"Look, the church," Azarias paused, the smirk vanishing as quickly as it appeared. His eyes flicked to the side, his lips twitching in thought. "Fu—" He stopped himself abruptly, placing the telephone back in its cradle with a soft clink, the sharp sound cutting through the room's eerie quiet.

  "First Henri, now that guy…" He chuckled under his breath, running his hands over his face in a slow, deliberate motion, fingers dragging down his cheeks. It was a mixture of amusement and exhaustion, the kind that seeped in when things got too tangled to unravel easily.

  He rubbed at his eyes, barely registering the massive array of monitors in front of him, flashing a rapid fire of data into his vision.

  A long sigh escaped his lips. "I'll need something to—" He stopped mid-sentence, eyes drifting upward as if recalling something long forgotten. "Where's that Valentina girl again?" His voice carried a touch of curiosity, as though he were talking about a chess piece he'd misplaced.

  "She's in the cells… underground," the woman standing across from him replied, her voice trembling despite the steadiness of her posture. She was stiff, almost unnaturally so, like she was forcing herself to hold her ground. Her hands remained locked at her sides, and her eyes flickered toward the door as if fearing something might burst through at any moment.

  Azarias raised an eyebrow at her demeanor but said nothing. "How smart is she?" He leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp and predatory as they locked onto the woman. "I'm feeling the need for chess."

  "She's the head of the financial department," the woman answered, her throat bobbing as she swallowed nervously. "I'd dare say she's one of the smartest we have."

  Azarias stood, rising with a fluid grace, his presence imposing despite his casual demeanor. He strolled toward the spiral staircase behind him, lightly gripping the cold support rail. "Luca?" he called out suddenly, though his voice seemed distant, as though it was slipping in and out of the reality they shared.

  The woman twitched at the sudden address, but her attention was drawn to the door behind her, the heavy air in the room thickening with dread. She knew something was behind that door, something terrible. The tension clung to her like a second skin.

  "You can leave," Azarias said suddenly, his voice slicing through the thick silence.

  Her breath caught in her throat. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  He waved a hand dismissively. "Go. You're free to leave."

  Relief washed over her for a split second, but it was short-lived. His next words shattered the brief moment of hope.

  "Someone's been murdered." His voice was casual, almost playful, like a child announcing a game.

  "M-murdered?" she stammered, her body stiffening. The word felt like a dagger in her gut.

  Azarias tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a soft, almost mocking smile. "Murder's such a rough word, don't you think?" He chuckled lightly, the sound unnervingly childlike. "It makes everything so final."

  "Yes," she muttered, her gaze dropping to the floor.

  "Where's the body?" he asked, his tone unchanged, as though asking for the time.

  "It's… it's been removed," she replied shakily, eyes flicking toward the library shelves, as if the weight of the books might offer some kind of anchor to the chaotic situation.

  Azarias strolled lazily toward the bookshelves, his fingers trailing over the spines of the meticulously arranged volumes. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. He stopped at a particular one, a red-covered book with bold lettering on the spine: The 21 Districts and Versions of Kol-nic.

  "Do you know," Azarias asked, his voice thoughtful, "you all are using a divergent version of Kol-nic?" He pulled the book free and began flipping through its pages, the rustling of paper the only sound in the deathly still room.

  "N-no, sir," she stammered, her fear leaking through every word.

  He hummed thoughtfully, not bothering to look at her. "It's close, but far enough to cause... misunderstandings." His fingers danced over the pages, his eyes scanning the text with unnerving speed. "A few thousand years ago, you wouldn't be able to communicate with a single citizen here. Language is such a delicate thing, isn't it? But then again... a thousand years is a long time."

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  She said nothing, too terrified to respond. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum.

  "Do you understand?" he asked, lifting his gaze to meet hers for the first time, his eyes cold and piercing. His voice, soft as it was, had the force of a hammer. It felt like he was speaking some forbidden incantation, the words curling through the air like smoke.

  "I… I don't," she admitted, her voice faltering as she struggled to comprehend the weight of his words. The way he spoke, it was as though he were casting a spell—a slow, deliberate one that would bind her in fear.

  Azarias smiled, a knowing, sinister smile. "Alright then, that settles it. I want to play chess," he announced, spinning on the support rail of the spiral staircase with the ease of someone without a care in the world. His fingers lightly touched the polished brass as he descended, his footsteps light and careless.

