"*Murmur*"
In the distance the attendant seemed to recoil in response to my presence, turning away and pretending like she didn't see anything, I didn't notice nor cared about her presence in the room at the time, I was more concerned with the person in front of me after all.
""...""
There was a pause—brief but perceptible—before the Jackal responded. My presence must've caught him off guard, especially when I did something unexpected. I extended my hand toward him, casual but firm, offering a handshake across the small table.
But still, he took it without much hesitation.
""I believe we met briefly back at the station""
He said in a voice so toneless, so utterly void of inflection, it barely sounded mortal for a lack of better words.
""But it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Iger""
His hand—gloved, unmoving, precise—grasped mine with the bare minimum pressure required for a polite shake.
There was no warmth, no pulse of life behind it, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if I was touching a person at all or some perfectly still automaton carved from ice.
"Ughhh~"
I couldn't help the small groan that escaped me, an involuntary shiver rattling up my spine as the chill of touch lingered longer than it had any right to. His voice didn't help—it echoed like something that had never belonged to a living throat, flat and almost...artificial for a lack of better terms.
(Is it even possible for someone to be this cold?)
The thought passed through my mind like static.
"Oops—sorry"
I said quickly, forcing a sheepish laugh and pulling my hand back.
"Bit chilly in here, huh?"
It was an unconvincing excuse as the train car was actually well air conditioned. I offered him a smile—light, conversational, anything to cover the goosebumps crawling up my arms.
""...""
He simply watched, unblinking, silent again.
(But...something's different)
Despite the unnatural emptiness in his presence, I realized I didn't feel the same suffocating and cold edge he'd radiated back when he was speaking with the boss. There was no invisible blade resting against my throat, no implied threat wrapped in silence. Just...stillness.
(He's willing to talk. For now...)
That was more than I'd hoped for.
This was good.
""Attendant, would you kindly turn up the heater just a notch?""
His voice, calm and measured, broke the silence again—this time directed at the lone train attendant standing stiffly by the bar near the end of the car.
"!!!"
The woman visibly tensed at his request, flinching almost imperceptibly before clicking her tongue in barely concealed irritation.
"...As you wish"
She said through gritted teeth, offering only the bare minimum of civility.
Without another word, she turned and manipulated a hexagramic sigil inscribed onto a smooth metal panel on the wall—magic infused into the train's climate system. The faintest shimmer of warming air responded.
""Grazie""
He said, the word slipping effortlessly from his mouth in the old Irkallan tongue, spoken with perfect cadence before he turned back to face me.
(Huh...that was unexpectedly thoughtful of him)
I blinked in surprise.
(Also was that Irkallan? Most people don't even bother with the native tongue anymore unless they're trying to score cultural points...his accent at least sounds natural so he must've grown up here then or at least been close enough to it for a large portion of his life)
It was strange, jarring, even. That tiny act of consideration didn't align with the chilling, inhuman aura I'd associated with him, it wasn't enough to lower my guard of course—just enough to make me pause.
"That was thoughtful of you, thanks"
I said, letting a small smile touch my lips. Genuine, though still cautious.
""It was no trouble""
He replied smoothly, then added without missing a beat.
""Though it seems the attendant has been acting rather unprofessional ever since you entered""
His observation was astute—almost uncomfortably so. He hadn't missed a single shift in tone or body language.
"Hehe...yeah, I guess it's because of my stripes"
I admitted with a wry laugh.
"I don't know the full story since it all went down before I joined but Corvus isn't exactly winning any popularity contests around here"
His eyes remained on me, unmoving, almost contemplative. Then, after a brief silence, he responded.
""...Evidently so""
No judgment, just an acknowledgment. But even that felt oddly heavy.
"Hey"
I said with a teasing grin.
"You could at least try to comfort me a little. It's not like I started this feud, but I'm still catching all the heat"
It was a joke meant to break the ice further.
""...""
He blinked once, unhurriedly.
""I surmise that being comforted by me might produce the opposite effect""
There was no sarcasm in his tone. Just a brutally honest, deadpan observation.
"Haha...ja I guess that's a fair point"
I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck.
(At least he's self-aware)
I couldn't help but think that with a strange kind of appreciation. Not warmth, not quite—but something like respect, maybe.
