“Why did you go there! You’ve already locked me up—what more do you want?”

Unaware of Sarah’s actions, Count Hotlin assumed that Ian had come to the Hotlin estate to question his family as part of the investigation into the petition. He shook the iron bars violently. Ian realised the man had misunderstood, but, since this was exactly what he wanted, he allowed the mistake to continue and pressed on.

“You must already know, don’t you? Your daughter’s engagement was annulled. I hear that your eldest son, Lord Riemann, will soon be dragged in for questioning over your crimes. With his father gone, who knows if he’ll ever see the light of day again?”

Clang!

The bars rattled as the count lost control upon hearing news about his children. It was their fault that a man who had once been so precise and calculating had ended up here.

Count Hotlin had never been a warm father. Least of all to Sarah, his illegitimate daughter — he had shown her no affection whatsoever. But there had been one exception: the three children of his first wife. He had been devoted to them.

Perhaps that was enough, given that his children had grown up to become respectable adults. His eldest son and daughter, who had inherited his sharp intellect and their late mother’s gentle spirit, were the source of his pride and joy. However, one of his children had always troubled him: his second son, Reigan, from his first marriage.

Unlike his siblings, Reigan turned out badly — perhaps due to the shock of losing his mother at such a young age. As the years passed, he became an incorrigible delinquent.

It was largely because of Reigan that the Count had taken on dangerous work tied to the drug trade. Once he came of age, Reigan turned to drink, women and eventually drugs. His reckless behaviour forced the duke’s hand. In exchange for concealing Reigan’s scandals, the Duke set the Count increasingly hazardous tasks, ultimately leaving him in charge of the channels through which the Duke received his drug revenue — the vilest aspect of his dealings.

Although it was dangerous, the count eventually convinced himself that it was worthwhile. Dangerous work brought immense wealth and secured the duke’s favour. Unable to bring himself to strike his drug-addicted son, he even felt relieved that Reigan remained under his influence.

However, when the Emperor received Count Parden’s petition and the investigation into drugs began in earnest, everything Hotlin had enjoyed became a snare tightening around his throat. His family fortune, the countless addicts who named him, and finally his addicted son — whom he had tried so hard to shield — all exposed him. There was no escape.

“Leave my children out of this! If you try anything, His Grace the Duke will never spare you—!”

When it became clear that he would be punished, Count Hotlin volunteered to take the blame. In exchange for the promise that his family would be safe, he took responsibility for most of the crimes belonging to Duke Levantus. Yet even in prison, terror gnawed at him. Could the duke, who was so quick to cast people aside, truly be trusted to protect his loved ones?

“You’ve taken on guilt that wasn’t yours, hoping to prove your loyalty to the duke. But do you know who urged His Majesty to confirm your execution the most? It was the duke himself. He wants you out of the way quickly, before any evidence against him can comes to light.”

“…”

“And this—are you aware? Your second son has already been beheaded.”

Ian struck directly at the heart of the Count’s fears by lying without hesitation. Reigan was indeed imprisoned, but he was alive and well under the duke’s protection. However, Levantus’s influence did not extend to the imperial dungeons, where the crown prince’s authority was absolute. Cut off from all outside contact, Count Hotlin’s faith in the duke was waning by the hour.

“What?”

“At the trial he babbled senselessly, high on drugs. Did you truly think he’d be spared?”

“N-no… impossible. His Grace the Duke—he promised, he swore…”

“You believed that? You already know the truth. The duke won’t protect you or your children any longer. He’s running, using you as his shield.”

“Ah… ahh…”

The man Hotlin used to be would never have fallen for Ian’s lies so easily. But once fear reaches its peak, it can overwhelm anyone. Broken, the Count failed to see through the lie. Trembling, he reached his hand out through the bars. Ian met his gaze and unfolded the map of the capital that he had brought with him.

“Your life may be beyond saving, but I’ll do what I can for your wife and children. In return, you will answer my questions truthfully and without omission.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“D*mn it! What’s happening? What did you do to her?”

“I-I didn’t do anything! She just started coughing blood all of a sudden—this isn’t me!”

The men could only stare in alarm at Aisha, who gasped for breath. They had been careful—just as they always were when dosing others, measuring out the precise amount. Yet her reaction was nothing like before.

“This… this is what addicts look like right before they die.”

