They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World-Chapter 128: Let’s Go

Killian pulled his horse to a stop directly in front of us, the stallion’s hooves kicking up small clouds of dust. His eyes immediately locked onto Agnes.

Then to me.

Back to Agnes, lingering this time.

A slow, unpleasant smile spread across his face.

"Where do you think you’re going, maid?"

I stepped forward slightly.

"I bought her contract from His Grace. So it’s obvious where she’s going, with me."

Killian’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the smile vanishing like it had never existed. He leaned forward in his saddle, looking down at me with barely concealed hostility that seemed to radiate from him in waves.

"And who the hell are you?" Each word was clipped, sharp. "Some merchant’s son playing at nobility?"

I met his gaze steadily, keeping my posture straight.

"Jin Raith."

He blinked.

For a moment, genuine confusion crossed his face. Then his eyes widened slightly in recognition.

"Oh," he said slowly. "You’re Cassandra’s brother, huh?"

I nodded curtly. "Yeah. I am."

His gaze sharpened, taking me in with new interest now that he’d placed me in whatever mental hierarchy he maintained.

He sat back in his saddle, one hand resting casually on his thigh, the other holding the reins loosely.

"And why did you buy my maid?"

"I had a deal with His Grace, Lord Killian. It’s finalized and sealed." I kept my tone formal, respectful, giving him no opening to claim disrespect. "The contract has been transferred legally."

He let out a harsh laugh.

"A deal. Right." He looked me up and down slowly, deliberately, his gaze dismissive and evaluating all at once.

"Taking used goods? What, daddy Raith doesn’t provide you enough coin for fresh servants? Or did you get cut off from the family purse for being such a disappointment?"

I kept my expression carefully indifferent, my voice steady despite the anger starting to simmer in my gut.

"My arrangements don’t concern you, my lord."

Internally, I cursed him with every foul word I could think of, imagining scenarios where his horse threw him into a mud pit.

Killian spat to the side.

"So arrogant, just like your sister. You Raiths are all the same, full of indiscipline and delusions of importance. No respect for your betters."

I said nothing. Just stared at him, keeping my face blank.

Don’t react. Don’t give him what he wants.

He grinned, and the expression was cruel and calculating and deeply unpleasant.

"Your sister especially." His voice took on a tone of mock admiration mixed with contempt. "Acts like she’s too good for everyone. Walking around with her nose in the air, those cold eyes looking down on people like she owns the world. Like she’s some untouchable ice princess."

He leaned forward in his saddle again, his voice dropping lower, more intimate.

"But don’t worry, brother-in-law." The familial address sounded obscene coming from his mouth.

"I’ll discipline her properly after the marriage. Show her exactly where she belongs."

His grin widened, becoming something predatory. "I’ll pin that arrogant bitch down until she learns her place beneath me. Make her scream my name instead of giving me those cold, superior looks she’s so fond of."

He shifted in his saddle, clearly pleased with himself, with the images he was conjuring.

"Might take a few nights of proper training. Maybe more. She seems like the type who’d need breaking in thoroughly."

His tongue ran across his lower lip.

"But I’ll enjoy every moment of teaching her. Every. Single. Moment. By the time I’m done, she’ll know exactly what she’s good for."

The words hung in the air.

He was trying to provoke me. Trying to get a reaction. Trying to make me lash out, throw a punch, raise my voice, do anything that would give him an excuse to cause a scene or report me to his father for assaulting a noble.

I knew that.

I could see it in his eyes, the anticipation. He wanted me to snap.

So I kept my face indifferent. Like his words meant nothing. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Though, as someone who’d just inherited Jin’s body, I wasn’t close to any of his siblings. Cassandra was practically a stranger to me, a name, a face I’d seen a few times, nothing more.

What Killian said about her shouldn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t matter.

But... why did a knot form in my stomach when he spoke?

Why did my chest tighten uncomfortably when he described her that way.

Why did my hands clench into fists at my sides without my conscious decision?

I was sure I wasn’t on good terms with her. The original Jin certainly hadn’t been, based on what I’d pieced together from fragmented memories and the reactions of others.

