[Sara POV] Year 5, Day 203 (After Midnight)

  Sara was surprised. Very surprised.

  [Sara wanted snakes and Dominos, the poisoner lady, to be friends. Succeeded. Too well. Way too well.]

  Since they returned from the tourist trip—where Dominos used The Withering on those evil adventurers—snakes had been bringing test subjects. Constant flow. Monsters. Humans. Whatever they captured. All for Dominos.

  [So she can demonstrate. So she can teach. So she can show.]

  All 37 snakes. Every single one. Eager students. Fascinated audience. Professional interest in torture techniques.

  Sara understood why. Monster world logic. Simple. Direct.

  [Strength defined simply in monster world. Physical power. Magic force. Combat ability. Those are standard.]

  [But terror is different strength. Different category. Mankind uses things like The Withering—no real combat application. Only meaning is pure terror. Making fear. Making suffering. Making examples.]

  [Terror is strength snakes find interesting. Very interesting. They can probably find monster ways to use it. Practical applications. New tactics. Evolution.]

  [Is it good idea teaching S-rank monsters torture techniques? Probably not. But not Sara's problem. Not Sara's time to waste stopping it.]

  Outside was dark. Night. But snakes had been casting light spells—floating orbs that made it almost like daytime. Bright. Visible. Good for teaching. Good for demonstrations. Good for friend.

  Sara sat at a small table near the cave entrance. Simple setup. Chairs. Table. Coffee supplies. Comfortable. Functional. Good hosting.

  Dominos, the poisoner lady, stood near the tree line. Coffee cup in one hand. Knife in the other. Explaining to assembled snakes. All 37 watching. Attentive. Professional audience.

  Five adventurers were bound to trees. Four corpses. One still alive.

  The living one was current teaching aid. Subject for demonstration. Dominos made small cuts while explaining. Each cut precise. Each cut showing technique. Each cut serving educational purpose.

  Coffee sip. Cut. Explanation to snakes. Cut. More explanation. Coffee sip. Professional multitasking.

  [Friend is good teacher. Efficient. Uses time well. Teaches while drinking coffee. Professional.]

  The living adventurer wasn't screaming. Couldn't scream. Vocal cords cut some time ago. Dominos had mentioned—he screamed so much it was hard to talk over him during earlier lessons. So she fixed that. Practical solution.

  Now he just suffered silently. Tears. Trembling. Soundless agony. Better for teaching. Easier to hear explanation without interference.

  [Teaching materials. Study aids. Professional resources. Test subjects serve purpose. Nothing more.]

  The four corpses showed earlier lessons. Previous demonstrations. Hours of torture each. Bodies twisted. Wrong. Changed by suffering. Hard to identify species anymore. Just: remains. Evidence of completed instruction.

  The snakes watched everything. Fascinated. Learning. Absorbing knowledge. Professional students. Very interested students.

  [Sara created this situation. Introduced friend to snakes. Made them comfortable with each other. This is result. Sara watches. Sara accepts responsibility.]

  Dominos finished final explanation. Demonstrated last cut. Knife moving toward throat for final demonstration.

  But stopped halfway. Hand frozen mid-motion. Teaching moment instead of execution.

  She looked at the snakes. All 37 watching. Waiting. Learning.

  "Who wants some practical lessons?" Dominos asked. Then thought for a moment. "Let's say a small contest. Each next one needs to show more skill than the previous. But the one who fails to improve gets study materials duty for tomorrow. Research. Learning. Homework basically."

  The snakes watched. Assessing. Considering. Evaluating risk versus reward.

  First one came forward. Volunteering. Brave.

  "Zeshval, good," Dominos said. Approval showing. "Being first is brave. Show the others what you can do."

  The snake materialized some kind of metallic spike. Small. Controlled. Precise formation.

  Then shot it into the adventurer's hand. Embedded. Penetrated. Painful.

  The adventurer moved in pain. Jerking. Struggling. Limited by bonds but reacting. Hurting. Suffering.

