The Price of Indifference

The cold metal pressed against Rachel’s carotid artery, while Miriam’s warm breath, though close to her ear, carried an unsettling chill.

Vera froze, her pupils contracting with extreme terror, her throat constricted as if by an unseen hand, unable to utter a sound.

“Rachel Lockwood…”

Miriam’s voice had shed all traces of a merchant’s slickness and flattery, leaving only a frigid tone, suppressed to its utmost limits.

“When did you start suspecting me?”

Rachel’s body tensed slightly under the threat of the dagger, yet her voice remained surprisingly calm.

“From the beginning.”

“From the beginning?” A clear note of doubt laced Miriam’s tone, and her fingers, gripping Rachel’s shoulder, tightened further.

“You are a merchant, at least on the surface.”

Rachel tilted her head slightly, a minuscule movement that nonetheless pressed the sharp blade into her skin, leaving a faint mark.

“You know better than anyone the desolate state of Linchang Town. Why would a shrewd, life-loving, and cunning merchant like yourself venture there to do business? To whom would you sell? The paupers who can’t even afford their taxes, or perhaps the… ghost miners rumored to exist in the mountains?”

‘Of course, the true reasons run far deeper,’ Rachel silently added in her mind, her gaze fixed on the slowly ticking countdown that had materialized before her eyes.

After Rachel had left the mine and painstakingly analyzed Princess Ariya’s general plan, the “three-day” death countdown had struck her as particularly peculiar.

Ariya needed her as a pawn to lure out the Cult, then to be executed as a criminal collaborating with heretics, thereby showcasing her righteous commitment to eradicating evil. However, such a process would demand time—investigation, evidence gathering, a trial—and would never align precisely with a ‘three days later’ deadline. This countdown, instead, pointed towards an immediate, private execution.

It was then that Rachel realized a third party, beyond the Cult and Ariya, might be seeking her life. The list of potential suspects was exceedingly short.

‘Vera? The foolish maid who had nearly sacrificed her life to save me just recently? If she truly wished me dead, she would have had countless opportunities during our constant proximity; why wait until now?’ Eliminating Vera, the answer became almost self-evident: Miriam, the merchant who had appeared suddenly, with an unknown background, who had approached me willingly, yet seemed overly “timid.” Her appearance, coinciding with the activation of the countdown, was far too coincidental.

Rachel also recalled Miriam’s unusually profound silence and disheartened demeanor when confronted with the mountain of dragon-human corpses deep within the mine, which further solidified her suspicions. A common merchant, greedy and fearful for their life, should not have reacted in such a manner to such a terrifying and bizarre sight.

Miriam’s voice turned cold, tinged with the fury of being deceived.

“So, you were testing me.”

“You deliberately told me the princess would ‘clarify things’ at the banquet, encouraging me to sneak in… just to see if I would appear again?”

“Yes.”

Rachel admitted openly.

“A pure merchant, one who merely wished to avoid trouble, should have fled like a startled rabbit after delivering my goods, vanishing completely from my sight. She would never have willingly approached me, a ‘source of trouble,’ again, let alone risk sneaking into the heavily guarded Silver Mistletoe Estate to hear some ‘truth.'”

“Therefore, when you appeared before us again…” Rachel paused, a hint of understanding in her tone. “…my suspicions were largely confirmed.”

“Heh…”

Miriam let out a short, cold scoff, devoid of any past smoothness, replaced only by sharp derision.

“Rachel Lockwood, it seems everyone has misjudged you. You are not at all the useless wastrel rumored to only bully maids. You are clever, exceedingly clever… annoyingly so!”

The dagger in her hand pressed closer, its cold edge almost embedding itself in Rachel’s skin.

“Alas, what good is all that cleverness? You guessed the beginning, you guessed my identity, you even guessed I would make a move… but it seems you didn’t guess you’d be caught so easily?”

A hint of cruel delight laced Miriam’s tone.

“Where is your ‘foresight’? Where are your ‘divine calculations’? How did you fail to account for an escape route? Or perhaps, you simply didn’t deem my petty tricks worthy of your attention?!”

Rachel could feel the subtle tremor emanating from Miriam’s body behind her—not fear, but a barely contained agitation, ignited by hatred and fury.

