The Deadly Assassin Robin novel Chapter 1248

The small building in Bullhead Mount was suffocatingly silent—like a tomb.

The stench of blood hung in the air, thick and rancid.

Hohenheim's breath was labored, each one sharp and heavy. The silence was broken only by the sound of Robin's slaps.

Hohenheim's anger burned like fire, hot and furious, threatening to break free.

He had never been humiliated like this before. Never.

Raised in a powerful family, he was steeped in politics—taught to wield influence and power.

In that world, everything was a game of appearances. Enemies? They were handled quietly, in the dark.

Respect was always shown in public, no matter the hate seething underneath.

To destroy someone was a quiet, backstabbing affair.

But Robin? He wasn't part of that world.

He wasn't about games or subtleties.

He was blunt. Brutal. Raw.

Hohenheim's anger fought to escape, but when his eyes locked with Robin's cold, emotionless gaze, something inside him froze.

The force of Robin's presence made him tremble.

That gaze—unblinking, uncaring—stripped him of any will to fight back.

Then Hohenheim saw the faces around him—Hannibal, Jethro, Jack, the royal heirs, and his own subordinates.

The weight of shame crushed him, threatening to shatter his composure. "Robin," Hohenheim spat, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and humiliation. "Yes, you were once Master Ramsey of the Dragon Palace. You still command the Golden Dragon Guard.

"But you don't have the right to destroy my dignity.

"And you certainly don't have the authority to interfere with the Decision Bureau's actions!

"You're nothing but a commoner now. And I—"

Before he could finish, Robin grabbed the collar of his uniform, yanking him forward. "It's because of that uniform that you're getting away with a warning, not an execution," Robin growled, his voice sharp and icy. "Clean up your mess before you try to enforce the law on anyone else.

"Your power's been abused. You've done nothing for the people. You make alliances for personal gain. You crush anyone who stands in your way.

"That's dereliction of duty.

"You wear those fine clothes, but do nothing but dirty deeds. Sooner or later, you'll fall.

"Three days. I want answers.

"Or you'll be the first to fall into hell."

Hohenheim staggered back, his feet unsteady beneath him.

He stared into Robin's eyes, but despite the raging fire inside him, he couldn't bring himself to unleash it.

Hohenheim felt the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew, with a certainty, that if he pushed further, Misael's blade would end him without a second thought.

But why? This wasn't personal. He didn't need to risk his life over a mission that was as unclear as fog.

The task—capturing Zayn, Hannibal, and Catherine—had been vague from the start. Hadley had given him no solid instructions.

Only a vague, "Handle it as you see fit."

No written orders. None.

That had to be deliberate. Hadley had set him up.

If everything went well, Hadley would take the credit. But if anything went wrong?

The blame would be placed squarely on Hohenheim.

He wasn't chasing ordinary criminals. These were people from Westeria Residence—their second and third generations.

If any of the royal families were offended, the higher-ups would have no choice but to silence him to keep the peace.

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