Chapter 2.3

There were several reasons Robert might have used his own carriage. First, the carriage could be disguised as a gift from the culprit. In addition, it lowered the risk during the process of delivering Thomas’s body.

Most importantly, keeping the carriage along with the missing persons was impractical. Hiding a few people was one thing; concealing a carriage and horses was another. The culprit had opted for a method that allowed them to dispose of the evidence completely. 

“Besides, Robert isn’t from this village. As a coachman, he’s an outsider, which we overlooked.” 

“That’s why he didn’t appear on the list when we investigated based on grudges. The carriage returning to the inn without its driver, as well as the means of abducting the other two, all make sense now.” 

“Yes. If Robert Medley isn’t a victim but the culprit, all the mysteries surrounding the missing persons are resolved.” 

However, one question remained. Why had the culprit revealed themselves now? 

During the investigation of the Newethen Street serial murders, Azrael had attempted to mimic the culprit’s thought process several times. Yet the culprit had always outsmarted him. 

Even in the ninth case, the culprit had guided the investigators toward the truth of the incident. 

There was a certain structure to their plans, but for a serial killer, they exhibited some clumsiness. From ambushing Azrael to revealing themselves in this manner—it was hard to believe that the culprit behind nine previous murders had created such a situation. 

‘Or perhaps… this too is part of the culprit’s design?’  

It was reasonable to suspect Robert Medley as the Newethen Street Serial Killer based on the circumstances. However, Azrael couldn’t shake the feeling that Robert wasn’t the same person as the serial killer. 

“Carlson, don’t announce this as the tenth case to the other officers just yet.” 

“But the chrysanthemum was found, wasn’t it? If we tell them, it’s the tenth case, they’ll be fired up and determined to catch the culprit this time.” 

“There are things that don’t sit well with me. You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you? The methods used in this case are slightly different from the previous ones.” 

“I understand for now. I’ve felt the same way. But, Commander, isn’t the most important thing right now finding the young lady? Out of the three missing persons, one is dead, one is the culprit, so finding the last hostage should be our priority.” 

“…Indeed. We must hurry before the final hostage becomes another victim.” 

* * *

Water droplets fell from the ceiling, creating a small puddle on the floor. The bricks of the walls and floor remained cold as ever. The only difference from before was that Thomas’s corpse, which had been lying next to Beatrice, was now gone. 

In its place sat Robert. He was in the corner, sharpening the blade of an axe. The dull blade was smeared with blood and flesh, making it clear whose it was. 

Beatrice, who had been quietly observing Robert’s back, spoke to him. 

“Is the blade damaged?” 

“Hey, young lady.” 

“My name is Beatrice.” 

“Even a clueless noble like you should know this isn’t the time for introductions.” 

“Then instead of my name, shall we talk about something else? Did you make good use of the chrysanthemums I bought? I wonder if Mr. Thomas carried them well. What if they fell off the carriage because of the bumps?” 

Her calm voice continued, leaving Robert flustered. He was visibly taken aback by Beatrice’s unusual reaction. 

If it had been an ordinary young lady in her position, she would have spent the night crying and begging. But Beatrice hadn’t shed a single tear from the beginning until now. Instead, she seemed calm—almost unnervingly composed. 

Robert let out a hollow laugh and turned to face Beatrice. 

“Are you so sure that man will come to save you?” 

“Are you worried about that? How kind of you.” 

“I heard that investigator hasn’t caught the culprit even after nine victims! The investigation bureau won’t do their job properly this time either, so you might as well give up on hope.” 

“You’re not entirely wrong, Mr. Robert. There are very few competent knights in the investigation bureau. Most are steeped in corruption and laziness. But Sir Azrael is different.” 

“What a remarkable faith you have. Utterly foolish.” 

With those words, Robert stood up. Holding the axe, he approached Beatrice. Her wrists and ankles were bound with ropes, leaving her unable to flee. 

Though the blade was dull, it wasn’t entirely blunted. Robert pressed the sharp edge of the axe against Beatrice’s neck. 

“Would you say the same thing if this axe pierced your neck?” 

“But, Mr. Robert, you wouldn’t do that, would you? You shouldn’t harm your precious hostage.” 

Beatrice smiled as she leaned her neck closer to the axe. The blade pressed against her skin, leaving a red line. 

