Her Graceful War Song

The men I had summoned worked quickly. By the time Stephen opened his eyes, the instruments of punishment had already been brought in. A brazier had been lit, with iron tongs resting in the flames, and a bloodstained whip cracked through the air with a sharp snap. It crackled and echoed loudly, sounding like thunder before a storm.

Ultimately, Stephen had killed before, so his nerves were steady.

Without so much as a blink, he said, "This is unlawful detention and interrogation -a capital offense. Do you not fear the law?"

Some men were like that. They believed the law existed to bind others, but never themselves. He had broken the law without care, yet now tried to shield himself behind it.

There was no point arguing with such a man. Words would only give him more chances to twist the truth. Instead, I took the red-hot tongs and pressed them to his arm. As the iron clamped down, his sleeve burned through at once, and his flesh sizzled beneath with a sickening hiss.

A terrible scream burst from his throat.

It didn't matter. The cellar was deep and hidden; he could scream until his voice broke and no one would hear him.

Even the strongest resolve could be broken with the right tools. I hadn't even started to pull out his nails when he gave in and confessed everything.

It was true that the two families had once been close. The parents and the children had all gotten on well. Stephen had been especially friendly with Rhea's elder brother, Darian Brook. One studied literature, while the other ran a business. They often joked together in harmless ways.

But when Stephen failed the national examination, it struck him harder than he let on. Though he laughed it off, saying he was still young and could try again, he couldn't sleep at night and his hair began to fall out in handfuls.

Then, at a family dinner one night, Darian jokingly said, "You've buried yourself in books all these months, yet you still failed. Wasn't that a waste of keeping the lamps burning at night?"

That one remark made Stephen transfer all the emotions he had been holding back since failing the exam onto Darian. Night after night, he turned the words over in his mind. The more he thought of it, the angrier he became until hatred took root.

Once he felt the urge to kill, he couldn't shake it. But he knew he couldn't defeat Darian in a fair fight, so he would have to outsmart his friend.

Stephen tried to lure him out under the guise of a friendly outing, hoping to find a chance to strike.

But Darian had replied, "You've failed the national examination once already. Shouldn't you be studying harder? Or do you plan to fail again?"

That remark had been meant as friendly advice, but Stephen took it as yet another insult, as though his failure were a joke. It hardened his resolve to kill Darian.

At last, the chance came.

One evening, the men of the Brook family-father and son-returned home quite drunk after an evening of drinking. As they passed by Stephen's home, he watched them stumble through their own gate without so much as locking it behind them.

Stephen crept in quietly and hid himself in the kitchen. He waited there in the dark, watching the lights in the house go out one by one. He waited a long while before he finally moved. He took a cleaver from the kitchen and slipped into Darian's room under the faint light of the moon.

The room was dark, but Stephen had visited often and knew the layout well, it wasn't pitch black, and weth though it was dim, he could still makeout shapes. He walked to the bed and saw a head sticking out from under the blanket. Without a second thought, he lifted the covers and brought the knife down on

Darian's neck.

It was a heavy knife that was used to slice through bones. The first strike brought forth a rush of blood.

But before Stephen could raise the blade again, he realized there was someone else lying in the bed. He hadn't noticed at first, as that person had been tucked under the blankets, fast asleep.noveldrama

The man stirred and drowsily asked, "Who's there?"

Stephen knew that voice-it was Rhea's father. It seemed the two had been too drunk, so they had simply settled down in the same bed for the night.

Panic overtook Stephen. He raised the cleaver again and struck wildly. Once, twice, thrice...

He couldn't remember how many times he swung the blade, but the air was thick with the stench of blood. At first, there were muffled groans, but before long, there was nothing at all.

He turned to flee, but at the doorway, he met Rhea's mother. She had risen in the night and was passing by with a lamp in hand. In the grip of madness, Stephen sprang forward. He clamped a hand over her mouth and drew the blade across her throat.

After killing three people, his eyes were red with bloodlust.

From the calmness of his account, it was clear he feared the two daughters of the family would soon discover the horror inside. Rather than risk it, he chose to kill them too.

There was a mishap while killing Rhea's younger sister. Just as he finished, a scream rang out behind him. He turned and leapt toward the sound, only to be struck by a lamp Rhea had thrown. The blow slowed him, giving her the chance to escape and cry for help.

Stephen knew the neighbors would soon come running. He fled with the cleaver in hand, rushing back to his own home.

He changed his clothes, taking the bloodstained ones and the cleaver with him as he quietly slipped out through the back. Wrapping the stained garments and the cleaver tightly together, he tied a heavy stone

to the bundle and took it to a river. There, he threw it into the

water and watched it sink.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he made his way to a pleasure boat, where he ran into a few of his classmates who had also failed the exams. They all sat together, drinking wine and sharing the frustrations that weighed on their hearts.