Sheets of metal, slightly dented and worn, lie on the table. Traces of dried blood still cling onto their edges, smells of sickly iron wafting out from the little nooks and crannies. The dingy room is still as is, a cold, barren shelter to pass the rest of the night. Occasionally, the sounds of people shouting or objects violently clanging against each other can be heard, but it’s all part of the night life in the slums.

Kavlina lies down on her bed, her prosthetic arm twitching and calibrating even as the rest of her body rests dormant. It’s been a day already. Another somewhat successful mission, another corrupt official removed from the world. Yet there is no jubilation, not even relief, only a sense of completion as she stares blankly at the ceiling.

She’s tired.

Los, that was his name, wasn’t it? The target she wanted to exact her justice upon, and succeeded. Whatever is written on that letter is only an admittance of guilt, of a man finally coming to terms with his crimes. In a sense, he has already accepted his sentence without a doubt. She’s only the executioner of his punishment. Those unfortunate guards by the names of Urte and Masl were only unlucky. They had stood as obstacles to exact her judgment. It’s justified. Of course it’s justified.

And yet… she’s tired. Not exactly of the physical sort, but tired in another sense that she still hasn’t wrapped her head around.

And she still hasn’t reached her final target yet.

A knock.

“Am I interrupting?” a familiar, muffled voice reaches her from the outside.

“Just come in, Gruffy.”

Her informant and employer steps in, his stout and decorated body immediately a blaring contrast to the minimalism of the room and its inhabitant.

No one knows his actual name. When Kavlina first asked, he called himself “Lexial”. The second time, he called himself “Hayeviel”. The third, “Azien”. Alternating between names of kings long dead, it is as though the man is mocking the dead royal line of Achien… or perhaps preserving the memory of it, depending on who Kavlina asks. Eventually, she settles with a rather silly name: “Gruffy”, literally named for the man’s rough voice. Well, at least it sounds the least bit homely, unlike the distance imposed with such regal titles.

“You forgot to get paid, Maiden,” Gruffy says as he places a small pouch on the floor, the coins inside clinking as it settles down.

“I don’t need it.” Kavlina does not even sit up, her body still unmoving, ignoring the sounds at her door.

“If you say so,” Gruffy responds. “I’ll grab a beer with your money, then.” With a flick of his foot, the pouch softly lands back in his palm. “Goodbye—”

“Wait.” She pushes herself up, brushing back her disheveled hair as she stands, immediately towering over the man. “You knew I had killed a target.”

“I have my ways,” he shrugs. “At least I have your attention now, haven’t I?” He tosses the pouch back at Kavlina, the latter instinctively catching it with her hands.

“Again.”

“An employer must pay his employees.”

“Why are we here?” Kavlina asks.

Gruffy does not answer, placing down two coins as he receives two jugs of beer from the shopkeeper, the liquid a dull yellow under the dim lights of the store. “I said I’d grab a beer, and so I did… Do you want a sip?”

Kavlina shakes her head. “Water.” In a short moment, a cup of water is served, muddled and rather dirty.

“Even after all this time, you still drink that unsanitary water over beer,” Gruffy sighs, shaking his head. “Tough stomach.”

“I’d say the same for beer.” Surrounded by the loud banter of other customers, the two of them consume their drinks in silence, Gruffy’s trinkets rattling with every gulp while Kavlina takes small, cautious sips, her throat barely moving as the water trickles down. This is supposed to be an environment of relaxation, but still, Kavlina taps her finger rhythmically on the table, keeping her mind alert even as everyone around her has completely lowered their guard.

“There’s been quite a commotion in the New Rule camp since you completed your mission yesterday, you know,” Gruffy says just before he gulps down another glass of beer.

“Took them a while.”

“You’re not worried?”

“I just have to be more careful,” Kavlina shrugs. “Nothing special.”

“As expected from the Maiden of Justice,” Gruffy chuckles. “Nothing can stand between you and your next target. I like this spirit.” He raises his hand, and another glass of beer is promptly served at the table.

“I’m not sacrificing my goal because of some inconveniences.” Emptying her cup, she places it lightly on the table. “Water.”

“And what is your goal?” Gruffy suddenly asks, taking another gulp of beer. “Since you arrived here, you are only known to kill corrupt officials, mostly soldiers. But why? A murderer isn’t made without some reasoning. I’ve known my fair share of mysteries, but you’re exactly as your enemies call you: a maiden in black, nothing more. Tell me, Maiden: Why do you kill?”

“You talk like you know me.”

“I don’t,” Gruffy admits. “But that’s why I’m asking, right?”

“The corrupt ones must be removed. That’s all I’ll give.” He must be removed.

Four years. She still hasn’t forgotten, even if that’s one of the oldest memories she has of him. A stab, and Tarak dead before her eyes. It’s strangely vivid, considering what little she remembers from before. He had betrayed her, their friendship completely severed with one stroke. Whatever they had experienced before, she has already forgotten, not that it matters to her any more.

Her robotic arm twitches. One day, the corrupted ones, ones blinded with power or the prospect of power, will all be removed by her hand. And at the center of it all, him, objectively just another warlord hungry for power at his core, but to her, an enemy, a traitor who had once carved an irreparable hole in her.

He will be removed.