Robert was the one holding the axe, yet he was the one whose face showed shock. 

“If I, your fragile hostage, were to die, wouldn’t your only card disappear? You went to such lengths to abduct me because you thought I was Sir Azrael’s weakness.” 

“…” 

Robert opened his mouth to speak but ultimately said nothing. He could only lower the axe he had aimed at Beatrice. She smiled knowingly, as if she had expected this outcome. 

“Well done. And…” 

The sound of murmuring voices and the presence of people could be heard. Robert glanced up at the ceiling in surprise. The noise was coming from aboveground. 

“It’s time for the knight to make his entrance. What will you do? You should decide quickly. As you can see, there isn’t much time.” 

“No way… How could they already…” 

“Oh, Mr. Robert… Think carefully. Who’s the naive and foolish one here—me or you?” 

Robert’s grip tightened on the axe. The lights in the basement flickered. In the brief moment of darkness, Beatrice’s eyes gleamed brightly. 

“I told you, Sir Azrael is different.” 

“Damn it!” 

Robert wasn’t slow to grasp the situation. He cursed irritably, then adjusted his grip on the axe. He grabbed Beatrice’s arm roughly with his free hand and pulled her toward him. 

“Get up!” 

“You’re in trouble now. What’s your plan? You don’t have many options left.” 

Beatrice stood up as Robert dragged her along, gauging the approaching footsteps. There were at least ten people outside the building. 

Beatrice knew where she was. It wasn’t a public road but a mountain path. Halfway up the trail, there was an old cabin hidden in the woods. 

What had once been a resting place for coachmen had now become a prison for a hostage. 

While Robert might be able to escape alone, it would be impossible for him to flee with Beatrice. In an environment like the mountains, a hostage was nothing more than dead weight. 

As expected, Robert once again pointed the axe at Beatrice. Behind them, the sound of many footsteps grew louder, but only one pair of footsteps drew closer to their location. 

“Sir Azrael…” 

“…Young lady.”  

Azrael stood before the two, dressed in his knight uniform, with a sword at his side. The lantern in his hand illuminated the dark basement. 

No clichéd greetings like “I’m glad you’re safe” came from him. He had already seen Beatrice and the axe aimed at her neck. 

Azrael calmly assessed Beatrice’s condition. There was a wound on her neck caused by the axe blade, and marks from the ropes binding her wrists and ankles had formed. His amber eyes quietly shifted to Robert. 

“Release the young lady.” 

“No, that’s not right. Isn’t your statement off? Even if you come here with all those knights and a sword at your side, words like that have no effect!”

“Then, what do you want?” 

“Your despair.” 

A grinding sound came from Robert’s teeth. His words were filled with rage. Azrael couldn’t discern what exactly Robert was angry about. 

At first, Azrael guessed it was a grudge against him personally. But Robert used the word ‘all those’ as if referring to all investigators. It seemed the motive for the crime was not mere revenge.

“Mr. Robert, even if you do this······.”

“You think nothing will change?”

A bitter laugh escaped Robert’s lips. He exhaled heavily, unable to control his emotions. The axe blade dug deeper into Beatrice’s neck. Azrael watched the scene anxiously. 

“The only thing that truly doesn’t change is the dead! Investigator! You all should know that, shouldn’t you?”

“…” 

“Haha, enough. Investigator, if you don’t want to see this young lady’s neck get severed, drop your sword immediately.” 

“Understood.” 

Azrael swallowed dryly and loosened his belt. He dropped the sword, sheath and all, onto the floor. The only thing left in his hands was the lantern. 

“How many men are outside?” 

“Thirteen.” 

“You brought quite a crowd. Have them disarm and leave the mountain.” 

“Is there anything else you wish for?” 

Robert seemed to be deep in thought, considering Azrael’s compliant response. Taking advantage of the moment, Azrael exchanged a glance with Beatrice. Her shoulders were trembling slightly. 

‘When I give the signal, duck.’ 

Azrael mouthed the words silently and adjusted his grip on the lantern. The basement corridor was short, so there wasn’t much distance between him and Robert. The basement lights continued to flicker. 

Flicker, flicker. 

When the darkness lingered briefly before the lights came back on, Azrael threw the lantern with all his might at Robert’s head.