บท 58: I'll Sacrifice Myself
Maya cautiously attempted to peek through the window, narrowly avoiding a bullet that grazed past her. Despite the close call, she remained determined to gather information.
"Master, it appears that the enemy's numbers aren't decreasing. In fact, it seems that they're growing," she reported.
Cian sighed, glancing at his dwindling ammunition reserves. "It certainly seems that way..."
The reality was stark: they were running out of ammunition. Mila, doing her best, was diligently crafting more bullets from whatever scraps she could find. However, their resources were far from limitless.
They needed to devise a plan swiftly, as time was of the essence.
'All our ammunition was stored in our clothes, including Maya's,' Cian thought, feeling the weight of their predicament. Mila, their resourceful companion, was struggling to create enough arrows and bullets to sustain them. They were facing a dire shortage.
Cian couldn't help but reflect on their recent intimate encounter with Maya. While he didn't regret their passionate moment, he wished they had kept their clothes on during that time. It would have ensured their ammunition remained intact. However, dwelling on the past was futile; they needed to focus on the present situation.
'No use pondering over what we should have done differently. Right now, I have to make the most of what I can do,' Cian resolved, shaking off the distractions and diverting his attention to finding a solution.
With pistol in hand, Cian retaliated, firing shots of his own. However, a sudden sense of danger coursed through him, urging him to take evasive action. His instincts screamed at him to "dodge." Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end, amplifying his unease, and his mind urged him to flee.
'W-What the...?'
However, how could he escape when a bullet was already inches away from his eyes?
Time seemed to slow down, each passing moment elongated, as his heightened senses took in every detail.
The impending collision between his consciousness and the bullet inched closer, each passing second feeling like an eternity.
In that suspended moment, Cian realized the grim truth. The bullet, no matter how slow time appeared to be, was destined to pierce his brain. The gravity of the situation gripped him with fear, the intensity of which he had never experienced before.
The bullet crept closer, and fear gripped his heart.
"Am I... going to die? Now? No, I can't die yet... There's so much I still need to do," he thought desperately. "I haven't achieved revenge on my father... I can't die before that. I don't want to die... not yet." His mind raced, urging him to find a way out. "Dodge it... I have to evade it somehow. Evade it!"
But deep down, he knew it was an impossible task. Even the most agile person wouldn't stand a chance at escaping death in a matter of milliseconds. The grim reality loomed over him, seemingly inevitable.
"I'm going to die..." he muttered, resignation clouding his voice. 'Vera... I wish I could have told her how much I love her, that I would never abandon her.'
In that moment of despair, a sudden force tugged at the back of his clothes, pulling him away. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he crashed into a nearby wall. The impact stung, but he was safe from the bullet.
Gasping for breath, he opened his eyes and found himself facing the familiar back of a person. The long, flowing black hair cascaded down her waist, unmistakably beautiful.
"Vera!"
He called out to her, and as she turned around, he finally noticed blood dripping from her shoulder. She had been the one to get hit.
"Vera... Why did you do that? You're hurt!"
Vera swiftly ducked for cover, shielding herself from the barrage of bullets. With cautious movements, she inched closer to Cian, a determined look in her eyes.
"I can't just let my beloved brother die, can I?" she replied, her voice tinged with a mixture of determination and affection. "Besides, our revenge has only just begun."
As she spoke, Vera handed him his clothes, which were riddled with holes and burns from the intense firefight. But nestled within the damaged fabric, he could feel the presence of hidden weapons.
"This is?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"I found it on the way here," Vera explained. "Although some of your weapons were probably lost in the explosion that damaged them, I believe they will still be sufficient for our needs. I've also managed to secure a getaway car for us."
"Really?"
Vera nodded. "Yes, really. And... there's something else," she hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I've already taken care of the innkeeper, just as you ordered."
Cian had indeed instructed Vera to eliminate the innkeeper. It wasn't a deduction that led him to this decision; rather, the mere sight of the innkeeper was enough for him to recognize the man as a sick and twisted criminal.
"...Good work," he commended, expressing his appreciation for Vera's actions. Moved by a surge of gratitude and emotion, he leaned in to kiss her, but Vera turned her head away, avoiding his lips.
Realization dawned upon Vera, and she quickly met Cian's gaze, her eyes filled with regret and apology. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..."
He paused, taking a moment to process her reaction. With a calm and understanding demeanor, he reassured her, "It's fine, Vera. There's nothing for you to feel sorry about. I understand."
Vera's expression reflected her inner conflict. She knew that turning away was a rude gesture, but she couldn't help her reflexive response in that moment.
"I-I'm sorry, little brother. I truly am," she stammered, genuine remorse coloring her voice.
He reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I said, don't worry about it. It's fine."
Cian then turned his attention to Maya. "Maya, do you have any bullets left?"
Maya's smile widened as she responded, "I haven't used them at all. I still have a full case of ammunition. I anticipated something like this happening, so I deliberately saved bullets for this very moment. Are we going to... fight them head-on now?"
