[4] Not quite according to plan

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"No, it didn't," she admitted, her voice a mere whisper. She looked up at me, her eyes shining with a mix of fear and respect. "I underestimated you, Chang."

I nodded, satisfied with her admission. She had tried to use me as a pawn in her game, and I had turned the tables. But there was still the matter of the fleeing demon.

"Finish what you started, Chang," she said, her voice firm. "Maroth needs to pay for his crimes."

"I'm not interested in your money," I stated flatly, keeping my gaze focused on the shrinking figure of Maroth.

"But..." she began, her voice shaking with surprise and confusion. "Then what do you want in exchange for...for killing him?"

There was desperation in her tone now, a raw edge that hinted at the gravity of this situation for her. I took a deep breath, and turned to look at her, my brown eyes softening.

"I want you to stay alive," I answered, my voice gentle yet firm. The look of shock on her face was priceless.

"What...?" she stammered, taken aback by my unexpected demand.

"You heard me," I confirmed, holding her gaze. "Promise me that you won't get yourself killed over some vendetta against Maroth. That's my condition."

Her violet eyes blinked at me, uncertainty flashing in them. But behind that uncertainty, I could see a flicker of hope, of relief. She had been carrying this burden for so long, it seemed she had forgotten there could be another way, a way that didn't require her to put her life at risk.

"You want me to... to just... live?" she repeated, as if trying to grasp the concept.

Her defiance flared suddenly, the fear in her eyes replaced by a spark of rebellion. "Screw you!" she spat, her cheeks flushed with anger. "I'll do it myself!"

She whirled around, her cloak swirling dramatically as she made to storm away. But I couldn't let her go. A promise was a promise, and I had vowed to keep her safe.

Reacting swiftly, I reached out, my hand shooting forward to grasp her arm. She was fast, I'd give her that, but not fast enough. With a swift, precise strike to a pressure point on her neck, I knocked her out.

Her body slumped, the tension leaving her all at once as she collapsed. I caught her before she hit the ground, her unconscious form surprisingly light in my arms.

I laid her down gently, cushioning her head with the edge of her cloak. Her face, now relaxed in unconsciousness, was strangely peaceful, her fiery spirit temporarily quelled.

"I am sorry. I can't complete this mission for you." I muttered.

Q: Do you make promises frequently?

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