Episode 6
Of course Enoch could read Rania like a book — he could tell what she was thinking just from her face. He’d said some of that stuff on purpose, but Rania didn’t know that. She just tried to answer calmly so she wouldn’t annoy a villain who could quiet a crying child.
“Uh… I’m just cold. I’m not feeling well today…” she lied.
“Oh? You look a little off. But why are you using formal speech with me? We agreed to talk casually. Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”
What the hell.
Rania buried her face in her hands and wished she could grab her past self by the collar and shake her. She peeked up at Enoch with a miserable little look.
His slightly curved brows, his hand pressed to his chin, his face so kind it almost looked cheerful — but why did it feel like saying “I don’t remember” might get her killed?
She forced a weak smile.
“Of course I remember! Yeah, I remember! We’re friends!”
“No, we’re not friends.”
“Oh— sorry.”
When Enoch suddenly got serious, Rania hurriedly apologized. Ugh, what a creep—making someone feel so embarrassed.
She hung her head like a ghost. Enoch chuckled softly. Jerel watched Rania and felt sorry for how helpless she looked — how much pity a real weakling could pull in, he thought.
“Don’t be mad, pretty. We slept together and cuddled — you don’t call that ‘just friends,’ do you?”
“…”
“Right? It’s not friends. It’s… something deeper.”
Rania didn’t know whether she was laughing or crying anymore. She didn’t drink hangover cures usually, but her mouth kept feeling dry, so she downed a gulp of the fruit wine in front of her. She couldn’t bring herself to ask the rough-looking guys behind the counter for water.
“Even that night you could hold your liquor,” Enoch said.
“Yeah, I usually can drink a bit…” Rania answered faintly and decided then and there: flee the country. No matter where she hid in the empire, the Night’s Eye would find her. The guild’s reach was huge. She’d need asylum in another country. Could any nation accept her? She wasn’t important enough. It was hopeless.
Her half-empty glass was refilled without her asking. She looked up and saw a young man with light blond hair smiling kindly. …He’s handsome. Damn — even the bad guys all had glossy good looks and sweet faces.
She sighed, glanced at Enoch and Jerel, and downed the drink again.
“By the way, I brought a present,” Enoch said, acting like she was a cute toy. The Night’s Eye member behind him silently set down a crate. Rania’s face went white.
“Th-That’s…!” she blurted.
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I grabbed a bunch.” Enoch smiled and opened the crate.
Rania’s eyes lit up so quickly she almost forgot to be scared. On the counter, rows of fancy liquor bottles — labels she’d only ever dreamed of — glittered like treasure. These were the kinds of bottles sold to palaces and noble houses; even rich people sometimes couldn’t get them.
Her heart lurched. She’d never been able to resist rare labels, even if someone paid her. The sight was irresistible.
Jerel clicked his tongue in a mix of exasperation and amusement watching Rania suddenly go giddy, while Enoch grinned and began pouring drinks. Rania felt giddy and guilty at once.
She’d first tried alcohol at sixteen, back in another kingdom where the drinking age was lower. She’d raided her father’s wine store and drunk all the bottles she could. The sweet, bitter, and sour tastes had been heavenly and addictive. Her father had cried when he found out — but from then on, Rania dreamed of running a bar.
She’d started out planning a tavern, but couldn’t trust herself with full stock — she’d drink it all. So she opened a café instead, but still kept a license and some special bottles for regulars. Now here they were, in front of her — priceless bottles — and she couldn’t resist.
Rania clapped her hands and laughed with the lightness of someone drunk on both wine and the moment. “Hey, if I only drink I’ll get tipsy fast — make some snacks! Use anything you’ve got.”
“Yes, right away!” came the answer, and Rania felt embarrassingly pleased. Enoch teased her, “You’re so funny, pretty.”
“Thanks. But why keep calling me ‘pretty’? It’s embarrassing…” she replied, cheeks bright red, and downed another glass in one go.
Enoch smiled, “Because you’re pretty.” Jerel shot him a disgusted look — Enoch’s way of saying it made Jerel’s skin crawl. Objectively, Rania was pretty. Her platinum hair braided to one side, soft tendrils framing her face, long lashes and faint violet eyes — even with a simple look, she had a low-key charm. Not a knock-you-over beauty, but quietly captivating.
Enoch kept pouring and chatting. Jerel, normally a non-drinker, found himself almost wanting a sip out of pique. He’d come along on purpose to help and now waste time watching this. When he sighed about time, Enoch cracked into the real reason they’d come.
“You know, pretty. I actually have a reason for visiting,g today.”
Rania’s smile fell. Her neat brows pulled together, and her soft mouth drooped. “Are you… going to kill me?” she whispered.
“What? If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already.” Enoch tilted his head.
Rania instantly brightened — right! If he wanted her dead, he wouldn’t be giving her top-shelf liquor and chatting like this. Some places did a “last meal” before killing someone, but Rania didn’t know about those grim customs. She was muddled by everything.
Laughing happily, she downed another bottle and looked at Enoch with drunk bravado. The night had turned into one of those dizzy, dangerous, intoxicating whirlwinds — and for the moment, fear and shame were buried under the glitter of bottles, the warmth in her chest, and the dangerous man across the counter who kept calling her “pretty.”