Cian nodded. "Yes, we are. And Maya, I need you to protect those of us who can't fight."
Freya, who had been listening intently, lowered her head even further. She couldn't fight, and a wave of helplessness washed over her.
Cian continued to lay out their plan.
"I'll be at the front, and Vera will guard our rear. Maya, you'll be positioned behind me, while Charlotte, who is capable of fighting, will be in front of Vera. Mila and Freya, you'll be in the middle. Since the enemy is surrounding us, I'll use the smoke grenade that Mila made for me."
As he finished outlining the plan, Cian looked down towards the basement, raising his voice to ensure that the person below could hear him. "Mila! Have you finished what I asked you to do?!"
"Nearly there!"
"How much longer?!"
"Less than ten minutes!"
Turning to Charlotte, he sought her opinion. "Charlotte, what route do you think is our best option?"
After a moment of consideration, Charlotte responded, her voice steady. "If we base it on the number of enemies present, I would say the south-west would be the safest choice. However, I believe our chances of escaping without consequences are higher in the north-west."
"Why do you think that?"
Charlotte explained, her voice analytical. "When considering the highest probability of successfully escaping, the south-west presents a greater challenge. The shooters there have exceptional marksmanship skills, and I nearly got hit by their precise shots myself. On the other hand, the shooters in the north-west seemed to be less experienced, almost like beginners with their firearms. They were shooting recklessly without proper aim. If we deploy the smoke grenade in the north-west direction, it's likely that we can evade their bullets."
Charlotte's ability to consider environmental advantages left both Maya and Cian impressed. Her analytical thinking was truly remarkable.
Cian pondered her assessment and asked, "If that's the case, what is the percentage of us escaping using the north-west route while holding shields?"
After a moment's consideration, Charlotte replied, "I'd say... 65 percent."
Maya and Cian exchanged glances, recognizing that even with the added defenses and strategic positioning, their chances of success were not guaranteed. A 35 percent chance of failure still loomed over them, which was significant.
Maya voiced their shared concern, asking, "What can we do to increase our chances, then?"
Charlotte hesitated, her voice filled with a hint of apprehension. "You can't. Well, technically, there is a way... but it comes with a risk."
"What is that way?" Cian asked
"Increasing our chances further would involve sacrificing one of us."
The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air as the realization settled upon them. Sacrificing someone could potentially increase their chances of escaping, but it would come at a great cost. And even with such sacrifice, there was no guarantee of achieving a 100 percent success rate. Cian understood that sacrificing someone would only serve as a detriment to himself from the start.
Mila, who had just finished welding makeshift shields out of rusty metals, approached the group. She had overheard their discussion about the potential sacrifice and understood the implications. With a heavy heart, she remained silent, knowing that there were no easy answers or guarantees in their dire circumstances.
A heavy silence settled in the room as Cian closed his eyes, contemplating the difficult decision that lay before him. Maya, Vera, Charlotte, and Mila all looked at him, their thoughts echoing with the same question: who would be the one sacrificed? They understood that Cian, as the leader of the group, would ultimately make that choice.
Then, Cian opened his eyes, and his voice broke the silence. "We will make do with the 65 percent chance."
A collective sigh of relief filled the room, as the weight of the potential sacrifice was lifted. However, Freya's expression remained unchanged.
"I will do it," she said.
Cian looked at her, surprise evident in his eyes. "Freya?"
"I said I will do it. I'll sacrifice myself," she repeated.
The shock rippled through the group as they processed Freya's words. They couldn't believe what they were hearing.
Freya continued. "I've been a burden to all of you. I haven't contributed at all. I've simply been protected by all of you, and I hate that feeling when each and every one of us is in danger. I want to make a difference. I want to contribute. So please, let me sacrifice myself. It's my choice."
She felt as though she didn't deserve to survive because she hadn't contributed anything and had simply relied on others to protect her.
Cian let out a sigh, "Listen, I never expected you to contribute to our cause. And I have no authority to demand anything from you, especially since you're not even part of our organization. I simply asked Mila and Charlotte for help because I believed it would increase our chances of survival. But if they didn't want to assist, I couldn't force them. And you, Freya, you don't have to feel obligated to contribute either. You just happened to get caught up in the middle of all this."
Cian gently rubbed his temples, trying to ease the tension. "So please, don't talk about sacrificing yourself. It's not your responsibility, nor is it Mila's or Charlotte's. None of you should bear that burden."
He then turned his gaze towards Maya and Vera, his expression firm. "And I won't allow anyone from my organization to be sacrificed either. That's why, even if our odds are just 65 percent, it'll have to be enough." He swiftly reached for another gun concealed in his suit and skillfully armed himself with two pistols. "We can make it through with a 65 percent chance."
With determination in his eyes, he looked at the three women and his two women. "Now, let's move. We have to get out of here."
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