“The corrupt one must be removed,” she rephrases.

“That’s some reasoning,” Gruffy says slowly, visibly confused at her answer. “Mysterious as ever, Maiden.”

“Did I entertain you enough?”

“Well… hic, not really.” After requesting yet another glass of beer, he leans closer to Kavlina, his eyes locked onto hers. “When I asked that question, I was expecting something more deep, more personal. It’s not everyday that you get to share a beer with me, you know.”

“You’re getting drunk.”

“Maybe, hic, but I like this, you know?” Despite slowly losing his senses, Gruffy still maintains his strong gaze even as he gradually slumps forward. “Every time I get drunk, I forget a bit of the pain, a bit of the struggle, and just enjoy myself in the drunken paradise. It’s like, uh, hic, sleeping, you know?”

Unlike the usual Gruffy she meets at his shop, distanced and professional, the plump man is now vulnerable, softened by the alcohol. Kavlina looks at the shopkeeper, but the man only smiles and shakes his head.

“He’s like this every time he comes here, Maiden,” the shopkeeper comments as he serves a drink to a nearby customer. “Starts mumbling like a senile old man after ten glasses, twenty on a bad day. Tried to get me to talk about my life, ended up talking about his. Sad life, the man got. Even the scavengers pity him. Surprised you didn’t know about this side of him.”

“Aw, shut up, Rul,” Gruffy chuckles weakly. “I’m not that— hic, downtrodden. I still got my jewelry, you know?”

“Whatever you say, old man,” Rul responds before turning away.

Kavlina looks at Gruffy’s trinkets. Although quite fancy and elaborate, many of them have already lost their luster, scratched and worn down. Besides their melodic ring when clinked against each other, they are but old, faded artifacts.

“You looking at my beautiful necklace?” Gruffy notices. “It’s a fine one, hic, from my good days in Staegond. Friend owned a mine and factory there, you know? One of the greatest in the region, supplying every major nation with raw ores they wanted.”

“Here he goes again,” Rul sighs. “Not that we ever get sick of hearing them, just… you’ll see.”

“I was an investor. Invested in some other things, of course. We made billions, billions of coins like these…” He hands a few coins to Rul, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Ha! Could’ve been one of the richest men alive if not for the wars. Steel that supported skyscrapers, gems that adorned the nobles’ clothes, and even your arm, Maiden; the materials were all likely made over in Staegond. So rich that, two decades onwards, after losing so much, I still got enough to last me a lifetime.”

He looks at the dimly lit ceiling, the light reflecting off his eyes. “And the war took it all away, you know? Our biggest partner, the great Achien Empire, collapsed. So many companies collapsed. The entire region collapsed. You were probably just a child then, Maiden, but anyone without the support of some warlord was plundered and removed. They called themselves factions. They were thieves, bandits, you know? Stealing, robbing, sacking everything in their sights. Everything. For a better world under their control? Lies. Just lies.

“I fled, yet everywhere, it’s just the same. They all back their deeds with some grandiose ideology, but in the end, they just plunder all the same. It’s all for power. That friend whose factory made this necklace? He was killed so his machinery can be used by some faction. And that faction’s leader? Another friend. Ha!”

Somehow, Kavlina sees the shadow of a man once proud and upstanding, now reduced to nothing but a shell decorated with former glories. A man broken, ruined by the war.

“I sound crazy, but sometimes, I wish they’d all just disappear! Especially those leaders!” Gruffy slams his glass on the table. “But alas, I’m just a fat man who loves my long lost wealth, as we here long for the lives we once had.” He sighs, his mouth still moving yet making no more noise.

“Maybe if they’re gone, then I’ll finally say goodbye to this tasty beer.”

“Hence you’re willing to give me information for me to kill my targets,” Kavlina says, taking a sip of water.

Gruffy nods. “I’m just tired…” He slumps over, rapidly falling asleep on the table.

“I like this spirit,” she comments, repeating Gruffy’s words earlier.

The drunk man has entertained her enough. Putting down a singular coin on the table, she stands, making her way to the exit. Outside, the usual sounds of the night can be heard, white noise serving only to rattle her ears a little.

The story does not surprise her. He is, after all, a man of remarkable wealth for the slums. His generosity is what keeps him alive, or perhaps even what keeps the slums alive. Pity? Maybe she feels some, but she instead finds mainly a sort of interest in his views. Instead of seeing him as an employer, she now finds him as a partner in crime.

There are too many ruined by the war. They all coalesce together in the slums, forming a surprisingly functional society. It is simply what they all share in common, allowing them to shelter each other where otherwise they cannot even protect themselves. Ironically, it is a paradise of sorts, squeezed between battlefields as a place of relative peace. Funny, isn’t it?

Kavlina looks at the dark night sky, temporarily free of streaks of smoke or blinding flashes, and smiles. Strange that the mere absence of war is enough to raise her spirits. And maybe some others’ as well. She strokes the right side of her hair, long ago being tied into a small braid by someone she had forgotten about.

One day, maybe she’ll try her best to remember how the braid was tied, serving as a memory to all the people she has forgotten. One day, she’ll visit that battlefield again to reunite with an old comrade and mentor. One day, the gap inside her will be filled.

Oh, and she’ll finally tell a proper story to Gruffy as well.