My brows furrowed slightly as I remembered.

I hadn’t inherited all of Jin’s memories.

The gaps were still there, foggy and incomplete, like trying to see through frosted glass.

Could he have actually been closer with Cassandra than I thought?

But then recent encounters surfaced in my mind, pushing through the confusion. The way she’d looked at me at the estate just days ago. The cold distance in her voice when she’d addressed me.

No. No, that’s not it.

I shook my head internally, forcing myself to think clearly.

It’s just... basic human decency.

Hearing anyone talk like that about a woman, about anyone, would make any decent person uncomfortable.

That’s all this is. Natural human empathy, nothing more.

I looked back at Killian, who was still talking, still grinning like he’d said something clever instead of revealing exactly what kind of person he was. Clearly enjoying himself, feeding off what he assumed was my discomfort.

"And maybe I’ll invite some friends over," he was saying. "Show them what a proper Raith woman looks like when she’s been put in her—"

"Are you done there, Lord Killian?"

A voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and commanding.

That made even Killian’s horse prick its ears forward.

Killian paused mid-word, his grin faltering. His head snapped around, irritation flashing across his face at being interrupted.

He turned in his saddle to locate the source.

"And did you just speak my sister’s name?"

The voice came again, colder this time.

And I saw the source.

Victor stood about thirty feet away near the gate, surrounded by a contingent of knights in polished armor that gleamed in the late afternoon sun. He was clearly in the middle of giving them orders, his posture commanding and authoritative, every inch the military commander.

But now his attention was fixed entirely on Killian.

His expression was controlled, carefully neutral, but his eyes were hard as stone.

Killian’s expression changed instantly, like a mask sliding into place. The cruel grin vanished, replaced by something more measured, more diplomatic. His entire posture shifted.

The transformation was remarkable in its speed and completeness.

"Just thinking fondly about my fiancée, brother-in-law," he said smoothly, inclining his head in a gesture of respect that looked practiced.

"Eagerly anticipating our wedding, as any devoted husband-to-be would."

His tone was perfectly modulated, warm but not excessive, respectful but not subservient.

Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Just watched Killian with an expression that suggested he didn’t believe a word of it.

Killian held his gaze for a moment, then shot one last glance at me, a look that promised this wasn’t over, that we’d have this conversation again when Victor wasn’t around to interrupt, before turning his horse with a practiced motion.

He began walking it toward Victor and the assembled knights.

Victor didn’t even seem to notice I was standing there. His focus remained on Killian and the knights he was commanding, already barking orders for them to follow him somewhere.

I watched them go.

Then I turned back to Agnes and Scarlet.

Both of them looked terrified.

Agnes’s face was pale, all color drained from her cheeks. Her hands were trembling slightly at her sides despite her obvious attempts to control them. Her eyes were wide, still fixed on where Killian had been.

Scarlet’s amber eyes were huge beneath her hood, her entire body coiled tight like a spring wound too far. She looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, her breathing quick and shallow.

I gritted my teeth, anger simmering beneath my carefully controlled exterior like magma beneath a thin crust.

Then I exhaled slowly, forcing it down, pushing it into a box in my mind where I could deal with it later.

Getting angry now wouldn’t help anything.

"Let’s go," I said quietly, keeping my voice steady and calm for their benefit.

I spotted a merchant’s wagon nearby, the driver was a middle-aged man with weathered hands.

He was loading goods into the back. Crates of what looked like grain or dried goods, practical supplies for the road.

I approached him, keeping my steps measured, and paid him a few coins for passage toward the next town.

More than the trip was probably worth, but I didn’t have the energy to haggle and the extra coin would ensure he didn’t ask questions.

He took the money without comment, just gestured to the back of the wagon.

We climbed aboard without another word, settling ourselves among the crates and supplies.

Agnes sat as far from me as the wagon’s limited space allowed, still not looking at me.

Scarlet pulled her hood lower and closed her eyes, clearly exhausted.

The wagon lurched into motion with a creak of wood and leather.

And Greyford began to fade behind us.