Eleanor closed the door softly, leaning against it with arms crossed. She said nothing, only stared at him, her eyes narrowing, sharp and unforgiving. The silence stretched. The air felt heavy.

I should probably say something…

"I see you're not wearing the necklace anymore," Luke ventured.

Her expression hardened. Anger flickered there now, cold and cutting.

"The same necklace you gave to half the women working in Bastion?" she snapped.

"…Oops."

At that moment, he realized he was in real trouble. And honestly, a Bartholomew ambush would've been preferable.

"Half is such an exaggerated number," he tried, keeping his tone light. "A dozen, maybe. A little more at most. But half? That's way too high."

Her silence was worse than shouting. The look she gave him was pure venom.

"I don't know, James. There were so many I lost count," she said flatly, moving toward the counter.

"Uh… why are you sharpening a knife?"

"This? Nothing to do with you. Don't worry."

"That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence. You're very good at throwing knives…"

Eleanor leaned on the counter, eyes locked on him. "Is James even your real name? Or do you collect names the way you hand out necklaces?"

"I wouldn't lie about my name. Do you really think I'd be that much of a liar?" he answered firmly.

'Yes.' Artemis chimed in his head.

Eleanor sighed, still watching him. "At least that part isn't a lie. Everyone I asked confirmed your name was James."

"You questioned everyone I've dealt with?" he asked.

"I didn't need to. I just asked your admirers. You've been wandering around handing out gifts like some drunken Cupid."

"It's a dangerous world. A little charm can open doors."

"And slam them shut."

A flood of thoughts crashed through his mind. This wasn't a trap by Bartholomew or a deadly enemy he could handle with violence. No, this was much worse: an angry woman.

"So that's why I'm here? Excessive seduction?"

"You're a scumbag, you know that?"

'I told you, Luke. From the very beginning. Now you face the consequences of your actions.' Artemis sneered in his thoughts.

"Fine, maybe I'm a little bit of a scumbag," he admitted.

Her lips curved into a crooked smile. "A little? You're such a scumbag you didn't even bother changing your approach, you gave them all the exact same necklace."

"In my defense, the place I found them only had that kind," he shot back.

Eleanor stepped closer and pressed the knife to his throat.

"Okay, okay, I get it! I'll shut up!" He raised his hands in mock surrender.

'This is how scumbags die, Luke. Slain by resentful women.' Artemis added helpfully.

"Eleanor, I swear, what I did was for a good reason."

She pulled the knife away and stepped back. "It's honestly impressive how rotten you manage to be on so many levels."

'Yes! This man is utterly rotten! Run, girl. Run!' Artemis cheered.

Whose side are you even on? Luke shot back.

He studied her carefully. "Are you mad because I gave out too many necklaces? Or because you thought yours was unique?"

"Me? Mad? Please. I'm just worried you'll run out of stock."

With a swift tug, Eleanor yanked off his eyepatch. "You're not even blind in one eye!"

"It's for the charm," he tried weakly.

She hurled it back at him. "I can't believe I fell for that pathetic line. I even pitied you."

He glanced at the wall and froze. Dozens of wanted posters stared back at him. Including his own. He swallowed hard and quickly slipped the eyepatch back on.

"You're a conniving, two-bit, womanizing fraud!" she snapped.

"That's a lot of unpleasant adjectives…"

"And what about that touching story of wanting to go back to your family? About a little sister waiting for you, suffering, thinking you're dead?"

"That's true. I swear it is."

She sighed heavily. "I'm not saying I care who you hand your gifts to. What upsets me is that you thought I was just some cheap woman, easy to fool, as if one necklace could ever be enough."

"Look, if it's about quantity, I've got plenty mo—" he started, but stopped when her glare threatened to cut him in half. "Okay, fine. I'll shut up. I'm terrible with words."

She turned toward the door. "For the record, I wasn't the one who called you here. But I'll tell them your statement checks out. You're free to go. Goodbye, James."

The door slammed behind her, leaving him alone in the chair. Silence settled over the room for a few long seconds.

