Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss-Chapter 55: Blood And Fingers

With a rag stuffed in the Fixer’s mouth to muffle his cries, Ren went to work.

The study was soundproofed well enough, thanks to a certain lecherous idiot who wanted privacy with his mistress, but he wasn’t going to risk anyone overhearing.

The Fixer, once a man of confidence, power and influence, was now reduced to a trembling, whimpering wreck, bound tightly to the heavy wooden chair.

Ren sat on the table in front of the bound man, twirling a dagger idly in his hand.

"I admire your loyalty, Fixer." He said, his words low and dangerous. "But that loyalty won’t save you from the world of pain you’re in for. So, save yourself the hassle and just answer my questions."

"I want to know everything about the job to kill Lilith Underwood." He said calmly. "Who ordered it? What was paid for it? How was it supposed to be carried out?"

The Fixer, his eyes wild with fear, shook his head furiously, refusing to answer.

Ren sighed. "We both know you’re going to talk. But I guess there’s nothing wrong with a little… encouragement."

"What was it you said?" Ren rubbed his chin like he was trying to remember something. "You wouldn’t mind getting a look at Lilith before your friends finished the job?"

"Well, I’ve got news for you." Ren chuckled darkly. "You won’t be getting a look at much after this."

He stood, grabbed the Fixer’s left hand and pressed the dagger against his pinky finger. The man thrashed, but Thorn held him down.

Ren sliced clean through the bone, severing the finger in one motion.

The Fixer screamed into the rag in his mouth, his body jerking violently. Ren gave him a moment before speaking again.

"Every time you refuse to answer, you lose another." He paused, making sure the man could see his smile. "Let’s see how stubborn you are."

The Fixer’s panicked breathing filled the room, his sweat slicked skin shining under the light of the nearby candle. But still, he refused to speak.

Ren cut off another finger.

Then another.

Then another.

By the time all ten fingers and toes lay scattered on the floor, the Fixer was barely conscious, his face pale from pain and blood loss. His body trembled violently, his muffled whimpers turning to quiet sobs.

Ren crouched in front of him, gripping his chin and forcing their eyes to meet. His eyes were cold as he spoke.

"You’ve lost your fingers and toes, and yet you still haven’t told me what I want to know. That’s admirable."

"But this time, I’m only going to ask five more questions. With the right healer, you can regrow your fingers but these questions would have a different cost."

"Four questions for your four limbs, and the last one for your life. You can still find a way to save yourself if you talk. But if you continue to be stubborn… you won’t leave this room alive."

The Fixer sobbed, shaking his head, pleading with his eyes. But Ren had no pity to spare.

"First question. Who ordered the hit?"

The Fixer squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw.

Ren didn’t hesitate. With one brutal motion, he severed the man’s right arm at the elbow. The Fixer screamed into the rag, his body convulsing violently.

Ren waited. "Second question. Who ordered the hit?"

This time, the man nodded frantically. Ren removed the rag from his mouth. Blood dripped from his lips as he gasped, struggling to speak.

"I— I don’t know their name! But the Three Swordsmen handled it. They were the ones who arranged everything. I swear! I only know what they tell me!"

Ren exchanged a glance with Thorn. The Three Swordsmen were the three remaining targets they had and two of them had been in this same study with the Fixer. Giles and the other man.

They were the ones who handled the most important assassinations assigned to Fuchsia. This was information worth knowing, but he wasn’t done yet.

"Third question. What was the payment?"

The Fixer hesitated for a second too long.

Ren sliced through his left arm.

The Fixer howled as Thorn pressed the rag into his mouth, his screams raw and broken. Ren watched as the man writhed, blood pooling at his feet.

He waited until the worst of the convulsions subsided before pulling the rag out again. "Try that again. What was the payment?"

Tears streamed down the man’s face as he babbled through his sobs. "I don’t know! I don’t know! I swear on my life! I’m just the Fixer! I arrange logistics! Whatever they paid was handled by the Three Swordsman. They don’t tell me that part of the operation!"

Ren glanced at Thorn who nodded. The Fixer was telling the truth. He truly didn’t know much.

If he wanted to know more, he’d have to get it from the Three Swordsmen.

Ren leaned in, catching the Fixer’s attention. "Then let’s make a deal. You walk out of here alive, and in return, you give me all the money hidden in this house."

The Fixer sobbed but nodded desperately. "Yes! Yes, I’ll give you everything! Just let me go! Please!"

"Where’s the money?"

"At my desk! Behind the second drawer. Hidden compartment! Gold! All of it! Take it!" The Fixer pleaded.

Thorn moved swiftly, pulling the drawer open and prying at the back. With a click, a hidden compartment popped open. From there, he pulled out a large chest.

Bringing it over to Ren, he opened it to see that it was filled to the brim with gold coins. Just that alone was worth a quarter of what the Ross family had in their vault.

Thorn let out a low whistle. "Damn. He wasn’t lying. This is a lot. At least ten thousand gold coins."

Ren inspected the coins, taking one and slipping it into his pocket before nodding in satisfaction.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Then, without a word, he turned and drove his dagger straight into the Fixer’s throat.

The man gurgled, eyes widening in shock. His body twitched violently before slumping forward, lifeless.

Ren turned to Thorn. "Let’s get out of here."

And with the chest, they disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a room filled with blood and a corpse that would never tell another secret.