Journey to Become the Zenith

A Smile Before the Trap (Part 2)

The assassin’s hand froze in midair.

The spoon hovered just inches from his mouth.

His fingers gradually stiffened as though they no longer belonged to him.

For a fleeting instant...

Even the laughter filling the tavern seemed impossibly distant.

His heartbeat thundered inside his ears.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The sound grew louder and louder until it drowned out everything else.

Cold sweat trickled down the side of his face.

He didn’t need to look up.

He already knew who was standing before him.

There was only one person capable of making every instinct in his body scream at once.

Death.

No...

Victor.

Slowly...

Very slowly...

He raised his head.

As expected, Victor stood there with the same easy smile on his face.

His golden eyes were calm and warm, almost friendly.

There wasn’t the slightest hint of hostility.

Yet that gentle expression only made the assassin feel even colder.

Because he knew.

Monsters didn’t always bare their fangs.

Sometimes...

They smiled.

"Hey, is this seat free?"

Victor repeated patiently, as though he had simply met another stranger during dinner.

The assassin swallowed.

His throat had become painfully dry.

His lips parted before he finally managed to answer.

"...Yeah."

"That seat is free."

"You can sit there if you want to."

His voice sounded surprisingly steady.

Years of pretending had finally proven useful.

Although panic raged inside him, his expression remained composed.

Victor smiled.

"Thanks."

He pulled out the wooden chair and sat opposite the assassin without the slightest hesitation.

The chair creaked softly beneath him.

For a brief moment...

Neither man spoke.

Victor casually rested one arm on the table while glancing around the tavern.

The cheerful atmosphere had completely returned.

Customers laughed loudly.

Someone had already begun singing an old adventurer’s drinking song.

Several workers who had spent the entire day clearing rubble raised another toast to Fantom City’s future.

The undead invasion had left deep scars upon the city.

Many families still mourned.

Many homes remained broken.

But tonight...

People had chosen hope.

Victor quietly watched them.

A faint smile naturally appeared on his handsome face.

"It looks livelier than I expected."

The assassin forced himself to nod.

"It does."

"I guess everyone needed something to celebrate."

Victor chuckled softly.

"I think so too."

"After everything that’s happened these past few days..."

"...seeing people smile again isn’t a bad thing."

The assassin gave another small nod.

"You’re right."

Inside...

His thoughts were completely different.

Why is he talking to me?

Does he know?

Or is he really just making conversation?

He couldn’t tell.

That uncertainty was the most terrifying part.

Victor looked completely relaxed.

As though he truly had no ulterior motive.

The assassin lowered his eyes and continued eating.

He had to remain natural.

He lifted another spoonful of stew.

His hand felt unbelievably heavy.

Every movement demanded every ounce of concentration.

Don’t shake.

Don’t hesitate.

Just eat.

The spoon finally reached his mouth.

He forced himself to chew.

The food tasted like sand.

His stomach twisted painfully with every swallow.

Still...

He continued.

Victor watched the scene with an amused glimmer hidden deep within his golden eyes.

Outwardly...

He behaved exactly like someone chatting with a fellow customer.

Inwardly...

He had already confirmed something.

Interesting...

His disguise is flawless.

His heartbeat isn’t.

People could train their expressions.

They could train their breathing.

They could even deceive mana detection.

But genuine fear always revealed itself in tiny details.

The assassin’s fingers tightened unconsciously whenever Victor leaned forward.

His pupils contracted for an instant every time their eyes met.

Even his swallowing had become noticeably slower.

Victor didn’t expose any of those observations.

Instead, he casually began another conversation.

"So..."

"I just wanted to ask..."

"What do you think about the idea of New Fantom?"

The assassin slowly looked up.

Victor’s smile remained warm.

"A kingdom where ordinary people have the chance to rise through their own efforts."

"A kingdom where your birth doesn’t decide your future."

"A kingdom where, if you’re willing to work hard enough..."

"...you can become anything you want to be."

Victor’s voice wasn’t loud.

Yet every word carried quiet conviction.

The assassin stared at him for a moment.

He quickly organized his thoughts.

The safest answer...

Was the answer any ordinary citizen would give.

"It sounds like a dream..."

He offered a faint smile.

"I hope it really becomes reality."

He shrugged lightly.

"As for me..."

"I only hope I earn enough to live another day."

It was a humble answer.

Simple.

Forgettable.

Exactly the sort of response expected from a struggling commoner.

Victor nodded thoughtfully.

"Of course it can become reality."

His tone remained gentle.

Almost reassuring.

"But..."

"As for your own dream..."

"...that depends on you."

The assassin’s body instinctively trembled.

Those words...

By themselves...

Were perfectly ordinary.

Yet somehow...

When Victor spoke them...

They felt completely different.

Almost as though every hidden meaning had been directed solely at him.

His palms grew damp.

What does he mean...?

Does he know...?

Victor’s smile slowly deepened.

It wasn’t cruel.

Nor mocking.

But something about it made the assassin’s blood run cold.

The room suddenly felt far too warm.

His instincts screamed louder than ever.

Leave.

Right now.

He slowly pushed his chair backward.

"I guess it is..."

He forced another smile onto his face.

"Thank you for the free drinks..."

"But..."

"I need to get going now."

He placed one hand on the edge of the table.

Then he stood—

Or rather...

He tried to.

Nothing happened.

His body refused to rise.

An invisible force settled upon his shoulders like an enormous mountain.

The wooden chair beneath him didn’t move even a single inch.

His pupils shrank violently.

What...?

He secretly pushed harder.

Still nothing.

It felt as though space itself had locked him in place.

Then...

He felt it.

Victor’s killing intent.

It wasn’t explosive.

It wasn’t overwhelming.

It was frighteningly controlled.

A single thread of murderous intent brushed gently against his senses.

That tiny thread alone was enough to make his entire body turn ice-cold.

His breathing stopped.

His heartbeat nearly skipped.

In that instant...

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