"What else would you have me be?"
The Guildmaster swayed closer, each step plucking at Mochi's nerves like violin strings.
Mochi's throat tightened—no voice, just the System's taunting prompt:
A: "No more time to waste. Let's fight." (Kill)
B: "Like it or not, I came here to aim for your head." (Lie)
C: "Would you like to be kindly sliced off by bread too?" (Threaten)
All roads lead to death. Her lips moved on their own for C: "Would you like to be kindly sliced off by bread too?"
Hans' blood gleamed on the bakery floor as the Guildmaster tilted her head. "A jest won't mask your fear, little thief."
"Yeah, I know..." The Guildmaster's gaze darted over her shoulders. Is it for Hans or...
Oh. Maybe a time-stopper would notice the System, too. Damn...scary.
"Bit flashy for a mere thief's Guildmaster," Mochi mused, careful not to glance at the UI.
"It would be." Purple hair curtained Mochi's vision as the woman leaned in to brush aside her hood, black hairs fluttering. "But I never claimed that title."
"And I never said I changed my face." Mochi clenched her fists.
"I'd recognize my favorite rat anywhere." A finger traced Mochi's jugular—the same one that had halved her HP.
"Wow...how I'm flattered by your affection," Mochi rasped, suppressing a shudder. Fear? Something worse?
"Oh? Perhaps you think this is love?" The Guildmaster's breath warmed her ear.
"From a woman like you?" Mochi forced a grin. Yandere trope? Please. This mod's too cruel for clichés.
"Love..." The Guildmaster's grip tightened. "The Church , too, loved humanity—as they loved gold. And when the Royals loved justice enough to purge them..."
Mochi choked out: "Bad timing. The Peasants at this time still need faith when peace rotted out their purposes."
Thanks, Mad King Xyphren, for not being born in the Modern Centuries.
"How tragic." A second hand settled on Mochi's waist, making her stifle a gasp. "How rejected love... fractures the nation."
Since when was this about philosophy?! Mochi writhed in her hold. "Guildmaster—"
"Ah-ah." The woman's teeth grazed her earlobe. "Not my title, little thief."
A slight blush painted Mochi's cheeks. "Then what are you?"
The Guildmaster smiled—the same one she'd worn when she confessed she tinkered with a child's brain.
"Your first sin."
"This isn't the time to be vague, you creepy bastard." Mochi writhed against the frozen tableau, her struggles meaningless against time itself. The Guildmaster's golden eyes remained her only audience in this suspended theater of cruelty.
The woman chuckled, a sound like poisoned honey. "You must still be ignorant. Afraid. Too detached from anything but your precious reality."
Mochi's breath hitched as her throat constricted.
"Wha-what do you know?" The words scraped raw against her windpipe.
Crimson shadows slithered across her vision—was it terror or Bloodlust making her heart stutter?
"Not much. Or perhaps not as much as you." The Guildmaster's grip tightened, pressing their bodies together until Mochi could feel the contrast—steady heartbeat against frantic pulse. "After all, I was born as nothing, emerged as nothing... until I met you, my little thief."
The golden gaze narrowed into darkness, like a screen fading to black.
"My boredom knew no bounds. I should thank you for being such... compelling entertainment."
Mochi's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Ah, so I'm your toy then?"
"An interesting one," the Guildmaster mused, rolling a fingertip along Mochi's collarbone. "Before I inevitably discard you. How does that make you feel? Honored?"
"I don't know who you really are—" Mochi began, then suddenly grinned, her fingers spasming against her cheekbones before relaxing. "—but I do know one thing."
"Hm?"
"You don't want to kill me. Or maybe you can't. Not yet."
The nail at her waist bit deeper, threatening to hook flesh. "And what do you suppose that means?"
"It means," Mochi whispered, desummoning her bloodied breadstick with a smirk, "I'm the one actually in control."
The Guildmaster's laughter was a velvet knife. "Does that grant you some unexpected privilege, little thief?"
"Hehe... I like that nickname." In one fluid motion, Mochi seized the wrist at her jaw. "You know, there was a debate about height in a…community I was once part of."
"How tedious."
"Exactly." Mochi traced the unmoving veins in the Guildmaster's arm—cold as a corpse's. "Tall avatars had movement speed. Short ones were dismissed as noob mistakes... but I proved them wrong." Her grip tightened. "I found routes only short heights could exploit. That's why all my avatars followed that tradition."
