By Zephyria 
“Cool your head off.”
“Ugh…”
For a brief moment, cold air rushed violently into my lungs. My wide-open eyes were filled with the night sky. It was only belatedly that I realized I was floating in mid-air—because Nathaniel Miller had let go of the hand he was holding and thrown me instead. But that was the extent of my realization.
My body was sucked straight into the swimming pool.
“…Cough, hack, cough!”
With violent coughing, I barely managed to poke my head above the surface. I hadn’t noticed when other people were playing in the pool during the day, but the depth was immense. I couldn’t tell where the bottom was; my feet couldn’t touch it. Having barely floated up with all my strength, I sucked the oxygen I had managed to inhale deep into my lungs.
That, son of a…
Curses came out instinctively. However, whatever Nathaniel Miller’s intention had been, I was certainly sober now. Without thinking, I moved instinctively. I hurriedly grabbed the nearest edge and let out a deep, heavy breath. With the thought that I had to get out of the pool immediately, I tried to hoist myself up with all my might, but I failed. As I tilted my head back with a frustrated sigh.
The first thing that entered my field of vision was a pair of loafers stepping on the deck connected to the pool. The casual shoes, reflecting the bright moonlight, had an elegant luster as if they had never touched the ground. A short distance from the polished toes, an ivory-colored stick was resting on the ground. As I slowly moved my gaze along the long shaft, I saw the head of a wide-mouthed beast carved at the end. And it was only then that I discovered the long, delicate hand holding that ferocious beast’s head with ease.
My eyes didn’t stop and continued upward. Even though I knew what was waiting at the end.
Only after our eyes finally met did I stop moving. When I felt a strange glint in the purple eyes of the man who had been standing still, looking down at me until that moment, he finally spoke.
“My, my, Prosecutor.”
Nathaniel Miller spoke, the corners of his thick lips curling up faintly.
“You look like you’re struggling.”
If I had even a shred of composure, I would have snapped back and asked whose fault he thought this was. Unfortunately, I didn’t even have the luxury to let out a bewildered sigh.
Haa, haa.
My breathing grew ragged on its own due to my dropping body temperature and exhausted stamina. As I clung to the edge, gasping for air, a cool, unfamiliar object touched my fingers. It was Nathaniel Miller’s cane. And then, something unbelievable happened.
The smooth surface of the long stick slid beneath the fingers gripping the edge of the deck. Surprisingly, it lifted the fingers that were struggling to hold on. One, then another.
With a leisurely movement, as if he were enjoying himself.
Eventually, one hand slipped off. I screamed and urgently grabbed the edge again. But it didn’t end there. This time, Nathaniel lifted one finger of my opposite hand and stopped right there, looking down at me.
“Prosecutor.”
He called me in a voice as smooth as if he were singing a song. This man, who was surely about to strip away all my grip and enjoy watching me sink into the water, absurdly asked:
“Shall I help you?”
This crazy bastard…
The anger that flared up in that moment gave me unexpected strength. Gritting my teeth, I reached out and grabbed the cane that was lifting my finger.
“…!”
Perhaps it was an unexpected attack, as Nathaniel lost his balance and staggered violently. Perhaps because one of his legs was impaired, Nathaniel ended up dropping to his good knee and bracing himself on the ground with his free hand. His face, leaning forward with surprised eyes looking toward me, looked quite plausible. To have his knee and hand on the ground—this must be a first for him. Sure enough, his expression looked somewhat dazed, as if he couldn’t believe it. I let out a full laugh, feeling a malicious pleasure.
“Try taking this off, too.”
I felt triumphant seeing a side of Nathaniel Miller I had never seen before. Ah, to think I’m the only one seeing him like this. I felt a sense of gratification mixed with a slight regret, but in that very instant.
Nathaniel Miller’s lips stretched wide to the sides.
Seeing the corners of his mouth slowly rise, I froze reflexively. A chilling cold ran down my spine. The man’s faintly smiling face reminded me of one of the malicious nicknames used in various media to vilify him.
‘White Snake.’
The moment I had the illusion of seeing a giant snake with a wide-open maw behind Nathaniel Miller.
“Oops, what a mistake.”
Nathaniel let out a short exclamation as if he were regretful. Then, a large, open hand and the stick slipping from his grip entered my vision in sequence, and the silver-shining beast’s head at the end—which Nathaniel had been holding until a moment ago—loomed exceptionally large.
…Uh.
Following that, I sank into the water while still clutching the damn stick of Nathaniel.
* * *
‘Damn it, are you crazy? What the hell are you doing!’
The man screamed in a harsh voice. Trembling with fear, I hid behind a wall and watched them. The other person said something to the raging man. But instead of calming him down, it only drove him further insane.
In the next moment, the man held a gun. A long gun that had been hanging on the wall. A hunting rifle that didn’t reach my height, belonging to that man.
It aimed precisely at the other’s head. He pulled the trigger without giving them a chance to plead. I screamed, covering my ears with both hands at the thunderous noise. And when I took my hands away from my ears a moment later, all noise had vanished, and only silence remained. Like death, or rather.
‘Death.’
Exactly that.
* * *
I slowly lifted my eyelids. For a while, I just blinked, feeling bewildered. From outside the window, the distant sound of peaceful people chatting drifted in. Inside the simply decorated room, there were no grand sculptures, nor even a common painting on the wall. There was only the bed I was lying in, a small tea table, and a chest of drawers. It was likely a guest room used temporarily. My senses dulled again under the warm sunlight streaming through the large window, and sleep began to return. Just as I was about to close my eyes unconsciously.
“…Ah!”
I suddenly tried to bolt upright, only to gasp.
“Ugh, my head…”
I couldn’t even finish the sentence. Groaning from a terrible headache, I squeezed my eyes shut and clutched my head. Just how much had I drunk? I had never experienced such a horrific hangover. It felt as if someone were endlessly hammering at my brain with a mallet.
“Ugh, ugh…”
I let out a pathetic groan and gripped my head. Unable to form a proper thought, I simply distorted my face, then barely opened my eyes and froze instantly. I wasn’t wearing anything on my body. When I realized I was lying in bed completely naked, I turned pale.
Suddenly, I felt warm air on my cheek. Unable to react immediately, I rolled my eyes to the side, and when I finally turned my head, I froze completely. Someone was standing there.
Nathaniel Miller was standing there, holding out a steaming mug toward me.
In stark contrast to me, who was completely naked without even a piece of underwear, he was dressed perfectly in a three-piece suit.