""Pleasantries aside, Miss Iger—""
He began, clearly steering the conversation toward something more direct, but I cut him off without hesitation.
"Just Fiama is fine, "Miss Iger" sounds kind of pretentious, doesn't it?"
I said with a shrug, keeping my tone casual.
""...""
There was a slight pause as he absorbed my words.
""Very well then...Fiama""
He accepted the correction without fuss, speaking my name with that same low, echoless voice of his—calm and serene like a still winter lake.
""Forgive my bluntness, but might I ask why you're here?""
His tone didn't change, but the question came with an undercurrent of precision, like a scalpel slicing away any chance of deflection. He probably had his own theories already, but he still asked—likely to confirm.
"Straight to the point, huh? Honestly, I respect that"
I replied, letting my smile slip into something a little more genuine.
"I was getting tired of playing polite myself..."
I took a breath, steadying my voice even as my nerves coiled tighter with each passing second under his gaze.
"To put it simply—I came to learn more about you. And I figured the best way to do that was just... to talk to you. Not as a member of Corvus to the "White Jackal" but just me and you, one person to another"
I laid it out plainly, no flowery detours. Just truth. It felt like tossing myself into a pit and hoping there were cushions at the bottom.
(After a lot and I mean A LOT of thinking...I've decided honesty was my best shot. Whether this will lower his guard or raise it, doesn't matter—either way, his reaction should tell me something valuable at least...)
I laid out my thoughts to myself, hoping that this approach will produce at least some results.
""...""
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, silence bloomed between us once again, thick and unreadable.
""...Is that so?""
His head tilted ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment I thought I saw something flicker behind those crimson eyes—something just shy his usual emptiness, was it amusement? Curiosity? I couldn't tell. It was like trying to read intent in the stillness of a doll's face, it didn't help that he was still wearing that mask.
"Ja"
I answered simply, keeping my tone clear and unflinching, there was no point in lying now.
""...""
Again, that pause. Then—
""Well, it's certainly a bold method of gathering intel. I'll give you that""
There was the faintest change in his voice—not quite approval, not quite disapproval, but maybe something like...intrigue. His gaze seemed less pointed now, less like a dagger and more like a magnifying glass.
(So far so good? I hope...)
He wasn't warming up to me—not even close—but he hadn't shut the conversation down either. Whether he didn't see me as a threat or simply found my approach amusing, I couldn't say. His demeanor was unreadable, his face a mask devoid of cracks.
"As a wise man once said: "fortune favors the bold" And a Jaeger, it'd be kind of stupid for me to ignore fortune when it shows up, right?"
I kept my expression light, even as the tension gnawed at me beneath the surface.
""Indeed...""
He closed his eyes momentarily, his voice dropping into something just a touch softer—like he was mulling the words over instead of simply responding.
""Markus""
The word came out of nowhere—quiet, deliberate, and completely unexpected.
"Excuse me?"
I blinked, caught off guard.
""It just occurred to me—I never properly introduced myself""
He said.
""You can call me Markus, Fiama. It'd get tiring if you had to keep calling me "the White Jackal" the whole time""
He leaned slightly forward, resting his chin on his left palm with a slightly more relaxed air than before, though his eyes remained as hollow and unreadable as ever.
"..."
For a second, I was stunned into silence.
(Wait…what? That worked?)
Even I hadn't expected to get this far. I'd prepared for cold dismissal, cryptic deflection—maybe even intimidation—but an actual name? That went beyond my best-case scenario.
"Phew~ very well then, Markus"
I managed to compose myself and flashed a small smile.
Even as I said it, I wasn't sure whether that was his real name. The way he phrased it—"you can call me..."—felt more like permission than truth. Still, it was a start.
"Gotta say, you're a lot more chill than I expected"
I added with a soft chuckle, the edge in my nerves easing just a little, though not enough to open myself up completely though, that would be stupid.
""Like I told the lord of—""
He paused, catching himself.
""Ahem...as I told your father back on the platform—I have no intention of antagonizing you or your corp""
That slight slip into the old Jaeger lingo, calling the boss by his moniker before correcting himself meant that he was trying, at least, to maintain a certain tone. That effort alone was noteworthy.
"True, you did say that"
I acknowledged, watching him closely for any other tells.
