Immortals usually end up as crippled puppets—their resilience allows parasites to feed ruthlessly, released from the "keep host alive" constraint

A deep breath. The man adjusted his cap, lips curling in a small smile. Another busy day. He knelt down, fingers reaching out to grasp the hilt of knife. He wrenched it free of his opponent's belly, the putrid scent of exposed guts hitting him like bricks.

"Hrmhrm~"

He whistles softly, checking the sights of his rifle. It's become a routine. Take it apart. Clean it. Oil it. Put it back together. Dry fire.

A soft hum, the man shouldering his rifle. The knife he holds slips into a sheath at his hip, the blade freshly scrubbed clean of blood. A whistle as he disappears into the night.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. The little puppet should stop while ahead."

"Ah. Someone seems angry. Unhappy that she didn't take the bait you so lovingly put out?"

A soft whistle as he returns to maintaining his rifle. There's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Girl, don't play with the puppet. She's enjoying riling you up."

Casually places himself between Kiju and Alice. "You two play nice now."

"She starts everything. Just ignore the big puppet. She's just lonely since her husband isn't around to—" Her head suddenly finds itself removed from his neck. His body sags as if sighing before moving to pick it up.

Points to Kiju as his head is returned to his neck. "Puppet." He then points to himself. "Second in command." Wait, what?!

"True, true. Kiju, you play nice then. After all, she is also the lord's favorite concubine."

"You're a woman who spends inordinate amounts of time with the lord in state of undress that isn't her wife. Thus a concubine, yes?"

He gives a small smile. It's . . . odd, almost unnatural. "You wouldn't be the first to try, but I'll cheer you on."

"Well, the girl has spirit."

"Anyway . . . hrm . . . What is there to do?"

"So a good samaritan?"

A lazy whistle. He adjusts his cap, a wry smile on his face. It's been some time, hasn't it?

He's been so busy these days. He whistles, calmly loading a bullet into his rifle, the click of the bolt almost comforting in a way. He reminded him of days past.