The murder of Cedric Potter had sent shockwaves through the kingdom. A nobleman of considerable influence, Cedric was found dead in the gardens of his estate after a grand masquerade ball. The event had been attended by the crème de la crème of society, all cloaked in elaborate disguises, their identities hidden behind intricate masks. The investigation that followed was thorough, but the killer remained at large. The only clue was a single black feather left at the scene, a symbol that sent chills through even the most hardened nobles.
Rumors spread like wildfire. Some whispered of a shadowy assassin hired by a rival house. Others spoke of a supernatural force, a vengeful spirit seeking retribution. The nobles, now on high alert, tightened their security and scrutinized every guest who had attended the ball. Yet, despite their efforts, no one was found guilty—except, perhaps, for us.
Our real identities had been concealed that night, hidden behind the masks and aliases we had crafted with care. The investigators searched for us using the fake names we had provided, but they came up empty-handed. We were ghosts, shadows in the night, and we intended to keep it that way.
The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the riverside where Jessica and Melanie sat. The sound of the waterfall in the distance was soothing, a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped the kingdom. I approached them, my boots crunching against the gravel path.
"What's up, gang?" I called out, my voice light and teasing.
Melanie turned her head slightly, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting trouble. She was always on edge, a warrior at heart. Jessica, on the other hand, stood and walked toward me, her movements fluid and hypnotic. She had a way of commanding attention without even trying.
I grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer. "Hey," I said, staring into her eyes. She wasn't expecting that, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.
"A-Ashbourne, what are you doing?" she stammered, her voice trembling.
"Just grabbing you by the waist, that's all," I replied, my tone playful. I let my hand drift lower, pressing gently against her hip. She let out a slight, involuntary moan before pulling away and running back to Melanie.
I laughed, watching her retreat. "Come on, why are you running?"
Jessica turned back, her face still red. "Dummy!" she yelled, her voice a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
Melanie sighed, standing up and brushing off her pants. "Come on, Ashbourne, don't treat her like that."
"I was just taunting her, that's all," I said, shrugging. "I mean, she's beautiful. Can't blame a guy for noticing."
Jessica's blush deepened, and she hid her face in her hands. "Dummy!" she yelled again, this time with more force.
Melanie shook her head and walked toward the grasslands, Jessica following close behind. I watched them go, a smirk playing on my lips. Our dynamic was always like this, playful, teasing, but with an undercurrent of unspoken feelings. I wasn't kidding when I said Jessica was beautiful. She was, in every sense of the word, but I wasn't ready to admit how much she meant to me.
Feeling hungry and bored, I made my way to the ramen store in the heart of the town. The place was bustling with activity, the aroma of broth and spices filling the air. I took a seat at a corner table and ordered a bowl of ramen.
As I ate, my attention was drawn to a figure entering the store. It was Death Scythe, a legendary hero known for her unmatched combat skills and icy demeanor. She was tall, with striking blue hair and eyes that seemed to pierce through your soul. Her weapon, a massive scythe said to hold unimaginable power, was slung across her back. She moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly, her presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure.
"Wonder what she's doing here," I muttered, my curiosity piqued. Death Scythe wasn't the type to frequent small-town ramen shops. Something was off.
I left my half-eaten bowl and followed her, keeping a safe distance. She walked down the streets, her scythe glinting in the fading sunlight, and eventually entered a dimly lit bar. I slipped in after her, blending into the crowd.
She took a seat at a table, her eyes scanning the room. Moments later, a young man approached her. They spoke in hushed tones, their conversation too quiet for me to hear. I edged closer, pretending to pass by their table, but Death Scythe's sharp instincts caught me.
"Hey, you there," she called out, her voice cutting through the noise of the bar. All eyes turned to me.
"Huh? Me?" I pointed to myself, feigning confusion.
"Yes, you. Do you have a problem?" Her hand rested on the hilt of her scythe, her gaze cold and calculating.
"Oh, no issues," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. A fight with her would be suicide. She had years of combat experience and training, while I was still honing my skills.
She turned back to the young man, but not before I caught a snippet of their conversation. They were talking about the ninjas I had seen in the forest the other day. My heart skipped a beat. Ninjas were a rare sight in these parts, and their presence always signaled trouble.
Ninjas were a mysterious group, known for their stealth and precision. They rarely engaged in conflict unless provoked or paid handsomely. The fact that Death Scythe was investigating talking about them meant something big was brewing. I needed to find out more.
As I walked home, my mind raced with possibilities. The ninjas and now Death Scythe's involvement, it was looking like they were connected but I didn't want to jump to conclusions yet.
The memory of the ninjas I had encountered in the forest resurfaced. It felt they had been watching me, their eyes gleaming with malice. At the time, I had dismissed it as a coincidence, but now I wasn't so sure. They had been waiting for something or someone.