""Hmm...though I must admit""
He continued, voice still flat but now with a faint thread of curiosity.
""I was surprised when you introduced yourself as "Fiama Iger" I was under the impression your father was unmarried""
His eyes were looking straight at mine now, awaiting an explanation.
(Trying to direct the flow already, huh? Not bad)
It was smooth, he shifted the conversation to me almost effortlessly, guiding it gently without skipping a beat. I couldn't help but be a little impressed by how naturally he pivoted the topic.
"Adopted daughter, actually"
I replied, deciding to keep things honest.
"The boss found me near the end of the second War of Vindication. I don't really remember much from before that"
I elaborated.
""I see...""
He shifted in his seat slightly, adjusting the angle of his head.
""Then I'm glad he found you. You must've gone through no end of hardships before that""
His voice held no real warmth, no weight behind the words—but it wasn't cold either. If anything, it felt like a genuine attempt at sympathy, or maybe just social decorum. Whatever it was, it was hard to tell with him. Everything about "Markus" was elusive—intent, tone, sincerity—all hidden behind that impenetrable, expressionless mask that he calls a face.
"Thanks!"
But for what it was worth, it didn't feel like mockery or anything insincere and in this conversation, that was as close to kindness as I could ask for.
""No problem...""
He replied quietly, then fell silent again for a few seconds.
""It's a curious thing, really...""
He muttered, his voice low—almost more to himself than to me.
"Sorry?"
I tilted my head, trying to get a read on him.
(What's going on in that head of his this time?)
I wondered interally.
""I've just realized this is the first time I've talked in length with someone near my age in a casual setting…Oh, do excuse me if I sound a bit awkward""
He clarified it with such frankness that it caught me a little off guard.
"Ah! No biggie. You're actually a lot more…hmm...what's the word? Articulate—yeah, that's it! You're very articulate. Much more than I'm used to, honestly. Actually…are you even a Jaeger at all?"
I reassured him with a smile (my underlying fear towards him aside), then gently nudged the conversation back toward him. I was here to gather intel, after all.
""Headhunter, actually""
He corrected without missing a beat.
"Oh?"
I raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued.
""I'm a headhunter…It's a type of Jaeger, technically. But instead of working in a combined arms unit for frontline deployments, we operate alone or in pairs. Mostly alone if we can help it. Our work involves things like deep infiltration, decapitation strikes, sabotage, so on and so forth""
He explained it so plainly, like he was describing a desk job.
"Ah, I see..."
I nodded along, but internally, the pieces were falling into place faster than I could fully process them.
(Makes sense. I'd suspected it from his entire demeanor and MO. Headhunters aren't just Jaegers—they're practically ghosts. Even within the corps, they're viewed with suspicion and fear… sometimes even outright hate. While we Jaegers at least have our companies to shield us, headhunters are created to be disposable—employed specifically because their existence can be denied. If they're killed or go MIA, all records vanish. They're meant to disappear. High risk, high reward…and no safety net. Most Headhunters don't survive even one deployment)
Given Markus's reputation as the infamous "White Jackal," it wasn't shocking. In fact, I was slightly disappointed in myself for not fully connecting the dots until now.
""I served as a headhunter during the Second War of Vindication...that's how I came to blows with your father the last time we met...out of curiosity—did they tell you anything about me?""
He asked it calmly, but I noticed the faintest shift in his tone.
"Oh, trust me, they wouldn't shut up about you. Especially Leon. You must've made one hell of an impression, huh?"
I replied with a shrug, deliberately glossing over the part where he nearly killed my family. (It was a war, after all. Hard to hold grudges when everyone's trying to survive).
""I could say the same. Edward Iger left me half-dead after that fight. To this day, I'm still not entirely sure how I survived""
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before shutting his eyes, his voice distant—like he was pulling the memory from a locked room in his mind.
""Worst of all, I'm pretty certain he was holding back at the time""
His eyes opened again, catching the light. For a brief moment, they flickered—not with intensity, but with layers of muted thoughts and unspoken feelings.
