Melissa had been born in one of the countless minor nations that surrounded the Mercantile Free State of Sarenza. As the daughter of nobles, she was raised in pleasant luxury, never knowing the meaning of want.
Until the day of her eighth birthday, when her country fell into ruin.
It began when the reigning monarch borrowed coin from House Sarenza to fund minor skirmishes against neighboring nations. In no time at all, the interest payments became crippling on a national scale, and the ruling classes—including Melissa’s family—found themselves buried in debt.
Just like that, Melissa and her family became slaves, auctioned off to the highest bidder. Due to her noble upbringing and education, Melissa, in particular, caught the eye of a certain buyer, who sent her to a specialized institution to be trained as an assassin for the wealthy.
For better or worse, Melissa’s natural talents quickly set her apart. It wasn’t long before she received her first major assignment: the assassination of House Sarenza’s eldest son.
At the time, Rashid was hated by many in power. After every contract killer sent to slay him had mysteriously vanished, his enemies turned to Melissa, believing her similar age to the young heir might cause him to lower his guard.
At twelve years old, Melissa accepted the job without hesitation. Disguised as a young maid, she knocked on the door of Rashid’s estate—and was stunned when none other than her target answered. He welcomed her inside with a cheerful smile, and she wasted no time in attempting to carry out her assignment.
She failed instantly.
Rashid had spotted the poisoned knife concealed beneath Melissa’s clothes. By the time she drew it, he had already pressed her against the corridor wall.
At that moment, Melissa was ready to die. To be a hunter, she believed, one had to be ready to be hunted. But what Rashid elected to do next took her entirely by surprise. He released his grip on her, returned the poisoned knife with a smile, and continued showing her around his spacious estate. Then, several exchanges later, he cheerfully slipped three platinums into the pocket of her maid uniform and asked her to do what she’d ostensibly come to do in the first place: work for him.
Melissa hadn’t understood Rashid’s intentions in the slightest. What she had known, however, was that she’d been given another chance. She hadn’t seen her family since they were sold to different buyers, but the middleman who had assigned her the job insisted that her father, mother, and younger brother were alive and well. The implication was clear: If she carried out the assassination, their safety would be guaranteed. If she didn’t, they would be killed.
Despite her first attempt ending in failure, Melissa clung to hope. Her contract with her client was still valid, and she would consider Rashid’s mercy a stroke of good fortune—one that allowed her to try again, as many times as necessary.
Yet, even that small flicker of optimism was quickly extinguished. A few months into their cohabitation, Rashid vanished, only to return just as abruptly with a new bodyguard in tow: Shawza, a one-armed, one-eyed beastfolk.
Despite being weak from blood loss and so emaciated that he looked as though he might drop dead at any moment, Shawza always had a sharp glint in his eye that made it clear he wasn’t someone to be crossed. From their first encounter, Melissa recognized him as an opponent she would never be able to best. Every word he uttered oozed loathing for all who listened. She felt as though she were caught in the sights of a ferocious predator making no effort to hide its killing intent.
Acting on Rashid’s orders, Melissa saw to Shawza’s medical treatment. For days, she remained on edge, unable to relax for even a moment. Each time her fingers brushed his skin while changing his bandages, a jolt of terror shot through her at the premonition that he might tear her apart at any second.
Even in his near-death state, with his restricted range of movement, Shawza came across as undeniably formidable. Day and night, he crushed every assassin sent after Rashid, treating each attempt as casually as a walk in the park. As time passed and his wounds healed, it seemed there was no one in the world who could equal him.
In the past, Melissa had slipped into Rashid’s quarters countless times while he slept. Each time, she had intended to slit his throat—and each time, she had failed. Now, with Shawza at the young heir’s side, she knew that if she made another attempt on Rashid’s life, her knife hand would be twisted and crushed beyond repair.
But surrender wasn’t an option. Her client—whose face remained unknown to her—sent her countless missives confirming that her family was still alive. She understood the implication clearly.
Melissa’s contract with the client was still valid—something Rashid surely understood. Believing that she wouldn’t succeed in her original assignment, he had let her be, hardly considering her a threat. What she still failed to grasp was his motive. He never said anything of significance, and trying to make sense of his actions felt as futile as trying to keep sand from slipping between her fingers. Even if he had said something, the sincerity of his words was always in doubt.
If there was one thing Melissa knew for certain, it was that no matter the time or place, Rashid always wore a smile. Even when his life seemed in danger, he would grin, take control of the situation, and crow that it was merely an amusement to him. Melissa suspected he kept her around for the same reason: She was just another piece in one of his games to pass the time.
Or was even that too generous? Perhaps her purpose was merely supplementary—just a means to make his days more interesting.
In the end, Melissa’s only consolation was the leeway her unusual position afforded her. She would continue to play the part of Rashid’s loyal right hand, staying close enough to maintain an advantageous position—one that might someday allow her to assassinate him. It was her own quiet form of rebellion.
Soon enough, an entire decade had passed since her original client sent her to Rashid, and she had made no progress toward completing her task.
Melissa understood the harsh truth of her situation. At any moment, Rashid could instruct Shawza to execute her. That was why the news of their departure for Sarenza City had initially been a comfort—at least until she spiraled into uncertainty. Why had she been the only one left behind? She posed no threat to Rashid—he could have her killed whenever he pleased.
The only logical conclusion was that he’d simply lost interest in her. Whether she remained there or not made no difference to him.
The very thought that this could be the end of their relationship, after all this time, twisted Melissa’s stomach in knots that refused to unravel. But just as she started to contemplate the feeling...
“Is that...?”
Far in the distance, a tiny silhouette stood out against the hazy backdrop of the morning desert sky: a small avian golem designed for simple correspondence. No sooner had it spotted Melissa atop the roof than it dove sharply, swooping down to her eye level and extending one of its thin automaton legs. Attached to the appendage was a small metal canister.
Melissa untied the canister and retrieved its contents: a small letter. The handwriting struck her as familiar.