Chapter 91. The Request

The eyes of the two men locked in the air, creating a tension so palpable that if someone were watching, they might have said they saw sparks flying in the transparent space between them.

Mihail twisted his lips into a smirk, as if finding the situation amusing. He thought that anyone who could control an information guild spread like a spider’s web across the continent couldn’t be ordinary. But to have such nerve?

This guy is something else.

Mihail chuckled to himself.

“So, I have a request.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I’d like you to find someone for me.”

Mihail made his request calmly.

The problem was Cyril. His eyes wavered for a moment. Somehow, he felt he already knew what this lunatic commander of the Holy Knight Order wanted, even without hearing it.

He probably wanted Cyril to find Seraphina, who had been making headlines across the continent and frequently gracing the front pages of newspapers for the past month. My Seraphina.

“She was originally mine, but she’s disappeared.”

Cyril inwardly scoffed at Mihail’s words.

What do you mean, she’s yours, you bastard?

Don’t kid yourself.

Seraphina is mine.

…Even if she doesn’t remember me.

Swallowing the sad thought along with a dry gulp, Cyril feigned a relaxed smile, wishing this bastard would just leave.

“Who are you referring to?”

“You’re not very quick on the uptake.”

He tried to feign ignorance, but he couldn’t just stand by and let his pride be trampled.

When it came to information, wasn’t Cyril Xavier the best?

He twitched his lips, barely recovering his wounded pride.

“…Are you perhaps talking about the purifier?”

“That’s correct.”

Mihail nodded smoothly, as if the conversation was finally making sense. A sharp light shone in his turquoise eyes.

“For you, it should be a piece of cake.”

“Well.”

However, Cyril wasn’t easily provoked the second time.

Why would he be crazy enough to find her when he went to such lengths to hide her?

Cyril leisurely began to wander around the shop disguised as a flower shop.

Thud. Thud. The sound of his footsteps rhythmically hitting the floor accompanied a strange tension.

Mihail didn’t move from his spot, merely turning his body to follow Cyril with his eyes. In his mind, Andrei’s words echoed.

<I think I saw Miss Seraphina at the auction.>

He needed to determine the truth of those words.

He had confirmed that the owner of number 47 was the master of the information guild.

What Mihail wanted to know was how the guild master had come to appoint Seraphina as a proxy at the auction.

Perhaps Andrei had seen wrong. Perhaps it was just someone who looked like Seraphina.

So he needed to confirm it.

That’s why he tortured the auction officials, turned the information guild’s base in Elmon upside down, and came all the way here.

“Miss Sera was last seen at the auction in Elmon.”

“Oh. Is that so?”

Mihail’s brow furrowed slightly at Cyril’s tone, which suggested he was hearing this for the first time.

Was he feigning ignorance, or had Andrei seen wrong?

Nothing could be read from the guild master’s face. If anything, it was closer to genuinely not knowing.

Right.

It had to be an act.

Mihail hid his frustration and asked.

“Is this enough information to track her?”

“Well, I can give it a try.”

And Cyril, for a slightly different reason, was burning up inside.

Where does this bastard get off calling Seraphina by a pet name?

That was something only he was allowed to do.

…Even though he couldn’t call her that because she didn’t remember him.

Cyril turned his body, pretending to look at the flowers. He needed time to compose his slightly twisted expression.

Unconsciously, he picked up a bouquet on display and fiddled with the gathered petals. The soft sensation at his fingertips seemed to help control his emotions, allowing him to compose his expression in that brief moment.

Cyril turned back with a clear smile.

“The commission fee won’t be cheap. Are you okay with that?”

“Of course.”

Mihail answered without a moment’s hesitation.

If he could only find Seraphina, no amount of money would be too much. He was willing to pay the cost of sweeping the auction clean.

If only he could see that holy light again.

If only he could touch her hand, which seemed unique in the world, once more. If only he could kiss and feel that soft hand…

“I can’t guarantee success.”

Even before asking for the commission fee, Cyril set up a safety net.

At that statement, Mihail’s already cold gaze grew even colder.

Where does this bastard get off trying to cover his tracks?

Mihail let out a mocking laugh and spoke.