"Eh, don't feel too bad. Most people wouldn't last thirty minutes against the old man—let alone three whole days"
I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
(Huh...he doesn't seem to be exaggerating)
I studied him, layering the image Zofia painted of the White Jackal—her trembling voice, her haunted eyes—over the polite if not downright amicable figure sitting across from me,. He's actually more well mannered than most Jaegers which I wasn't sure if it was suppose to reassure me or unerve me even more.
(Maybe we're not as outmatched as I thought. Or at least the boss isn't...)
""With all due respect, that's easy for you to say. You weren't the one who lost an arm and half their face that day""
His voice remained steady, but the weight of the memory clung to every word.
""I really thought it was over then. If not for some well-timed healing magic...I wouldn't be here at all""
He turned to face me again—and for the first time, the sound of his voice changed slightly, shifting away momentarily from his usual monotonousness.
A ghost of amusement painted it's inflection, subtle and almost imperceptible.
(Is he...amused? Was that some kind of joke that I missed?)
I blinked, genuinely surprised.
"Haha...I can't argue with that. But still, don't beat yourself up, ja? Not getting turned into paste by the old man is already a win. Trust me—I'd know"
I laughed again, this time a bit more uneasily. I didn't want to ruin the fragile momentum we'd built, but his amusement—however brief—told me I hadn't crossed any lines.
""I'll take what I can get, I suppose""
He looked away, and just like that, the cadence vanished. His voice settled back into the stoic tone that I was starting to recognize as his default.
"Well aaaaa~ I don't know about you, but all this talking's making me thirsty"
I said with a stretch, trying to keep things relaxed as I casually brought up my parched throat.
(I really need to cool off...and maybe a drink will loosen him up a bit more)
It was equal parts strategy and survival. I had gotten him to open up—barely—but something told me that progress could vanish in an instant if I played my cards poorly. The pressure was wearing thin on my already fraying nerves.
""Feel free to order anything you'd like, I'll pay""
He offered it politely, his demeanor as emotionless as ever.
"Really? You sure?"
I asked, wanting to confirm.
""I wouldn't offer if I wasn't""
He replied matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument.
"Alright then, no reason to turn down a free drink"
I smiled, grabbing a menu from the edge of the table and flipping through it.
""...""
He reached for a menu as well, silently mirroring the gesture.
After a moment, I found what I wanted and turned around towards the bar behind me in the distance.
"Excuse me, can I get one toffee hot chocolate?"
I asked the attendant—who had been doing a stellar job of pretending she didn't exist since our conversation began.
""I'll just get am iced coffee au lait, if you don't mind. Grazie""
He set his menu down after ordering.
"*Grumble*"
The woman muttered something under her breath before forcing a reply.
"...Coming right up"
She wasn't even trying to hide the fact that every word came through clenched teeth.
We sat in silence for a bit while our order's being processed—him gazing out the window, me fidgeting with my hands and occasionally sneaking glances at his masked face.
(Still impossible to read...Is there even a face under all that?)
My mind wouldn't stop spinning.
(He did say he lost half his face in his fight with the boss…but healing magic should fix that, right? RIGHT?!)
Suddenly, a morbid idea came to mind, one that I honestly didn't want to consider.
(If not…then maybe some kind of skin-graft?)
No matter how long I stared, the mask gave nothing away. The lack of concrete details only fueled my brain's endless speculations.
Eventually, our order arrived, the server walked over, balancing two cups—my toffee hot chocolate, still steaming, and his iced coffee au lait.
"Here..."
She said coldly, her voice laced with open contempt.
*Slam!*
She dropped both cups onto the table with enough force to rattle the wood. Some of the liquid splashed out, droplets scattering everywhere.
"Ah—ouch!"
A bit of hot chocolate landed on my thigh, scalding me through the fabric.
"Heh..."
The server grinned, clearly satisfied with herself.
"Enjoy yourselves"
She sneered, turning to leave with a backward glance that radiated smug malice.
""...""
Markus said nothing for a moment, he just observed.
"...Heh. I guess I underestimated how much people really hate Corvus"
I muttered with a strained smile, brushing chocolate off my lap.
"Sorry you're getting treated like garbage just for sitting near me"
I offered a sincere apology for his treatment by association.
""No need""
His voice was even, but there was a flicker in his eyes—something deadly cold and unamused—as he reached for his drink.
