CHAPTER 77: THE ART OF PLAYING DEAD (POORLY)

’If I pretend to be a corpse... she’ll go away... right?’

That was the exact thought in Finn’s head as he lay flat on the dirt. Eyes shut. Face mushed into the forest floor. Playing dead like a particularly stupid possum.

He cracked one eye open.

She was still there.

Standing above him. Unmoving. Knife in hand. Staring down with all the warmth of a DMV employee on overtime.

Finn screamed internally, immediately snapping his eyes shut again like a kid who thought monsters disappeared when you couldn’t see them.

She has to go away eventually, right? he reasoned. There’s no way she’ll just stand over an unconscious man all day. I mean... come on, I’m a genius.

Unaware that he was now smirking to himself.

That is, until—

"Idiot grown man lies on the ground, unmoving. He believes that playing dead will save him, but in fact, it will not."

Her voice was cold, monotone, almost robotic. Like an AI therapist ready to end your subscription trial.

"I will stand here as long as necessary until you give up the act."

Finn immediately shot up. "I am not an idiot!"

"Man baby."

"I’m not that either!"

"Child man."

Finn groaned and rubbed his face in sheer disbelief... only to freeze as the tip of her blade hovered inches from his nose.

She tilted her head, analyzing him like he was some sort of biological curiosity. Her expression didn’t change—still flat, unreadable. All poker face. Zero tells.

’Damn... she’s good,’ Finn thought. ’That, or she’s some kind of assassin-raised demon baby...’

Slowly, he raised both hands in surrender.

"Look," he said calmly, trying to sound less like a cornered man. "I mean no harm. I don’t want any trouble, okay? Let’s just be chill."

"Hat man is trying to lower my hostility with non-threatening hand gestures," she observed flatly. "But I am not hostile. I am simply doing my job."

Finn’s mouth opened to protest—but her blade moved even closer.

"Do not bother speaking. Your pleas will not affect my decision. I will determine whether you live or die."

Finn slowly lowered his hands.

’There’s really no getting out of this, huh?’ he thought grimly.

"Now," she continued, "you will answer the following questions."

"Come on! Can’t you just think for a second?" Finn gestured toward himself. "We didn’t try to hurt you! We ran away, we freaked out—we didn’t even touch you! You saw how pathetic I was!"

"What you say is partially true," she replied. "And yet, also false."

Every word she spoke was soft, clinical—but laced with an unnerving weight. Like being politely interrogated by a sentient fax machine with a kill count.

"Your elf companion had her weapon drawn. You all attempted to flee once you realized I had noticed you. Your friend tried to attack me, but immediately ran when she realized she was outmatched."

"Oh come on! You threw a knife at her! You cut a strand of her hair!"

"Irrelevant. In matters of law, it is not intentions that matter. Only actions."

Finn bit his lip and muttered under his breath, "Stupid law system. I always hated how dumb it is."

She didn’t flinch.

The tip of her blade touched his nose.

"You will stop wasting time," she said, voice suddenly colder. "And you will answer my questions. Now."

"But my friends! You killed—"

"They are not dead," she replied, voice somehow even flatter than before. "The girl who rode you—I noticed she cared deeply about her appearance. She’s currently behind a tree, crying, because I tied her hair to a branch. She refuses to move out of fear she’ll damage it."

"The Vaultari was easily startled," she continued, unfazed, "so I threw knives at her until she transformed and didn’t move."

"As for the elf... she appeared to enjoy the sensation of being pinned, based on her expressions and bodily movement. So I threw my knife and caught her belt, suspending her from a tree branch."

She sighed softly. "Do you have any more dumb questions?"

Finn blinked, stunned by her clinical breakdown. ’She really noticed all of that just from watching? She’s crazy perceptive... Why can’t I have someone like her on my team...’

Still, he was relieved the girls were okay—though Majestria definitely got it worse than the others. Hair-based immobilization was a next-level humiliation tactic.

"Okay, okay. I’ll answer your questions," Finn said, finally accepting the situation like a man signing a cursed contract.

If this were the cartel or a prison gang, he would’ve been iced hours ago.

"At least you have a functional brain," she said. "Now—what were you doing here?"

"Uhh... we were walking along a path when we heard... slime sounds." He shivered just recalling it. "I wanted to avoid it, but my friend checked it out anyway and we ended up here."

"What were you doing here."

"Heading to a place."

"What place."

"...Something."

The maid poked his nose with her blade—just hard enough to sting.

"Ouch!" Finn clutched his face.

"Where were you and your friends going," she repeated, more sternly this time.

"To the... in-cub... s. Mid... I... Fee..." he mumbled.

"The what?"

Finn flushed red and screamed it like a man confessing a war crime.

"Incubus Midwife, damn it!"

The maid paused. "...What is that?"

"It’s—It’s someone I’m supposed to meet. To get a potion! For my—my fertility problems, okay?!"

The maid just stared at him, her face still unreadable. It was clearly the last answer she expected. Like she needed a software update just to process it.

"...Okay."

She didn’t know what else to say.

"Why did you all run when you noticed me?"

"I don’t know?! What do you think?! We see a killer maid with a knife murdering a slime, then jumping fifty feet in the air and chucking knives at us like it’s Olympic javelin! Of course we ran! Who wouldn’t?!"

She was quiet for a moment, considering this.

Finn wasn’t done.

"And why my friend had her weapon out is because she’s a freak, okay?! That’s why!" he cried, breathless and red-faced. His voice now sounded like a dying hyena trying to do karaoke.

The maid nodded.

"Very well."