There was a commotion outside.

Just as Baron Logan was about to drift into sleep, a loud crash echoed through the walls. Frowning deeply, he pushed himself upright.

He grabbed the bell pull by his bedside. Irritation flared—being woken like this was infuriating. His hand yanked the cord sharply, the motion edged with temper. He shook it hard, but no maid came.

He pulled it several more times. His patience quickly snapped.

Just as he strode toward the door, intending to reprimand the maid who had ignored his summons—and the butler responsible for their training—

The door burst open.

Knights in uniform flooded into the bedchamber.

“W-Who are you?! What is the meaning of this!”

Before Baron Logan could gather himself, the knights seized him by both arms.

He struggled violently.

The grip on his twisted arms tightened. Pain shot through him, and a groan escaped his lips. At last, he stopped resisting.

Then, from between the knights, a man stepped forward.

“Baron Logan Ester, you are under arrest on charges of drug trafficking. Take him.”

“What—what are you talking about!”

Ignoring Baron Logan’s shouts, the man calmly issued his command to the knights.

As they moved to escort him away, Logan thrashed wildly, veins bulging along his neck.

“Do you even know who I am to treat me like this? Without a shred of proof! Do you think the Grand Duke of Montevark will let this pass?”

He invoked Damian’s name in desperation, shouting that his daughter had married him, that the Grand Duke would never stand idle.

The man let out a scoff.

“What does your daughter’s marriage to the Grand Duke have to do with this matter? If we are to speak of backing, I act under the august laws of the Imperial Court. That means the Emperor himself stands behind me. You do know that drug trafficking is a crime of the highest order, don’t you?”

“Y-You…!”

At the man’s subtle signal, his subordinates dragged Logan away. Face flushed a furious red, the baron screamed that this was a conspiracy. He did not stop until a subordinate—who looked barely old enough to shave—struck him once. Only then did he finally fall silent.

Throughout his imprisonment, Baron Logan begged to be granted an audience with Damian. It seemed he believed that if he could only speak to him, he would be released.

His desperate wish was granted.

He was given the chance to meet Damian.

Escorted out of the dilapidated, wretched cell, he was brought to a windowless chamber. Yet compared to the prison, it was incomparably luxurious.

In stark contrast to the opulence of the room stood Baron Logan himself—unkempt, haggard.

He sat trembling, his legs shaking uncontrollably as his gaze darted toward the door. The moment the handle turned, he sprang to his feet.

Seeing Damian take the seat before him, he immediately poured out his grievance.

“Your Highness, please help me. I am truly innocent.”

“……”

“Someone must have framed me! You know me, do you not? Please—get me out of here.”

“Logan Ester.”

The baron, who had been babbling incessantly, finally fell silent at the oppressive weight in Damian’s voice. He swallowed dryly.

A languid tone slipped from Damian’s lips.

“Framed, you say.”

“……Y-Your Highness.”

“Are you implying that I framed you?”

“W-What do you mean by that…?”

Still unable to comprehend, Logan stared up at him blankly.

Damian’s lips curved in a faint sneer.

“Drug trafficking at Astro Port. And the operation of the Shu gambling house.”

“……!”

“Don’t tell me you intend to claim ignorance.”

Color drained from Logan’s face. His eyes trembled violently.

In order to secure business capital, he had never hesitated to dabble in illegal dealings. Even after raking in vast sums, he squandered them on failed ventures and found himself perpetually drowning in debt.

Lowering his gaze, Logan’s mind raced.

How much does he know?

His reaction alone had already confirmed much of the suspicion. Feigning ignorance now would serve no purpose.

He had always prepared for contingencies like this—hiring multiple brokers to insulate himself. Unless there was direct evidence linking him to the illegal drug trade, there were still avenues for escape.

As for the gambling house—at worst, he would pay a fine.

Admit to the gambling operation. Deny the drug charges.

That was the only way.

Striving to steady himself, he spoke through cracked, split lips.

