Obsessed to Hate Him-Chapter 23: A Gun

Chapter 23: A Gun
LIAM
My instincts flare red instantly as a tall, skinny figure appears in the doorway. His voice may be muffled by the thick, lavish green rug. This is why we couldn’t hear him. Or maybe I was too distracted by Kian to notice the company.
Disappointment ripples through me at the thought. How can I be this distracted not to notice the looming danger?
I know Vivana and my father will be disappointed in me if they know that I am getting sidetracked by someone I shouldn’t be. But hell. I can’t help it. Other than that, I, myself, am disappointed in myself for being like this. Obsessed with the enemy. Obsessed to hate him. I figure that it is not a bad thing unless it sidetracks me from the things I need to do and to piss me off, it
is
sidetracking me.
The moment I saw Kian Eryx at the mountain of the borderlines that day a week ago, I knew he would be the death of me. If not literally then of my patience and sanity. And as always—not always—I was right. He is already strangling my patience and sanity, and I am hanging by the thread at this point.
Kian looks down his nose at Andreas and I am painfully aware of how easy Kian is going on me with the staring tournament because icicles pour out of his cool blue eyes in waves of sharp knives, slashing through the taut tension in the air.
Andreas shifts warily under Kian’s gaze but doesn’t lower his eyes, "Who are you guys?" He asks, his eyes narrowed and sharp. "How did you guys get in?"
The estate is heavily guarded and it is almost impossible to sneak in.
Almost.
Nothing is impossible. At least not for me or Kian.
"We took the liberty to come in Mr. Norlen." My words are filled with honey, though my tone and my smile are nothing but poison. "I hope that you don’t mind it." He smiles, his eyes belying the warmth in the smile.
"Absolutely." Andreas returns Kian’s smile, not as unnerving as him, but he does, and it makes my stomach hurl. "But I am certain, my gun did not indeed take too kindly to it." He fishes out a metal. It’s a gun.
My eyes widen and my guard spikes up another several levels. Guns are magical equipment made by the smiths, especially for A, B, and S-ranked adventurers. F, E, D, and C rankers are still too weak to wield something so powerful and dangerous. This is why the authorities don’t provide them with licenses to make one.
It is to be noted that only active adventurers are allowed the privilege. Even noble blood or high-ranking military officials are not allowed to process such equipment.
So how come Andreas has a gun? Is he an adventurer? Or is he using it illegally? Andreas doesn’t look to be a swordsman, a wielder. And if he
is
an adventurer, then he is most probably a mage but the question of the century is which rank does he belong to? B, A, or...S?
I don’t know. Oliver hasn’t mentioned anything about Andreas in any of his other lengthy letters aside from that ominous one.
But the way Andreas is holding the gun and by the look of it...
"He is a S-ranked adventurer." Kian whispers into my ear quietly, his lips barely moving.
My spine is rigid as I assess the situation. Of course. The situation is getting worse. The God of Luck was never fond of me, was she?
The adventurer guilds rank their adventurers in a neat order of F, E, D, C, B, A. F-rankers are considered the weakest, and A-rankers are the strongest. But there is still a Special class. S-rankers are blessed with exceptional strength. It stands above every class and ranks.
I can proudly say that I am a S-ranked soldier. I tested the identifying crystal. I, too, have a gun for myself. I am of royal blood, I can do whatever I want, my wish. And I quite like my gun, as lethal as the little device is, it is quite handy and very resourceful.
The gun can manipulate the user’s magic and make the bullets inside it even more powerful and lethal. This is why it is one of my favorites. It can bring out my magic even if it is for a little.
I suck in a sharp breath as I eye the gun in Andreas’ hand, my heartbeat skyrocketing, and my mind flips through how I am supposed to take that thing out of Andreas’ hand.
I try to move, but the cold metal of the handcuff digs into my flesh, and I trip, face-slamming against the carpeted floor; my wrist hangs above me as it is still bound to Kian’s. There is a muffled thud when my face hits the floor. I smell the scent of strong leather on the carpet. The scene would be almost comical if it wasn’t this urgent and tension-packed.
There is pin-drop silence in the room and I am so fucking embarrassed that I want to dig out a hole in the ground and dive inside. Has someone ever heard someone died of humiliation? If they haven’t, then they will. Because I am going to be the first one.
I don’t raise my head from the floor, as hot embarrassment races along my skin, straining my cheeks and the back of my neck as well as my ear. Everything moves very quickly after that.
Andreas targets the barrel of the gun at me and fires without wasting another second. The sound of the bullet leaving the gun’s barrel roars through the room. But the bullet never reaches me.
I am suddenly on my feet, and Andreas is on the ground, his body and face planted to the carpeted ground; the gun lies a few inches away from him. He is groaning in pain, his eyes bloodshot.
Gravity. Kian.
"You have the worst timing, Cherry." His words are so impressive and pristine that it is unnerving.
Crimson stains my cheeks again.
I want to die.