The Blessing of the Goddess that had been forced upon her was of the finest quality. Although highly addictive, it was intended to be safe for short-term use. However, by her third cup, Aisha was struggling to breathe, coughing up blood and experiencing sudden, violent convulsions.

“Shouldn’t we call a physician?”

“What? Bring one here? Are you insane?”

Neither the men nor the duke himself knew the truth: that Aisha had suffered from a chronic illness since childhood which required medication that fatally interacted with the so-called blessing.

She continued to convulse, blood staining the front of her coarse dress. At last, the man who appeared to be their leader lost his temper.

“Fetch a physician! And you—carry this news to the duke at once!”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The world rarely goes according to plan.

“What! Who did he meet?”

The duke leapt to his feet, furious. He had been looking forward to seeing the look on Count Parden’s face the following day, but this news had ruined his mood. The force of his movement sent the chess pieces scattering from the board, but he did not spare them a glance.

“How in hell did Ian Lloyd get into the imperial dungeons?”

“We’re not certain, my lord. But it seems the crown prince may have intervened.”

“That insolent boy! Forever meddling!”

Not even the most powerful dukes were granted access to the nobles’ wing of the imperial prison — an area reserved for a select few. Those imprisoned there had either committed heinous crimes or acted in a way that had significant political implications. Contact with the outside world was strictly forbidden.

Consequently, despite Count Hotlin having once been his closest confidant and knowing far too much, even Levantus himself had never had easy access to him. It was only through persuasion before his imprisonment that the duke had managed to buy himself some peace of mind. But even then, there had been unease. People broke easily, especially in a place like that.

“Did Hotlin… did the count and Lord Lloyd speak?”

“I’m sorry, my lord. I could not hear. But when the marquis left, he carried what looked like… a map.”

Crack!

The stone chessboard shattered when the duke threw it down, smashing it to pieces. A map. What use was a map if not to find a place?

And Count Hotlin knew places — each one more dangerous than the last. He had overseen drug trafficking and the networks of shadowy men on which the duke relied. Among these was the location where Aisha Parden was being held captive.

“I should have seen him executed then and there…”

The duke ground his teeth. He berated himself for not sending Hotlin to the scaffold sooner. But the deed was done. Now, before Ian Lloyd discovered his secret hideouts, he had to act.

“Send word immediately. Clear everything. Erase every trace.”

The only positive was that most of the sites had already been cleared by the time the incident involving the petition occurred. At that time, the duke was trying to keep a low profile. However, Count Hotlin would not have been aware of this. If the remaining sites were tidied up quickly, however, the crisis could still be contained.

“Y-Your Grace! Urgent news!”

Just as the duke had calmed his fury enough to issue orders, a man burst through the door after only the briefest knock. Levantus was about to lash out at his insolence, but the fear on the messenger’s face made him gesture for him to speak.

“It’s… it’s the Parden girl we’ve been holding—”

Stammering, the man reported Aisha’s condition. At the words that the hostage he needed most was failing, the duke roared in rage.

“Fools! Do you call this work? Keep her alive—whatever it takes! Bring her here breathing, do you hear me?”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“So… there’s nothing more to be done?”

“…I have no remedy. This is beyond my skill.”

The physician bowed his head. The young woman lying on the bed was already as pale as death, her pulse weakening. Behind him, the men exchanged uneasy glances. Suddenly, one of them drew a dagger from his robe and slashed the doctor’s throat.

“Urk—!”

Thud.

The physician collapsed with hardly a sound, warm blood spilling across the floor. However, the killers gave the corpse no more attention than they would have given an empty sack.

“What do we do now?”

“We take her anyway. What choice is there?”

“The duke said to bring her back alive. If we drag in a corpse, do you think that old man will let us live?”

“Then you should’ve dosed her properly from the start!”

“And how is that my fault? It’s her body that’s wrong!”

Their voices rose in anger, fear and desperation twisting their faces as they hurled blame at each other.

“Enough!”

Finally, the one who had remained silent roared, and the others fell silent immediately. He was clearly their leader.

“This isn’t the time to quarrel. Secure the girl and clear this place. We must move quickly — understood?”

He issued his orders with practised ease. But then, one of the men — a thin, wiry figure — stuck out his chin, folded his arms, and sneered.

“And if I refuse?”