She inhaled softly, the stinging sensation at her neck growing sharper.

“Miriam.”

Rachel’s voice was soft, imbued with a strange weariness.

“I just want to know… why? Why must you kill me? You heard everything in the mine; Ariya made it clear enough. The Cult is the true mastermind; they created those monsters, they blew up the mine to destroy evidence. I am merely… an unfortunate soul who happened to purchase that abandoned mine.”

“If your intent to kill me stemmed from the mine incident, then upon learning the truth, your murderous intent should have vanished.”

“Vanished?!”

Miriam’s voice suddenly rose, sharp and furious, as if she had been stung.

“Do you think knowing those madmen are called the ‘Cult of the End,’ knowing the princess and they are manipulating each other… that all of this just ends there?! Rachel Lockwood! What do you understand?!”

Her voice was distorted by emotion, carrying an unsuppressable sob.

“You ask me why I want to kill you? Fine! I’ll tell you! For Gina! For Gina, my best friend!”

“Gina?”

Vera couldn’t help but repeat the name softly; it was entirely unfamiliar to her.

“Gina…”

As Miriam uttered the name, the sharpness and coldness in her voice strangely softened for a moment, as if she had touched something incredibly precious yet fragile.

“She was my only friend! A… a fool with nothing but strange ideas in her head, constantly immersed in bottles and jars, capable of turning hair growth potions into explosive concoctions, and heating stones into miniature bombs!”

‘So that’s it,’ Rachel mused inwardly. ‘The magic items Miriam sold, with their obvious side effects, were actually crafted by this Gina.’

The floodgates of memory were painfully wrenched open, and for the first time, Miriam’s voice took on a true, intrinsic color—not the feigned flattery or timidity, but a gentle warmth tinged with helplessness, doting affection, and profound nostalgia.

“She hated crowds, hated socializing, found nobles to be hypocritical and troublesome, which is why she retreated to your remote Lockwood territory, found a secluded spot, and built a small cabin to serve as her laboratory. She said it was quiet there, undisturbed, allowing her to focus on her magic items… though those gadgets would almost certainly explode nine times out of ten.”

Miriam’s voice deepened, thick with a nasal quality.

“We always kept in touch, writing letters, or I would secretly visit her. Each time, she would excitedly show me her latest ‘masterpiece,’ and then… then she’d usually blow up the house, leaving it in utter chaos. We’d clean it up together, covered in soot and dust, laughing all the while… She always said next time she’d surely succeed, creating truly useful, safe magic items…”

Miriam paused, as if trying to calm her surging emotions. Her grip on Rachel’s shoulder unconsciously loosened a fraction, as if she were lost in that warm memory.

“Half a year ago… in the last letter she sent, her tone was excited, yet also a little uneasy. She said she’d found some strange traces nearby, like residual fluctuations from a large-scale magic ritual. She decided to investigate, claiming it could be a major discovery, and that she’d share everything with me when she returned…”

Miriam’s voice abruptly turned bone-chillingly cold, like a poisoned icicle. “And then… she never came back!”

“I waited for a long time, but Gina’s letters never arrived again. Unable to bear it any longer, I rushed to Lockwood to find her. But her cabin was empty, covered in dust, half-written notes still spread across her workbench, the stove cold…”

Miriam’s voice trembled, filled with helplessness and panic.

“I searched for a long time nearby, asking every one of the few remaining households, but no one knew where she had gone. Until… I found this in the woods outside the Gray Mountain Mine!”

Miriam’s free hand suddenly snatched something from her bosom and slammed it onto the flagstone floor beside Rachel’s feet.

It was a small, deformed and twisted metal badge, on which a pattern of a gear encircled by flames could faintly be discerned. Under the moonlight, the badge’s surface was covered in scratches and grime.

“This is Gina’s badge! Her lab’s insignia! She never took it off!”

Miriam’s voice was a desperate shriek.

“It was lying right on the path leading to the mine! It was then that I understood: her disappearance had to be connected to the Gray Mountain Mine! And the owner of that mine was you, Rachel Lockwood!”

Vera looked at the small, inconspicuous badge on the ground, then at Miriam, whose emotions had completely spiraled out of control, her eyes filled with shock and a touch of pity.

