Scizlon bustled with merchants and sailors. Called the bridge of the sea, it was the hub where goods from across the Empire gathered and dispersed, with the great Vitel Trading Company at its center.

The streets were thick with scents—strange spices, salt from the ocean, the press of humanity, and the heavy tang of liquor all mingling together.

“Out of the way! Make room!”

Carts laden with cargo rumbled busily through the alleys.

But the man’s gaze never wavered. His sunken, bloodshot eyes fixed on the great golden fortress that crowned the central hill of Scizlon. Not built of actual gold, but of yellow stone that shone like metal when struck by sunlight, it glittered like treasure. At its peak flew the eagle crest of House Vitel.

“Hey! Move, I said!”

A group hauling a cart shouted at him, irritated at the figure blocking the path.

When he failed to step aside, a burly soldier guarding the cart shoved him.

But the man stood as immovable as stone, not shifting an inch.

The soldier, startled, drew his sword with a sharp threat.

“Didn’t you hear me? Move, now! How dare you stand in the way—this cargo belongs to—”

“…You’ve been noisy for some time now.”

The man’s violet eyes, which until then had been fixed on the fortress, shifted languidly toward him.

“What did you say?”

Enraged, the soldier thr*st his blade forward—only for a massive hand to seize his collar. In an instant, the man hoisted him up and hurled him aside.

Crash!

Crates toppled as the soldier tumbled with a clamor.

Gasps broke out. Around him, others hastily drew their blades.

“You think the Vitel Company will let you get away with this?”

One of them shouted. At the sound of their roar, the man’s violet gaze slid back to them.

“Ah, yes. Vitel.”

His voice was languid, dry, as though the entire scene wearied him.

He rolled his eyes back to the fortress and muttered,

“If I make a scene here… will that bastard come to me himself?”

The chilling gleam in his eyes caused the soldiers to step back instinctively.

That violet gaze, laced with madness, was not something ordinary men could withstand. Had he not just lifted their comrade like an object and flung him with ease?

“…It might save me the trouble of arranging a meeting.”

He murmured again and twisted his stiff neck, making it crack.

Then—

“There’s no need to make a scene. For Lord Lester, an audience would naturally be granted at once.”

From the far end of the street came a smooth, courteous voice.

At once, the violet eyes beneath the ashen robe snapped toward it.

Seeing that Eclace had come to greet him in person, Shed pushed aside anyone blocking his path and strode straight towards the viscount.

“How have you been, Lord Lester? You’ve come a long way from Blancas—”

Thud!

Eclace’s words were cut short by Shed’s fist, which slammed into his face.

“My lord!”

Staggering, Eclace barely kept himself from collapsing, bracing against the wall.

When the ashen robe fell away, the searing sunlight of Scizlon revealed a savage face.

Spitting blood from his mouth, Eclace raised his eyes.

“It seems the habits you honed on the battlefield still linger. To meet me with violence before words.”

“Thanks to you. Because of you, I scoured all of Blancas—only to chase nothing but ghosts. You think a man wouldn’t grow foul-tempered?”

His voice, low and dry, trembled with fury between his teeth.

“Everywhere I went, I arrived too late. They had already left, or already died, or they were women who never should have been mistaken for her.”

Shed spat the words like curses.

After the war ended, he trusted Eclace’s information and searched every corner of Blancas. If there was any news of Liana, he would go there, no matter whether that meant crossing frozen mountains, traversing burning deserts, or wading through swamps crawling with beasts.

But it had been in vain every time.

At some point, he started to wonder if Eclace was playing with him. His instincts were rarely wrong, and he trusted them: the truth was out there.

Nevertheless, he could not ignore the information.

Even the faintest hope was better than none at all.

Even if the report turned out to be false, he had to see for himself. What if this time it truly was her? What if giving up now meant losing her forever?

Each false lead left him seething, but he turned the blame inward.

‘No, not every report could be right. The mere fact that someone had tried to bring me news of her was enough to be grateful for. After all, it was me who begged for it.’

So he had borne the wasted journeys, the fruitless hunts.

But after hundreds of failures, he could no longer deny reality.

Eclace wasn’t helping him. He was merely humoring him. Exploiting his desperation.

“I’ve provided what you asked for—information on Miss Liana, even leads on black magic itself. And this is the treatment I receive? Perhaps people truly are not to be trusted.”

“Then it must be that House Vitel’s famed intelligence network is worth nothing. To think you can’t even find a single woman—a former maid, at that.”