  Dominos looked almost sad. Disappointed. "I hoped for more, Zeshval. Being brave and going first is good. Really good. Commendable."

  Pause. Honest assessment. "But this kind of safe approach won't make you a winner. Won't show mastery. Won't demonstrate real skill. Just... adequate. Functional. Acceptable but not impressive."

  Then her expression shifted. Happy face. Cheering up. Encouraging. "But nice job anyway for having the bravery to show your skills first! For volunteering! For taking risk! Good snake! Brave snake! Well done!"

  Next snake came forward. Different approach. Different technique.

  Shot some kind of ice spear into the adventurer's body. Larger. Deeper. More damaging.

  The adventurer jumped and moved much more. Straining against bounds. Pain intensifying. Reaction stronger. Suffering visible.

  Dominos commented. Educational. Helpful. "That was nice, Zeshv. Good improvement. Real escalation."

  Pause. Technical feedback. "About 5 centimeters to the left would give even better results though. Hit kidney maybe. Or major blood vessel. More pain. Better demonstration. Perfect execution almost achieved."

  Next snake came forward. Confident. Committed.

  Stone spear formed. Massive. Dense. Powerful magic.

  Shot direct to eye. Through the socket. Through the head. Complete penetration. Fatal strike.

  The adventurer was clearly dead. Instantly. No movement. No reaction. Just: gone.

  Dominos looked at it. Assessing. Understanding intent. "Zeshm, you wanted to target the eye? Take sight? Blind without killing?"

  The snake nodded. Confirmation. Yes. That was the goal. That was the attempt. That was the failure.

  "You used too much force," Dominos explained. Clinical. Educational. "You clearly went for the kill here. Exceeded parameters. Failed the assignment. Death wasn't the goal. Control was. Precision was. Non-lethal damage demonstration was."

  [Instincts can be hard to control. Snakes probably never tried using power without clear objective to kill before. Always full force. Always lethal intent. Always maximum damage. Never practiced restraint. Never practiced precision. Never practiced control.]

  [But friend is really good teacher. Makes examples. Gives practical lessons. Shows what works. Shows what doesn't. Shows improvement paths. Professional instruction. Effective education. Real skill transfer.]

  [And even more impressive—she's kind of named all 37 snakes now. True, the names aren't that different. Just Zesh for the largest snake, and for the rest changing last few letters. Zeshn. Zeshir. Zeshval. Zeshm. Zeshv. All variations. All distinct. All individual.]

  [Sara still has no idea how friend separates them. For Sara, they're just all snakes. Big scary snakes. Identical snakes. Same snakes.]

  [But friend clearly has skill. Never seems to mix them up. Never confuses them. Never calls wrong name. Recognizes each one. Remembers each one. Treats each one individually. Impressive. Very impressive. Better than Sara could ever manage.]

  The last adventurer finally died silently. Accidental conclusion. Snake Zesh-something's failed precision attempt. Training casualty.

  The snakes nodded. All 37. Understanding complete. Lesson learned. Course finished.

  [Very eager learners. Very interested snakes. Sara hopes they don't get too creative with applications. Monster world plus torture techniques equals probably bad combinations. But problem for future. Not today's problem.]

  Dominos walked back to the small table where Sara sat. Still holding her coffee cup. Careful steps. Professional posture.

  Demonstration complete. Contest concluded. Time to rest.

  Then—loud roar in distance. Monster scream. Territorial challenge maybe. Normal S-rank haunt sounds. Standard background noise.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Dominos almost dropped cup. Startled. Scared. Hand shaking. Coffee sloshing.

  [Friend scared by random monster? Strange. Friend had no issue silencing adventurers for hours earlier. They screamed so hard. Begged so loudly. Even Sara felt bit bad. But friend was professional. Clinical. Efficient. No fear shown.]

  [But random monster scream in distance? That scares friend. Makes hand shake. Almost drops coffee. Different weaknesses. Different strengths. Interesting.]

  Sara didn't comment. Just observed. Noted. Filed away.

  Dominos recovered. Collected herself. Drank coffee slowly. Savoring.

