Ultimate Trickster Lord Reincarnation

Desperate Dealmaking

The night it had happened, Diane slept like a rock. Everything had been so exhausting she didn't have the energy to think about it. Her Uncle closed the bar for the next few days under the order of the Citizen's Gaurd, leaving her plenty of time to think about everything that had occurred. The day went by in a haze, and as the waning moon rose again the fog in her mind lifted with it. She finally began to think through everything that happened the night before.

That boy, the one who had spoken to her at the bar. She hadn't caught his name but had been fascinated by his mysterious demeanor. The way she had almost missed his presence entirely before taking his order. His alluring, dangerous voice. How he made sure to keep his hood low, but was surprisingly gentle and honest when asking for her help. She had almost been convinced to open up to him about things she had never shared before, feeling like a spell had fallen over her.

Still, in time Diane would have forgotten him given all the customers she had to serve each day.

But now, she never could. Her mind couldn't stop thinking of him.

It was her job the night it happened to fend off any animals, should they try to get into the wine crates out back. There was no room inside for storage, so they were hidden under boxes of empty bottles out back so people couldn't find them. Animals had better noses, however, making them the only real thieves to worry about. What a bunch of furry scavengers wanted with alcohol she'd never know, but that night she had heard the sounds of rustling and boxes shifting. The oil lantern swayed in the evening air as she trudged along the dirt path, peeking around the corner only to find the man who had been causing her so much trouble drunkenly stumbling about.

That drunken fool had been visiting the tavern nearly every night recently. It felt like it was just to harass her. The problem started with lustful looks as he stared openly at her breasts, and then became jeering comments about her thin waste or sexual maturity. He had even made a 'joke' that if she didn't 'Find a man soon she would be treated like a breeding sow.'

Her face had burned bright red, white-knuckled fists nearly cracking through the wooden serving tray. On strict orders from her Uncle, she couldn't do anything. She couldn't even comment when he had gotten bolder, groping her ass as she passed by his seat.

At night, she lay awake with fantasies of his head on a spike.

As she rounded the corner that fateful evening, he saw her before she could slip away. Sweaty palms reached out to her, feet shuffling ever closer to where she stood. What began as calm and collected pleas to stay back became increasingly nervous glances to make a break for it. He must have noticed her panic, however, and used his full weight to push her over, hands firmly on her wrists, pinning her down. Thrusting and rubbing like a wild dog, his grip only loosened the moment he reached away to pull down his trousers, freeing her arms. Both her hands shot up with the opportunity, thumbs jamming into his eyes as she thrashed about. He cried out, falling backward off of her.

She could have run, but she didn't. Instead, her trembling legs made a pilgrimage to the glass bottles, aching fingers yanking one free from its confinement. It shattered as she smashed it against the wall, leaving behind jagged teeth protruding from a hungry glass jaw. A long, sturdy piece of glass fallen at her feet called to her, and she answered its cry, picking it up as it pinched with delight into her palm's soft flesh.

It was a blur as she hurtled forward. Eyes focused on his chest, her aim was true as the glass pierced through his skin, digging deep into the body cavity and right into the squishy containments of his heart.

He gurgled, gaze blearily looking downward. One hand began to reach up for it, but she pushed harder. Blood gushed from his mouth and wound in synergy, soaking into her white nightgown.