They walked along the path at the edge of the forest, with a clearing stretching out beside them. Their bare feet touched the ground, the soft moss, and the crunching leaves beneath them. Zevran held Dina's hand, guiding her past a root jutting from the earth, pushing branches aside for them to pass, and waited until Dina had gone through before letting them snap back.

They hadn't gone far, but the lights of the inn were already behind them, replaced by the watchful glow of the full moon above. Zevran veered off into the clearing, took a deep breath of the fresh night air, and threw himself onto his back in the tall grass, stretching out contentedly. Dina looked around. In the distance, she could see the twinkling lights of houses and the city, while on the other side were the dark canopies of the forest.

"Just what I needed!" Zevran took another deep breath. "Do you smell that? The scent of a night-time meadow."

Dina lay down beside him. The grass rustled softly by her shoulder, hiding them completely from the world. The stars twinkled faintly in the sky.

Zevran rolled towards Dina and propped himself up. "So, tell me. I'm all ears. How did an innocent girl like you end up in a brothel?"

Dina hesitated to start. She gazed thoughtfully at the man's strong features, illuminated by the moonlight.

"I promise, I will. But first, tell me about yourself. Did you really grow up in a brothel?"

Zevran sighed. "Oh, to think we could be wrapped and tangled up together and enjoying ourselves in bed by now, but my goddess and guide, the high priestess of beauty, wants to hear about my cursed past instead...? Very well. Have it your way. But once we're done dissecting my life, I want to hear about yours too."

Dina nodded in agreement. "Alright."

Zevran looked up at the stars as he leaned back. "So, me? My childhood! How long ago that was!"

"You don't look old," Dina said, studying Zevran's face closely.

"Well, I secretly hoped you'd think so," he replied with a self-assured glance. "It's a miracle, but I've survived these twenty-three years."

Dina blinked silently at the tattoo that ran along the side of Zevran's face. Now that she was closer, she could see it wasn't one line but two garland-like lines, resembling blades. She recalled the two large sabres lying by his discarded clothes in the room earlier. Dina remembered them clearly—heavy, eastern sabres with flawless edges and worn red ribbons on their well-used hilts.

"Does this tattoo have any meaning?" she asked cautiously, pointing towards it.

"It has no symbolic meaning, but it serves a purpose. There's a scar underneath it. If you touch it, you'll feel it." He moved his face closer to Dina's hand, and she ran her fingertip over the ridges of his skin.

"It was done after a bandit's mace made a deep impression on my charming little mug."

Dina could easily imagine that Zevran had enough vanity not to want to be called scar-faced.

"Tell me, are you a professional soldier?"

There was a hint of confusion in Zevran's eyes as he looked away. "Erm... something like that."

"So, you're not. If you don't stay with Morrighan and the others, how do you make a living?"

The man pulled a face as if he had momentarily disengaged from the conversation. "Well, there you have it. We've only just started, and already one of the trickiest subjects has come up."

Dina remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Zevran looked back at her. "Dina, my dear. I'm an assassin."

At this, Dina sat up, staring at Zevran, unable to move for a moment.

She was talking alone with a handsome assassin, at night far from everyone. And she was undeniably attracted to him. Terrible.

"Are you scared?" Zevran pushed himself up as well.

"No. No, I'm just surprised."

Zevran spread his hands slightly. "Well, that's how it is. I kill people for money. Like soldiers do, but they cut down more on the battlefields. I'm only hired for one target at a time, and I grant them a swift and painless death. We do the same job, only I do it more efficiently and professionally."

Dina listened to Zevran's reasoning and then tilted her head thoughtfully. There was some truth to what he said. She thought for a moment and added, "Soldiers do useful work when they defend the city from invading enemies."

Zevran straightened up. "Assassins do even more useful work! Who knows how many tyrants I've saved the Euthorian Empire from! On the battlefield, soldiers kill anyone who is an enemy, whether they're a father, husband, or a loved one waiting to return home. But I am only the end for the wicked."

Dina pondered his words for a moment.

"Do you belong to any political faction?"

"Oh, no, the gods forbid!" Zevran waved his hand. "Although my foster father was a guifol and, of course, wanted me to join him. But, miraculously, I didn't. Interesting." He shrugged.

Dina observed him. She noticed that something dark and quiet had mixed with his usually playful, cheerful voice.

"Your foster father?"

"Yes. He took me home when I was sixteen. I spent one dreadful year with him."

Dina sighed. "An assassin, an foster father, a brothel? Zevran, your life is anything but ordinary."

He laughed proudly. "No, it certainly isn't!"

"You mentioned your childhood earlier. But that was better, right? I mean, before you ended up in the brothel."

Zevran lay back in the grass, raising his hands above his head as if stretching. "Oh yes, it was perfect, wonderful!" he nodded. Dina couldn't tell if she could believe him or if the man was being ironic again. So she stayed quiet and let him continue.

"I was born in a small village. My father and mother adored each other, and I adored them, hahaha!" His laughter was loud again, but Dina watched him with concern. "My father was an endlessly witty, handsome, pure-blooded elf lumberjack, and my mother was a beautiful, tall, graceful woman." He stared at the sky, then into Dina's eyes, and smiled. "She belonged to a nomadic elf tribe called the Dalls. Do you know them? They have darker skin, live in the forests, and speak with a strange accent. You might still hear some of my mother's peculiar sounds in my pronunciation."

Indeed, there was something exotic about the way Zevran formed his words. He spoke not in pure Perubian but with a southern, slightly careless accent that suited his sun-kissed skin.

"But my father's family, especially my grandmother and my aunt, hated her because of her heritage. Old witches!" he scoffed at them. "Yet my father and mother, they were the dream couple, I tell you."