  "This is really good coffee. Best I've probably ever had. Where did Sara get this?"

  Sara answered simply. Casually. Matter-of-fact.

  "From kitchen of literal king. Same place Sara got bed friend sleeps in. Princess bed. Royal possessions. Sara looted them after job ended that royal lineage."

  [Job was assassination. Entire royal family. Clean work. Professional completion. Good payment. Kept some valuables. Practical thinking.]

  Dominos thought about that. Processing. Clearly not sure how to respond. How to react to casual mention of royal family genocide. What was proper response to that?

  Finally just said: "Let's enjoy it while it lasts then."

  Simple. Safe. Practical. Good answer.

  [Friend understands. Don't ask questions about Sara's work. Don't judge methods. Just accept results. Good friendship protocol. Sara approves.]

  Sara decided to ask. Curiosity forming. Question simple.

  Time to learn about friend. About her past. About her skills.

  "Where did friend learn all this? Torture techniques. Professional teaching. Clear experience."

  Dominos settled onto rock. Comfortable now. Relaxed. Ready to talk.

  "I was part of crew. High-end torture services. When someone rich and powerful was really mad at someone—wanted them to have horrible end. Days. Months. Maybe years. We offered that. Super professional. Everything handled properly."

  Pride in her voice. Clear. Unmistakable. Belonging maybe. Good memories despite dark content.

  "In our crew, everyone had high-end servant training. Professional presentation. Got lots of gold. Good life. For a century."

  She thought for moment. Something shifting in expression.

  "You know what's funny? About month before our crew got destroyed, client offered me maid position in their house. All bonuses. Everything I'm looking for. They wanted someone with underworld experience. Ready to take heat that might come with me."

  Pause. Weight building.

  "And I said no. We were unstoppable. Success after success. Gold was plenty. Life was good. Maybe divine hint? Few months later our luck ran out. Only I survived. Needed to hide for more than decade after before could show face at all."

  Another pause. Darker. "The client who made offer? Promised to call City Guard when I showed face again."

  Sara thought about that. [Quite standard story. Heard many like it. Criminals getting cocky. Fall hard. Standard cycle. Nothing special.]

  But something caught Sara's attention. Different detail. Important detail.

  "Servant training? Maid position? Sara had no idea. Friend never mentioned."

  Dominos laughed. Genuine. "Oh. We never talked about our lives. Just jobs. Just work. Just professional topics."

  She settled in. Ready for longer story. "Mine's not that interesting. Conservative family. Religious. Quite wealthy."

  Sip of coffee. "When I left home to have independent life, I liked fun too much. Ended up in massive debt fast. Faced choice: debt slavery, brothel, or monastery."

  Pause. Bitter maybe. "Monastery was my family's solution. I selected brothel instead. Family disowned me. Haven't talked to anyone from there for centuries."

  Sara listened. [Friend had rough start. Bad choices. Bad consequences. But survived. That's what matters.]

  Dominos continued. "Brothel wasn't that bad. Well, it was horrible. But also educational. Learned about dark guilds. Thieves. Assassins. Everything. Also found out I have poison magic affinity."

  She looked at Sara. Almost joking. "You know—when you meet someone with rare affinity, high chance she's ex-prostitute?"

  Sara had no idea what that question meant. [What? Why? Connection unclear. Sara confused.]

  Dominos saw confusion. Explained. "Rare affinities cost a fortune to test. Most never find out they have them. But prostitutes get tested free—manas mix during the act. Mages can sense what you have."

  Pause. The detail. "There's even a custom—more like tradition. Prostitutes give free service if a mage discovers they have affinity. Often their last service ever. Life-changing news deserves proper farewell. That's how I found out. Poison affinity. One in fifty thousand, maybe rarer."

  Sara processed that. [Oh. Brothels are testing grounds. Accidental discovery system. Practical. Efficient. Makes sense actually.]

  Dominos continued. Voice shifting. Less proud. More practical.