“There’s no way you won’t succeed. As the guild master.”

His tone suggested he wouldn’t let Cyril off if he failed to find Seraphina.

Facing a gaze colder than the Grodes Mountains in midwinter, Cyril replied slyly.

“It’s a customary statement I make with every commission. Of course, I’ll do my best for the client’s satisfaction.”

“That’s all I need.”

Mihail spoke briefly and moved his legs.

Reaching right in front of Cyril, he tapped the guild master’s shoulder heavily, as if to say, ‘I’m counting on you.’ Then he pulled out a pouch from his pocket and handed it over.

“This won’t even come close.”

Cyril, without even opening it, gauged the amount in the pouch with a glance and spoke. He had no intention of billing such a cute amount that could fit in a pocket.

Of course, Mihail wasn’t ignorant of the ways of the world.

The more desperately one wanted something, the more it cost.

As he said this, he placed a heavy pouch of money into Cyril’s hand.

“You can bill the rest to Sahar Castle, addressed to Mihail Andantino.”

“Ah.”

Cyril nodded as if he had expected as much.

Watching him, Mihail added a warning.

“It would be best if this doesn’t take long.”

His patience was thin.

It had already been a month since Seraphina disappeared. He had spent a whole month just tracking down this damn guild master.

This meant that his already limited patience was nearly exhausted.

“I’ll do my best.”

Cyril replied, with no intention of actually doing his best.

Mihail’s turquoise eyes glinted with a cold madness, possibly reflecting his anxiety, as if displeased by Cyril’s sly demeanor.

Mihail gently took the bouquet from Cyril’s hand. Then, locking eyes with Cyril, he carelessly let it drop to the floor.

Cyril’s expression twisted slightly.

Watching this, Mihail stepped lightly on the fallen bouquet as he walked past.

Jingle.

The bell on the door chimed clearly.

Cyril watched Mihail disappear from view outside the window with a cold gaze.

“Master.”

At that moment, Jacques approached cautiously, his voice filled with concern about what they would do next.

Having received a request to find Seraphina, whom they had gone great lengths to hide…

“F*ck.”

A harsh curse slipped from Cyril’s lips. He shifted his gaze from Mihail to the ruined bouquet, glaring at it as if he could kill it with his eyes.

“Charge that to Mihail Andantino too.”

“Understood, Master.”

In a transaction involving millions, the cost of a mere bouquet was trivial…

Jacques answered tactfully.

It felt like not billing it separately would lead to trouble.

Clatter.

Cyril tossed the pouch Mihail had given him to Jacques. Catching it lightly, Jacques glanced at his master.

This was the advance payment for finding Seraphina.

It was not welcome money.

Having received an unwanted request, Cyril tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if trying to control his emotions.

It seemed like touching him would ignite a spark. His constant sighing was like the calm wind before a storm.

“That bastard is playing an interesting game.”

“…Are you really going to accept the request?”

Jacques asked cautiously.

“If I don’t, it’s like admitting I hid her, isn’t it?”

“That’s…”

It was true.

If the auction house was mentioned, it meant Mihail had caught a whiff of something. The conversation that seemed like a request was actually a test.

To confirm whether the proxy for number 47 was Seraphina or not.

Cyril had no choice but to accept it while feigning ignorance.

The silver lining was that there was a loophole in Mihail’s request.

Since Cyril accepted the request while pretending not to know, he could push the eyewitness account of seeing Seraphina at the auction as false. What could they do if he claimed he appointed someone else as the proxy for number 47?

He could simply find someone with brown hair and a similar appearance and insist that person was the proxy.

He chuckled.

Having sorted out his thoughts, a smile finally reappeared on Cyril’s lips.

He turned to look at Jacques.

“Charge him heavily.”

It was the price for making him angry.

Of course, there was no guarantee that any request would succeed.

Cyril hummed a tune as if he were enjoying himself.

“What to do? I don’t want to tell him.”

* * *

Meanwhile.

A belated storm of news that shook the world blew into Hilton Castle, standing tall beneath the Grodes Mountains.

In the north, which was slow to receive news, an outdated newspaper arrived.