"Why aren't you near them now?"

Zevran paused. "A lumberjack's work often requires being away from home. My father would stay out in the forest with his companions for days at a time. He worked a lot, was all muscle, a lean man with incredible endurance. When he came home, we always celebrated," he smiled.

Dina said nothing, but her attention grew more intense.

"I was ten when a tree crushed him."

Zevran barely finished the last word before he looked at Dina and smiled at her as if they were discussing something cheerful. Then he tore off a blade of grass and began chewing its end absentmindedly.

"What happened after that?" Dina asked much more softly.

"I didn't have any siblings. My father's family completely turned against my mother. That's when she decided that she and I would move to the city. I don't exactly remember how we ended up in the brothel, only my mother's ever-sorrowful face when we lived there. A year later, she fell ill and died. I was left behind with the lovely ladies as a burden. At about ten or eleven years old."

Dina swallowed. "For how long?"

"Five or six years. But I didn't bring in much money; I wasn't very profitable, so they sold me. Probably because I ate more than all of them put together!" He would have chuckled at himself, but Dina touched his shoulder seriously.

"Wait... what do you mean by 'you didn't bring in much money'...?"

Her gaze flitted anxiously in his silent eyes. Zevran sighed, sat up, and rested on one knee.

"It means exactly what you think, dear Dina." He continued after a pause. "There were two rich ladies in their thirties who thought it might be interesting to bed with a twelve-year-old boy."

Dina didn't say anything, her chin slowly dropped. It occurred to him that Zevran had entertained mature women as a half-child, barely a teenager.

"Don't look at me like that, my darling Dina, believe me, a boy sees things differently," he laughed. "I was bloody proud of myself! And there were some funny situations too. The madam, a woman with sharp business sense, moved me to the top room of the brothel because it wouldn't have been ideal for a husband and wife, both clients, to bump into each other in the corridors," he grinned.

"Did your foster father help you in that impossible situation?" Dina asked.

But Zevran laughed so hard he nearly choked. He coughed and pounded his chest. "Helped? He bought me!"

Dina shook her head in confusion. "But... didn't he adopt you?"

"The old goat paid five gold coins for me."

After a moment of silence, the only thing Dina could say, outraged, was, "How could he ever call himself your father?"

The man chewed on the blade of grass for a while, then threw it away and picked another one.

"I didn't really like living with him," he said, curling his lip.

Dina didn't press the issue. She silently acknowledged the grim fact of what Zevran's foster father had likely used him for. It was obvious.

"What happened in the end? Did you get tired of it and leave him?"

"No. He died."

"Was he old?"

Zevran smirked. "No. Someone killed him."

Dina's gaze instinctively burrowed into the man's eyes. Zevran looked back at her just as steadily and deeply. The moment connected them, a shiver ran down Dina's spine, and at the same time, she felt a strange warmth in her chest. She thought of the scimitars.

"And before someone killed him," she probed cautiously, "he didn't treat you well, did he?"

"Hmm, that's an understatement. The old guifol might have taken me into his house, but I was still his slave. At least he was rich. But that didn't stop me from hating him. I know he thought I had a great life with him. Well, we didn't exactly see eye to eye on that," he nodded deeply, then added with a shrug, "Though to be fair, after adopting me, he didn't do anything worse to me than before."

"He knew you before adopting you?"

"Of course. He visited the brothel often."

"The... the ladies?"

Zevran shook his head. "Them too. Then he started visiting me."

Dina needed a moment. She didn't move for a while, both hands resting on her knees. Her breathing became shallow, almost unnoticeable, but rapid.

"Zevran, you... you were a whore."

The man laughed. "Oh no, I wasn't a whore, whores get paid, Dina. I was just a worthless rag. I wasn't even eighteen, and the madam knew full well she was playing with fire. Child prostitution is severely punished not just in Euthoria, but even on these rundown Perubian coasts. I was a secret. But if I'd had the guts to stand in the marketplace and stir up the people, they would have torn the madam apart to protect their own children. That's what I should have done. But I was too young and far from brave. The madam was thrilled when the crusty old fool offered her a deal and could sell me off. Suddenly, the problem was gone, or rather, it had never existed! After all, the old man became my 'foster father.'"

"In the end, you did break free."

"I did. I didn't leave the dirty work to the people. I did it myself. I killed him."

Dina took a deep breath. "Is that why you're helping me too?" she looked deeply into Zevran's eyes.

Zevran neither confirmed nor denied it, only returned her gaze. He tried to smile at Dina, but this time his smile was different, more bitter. Then, suddenly, he waved his hand.

"Not for that reason, but because you're so damn irresistible, and I—"

"Sssh!" Dina's gentle voice cut off his playful comment. A woman stopped Zevran just as he was about to say something cheeky. Perhaps this had never happened to him before. It was seen from the surprised look on his face. But he stayed silent as Dina moved closer, taking his face in her hands. It was clear that if he hadn't made a promise, he would have hugged her, stroked her, his eyes wandered over her face, her hair.

"I see you're not just irresistible but also quick to learn," he muttered.

"I understand you now," she whispered to him. Then she did nothing but look at him for a long time, gently stroking his face.

Finally, Zevran sighed, his gaze fixed on her lips. "My dear Dina. Agreement or no agreement. But do you really expect me not to kiss you senseless in a situation like this...?"

Dina laughed and let him go, pushing him away slightly.

Zevran spread his arms. "Enough about me, it's been too much already. Now it's your turn, my dear, time to lie back on the couch of candour." Zevran pointed to the ground where the grass was flattened under their weight.