  "We should take the elevator, don't you think?" He glanced over his shoulder, gesturing for the woman to follow. "I always forget the layout of this place."

  The woman nodded stiffly, her legs heavy as lead as she followed him. Her skirt rustled softly with each step, her high heels clicking sharply against the cold marble floor, though she felt like she was walking through a nightmare.

  Azarias opened the door to a sight that hit them like a violent gust of wind. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of iron and decay. It clung to their skin, as if death itself had seeped into the walls. Blood was everywhere. Dark crimson pools spread across the floor like a thick syrup, seeping through the cracks in the tile. The room was no longer just an office space; it had become a slaughterhouse. Desks were overturned, chairs toppled, and papers scattered, some soaked through with blood, sticking to the floor like grotesque imprints of lives cut short.

  Everyone was dead.

  The once-bustling space of activity was now filled with the lifeless bodies of workers, slumped over their desks or lying in grotesque, unnatural positions on the floor. Some were still in their chairs, their faces frozen in horror, eyes wide open as if they had seen death coming but had no time to react. Others had tried to escape — their bodies contorted mid-motion, fingers reaching out towards the door as if salvation was just beyond their grasp. But they had never made it. Blood dripped from the edges of the desks, pooling beneath them, soaking the soles of his shoes as he stepped forward without a flicker of emotion.

  The woman behind him, Anna, let out a blood-curdling scream, her hand flying to her mouth as she stumbled back. Her eyes darted around the room, wide with panic, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Tears welled in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as she shook her head in disbelief.

  "They… they weren't dead when I came in!" she sobbed, her voice raw with panic and horror. "They weren't dead!"

  Azarias stood calmly amidst the chaos, his gaze drifting lazily over the bodies. His expression didn't change—didn't even flicker. It was as if the massacre around him was nothing more than a mildly interesting painting.

  "Where's Valentina?" he asked again, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

  The woman was too hysterical to respond at first, her hands covering her face as she sobbed.

  "Valentina…" Azarias repeated, his voice like ice. "Is she still in the cells? Or has she been taken?"

  She tried to respond but only managed a garbled sob.

  Azarias sighed. "You're sure she's still there?" he asked, more to himself than her, as he stepped over the blood-soaked floor with careless ease. The deep red liquid stained his boots, but he didn't seem to notice—or care.

  The elevator dinged, its doors sliding open, revealing a tall figure that seemed to block the entire entrance. The man was at least two feet taller than Azarias, his long black cape flowing like shadow, a wide-brimmed hat casting most of his face in darkness.

  "Out," Azarias commanded simply, his voice calm but with an authority that brooked no argument.

  The man hesitated for only a split second before stepping aside, his massive form brushing past the woman, who recoiled violently at his touch. Her body trembled uncontrollably, the last of her composure crumbling.

  The man disappeared into the room they had just vacated, and the elevator was now open to Azarias and the woman.

  "The Pope is going to kill me," Azarias said, stepping inside with a hint of amusement. "I won't be allowed out anymore."

  His feet tapped against the elevator floor, his mind elsewhere, his body fidgeting slightly. He clicked his heels against the metal floor in rhythmic motions, like an impatient child. But there was something darker in the way he moved, something that spoke of barely contained chaos.

  She jumped, eyes wide, barely registering the sound.

  "What's your name?" he asked, as if it had just occurred to him to ask.

  "Anna," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  "Alright, Anna," he said, his tone unsettlingly calm. "Close your eyes and mouth. I don't care how—just do it."

  Without hesitation, she squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her mouth closed, her heart racing in terror.

  Azarias muttered something under his breath, the words low and unintelligible. The elevator hadn't moved yet, but the air inside felt suffocating. She could feel it—the tension, the dread. The walls felt like they were closing in, the darkness thick and oppressive.

  The man who was in the elevator shuffled towards the door opposite Azarias's room, his footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. As he reached for the handle, Azarias's finger hovered over the elevator button, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The moment the man's hand touched the cold metal, Azarias pressed the button.

  And then… silence.

  A heavy silence, like the calm before the storm.

  Anna didn't dare open her eyes.

  People laughing?