Chapter 13: 13. Stillness Dark

Chee-uh. Where have I heard that before?

"Chia, is that some kind of fruit?"

She jots in her notebook in response.

"They're seeds, actually," she replies, eyes still on the book. "Chia are the edible seeds of Salvia hispanica, a flowering plant native to Mexico."

"Right."

"You must've seen them before. Small, oval-shaped colour-like rocks."

"Can't say I do."

The woman looks up from the book. When I examine her face, it comes to me that she's enjoying herself.

Smirk, crease of eyebrow, overall body posture and all.

"They have a nice nutty flavour to them. Appear in just about ever-y-thing too; you'll find Chia seeds in porridge, drinks, and even pudding."

I shrug. "Describe them all you want, but nothing's coming to mind."

She nods, writing something in her notebook, a smile persisting all the while.

"You're missing out."

"They that good?"

"Yeah, definitely!" She pitches enthusiastically, a dramatic flourish of her pen hand tracing off into the air.

"Hrm."

Note to self: buy chia seeds at the market someday. Maybe this lady does know something I don't. From the way she markets it, this 'chia' must be pretty damn good.

Five seconds soon pass. I decide then that I'll ask her what she's doing, having found myself intrigued by her existence.

"So, you live here?"

"Temporarily."

"On business or leisure?"

"Both." An almost pensive glare and a finger on the chin. "Though it leans more to the former in this case." Another stop. "Maybe." Her words trail off into a small laugh, followed by a heightened rhythm in her writing, and ending with a crisp flip of a page.

This whole situation must be pretty strange. Thanks in no part to our conversation topic and how it just sort of sprung into happening. When I think it over, though, I don't actually mind. Objectively, it's a good thing for me. Sharing thoughts and communicating them and all. Doubly so, given that it's with a foreigner of all things.

"Sorry to infringe, but would you happen to have some change?"

She's looking at me straight on, her eyes a telling 'I promise I'll pay you back later' sort of deal. I momentarily reach into my pocket and walk to the vending machine.

"What do you want?"

"Rose basil lemonade."

I slot the corresponding coins. A short, contemplative pause follows, and I slot in a few more for myself. Selecting two rose basil lemonades in the process.

"Mhmmm, thank you, dear."

Tossing a bottle to her, I then open my own, and gulp it down.

For a moment, a pleasant coldness envelops my mouth and throat. The taste itself helps, too, coming with a tinge of sour-sweet and flowery flavour.

"Phew, you English have some good stuff; I'm impressed."

Heh. The way she phrases it makes me want to ask where she's from. In fact, I'm just about to when I see her look at me as if possibly implying she has to something to say.

"Say, since you've been so nice and all, how about I help you with a little favour?"

Instinct tells me this should be fine. She doesn't seem to have bad intentions. The impression I'm getting is more of a socially uncaring woman than a scummy peddler trying to get in my good books.

"Sure."

I half-expect her to propose some business deal or describe a foreign connection that'll inexplicably assist me in some way. But instead, she beckons me closer with a hand, like some middle schooler does when encountering a rare beetle, and me entertaining this request, decides to follow.

I'm standing maybe hands-length at this point, waiting for a revelation. And I'm thinking: what'll she say when I receive my answer.

"Check the notebook."

I do just that.

DON'T GO INSIDE

You are reading story Warden of Success – A Soft LitRPG (Rewrite) at novel35.com

THE APARTMENT

IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.

...What am I reading?

My vision's put through a blurry lens. Save for the text on the notebook; everything else seems to filter out and fade into the background.

I feel like I've just been told my mum's dead, that I'm about to pay rent, and that I have cancer all at once. Deprived of my reasoning, my eyes linger on the black words.

'If I want to live?'

When did the question of life and death come into play? Wasn't I just fighting normally a while ago, why is this happening to me in particular, and what the hell is going on. Why why why why why why why.

Then it hits me. I need to kill her. This woman is probably an enemy. The chances of her coming here, happening to be from overseas, and engaging in polite conversation are too low. I should've known. I was naive. Things like that don't happen out of nowhere.

"You know, we don't have to be enemies."

"—Right, and you don't have to kill me either, provided I follow a narrow series of steps that'll fuck me over. Am I wrong?"

Her demeanour is completely unchanged, the same gleeful expression as before.

"Perspective determines what being fucked over means. Lighten up a little, and I'm sure you'll take it a lot better."

Hahah.

"Take what?"

"My proposal".

I tighten my arm, ready. "Say it."

Go ahead, you damn churl. Talk of something dumb. Mention I need to die or something, and I'll rip your fucking heart out. I don’t care how sudden this is. Do anything that remotely threatens me and I have my reason.

"Hold on there. No need to look so serious."

Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.Justdie.

"Try anything, and I'll kill you."

She pauses. "All I'm asking is for a shot at peace. A way we can both walk away, go home, get a good night's sleep and forget this ever happened."

I don't think I've ever wanted to kill someone this much. Just the thought of it is getting me amped up. The thought I can let go and just annihilate something.

"And what does this peace cost?"

"Simple," she exclaims. "Your ability."

I have nothing to say. So, this is related to that, huh? In the end, what did I expect?

"Hahaha."

Everything comes with a price. I know that well. But in this case, what'll she do if I don't pay up? Logic has it, something particularly terrible and straightforward, but I want to confirm either way.

"I've got an associate in town that'll take it away. Remove it easily, no pain, no bad memories, nothing."

"And, if I refuse?"

After shrugging, she goes to look me in the eye. "I will kill you."

I inhale before asking, "And you have some connections that'll let you get away with it, too, I assume?"

"Pretty much."

"And what if I kill you first?"

"Then you win, and nothing happens to you."

Good. I don't need something getting in my way.

"And what's in the apartment?"

"A colleague working in the same field. One far less friendly than me." She laughs. "Though maybe I'm lying; who knows." She pauses. "Maybe your salvation is just a few steps away; what do you think?" And then she laughs again.

With the information at hand I—

Check the apartment.

Kill her

 

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