Without hesitation, he lifted his mask just enough and—
""*Gulp* *gulp* *gulp*""
Downed the entire thing in seconds.
""Aaah~""
He slipped his mask back on, before I could even get a chance to see what's under it.
"Whoa…"
I blinked. I'd never seen anyone drink that fast, let alone through a mask, but before I could say more—
""...""
He turned, his gaze tracking the retreating server, arm pulling back slowly, coffee cup still in hand.
"Uh, Mar—?"
*Fling!* *Smack!* *Shatter!*
"KYAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"
The ceramic cup slammed into the back of the server's head, shattering on impact, she crumpled forward with a shriek, clutching her skull.
"What the—?!"
I was stunned, genuinely stunned.
Markus rested his head on his left hand, speaking with the same glacial tone he used with the boss at the station.
""Another cup of coffee au lait, if you don't mind, Tesoro. I'm quite parched""
His voice alone could've frozen blood.
"Y-yes…right away…"
Despite her injury, the server scrambled to comply, her voice quivering with fear as she limped away.
"..."
I sat there, still trying to catch up with what just happened.
"You…didn't have to do that"
I said quietly, unsure whether I was scolding him or just making sense of it aloud.
""If she can't put away her personal feelings, then she shouldn't be an attendant at all""
No remorse, not even a flicker.
"…True, but… you didn't have to be that harsh"
I said, my tone soft but firm. A part of me agreed, another part recoiled.
""Some people need a slap, Fiama. As a Jaeger, you should know this. People like that will go a mile if you give them an inch. You can't let them disrespect you—ever""
His words hit like biting iron, not cruel exactly, but utterly devoid of mercy.
"Haaaa~"
I sighed.
"Hmm…well, let's just say I appreciate the sentiment, but not the method"
I lifted my cup and took a small sip. The warmth helped soothe my nerves, even if just a little.
(I mean...I guess he did that partly for me? So I'll let it go for now)
I knew it was pointless to argue with him anyway.
Eventually, the server returned—timid, head still bleeding. She placed a new cup in front of Markus with exaggerated care, her hands shaking slightly. I could tell just by the look of it: this one was made with extra effort. The difference was night and day.
"E-enjoy your drink...s-sir"
She bowed low before hurrying off like a scared rabbit.
"Phew~"
I took another drink of my hot chocolate, buying time while I tried to formulate a subtle way of prodding him. I couldn't push too hard—not after that.
"Sooo…"
I began carefully.
"That fight with the boss…three days, huh?"
It was an utterly awkward way to prod at a sensitive topic, my nerves did not calm down even after taking a drink.
""Mm""
He nodded faintly.
"You ever come that close to dying before? Or after?"
I tried to keep my tone light, almost playful, though my eyes stayed sharp.
""More times than I can count...that however, was one of the most memorable times""
He didn't elaborate.
"What happened, exactly? After the fight, I mean. You mentioned being healed by magic...and according to a friend of mine named Zofia you were out of the war for a month"
I pressed on, swirling my cup absentmindedly.
""I went to a reputed healer and they patched me up...however I couldn't move for the entire month in order to recuperate""
Markus explained simply.
"Wow…"
I leaned forward a bit, feigning casual interest.
"That must've been one hell of a healer"
It was an attempt to find out about some of his connections or resources.
""They did their job, that's what matters""
He didn't bite.
"..."
I waited for more. Nothing came.
"…Did you know him before that? The boss, I mean"
I prodded.
""No. That was the first time we met I believe, I didn't want to run into him again if I could help it""
Short answers, controlled casual tone. I was getting nowhere.
(This is a bust....well at least I got something from it)
I sighed inwardly and took another sip.
"Well, thanks…for the drink. And the conversation—such as it was. I think it's about time for me to leave. Or else the corp might get worried"
I added with a half-smile.
""You're welcome""
He set his cup down with a soft clink, looking at me calmly.
"See you around, Markus."
I rose from my seat, dusted off my skirt, and offered a nod.
""Arrivederci, Fiama""
He raised his hand in a small, polite wave. There was something oddly sincere about his farewell. Almost…warm, or as warm as he could be considering the situation. It lingered in my chest as I turned and walked away.
And so I shared a drink and a conversation with a deadly assassin, it was honestly a surreal experience, from beginning to end.