoughts spiraled, she suddenly felt a chill at her throat, a sensation both mild and unsettling, radiating through her body.
Richard had swiftly passed the blade across her neck, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake. He stowed the knife away and seized the assassin's hands, raising them to press firmly against the wound.
His voice dropped low, grave as a doctor's as he instructed her: "Cover it tightly—yes, apply pressure. Listen well. I have sliced through your throat, severing your trachea. This is not fatal; in fact, you may find it easier to breathe now, as air flows more directly to your lungs.
However, in addition to severing your trachea, I inadvertently lacerated several blood vessels. They are neither the aorta nor the main vein, yet they are enough to prove lethal. Blood will leak steadily, flowing into your lungs through the severed trachea, akin to drowning, and you shall ultimately suffocate in your own blood.
This process will last approximately four to five minutes. Within that time, you will experience a vivid and haunting sensation of suffocation, enduring a painful death. I advise you to apply pressure to slow the flow of blood, thus reducing the quantity seeping into your lungs. Should you try, you may extend your life for up to ten minutes. Naturally, this means that your suffering will double. However, I trust in your fundamental instinct for survival that you will cling to it tightly during these final moments—in ten minutes, you will intimately feel what it is to suffocate."
"Glug… ugh… Why…" The woman's voice, muffled by her clenched hands, was barely intelligible, yet Richard understood.
Looking down upon her, he spoke calmly, "Are you inquiring as to why I subject you to this? The answer is simple: this is your punishment. After all, I sought your cooperation, which you denied; that is no fault of mine. So… farewell."
Richard waved dismissively as, in the assassin's terror-stricken gaze, he turned away, the door creaking open behind him.
And then with a soft click, the door fell shut.
Inside, two worlds divided: one living, one dying. Within, the assassin clenched her hands to her throat, her body convulsing as fear consumed her.