“Later… later I tried every possible means to inquire, finally finding an opportunity to approach you, and followed you into the mine…” Miriam’s voice suddenly became incredibly low and hoarse, as if each word was steeped in blood. “Do you remember that pile of dragon-human corpses, Lady Rachel? Do you remember?!”

Her body began to tremble violently from extreme agony, a tremor that Rachel also felt.

“Among that heap of monsters… right on the edge… I saw a corpse…” Miriam’s voice was choked with an almost unbearable grief, a heart-wrenching sorrow. “It was wearing… wearing Gina’s favorite… that yellowed old apron! The one she wore when doing experiments… to keep her clothes clean! It was a gift from her mother! She only had that one!”

“She’s dead!”

Miriam’s shriek tore through the silent night sky, brimming with ingrained hatred.

“Those madmen transformed her into a monster, neither human nor ghost! Then they piled her there like refuse! And all of this happened on your territory! Right under your nose! Rachel Lockwood! You are the lord! That mine is your property! Those madmen could build a laboratory there, conduct those heinous experiments, turn Gina… turn Gina into that… and you dare to claim you were completely unaware?! Do you dare say you have no connection to the Cult whatsoever?!”

Her accusations were like cold daggers, sharper than the one pressed against Rachel’s throat.

“Even if… even if you truly are just an ‘unlucky’ lord, as you claim…”

Miriam’s voice was distorted by extreme hatred.

“Your incompetence! Your indifference! You only cared about exploiting your people, ignoring the evil right under your nose! You are an accomplice! An accomplice in Gina’s death! How could I possibly forgive you?! How could I possibly let you go?!”

“That’s not true! Lady Rachel, she…” Vera could no longer restrain herself, excitedly wanting to rush forward and defend.

“Shut up!”

Miriam sharply cut her off, pressing the dagger tightly against Rachel’s neck once more, drawing a clear red mark. Her gaze towards Vera was filled with icy warning.

“Move again, and I’ll slit her throat instantly! Step back!”

Vera stared at the stark red mark on Rachel’s neck, her heart almost ceasing to beat. She dared not move again, only biting her lip fiercely, tears welling in her eyes, her hands clenched into tight fists from anger and powerlessness. Her own wounds throbbed faintly from her recent emotional agitation and movements.

“Accomplice…” Rachel softly repeated the word, her tone devoid of much emotional fluctuation, carrying only a profound complexity. “So, even knowing the Cult is the true culprit, even knowing I might have been a manipulated and deceived pawn, you still believe… my ‘inaction’ equates to murder, and must be repaid with my life?”

“Yes!”

Miriam’s reply was resolute, imbued with an undeniable fanaticism.

“Gina is dead! She died so horribly! Someone must pay the price for this! I cannot find the Cult members for now, but you, the lord… you are right before my eyes! I will never let go of anyone who might have caused her death!”

The last vestiges of Miriam’s characteristic smoothness and hesitation vanished completely from her eyes, replaced only by a frenzied killing intent, thoroughly ignited by hatred. The obsidian dagger, under the moonlight, reflected a chilling, heart-stopping glint.

“For Gina… die!”

Miriam let out a low growl, like a wounded beast, and with a sudden surge of strength in her wrist, the obsidian dagger, charged with resolute hatred, plunged viciously towards Rachel’s defenseless throat!

Time seemed to stretch infinitely in that moment. In Vera’s despairing pupils, the rapidly enlarging, deadly black glint of the blade was reflected. Rachel could even feel the cold rush of air as the knife cut through it.

Just at this critical juncture!

“Clang—!”

A sharp, piercing sound, like metal clashing, erupted abruptly beside Rachel’s neck, without any warning!

A figure, swift as a phantom, seemed to appear out of thin air! A hand, encased in a dark grey leather glove, gripped Miriam’s knife-wielding wrist with the precision of an iron clamp! The force was so immense that Miriam’s fatal thrust was abruptly halted mid-air, less than an inch from Rachel’s skin!

Simultaneously, the other hand, quick as lightning, curled into a claw, moving with a fierce whoosh, aiming mercilessly for the inner joint of Miriam’s knife-wielding wrist! If that grip connected, it would be enough to instantly incapacitate her entire arm!

A sudden turn of events!