His Butler, Stained

His Butler, Stained Part 4

{WARNING: Blood and Gore}

“—you kidding me? It’s on the other side of London.” Sitting on the kitchen and nearly had her voice in a higher octave, he continuously wash the dishes.

            “The baggages are ready, my lady. You need not have to worry; young master knows that you haven’t agreed to that matter only having you still interested in the money.”

            “Of course. I’m still interested. What other business do you think am I doing hanging around in this place?”

            “You mean me?”

            “I’m not going to be that easy.” She shuffled her hands on the warm cup of Earl Grey tea. ‘I miss him.’

            He chuckled which she thought she said the words out loud, “What kind of butler who can’t make a lady give in, have the honors to serve in the name of Phantomhive?”

            “Hm. Tempt me if you will.”

            “I will have your soul soon.”

            Parson smiled, “It’s an awkward thing for you to say that while you wash your master’s dishes. You really are crazed by that boy’s soul.”

~*~

            It’s really not bad taking a stride outside with you inside a high-class carriage. She opened the window and breathed the night’s fresh air. Staying still, she let the breeze come in to touch her skin. Soon, this will be over, she thought. Her last job was done. She killed her love. Then what be? She doesn’t know. Some of the money was planned to take to the church’s charity for the orphans…like her. It’s the least she can do to pay her sins but she knew she really doesn’t because it will be not compared to accepting…just make you calm to your thoughts that you’ve done marvelous deed. After the bank she would head straight to the church and confess her sins.

             They’ve arrived. Even before stepping inside Nottinghamshire’s bank she can feel a lot of asymmetry of good and bad. ‘They’, she suspected did not come here just to claim any money. ‘They’ are here to rob it. Even though it’s not the best time to rob a bank at night—

             With a quick scan, she estimated that the total of the civilians are more or less than twenty-five. Maybe half of them are ‘They’.

            As Parson, seated with Sebastian, continue to browse the passing and seated civilians, she can see more and more suspicious gestures done by some of the ‘They’. She counted three were waiting outside, two in the right and left lane of the bank and three, talking to the cashier. At last she noticed the middle corridor which obviously leads to the money vault.

           “What is it?”

            She brought herself back to reality. “Huh? Oh. Nothing. Don’t talk to me.”