“I did operate a gambling house. That much is true. But drugs? Never. I have never laid a hand on such things. There must be some misunderstanding. As for the gambling house—I had no choice. I needed money to support my family. To provide for Isabel.”

He threw himself flat against the floor.

First, appease him. Then use Isabel as a shield.

Surely that would leave Damian no choice.

“Isabel?”

The voice that fell from above was sharp—cold as a blade freshly honed.

Somewhere in his mind, Logan sensed something amiss. But cornered as he was, he had no room left to think.

“That clever, beautiful child was mocked for being the daughter of an insignificant house. For her sake, I wanted to restore our family’s standing. I needed funds. I knew it was wrong—but there was no other way.”

With his head still bowed, Baron Logan allowed a faint smile to touch his lips.

He had loved that child dearly. If a father begged in desperation, claiming he had no choice but to act for his daughter’s sake, surely even Damian could not press him further.

But his calculation missed its mark entirely.

“You dare invoke the name of the daughter you cast aside with your own hands.”

“I—I do not understand what Your Highness means….”

“If you truly had Isabel in mind, you would not have brought me a substitute.”

Logan jerked his head up. His eyes widened until they seemed ready to burst.

“Y-Your Highness…!”

His lips moved again, ready to offer yet another excuse—but the murderous intent glinting in Damian’s golden eyes silenced him. His body stiffened.

Since when had he known?

Was this why he had been thrown into prison?

Unable to discern how much Damian truly knew, fear made the corners of Logan’s eyes tremble.

Damian’s indifferent gaze swept over the gaunt man before him. Then he voiced the truth he had kept buried.

“Is Isabel Ester dead?”

“T-The child is at the Grand Ducal residence, is she not?”

Accustomed to lies and excuses, Logan instinctively began to deny everything.

This could be a trap—a test.

As though to prove that his failed ventures stemmed from his own foolish mind, he continued to ramble.

“If the girl at the Grand Ducal estate is not Isabel, then who is?”

“Hah.”

The frosted sigh sent a shudder through Logan’s body.

In the next instant, a dull thud struck his side. Pain exploded through him, and he tumbled across the floor. Before he could even grasp what had happened, agony folded him in on himself. Another blow made his skull ring.

A groan tore from his throat. His screams must have carried beyond the door, yet no one entered.

No one was coming to save him.

That realization plunged him into unspeakable terror.

Blood streamed from his brow, sliding down the bridge of his nose. Dizziness blurred his vision. Shaking, Logan scrambled backward until his back pressed against the wall, desperate to put distance between himself and Damian.

Fortunately, the beating did not continue.

“I will indulge your tune no longer after today.”

“Ugh… ugh….”

“Is Isabel dead?”

Gasping for breath, Logan swallowed. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. This time, he did not bother to think up another excuse. He had no strength left for it.

“Y-Yes. The child… is dead.”

“Did you order her death?”

‘I killed Isabel?’

Logan jolted upright in horror.

“No! Why would I kill her? That is— that is truly a misunderstanding. Please, believe me!”

Of all people, he had lamented Isabel’s death the most. In that, at least, he felt genuinely wronged. His face crumpled miserably as he tried to prove his innocence.

“If Isabel dies, I am the one who suffers most. Why would I kill her?”

“Then are you saying Bel Ester killed her?”

“P-Pardon?”

The unexpected name slipped from Damian’s lips, and Logan faltered.

So Damian knew not only that Isabel was dead—but also of Bel’s existence.

And for reasons unknown, he believed Isabel’s death had not been an accident, but murder.

The former had always seemed possible, something that might one day come to light.

But the latter—

That he had never anticipated.

His mind began to move quickly once more.

Damian was furious.

Not because Isabel was dead—

But because her death had not been an accident. It had been murder.

And now, he himself was being treated as a suspect.

Cornered at last, Baron Logan’s mind began to function properly.

And in that moment, he understood exactly what he had to say to survive.

A vile gleam flickered in his bloodshot eyes.

“Yes. Yes, that’s right. Bel—Bel killed Isabel!”