  "I was super hyped. Poison magic super rare. Should make good gold with it? Wrong. I have almost no mana. You seen how I drink mana potions like water. And that's with centuries learning to optimize usage."

  She laughed. Self-deprecating. "Took me more than ten years to learn first spell. Poison kiss. But it was enough. Started taking contracts from assassin guild. Managed to buy myself out of brothel."

  Dominos talked like happy ending. Success story. Sara was interested too. [Friend worked hard. Escaped bad situation. Professional growth. Sara respects that.]

  But then Dominos dropped it. Voice changed. Expression darkened. Everything shifted.

  "And was back in brothel a month later."

  Sara felt confusion. "What? Why?"

  Dominos explained the reality. Clinical now. Matter-of-fact. Accepting harsh truth.

  "At that level, near impossible to just live with assassin earnings. Competition is horrible. You know how many girls ready to kill for money? Lots. Too many. There's even poison you can put in lips. Get same effect. They call it 'prostitute kiss.' Only difference—poison kiss impossible to detect before activation. But level of idiots on target lists at that point? Wouldn't make difference. Detection didn't matter."

  She drank more coffee. Bitter maybe. "So I needed better income. Had two jobs. And plan to upgrade skillset. Access better contracts. Poison magic meant I could assassinate in ways almost impossible to predict. As long as I could fit in. Get close. Create opportunity."

  Pause. Planning phase. "Used next few years collecting every penny. Then signed up for elite servant training course."

  She looked at Sara. Direct. Teaching. "Lesson for you—if something looks too perfect, something is wrong. This course had hundreds of success stories. How graduates got nice lives. Not single failure. Not one."

  Sara understood. [Perfect record equals hidden problems. Professional red flag. Sara knows this. Criminal logic. Same as monster logic. Too good means trap.]

  "This course was led by ex-Ealdred student. Psychopath named Artemis. Who liked walking around with whip Ealdred had gifted her. Talked constantly how Ealdred helped her by whipping her. And of course, she liked sharing this love with everyone around her."

  Dominos's voice carried old pain. Old fear. Old trauma.

  "She picked me out fast. Never directly asked why I came there. Probably guessed. Instead used every opportunity to help me." Weight in that word. Dark emphasis. "'Help' meaning special attention. Extra lessons. Personal interest. Made sure I learned properly."

  She continued. Building context. "I was rarity there. Paid myself. Usually those there have deals—training cost paid later by wherever they work. But I paid upfront. Made me interesting. Made me target. Made me special project."

  Sara listened. [This getting dark. Darker than expected. Friend had horrible time. Sara should let her talk. Just listen. Be good friend.]

  "Training area was located in haunt. Not crazy as this one here." Gesture at S-rank haunt surrounding them. "But enough that leaving alone was death sentence. Only way out safely? Finish successfully. Graduate. Complete transformation into what they wanted."

  Her voice went flat. Clinical. Detached. "Broken. Rebuilt. Brainwashed. Ready to serve whatever clients needed loyal servants. Professional product. Guaranteed quality."

  Silence settled. Heavy. Dark. Understanding forming.

  Dominos added detail. Factual. Educational. "Oh, and one more fact about Ealdred maids. As much as I've seen them—applies to all of them. Probably also those working under Master Void."

  She explained carefully. "Ealdred training is hard. But Ealdred allows quitting. No real side effects. And lots quit. Often those who quit end up in work market as 'partially Ealdred trained' or something. Getting decent positions. Making okay money."

  Pause. Significance coming. "Those who finished full training? Hate quitters. Call them failures. Properly. Genuinely. Real hatred."

  She looked at Sara. Making sure message landed. "And here's why. Artemis's training area is in middle of death-sentence haunt. Once you're there, only two ways out—death or successful graduation. No quitting. No escape. No mercy. Those who 'quit' Ealdred's program never experience this. They leave safely. They don't understand what finishers survived."

  Sara understood. [Oh. Finishers survived death trap. Quitters walked away safely. Both claim 'Ealdred trained' but suffering levels completely different. Unfair credit sharing. That makes hatred. That makes resentment.]

