Nyx didn't flinch or show much reaction. He simply held the man's gaze, calm and steady.
He had expected this question.
After all, he was asking two complete strangers—people he had met only seconds ago—to act as bait in a plan that could very well cost them their lives. It was only natural for them to hesitate. To question him.
And more than anything, he knew the way he looked would raise doubts. His clothes were torn, his face smeared with dirt, and he looked more like a runaway beggar than a royal guard. He had already prepared for this moment. He knew they would ask about it—he had even rehearsed his answer in his mind.
But when the man mentioned that Crimwights hunted in groups of three, Nyx paused.
For a brief moment, this statement hit him like a jolt—sharp, sudden, and disorienting.
But then, almost instinctively, a new idea sparked in his mind. Before he could speak, he quickly reached out to Love through his thoughts.
'Hey, Love… is that true? Do Crimwights really hunt in groups of three?' he thought.
He could have answered the man right away, pretending to know the truth—but Nyx wasn't that reckless. He had read enough stories in his past life to know how easily people could be misled with false information, especially in tense moments like this. It was a classic trick—feed someone the wrong detail, and if they agreed without hesitation, you'd know they were lying.
Nyx didn't believe these people would try to trap him with a lie in a situation where their lives were at risk… but he couldn't afford to take chances. Not now. Not with death possibly minutes away.
If his plan failed—if he made even one wrong move—he wouldn't get a second chance.
Love's response came quickly, her voice rushed and sharp with urgency. She was the one sensing the presence of the bloodsuckers, and she could feel how little time they had left.
[Yes, it's true—they hunt in groups of three. But I can't sense the third one. There's no sign of it anywhere.]
Nyx exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. That was enough. He didn't have time for doubt. He met the man's suspicious gaze and spoke, voice quick and assertive.
"Yeah, I know they hunt in threes. I said two because… there are only two left."
There was a noticeable shift in the two strangers' posture—tension releasing just slightly. Nyx didn't let them speak. He stepped forward and launched into the next part of his carefully crafted lie.
"My team and I—five royal guards in total—were stationed in this sector. We were scouting the area, monitoring for monster activity when we got word that a civilian carriage was passing through this forest. We came to help."
He let his expression darken, feigning the weight of loss. His voice dipped into something quieter, touched with grief. "We ran into those three Crimwights. We fought them. One of the monsters was killed… but three of my comrades died in that battle."
He paused, just long enough for the silence to settle in their chests like a stone.
"I was the one who got injured the worst… covered in blood, stumbling, barely able to breathe. And those things—they're drawn to blood, like wolves to a wounded deer. So they came after me, followed the scent without hesitation."
Nyx's voice dropped, almost like he was reliving it right there, his eyes flickering with something dark and distant.
"I ran. I ran like hell through that cursed forest, every step screaming through my body. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I had to lead them away… away from the last surviving member of my unit. He was the only one left after the fight. I didn't know if he could escape, but I had to try. I had to be the bait."
His gaze lifted to the two strangers, eyes filled with something raw and unspoken.
"And that's how I ended up here. Bleeding, filthy, and face to face with the two of you."
He let the words hang in the air, hoping the weight of them would settle where doubt still lingered in their minds.
Nyx locked eyes with them again, this time with fire behind his words—anger, desperation, determination all tangled together.
"But if you cooperate—if you follow what I say—I promise I'll get all of us out of this alive."
He didn't blink. Didn't waver. Every word came out steady, certain, like it was the only truth that mattered now.
'I really don't want to lie… but we're running out of time,' Nyx thought grimly.
And it was true. He didn't want to lie—especially to people who were just as terrified and desperate as he was. But they wouldn't believe him otherwise. Not in the state he was in, not with his tattered clothes and dirt-smeared face. So he did what he had to.
He crafted his lie carefully—not with malice, but with intention. He didn't try to manipulate them through fear or aggression. Instead, he leaned into guilt. He told them a story that would twist at their hearts, that would plant the thought: He lost his comrades trying to protect us, and we couldn't even give him our trust?
It wasn't cruel. It was necessary.
Because Nyx didn't care about pride or morality in that moment. All he cared about was survival. Theirs. His. And for that, he'd carry the weight of a few well-placed lies.
Now, everything began to make sense to those two strangers.
The tattered clothes, the dirt smeared across his face, the exhaustion in his voice—it all aligned perfectly with the story he had just told. If he had truly fought against three of those bloodsucking monsters, lost his companions in the struggle, and barely escaped with his life… then of course he would look like this. Worn. Bruised. Desperate.
The disbelief that had once flickered in their eyes slowly gave way to something else—understanding… and guilt.
"They're getting closer—just tell me, are you with me or not?" Nyx asked, his voice edged with urgency and a flicker of fear.
The two strangers exchanged a glance, hesitation thick between them. But after a tense moment, they both gave a reluctant nod.
Still, Nyx could see it—the uncertainty lingering in their eyes, the silent doubt clinging to their expressions. And he didn't have the luxury of risking their hesitation. Not now. Not when they were barely minutes away from death.
So, with a clenched jaw and a heavy heart, Nyx reached for the one card he hadn't wanted to play.
He had hoped it wouldn't come to this—not because it was dangerous, but because he wasn't even sure it would work.
But trust was slipping through his fingers, and if he wanted to survive, he had to make them believe.
Nyx swallowed hard, forcing the tension down his throat like a stone. He had hoped his words, his desperate attempt at sounding like someone who knew what they were doing, would be enough. But people—especially scared ones—don't always listen to reason. Not when they're staring down death.
And these two? They were terrified. But more than that, they were unsure of him.
So he decided to gamble.