Ch 5.4

The rat’s smile warped into something sick and eager.
“I’ll carve that pretty little face of yours,” he whispered, “nice and slow.”

On the ground, Chloe touched the bruise swelling on her cheek.
Again… I’ve put Mr Ben in danger because of my stupidity.
Her hands trembled. Her throat tightened.
I still… can’t do anything on my own.

But then—
Her eyes shifted.
A glint. A shape. Something half-hidden behind her, lying abandoned near a vendor stall.

Her pupils widened.
Determination flared through the shame.

She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth.

Ben, meanwhile, walked steadily toward the rat-faced beastman, each step slow, controlled.
His shoulders remained lowered in a submissive posture… but his eyes changed.

A sharp twitch.
Then a glacial glare laced with killing intent.

The rat beastman froze.

A cold shiver clawed down his spine.
What the hell… this bloodlust—?!
He swallowed, suddenly sensing real danger.
Enough playing around. I should just kill him.

He channelled mana into the hairs pinched between his fingers until they hummed with lethal force. “That’s enough,” he sneered. “Now die—”

CRASH!

Something exploded against the back of the rat beastmen’s skull.

The rat staggered, eyes rolling as a gush of sweet, sticky liquid drenched his face.
“What—?!”

He spun—

And found Chloe standing behind him, both hands gripping the broken remains of a large perfume bottle.

Her small frame shook from the force of the swing; glass shards glittered at her feet.

The ratman blinked once. Twice.
Then he toppled forward like a felled tree, collapsing unconscious onto the cobblestones.

Chloe clapped her hands together in a frantic prayer pose.
“Forgive me, lord!!” she blurted, half in apology, half in relief.

When the rat was distracted, Chloe quietly took a bottle of perfume from a nearby stall. Thankfully, Ben noticed her movement and let a pulse of killing intent slip, pulling the rat’s attention toward him instead. Otherwise, she might have been the one bleeding on the cobblestones had the rat noticed her.

That was close, Ben thought, exhaling in relief.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned—then the crowd erupted. The beastmen surrounded Chloe and showered her with praises.

“You did well, Missy!”
“That scumbag deserved it!”
“Serves those rat-guild pigs right!”
“Hey! Don’t lump us pigfolk with them!”

Ben pushed through the onlookers and grabbed Chloe by the shoulder. “That was reckless, you know,” he said sharply—then noticed her hand, blood coursing between her fingers. “You’re cut.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, then frowned. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Ben replied, though his jaw was tight.

Chloe spun away before he could say more, darting to the fallen harpy. “Are you okay?”

The feathered woman blinked, dazed. “I-I’m fine, but you’re bleeding.”

Chloe smiled shakily. “Then that’s good. It’s just a scratch.”

Her shoulders trembled. Sweat pearled at her brow.

Something’s wrong, Ben realised. She’s shaking—her breathing’s off.

“Let me see your hand—” he said, reaching out.

“Oh no, I have to pay for that bottle!” she gasped and ran to the stall where she borrowed the perfume bottle from—fumbling through her satchel with blood-slick fingers. She dropped a handful of coins on the counter. “Here—keep the change!”

The shopkeeper gawked. “It’s fine, really—you don’t have to—”

“Oh, I’m getting blood everywhere!” Chloe panicked, scrubbing the coins with her cloth.

“That’s enough!” Ben snapped, giving her a quick, light chop to the head. “Calm down. We’re fine. Let me treat the wound.”

Flustered, Chloe finally stilled and held out her arm. Ben clasped her wrist; green light flooded out between his fingers, sealing skin and knitting the cut shut in seconds, leaving only a faint scent of perfume and iron.

The bystanders broke into applause.

“She’s just a normal human girl—took down that rat on her own!”
“You both did great!”
“And what’s up with that boy’s nose?”

Ben blew out the little sprouts he’d stuffed in his nostrils to block the red‑light stench. The seedlings fluttered away, and the laughter that followed rolled through the square.

Ben crossed his arms. “You calmed down yet?”

Chloe steadied her breathing. “I think so.”

“You could’ve been killed,” Ben muttered. Her hands still trembled. She’s terrified. That kind of fear leaves a mark.

He softened his tone. “But you’re safe now. I’ll handle the rest.”

Chloe’s eyes glistened. “I don’t know what came over me. When you and that girl were in danger, I just… grabbed the bottle and hit him. My hands are still shaking. I can’t believe I killed a man, Ben. I should turn myself in. Maybe the church will—”

Ben groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s what you’re worried about? Chloe, he’s not dead. And if he is, I won’t lose sleep over one less piece of trash in the world. But if you’re that scared, maybe don’t pick fights next time.”

Chloe blinked, then smiled faintly, a strange mix of guilt and pride brightening her eyes.

“But I didn’t wait for a miracle this time. I was the saviour today.”

Ben stared at her for a moment. This girl…

“It was still reckless,” he said, though a hint of warmth crept into his voice. He reached out and patted her head. “But you did well.”

Chloe’s face lit up. Then, glancing at the unconscious ratman, she asked,

“He really isn’t dead, right? Should we call a healer?”

Ben snorted.
“Leave him. Nobody’s going to mourn that mug. If he croaks, the city’s cleaner for it.”

Chloe frowned, brows knitting. “No one deserves to die, Ben. Even scum like him can repent someday. Death isn’t the answer.”

Ben shook his head, half‑amused, half‑weary. “We’ll never see eye to eye, will we? You really are one troublesome piece of cargo.”

Three more rat‑faced beastmen pushed through the crowd.

Ben instantly raised his guard, fingers curling around a handful of seeds, mana thrumming beneath his skin. He stepped forward, shielding Chloe behind him; the harpy pressed close, trembling against his back.

Two of the ratmen said nothing. They crouched beside the unconscious one, hauling his limp body up by the arms.

The third stayed behind, meeting Ben’s glare.
“You want a fight, too?” Ben asked evenly.

The rat shook his head. “No. This was bound to happen sooner or later.” His tone hardened. “But know this—the guildmaster will come for you. He loves his brother dearly. If you’ve got sense, you’ll leave town before his wrath finds you.”

Ben didn’t answer, his stance still tight, eyes tracking every motion.

Without another word, the ratmen dragged their wounded lord away, slipping into the alleys until only their scent of musk and sour ale lingered.

The onlookers murmured and scattered.

Ben exhaled through his teeth, jaw tight.
This whole fucking town is nothing but trouble.