The golden eyes flickered—something almost like recognition.
"Ah, oversimplifying things now, aren't we?" The Guildmaster's deflection came too smoothly.
Mochi's frown deepened. Had she imagined that flicker? Was she not also a…player who transmigrated and knew her from her past life?
No matter. Whether the nickname of 'little thief' is related to her previous avatars changed little of what she will declare next. "I may only have one little clue about you... but let's start over. Our first meeting ended poorly after all."
"Poorly?" A nail traced Mochi's knuckles. "I recall a thief in need of help."
"And I recall a Guildmaster who still needs me alive."
Then—instinct took over. Mochi's tongue darted out, swirling around the Guildmaster's fingertip like a puppy tasting salt. The woman tilted her head at the sensation, while Mochi admired the cunning in those abyssal eyes.
"Give me 48 hours to exterminate every bandit leader here." Mochi gasped, saliva stringing between them as she pulled away."In return...allow me to be your royal dog, your only dog...and teach me everything you know."
<...WARNING...warning...>
Shut it, Mochi thought savagely. She hadn't failed a quest yet. She'd play this role until the moment to strike came.
"I have no doubts you will succeed, however..." The Guildmaster chortled. "You may regret this choice."
"Oh, trust me," Mochi mocked, her vision swimming red. "I already regret enough to wish for death."
Surrendering to a woman who could snap her neck with a twitch? Insane. But if she had to die... being unraveled by this golden-eyed monster might be the most exquisite way.
The Guildmaster smiled, satisfied as she leaned down, lips parting—
And bit Mochi's earlobe hard enough to draw blood.
"Ha!"
A gasp tore from Mochi's throat as her knees buckled and fell, the Guildmaster's weight pressing her down.
"Remember this sensation, my pet." The woman's tongue swiped along the bloodied earlobe, the touch so electric it burned away Mochi's blush beneath a darker heat.
Tears. Mochi blinked, startled by the wetness on her lashes.
"I can give you as much as I take." The Guildmaster's thigh pinned her in place, silencing Mochi's weak struggles. "Consider this a feast... before I ruin you with honeyed drops." Hot breath ghosted over Mochi's neck as she hitched a whimper. "Until you thirst to death. Until you're of no use to me."
"I... I..."
<...>
The numbers blurred. The world narrowed to the Guildmaster's golden eyes and the tombstone shade creeping through Mochi's memories, hollowing her gaze.
"I'll... appreciate that then."
"Hm?"
"Yeah." Mochi's giggle was a broken thing. "Please... thirst me to death. Hehe... hehehe..."
Then—she lunged.
Teeth sank into the Guildmaster's neck.
Blood. Sweet. Must. Starve. More...
The Guildmaster didn't flinch, even as crimson bloomed across her skin. "Maddened by love, my pet?" Her palm danced across Mochi's hair, glowing violet and swirling with ancient magic.
<...Warning...warning...>
<...>
<...>
"Better?"
Mochi's heaving shoulders slackened. The red bled away from her vision, leaving only dilated green eyes—wide and horrified at the teeth marks she'd left.
Yet she smiled. An opportunity.
She licked the wound slowly, savoring copper sweetness.
"Hm." The Guildmaster petted her, blood from her bitten neck drickling onto Mochi's cheek. "How disobedient."
"Of course." Mochi purred, lapping at stained skin. "This pet loves you so much... she had to leave her mark, Mas~ter~"
"Hehe... such a sweet tone." The Guildmaster's grip tightened in Mochi's hair, yanking her back. "I'll forgive you. This time."
With clinical precision, she adjusted Mochi's rumpled clothing, then traced a thumb along her cheekbone. "Till we meet in my office, little thief."
Then—she vanished. No flourish of silk, no spellwork. Just gone, as if space itself bent to her whim.
Time lurched forward.
Hans' scream tore through the tavern. "STOP!"
Bows creaked mid-draw. Swords froze mid-swing. Mochi exhaled, long and slow, her fingers brushing her throbbing earlobe.
"...Irresponsible," she muttered to the empty air. "Leaving your pet to clean up the mess."
The bite mark burned. Just like the fire still simmering in her lungs.
<…>