Chapter 8: Sword and System Warnings

I didn’t let Sophie bandage it. That wound would heal itself within half an hour. I just had her help me get dressed, then bring me the sword my brother gave me.

It was an old fencing saber—polished but worn, the grip wrapped in faded blue tape. My brother had given it to me when I was sixteen, promising it would keep me safe. I never imagined I’d be brandishing it in the middle of the night, my wrist still slick with blood.

When I rushed into Lillian’s room, there was still blood at the corner of her mouth, and she was weakly leaning in Marcus’s arms. I came in with sword drawn, but was stopped at the door by Marcus’s guards. They didn’t dare hurt me, so I stabbed two of them.

The scene was chaos—Marcus shouting, Lillian gasping, the guards frozen in disbelief. My blade flashed in the low light, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. For a moment, I felt alive again, dangerous and unafraid.

"Rachel! Are you out of your mind?"

Marcus shouted, shielding Lillian behind him. My sword was pointed directly at his neck.

I met his gaze, unblinking. For the first time, I think he saw me—not as a threat or a burden, but as a woman with nothing left to lose.

"System, he’s already lived past twenty-seven. Even if he dies now, it doesn’t matter, right?"

[Warning: Mission failure will result in permanent lockout. Please reconsider.]

The system’s voice was calm, almost bored. It felt like being scolded by a DMV clerk.

I sneered. Figures.

"Mrs. Carter, it’s all my fault, please don’t blame Marcus. I’m just useless. If you want to kill someone, kill me."

Lillian’s voice was barely a whisper, but she mustered the strength to step between us. Blood dripped from her hands, pooling on the expensive carpet. She looked fragile, tragic—every inch the star of her own show. If she started fainting into someone’s arms, I was going to start charging admission.

I don’t know where Lillian found the strength, but she suddenly rushed out and gripped my sword tightly. Blood flowed from her fingertips, matching her pale face and tear-streaked expression. Marcus was truly heartbroken. He knocked my sword aside and glared at me as if he would kill me the next moment.

His eyes were wild, his chest heaving. In that moment, I realized I’d become the villain in a story I never wanted to tell. Still, I stood my ground, refusing to let them write my ending for me.