  [Sara understands. Monster world has same dynamics. Those who survive apex challenges hate those who claim similar status without earning properly.]

  Dominos continued. Explaining more. "Artemis was certified by Ealdred. His training results same quality. I actually saw Ealdred there twice during seven years."

  "Seven years?" Sara felt shock. "Seven years trapped?"

  "Seven years," Dominos confirmed. Flat. Accepting. "Thought I'd never get out. But then one day—released. Qualified. Offered multiple job opportunities. Professional certification. Everything."

  Pause. Something showing. "I left. Ran first chance I got. As far as possible. As fast as possible."

  "But training was useful," Dominos admitted. Complex emotions showing. Conflict visible.

  Nightmare with benefits. Useful horror. Practical trauma. "Never had issues fitting into high society after. Access hard targets. Serve demanding clients. Professional infiltration. Everything Artemis promised."

  She looked at her hands. At coffee cup. At nothing specific.

  "You've visited my home. Everyone thinks I'm retired servant. I use simple clothing—what servants wear in free time. Nothing official like maid dress. That can get you in trouble. But my walking. My mannerisms. My feel. Inseparable from real servants. Artemis made sure of it."

  Sara processed that. [Friend uses training. Uses skills. Uses infiltration ability. It worked. Nightmare worked. Makes friend valuable. Makes friend successful.]

  Dominos explained more. Worldbuilding. Context. "High-end servant class in Republic is usually linked to Syndicate. Everyone very afraid to mess with them. While on paper they have near no rights, actually many hold massive power by proxy. And owners usually very protective. Extremely dangerous."

  She gestured. Encompassing concept. "This servant class in high society is basically massive social contract. I serve you. You protect and take care of me. Reinforced with all kinds of interesting means. Oaths. Bindings. Traditions. Everything."

  Understanding forming. Context clicking. "That's why infiltration works so well. High society expects servants. Trusts servants. Relies on servants. Someone who fits perfectly? Who serves flawlessly? Gets access everywhere. Sees everything. Hears everything. Perfect cover."

  Soon after release, I met others. Similar backgrounds. Similar training. Similar skills. Initially ran assassinations together. But soon specialized—torture services. Safer business. Better margins. More controlled. Had nice century doing that. Until like almost all criminals, our luck ran out."

  She paused. Darker turn. "Soon after tried going clean. No success. Too much dirt on my name. Too many enemies. Too many complications."

  Another pause. Painful memory. "Even contacted agency that ran training. Met Artemis again. She gave me hours-long lecture about life choices. While playing with slave collar in her hands. Casual threat. Constant reminder."

  Voice going quieter. Uncomfortable. "Before I left, she put collar around my neck. Few seconds. Then said—'so you can get used to feeling.' Then thanked me for all the nice advertisement I'd made."

  Sara asked, "?"

  Dominos explained. Resigned. Bitter. Accepting.

  "Well, fact I'm trained there isn't secret. People sometimes ask. And of course I tell everyone how useful it's been. How much it helped. How professional the result is. Everything positive."

  Pause. Dark truth. "Talking about what actually happens there would be death sentence. Artemis made that clear. Collar demonstration was reminder. Keep advertising. Keep lying. Keep serving as recruitment tool. Or else."

  She looked at Sara. Direct. Honest. Complicated.

  "And strange as it is to say—I actually believe it made me better. Not sure if that's brainwashing in effect or if skills learned there just been that useful. Can't tell anymore. Don't want to examine too closely. Easier to just accept. Just use abilities. Just keep working."

  Sara thought about that. [Friend was broken. Friend was rebuilt. Friend still serves system that broke her by advertising for them. Friend uncertain if that's brainwashing or genuine belief. Can't tell difference anymore.]

  [Sad. Very sad. But friend survived. Friend is functional. Friend is successful. That matters more than how she got there. Monster logic. Survival first. Method secondary.]

  [Sara won't judge. Sara just accepts friend. Broken or not. Brainwashed or not. Friend is friend. That's what matters.]