Warfare Augmented Intelligent Frame Unit

Chapter 33 - I Never Bluff

Chapter 33 - I Never Bluff

"W-what do you mean I'm his target?" I felt the blood drain from my face, my whole body stiffening with fear. "A-am I going to be assassinated?" My voice was barely a whisper, shaky and edged with panic.

"Ssshhh." Myrrh leaned closer, her eyes narrowed with cautious intensity. "I don't think that's the case. I've been keeping an eye on him from a distance, and for now, he's just... watching you."

"Him? It's a man?" I asked, my voice tight.

Myrrh nodded gravely, her gaze flickering back toward the entrance. "I spotted him earlier, hooded, lurking at the edge of the park. He followed us into the restaurant, and when we walked into the casino, he swapped his disguise for a sleek tuxedo, trying to disappear into the sea of gamblers. He's tall—about six and a half feet—with long, wavy black hair that catches the light, and skin so pale it's almost ghostly. He's probably in his mid fifties. His face has that unsettling, statuesque stillness, and he's hiding behind golden-framed shades. I don't think he's here to kill you, though—unless he's stashing a weapon in a very uncomfortable place." A hint of a smile flickered across her face, but it quickly faded.

"Whoa, you noticed all that?" My eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and admiration bubbling up. "Is that why you were gone for fifteen minutes?"

"It wasn't hard to track him since he's so focused on you—oh!" Myrrh's eyes widened suddenly, and her breath hitched. "He's moving towards us!"

I twisted in my chair, my stomach churning with dread. There he was, just as Myrrh had described—tall, thin, his unnaturally pale face split by a wide, unnerving grin that stretched from ear to ear. My whole body shuddered, a cold, prickling sensation dancing down my spine. Myrrh and I shot to our feet, chairs scraping against the casino floor.

"Hello there." The man's voice was smooth but strangely brittle, like cracked porcelain. He raised one slender, almost skeletal hand, the skin stretched taut over his knuckles. "I hope I'm not startling you. You're... Zaft Callahan, correct?"

Myrrh's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, yanking me behind her with a protective force. She stepped forward, positioning herself like a fierce older sister shielding a helpless younger sibling.

"You've got the wrong person," she declared with a steely glare that could cut glass. Her voice was sharp, unyielding. "This is Tiny Dickson."

What kind of ridiculous name was that? I nearly choked, my face burning with embarrassment, but I bit my tongue. As absurd as it sounded, I knew Myrrh was just trying to protect my identity. Still, did she have to throw in the insult?

The man chuckled, a hollow sound that felt unsettlingly light. "Haha, you've got a sense of humor," he said, turning his gaze fully on Myrrh. His smile didn't waver, but his eyes grew colder, more calculating. "But I'm afraid you can't fool me. You're the spitting image of your mother—the illustrious Mirana Alicent. That's why I'm confident he's Zaft Callahan. And I'm quite aware that you've been watching me too, ever since you realized I'd noticed you. So I thought I'd save us the suspense and come say hello."

Myrrh's face hardened, her jaw clenched. She squared her shoulders, taking another step forward, putting herself firmly between me and the stranger. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her voice as dangerous as the edge of a knife.

The pale man didn't flinch. Instead, he dipped into a formal bow, a gesture that seemed both mockingly polite and oddly sinister. "Ismail Arondight," he said, his tone smooth and unhurried. "I imagine you're curious as to why I've been following the two of you. So, how about we settle your curiosity over a game of poker? It seems like the perfect setting for a friendly discussion."