Liam stood on the shore, the silence of the forest pressing in. Whatever had been watching them had vanished, but the "predator" instinct in his gut was still humming a low, dissonant chord.
"Tir’s up," Liam rumbled, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Ti to get out, you lot, we have a schedule to keep."
He waded to the shore, his massive fra dripping. While the others were still shivering, Liam was already pulling a set of heavy, bone-handled knives from his inventory.
"Rogue, stop fondling the egg and get over here," Liam commanded. "I need those silver scales harvested while the mana is still fresh in the hide. If the temperature drops too much, the ’Durability’ stat on the new armour will tank. Move."
"New armour?" Rogue perked up, reluctantly setting the iridescent "baby" egg down on a bed of soft moss. "Does that an I get a cape? Assassins need capes, Liam. It’s in the professional handbook."
"You get a reinforced vest so you stop getting one-shotted by field mobs," Liam countered. He plunged a blade into the Serpent with surgical precision.
He glanced over at Elizabeth. She was standing by the small fire Rogue had managed to spark, her wet white dress clinging to her in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The moonlight caught the curve of her waist and the frustrated twitch of her pink cat ears.
His knife was still in the serpent’s flesh, still trying to cut pieces from it, but his brain was giving him errors, not real ones, but his throat was dry, and her skin was damp, and it had ridden up on one side. His tail thumped hard once, then Liam locked his jaw and had to force his attention back to the problem at hand.
Her dress shifted when she moved. The fabric pulled tight across her stomach.
Fat content. Twenty-three per cent. Ideal for sashimi-grade preparation with a good buff for...
"You did well today, Elizabeth," Liam said, his voice flat but honest. "Your timing on the final stun was... optimal."
Elizabeth stiffened. She looked at him, her eyes wide, waiting for more, maybe a look of admiration, or at least a second glance at how the wet fabric was hugging her. Instead, Liam imdiately turned back to the snake’s entrails, muttering about "fat content."
Elizabeth stiffened.
She turned to face him fully, and the movent shifted the dress again.
Liam’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenched.
"The fat marbling on this belly section is exceptional," he muttered, mostly to himself.
She let out a sharp huff, turned on her heel, and marched toward the treeline. "Whatever! Just don’t ruin the sashimi!"
Liam raised an eyebrow, his analytical brain whirring. I gave her a 9.5/10 performance review, and she’s angry? Won’s minds are a labyrinth of corrupted logic gates. If the ’Complint’ input results in ’Fury,’ the wiring is definitely faulty.
Elizabeth was wringing out her hair with more force than the task required. Her face was burning. She could feel it, the heat spreading down her neck, across her chest.
’Optimal. He called her optimal. Like a spreadsheet formula. Like a damage rotation. She’d been standing right there, soaking wet, the dress practically painted on, and he’d looked at her for exactly one second before going back to fish guts. felt him tense against her in the water, felt the undeniable, physical proof that he wasn’t as unbothered as he pretended. And now he was over there, elbow deep in a dead snake, mumbling about collagen like she didn’t exist.
Her cat ears flattened against her skull.
maybe I should show him a different kind of grinding back at the house... She imdiately shook the thought away, her tail lashing. Wait, no! Bad brain! Shut up! ’
"Elizabeth", Liam called out, "help cut this part of the serpent, then we can go."
"Fine," though the fine sounded more like a his, she walked over.
"Press down firm and don’t let it slip," Liam instructed Elizabeth.
"I know how to hold a fish, Liam."
"This is a serpent."
"It’s a fish with ambition."
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but lost enough that Elizabeth’s flush deepened by two shades.
Beautiful. His focus should have been entirely on the at.
Her shoulder was pressed against his arm. He could feel the rise and fall of her breathing through the contact.
"Perfect," he said, examining the cut.
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened on serpent’s at "The fish?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and nervousness.
Liam looked at her directly. His red gaze was steady, unhurried, and for one unguarded mont, not looking at the serpent at all.
"The at", Liam said, and then he went back to work, as if nothing had happened at all.
Elizabeth didn’t move; her cat ears had gone straight up, alert, flushed pink at the inner edges; her lips were parted.
Elizabeth was still frozen, her heart thumping against her ribs like a trapped bird after Liam’s "The at" comnt. She didn’t know whether to punch him or pull him back into the mud.
"Hey! HELLO! I’M HERE TOO, BY THE WAY!"
Rogue’s voice shattered the mont like a brick through a window. He was standing three feet away, lugging the iridescent egg in one arm and a pile of slimy silver scales in the other. "I’m literally standing right here holding our future child and a mountain of monster skin, and you two are having a ’mont’ over a slab of fat? My stream chat would be calling this ’Mid-Tier Romance’ right now!
Liam didn’t even look up. He expertly sliced through the final tendon, the iridescent scales of the serpent reflecting the moonlight on his focused face. "Rogue, if you don’t start packing up, I’m going to find out if Assassin class players have a high fat-to-muscle ratio for my next broth."
[SYSTEM TOOLTIP: THE UNSEEN GUEST]
[Warning]: Detection Failed.
[Status]: You are being observed by a high-level entity.
[Liam’s Internal Monologue]:
Is it a rival guild?
Is it a world boss?
...Can I cook it?
User Comments
0 comments from readers