"Artemis… am I a scumbag?"

"Not just a scumbag. A big one," she replied.

"But… it was for a good cause."

Luke sighed, pushing himself up to leave, when the door opened again. A man stepped inside. Landon.

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"My interrogator just left. I'm cleared to go," Luke said.

The man didn't move. Didn't answer.

"It's Landon, right?" Luke asked.

"Captain Landon," he corrected, stiff.

"Fine. Captain. So I can leave now? Eleanor said I was free."

Landon pointed at the chair. "She wasn't the one who called you here. I did."

Luke's brow furrowed. "The interrogation's over."

"But I still have a few questions for you," Landon said.

"Then why drag me down here in the first place?"

The door was shut, the room buried in the underground. Just the two of them. The air made the intent clear. He was being cornered over the death of Landon's men.

"Where were you the night Conrad died?" Landon demanded.

"Died?" Luke asked, feigning surprise. "Funny, I heard he just disappeared. Unless you know something the rest of us don't. Do you?"

Color flushed into Landon's face. He grabbed Luke by the collar. "Listen here, you little—"

Luke's hand snapped up, clamping down on his wrist. The captain gasped in pain as Luke's other hand closed around his throat, slamming him back against the wall.

"No. You listen, you worthless piece of trash." Luke's voice was calm, deadly serious. "The only reason I'm not stomping your skull into paste right now is because I don't want to cause trouble for the woman who just left this room. But hear me, Landon. If you try anything against me, or against anyone I've dealt with out of spite, I've got your name and your face burned into memory. I will find you. And when I do, I'll rip one of your eyes out and make you swallow it. Do I make myself clear?"

He released him. Landon crumpled to his knees, gasping, clutching at his throat, his eyes wide with shock.

"I'm done here," Luke said, and walked out the door.

***

Luke pushed open the door to the inn.

"Good afternoon, we've got rooms available," the attendant began, but when she saw it was him and not a paying guest, her smile vanished.

"Hello, Layla," Luke said, sliding into a chair beside the counter. "I'd be in a much better mood if you kept that smile."

She didn't even look up from her book. "My smile's expensive. I've told you that already."

He shut the book she was reading and leaned closer.

"What's this? No sarcastic remark today? Not even the usual excuse that you were talking to that damn plant?" Layla asked. "Guess your life as a married woman's lover isn't going so well."

"I don't sleep with married women. Hell, I don't sleep with women at all. What kind of man do you think I am?"

"A shameless scumbag."

He studied her face. "Would you believe me if I said I'm only a scumbag because I'm trying to save the world?"

She burst out laughing, then smacked him hard on the shoulder. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"At least I got a smile out of you," he muttered.

Layla froze for a moment, her cheeks turning red. "That's exactly why you're a scumbag!" she snapped, standing abruptly. "I'll see if there are leftovers in the kitchen. And don't think it's because you deserve it. You skipped two days of work. That's coming out of your next payment."

Luke watched her walk away, then pulled a few Bastion bills from his pocket. He placed them neatly on the counter, paying for the meal in advance. The truth was, he wasn't coming back. No more chopping wood, no more hauling logs. He was leaving for good.

He'd already gotten what he needed from Jack. The routes he had were accurate, but Jack had given him something better, a shortcut through the fortress, routes that crossed its halls via hidden "windows." Luke hadn't said what he was planning, not that Jack would have believed him anyway.

Drawing a deep breath, Luke turned toward the plant on the counter. "So this is it. The big day's finally here."

He tapped the jar. "Doesn't look like she watered you. I've told Layla a hundred times you like the soil damp."

Pulling a flask from his storage, he tilted it carefully, watering the plant. "Rough day for me, but I guess I can do this one last time."

He smirked. "Hey… do you think I'm a scumbag?"

The plant ignored him, as always.

"I thought we were friends by now," Luke said softly. "Either way, goodbye, madam. Take care of this place."

He poured a little more water into the jar. "Just in case. But don't get used to it, I won't be back."