“Unfortunately, as this is the work of humans, there are limits.”

Eclace’s reply was curt, stripped of any trace of a smile.

Outwardly he kept his composure, but in truth, he was rattled.

He had heard that Shed Lester had returned to the Empire, but he had not expected him to come so swiftly to the Scizlon archipelago.

‘Of all times… when Lea is here…’

The timing could not have been worse. It felt like the gods themselves were playing games with him.

For now, preventing Shed from crossing paths with Lea was his most urgent task.

Eclace’s mind raced. He could not simply expel a duke who had just arrived in Scizlon. He could complain about the insult he had received, but a rift with House Lester — the Empire’s current dominant power — was unthinkable.

Wealth had its limits, too. Sometimes, one had to endure a blow and bow one’s head before power.

“You must be tired from such a long journey. Allow me to arrange a place for you to rest.”

Turning first, Eclace began to lead the way. But Shed’s hand clamped suddenly onto his shoulder, halting him in place.

“Liana Serpens.”

That accursed name, worn thin from being spoken too often.

“You know where she is, don’t you?”

Shed’s voice grazed cold along the back of his neck.

At that unwavering question, Eclace’s brow furrowed.

Shed could not possibly have known about Liana.

Her movements were perfectly concealed. Each time Eclace travelled to Janna Island, he made sure he had airtight alibis and took every precaution to keep it secret. Even her presence here now was known only to those directly involved, thanks to carriages and ships arranged in advance.

‘…He’s probing me.’

Eclace shook his head with the same brazen composure as always.

“If I truly knew, I would want nothing more than to tell you. After all, your fist hurts quite a bit, Lord Lester.”

He rubbed at his sore jaw with a trace of annoyance.

Shed’s eyes narrowed.

Eclace met his gaze without flinching.

In the years since they had last stood this close, Shed had grown leaner. His jawline and nose stood out sharper, the hollows around his eyes deepening into an edge of severity.

But weaker? Not at all. Had he not just hurled a soldier aside as if tossing a sack of grain?

The difference was this: once, he had been like a beast that crushed with overwhelming force. Now, he was more like a predator lying in wait, sleek and ready to strike.

‘Though his behavior… is more like a wild colt running rampant.’

Eclace thought so as he watched the duke, a man unable to rein in his emotions.

“Eclace, your memory is sharp. Then you’ll also remember that I’m known for my ‘ability to draw conclusions from experience’.”

Shed’s gaze bore down on him.

And he was certain.

Liana was in Eclace’s hands.

The maid had vanished from the Vitel estate without a trace. There was evidence that she had boarded a Vitel trading vessel bound for Blancas. The fact that Eclace, who had no reason to care about her, nonetheless provided information about her and asked little in return.

And every other small detail that bothered him.

Shed placed them all, one by one, upon the scale.

And the scale tilted—drastically, unnaturally—to one side.

The balance of House Vitel did not align.

Impossible.

Eclace Vitel was a man who had always, without fail, kept the scales level.

And if the scales still refused to balance, then there was only one answer.

‘He must be reaping some greater profit elsewhere, enough to tip the balance I cannot see.’

Shed was certain the counterweight on the opposite side of the scale was Luise Ideana.

He remembered well the way that cunning merchant had looked at her.

Though never revealed openly, those red eyes had always glimmered with a deep, concealed interest.

Shed stepped closer, his looming shadow pressing down on Eclace.

Then, like a lazy predator, he bent slowly at the waist, leaning close to Eclace’s ear.

“…That is why I came to find Liana myself.”

He whispered softly.

Eclace hardened his expression, concealing the unease within.

Seeing how stiff his face had become, Shed let out a short, mocking laugh.

“I need some rest. Take me to the golden fortress.”

A smile, satisfied for the first time in a long while, spread across his gaunt features.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

Eve’s fever had finally broken, and Lea had collapsed at her daughter’s side, managing to sleep for a few moments. But suddenly, she woke with a start, her heart racing.

Had she relaxed too much? She realized that what she thought had been only a brief nap had stretched into two full hours.

And then—

“Eve!”

Lifting her head, Lea realized with horror that the bed beside her was empty.

She leapt to her feet, frantically searching the room.

But Eve was nowhere to be found.

At last, she saw it—the door, left slightly open.

“No… it can’t be…!”

Lea rushed into the corridor.

The golden fortress stretched so vast that the end of the hallway seemed impossibly far.

In this great castle, Eve had vanished.