He turned to leave, when suddenly…

[You have befriended a Midnight Spider-Lily (Common)] **Bonus Experience Points acquired!**

**Your profession [Guardian Botanist of Mother Freya] has reached Level 60! (+5 Strength, +3 Agility, +4 Vitality, +4 Intelligence, +12 Free Points)**

[New Profession Skill available]

Luke froze, then slowly turned back toward the plant. He walked closer, whispering, "Thank you."

It was the very first skill from his new profession, one that had already surpassed his class level. And when the system displayed the list of available skills, Luke's eyes widened.

Epic-tier skills.

***

James had barely stepped out the door. Landon wanted to go after him, wanted to beat the bastard bloody, but the truth was, when their eyes had locked, for a split second he had felt something he hadn't in years. Fear.

Does he have some kind of intimidation skill?

Still on the floor, Landon slammed his fist down in frustration. His men were dead. When he had arrived the morning after the abduction to check on things, he had found nothing but corpses.

"Damn him… he's involved in this, I know it," Landon muttered. "I should've known the deal was too good to be true."

It had started with an offer, too generous to ignore. A contact he trusted had approached him with promises of powerful enchanted gear as payment for one simple task: kill James. This wasn't some liar or swindler, it was someone whose word meant something.

So Landon had set up the perfect scheme. He had moved Conrad into the lumberyard's administration, then slipped Rhett in among the workers to test James up close. Reports had said James was weak, slower with an axe than even the clumsiest woodcutter. Landon had thought he had struck gold when he discovered the bastard was keeping company with a former Bastion healer.

If the plan had worked, James would have been stripped of his gear, killed, and Landon would have walked away with both the promised equipment and a kidnapped healer bound to serve them. So how had it gone wrong? How did they all die? The runt must have had help.

There was no way James and that healer could have taken on a camp of fifteen hardened killers alone. These weren't soft Safe Zone civilians, they were criminals, ruthless and efficient. The only explanation was that James and Jack had been captured… and then rescued. The thought made Landon's blood boil. He didn't care how. He just wanted the brat dead.

He stood, rage simmering, and drove his fist into the counter. Then he swept everything to the floor in one violent motion, tore a frame from the wall, and hammered his knuckles into the stone until they bled. His men were gone. The gear they had spent months collecting, lost forever, locked away in storage items that vanished with their deaths. All of it wasted.

The healer… does Bastion still protect him? Or maybe he has mercenaries guarding him in exchange for healing. That would make sense. Anyone would pay dearly for a guaranteed healer.

"I'll kill that bastard James myself," Landon growled. "And I'll bring his head to the one who paid me."

The door creaked open.

"Landon? Everything all right?" A soldier stepped inside, one of his partners from the interrogations.

Landon nearly jumped. He had been so wrapped up in his fury he had forgotten where he was. The man's gaze swept over the mess on the floor.

"I just… had a bad day," Landon muttered, forcing composure.

The soldier stared at him. Landon coughed, straightened his uniform.

"I'll clean this up. You handle the interrogations upstairs in my place."

When the door shut again, his false smile collapsed into a scowl.

"Little bastard," he hissed, crouching to gather the debris.

He stacked cups, righted the broken frame, and finally bent to collect the scattered papers. That was when something caught his eye. His thumb was pressed against the face of one of the wanted posters.

"Luke… Angelica's Killer," Landon whispered, staring at the sketch.

His thumb covered one of the man's eyes. Slowly, Landon lifted it, revealing the full face… then lowered it again, covering the eye like a eyepatch.

His heart skipped. No. It couldn't be.

He lurched to his feet, clutching the poster. "No way…!"

Staring at the drawing, his eyes widened, then narrowed with a smile that stretched into something cruel.

"I think I've uncovered something interesting… James," Landon muttered. "And I know exactly how to make you pay."

He stormed out the door, shoving the poster into a soldier's hands.

"Captain Landon," the man greeted.

"I need a favor. Now!" Landon barked. "Take this to Kruger. Tell him I've found the one he's been searching for."

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