The Baron Stanford’s townhouse was located in the northern part of the capital.

Unlike townhouses in the central district, this dignified mansion, built to avoid the bustle, was usually very quiet except for the occasional passerby from nearby estates.

But today, the mansion was enveloped in complete silence.

The servants walked the corridors carefully, muffling their footsteps.

Though thick carpets covered the marble floors, making even running silent, the servants still moved much more cautiously than usual, holding their breath.

Occasionally, they glanced at the black flag hanging at the mansion’s front gate outside the window.

It was a sign that the household was in a period of mourning.

Since this flag was raised when someone passed away into God’s embrace, neighbors passing by the mansion might have inquired about which family member had died, but they simply bowed their heads quietly and continued on.

Everyone could guess whom the Baron was mourning, even without him saying.

Into this silent mansion, a cargo carriage entered. A servant standing at the back door hurried out and put a finger to his lips.

“Quietly! Come in quietly!”

The merchant driving the carriage nodded in understanding and reduced his speed further. He was the man who delivered groceries to this place every day.

After parking the carriage in front of the path leading to the kitchen at the back of the mansion, the merchant said to the person sitting behind him.

“What are you waiting for? Go help the servants carry the goods.”

“……”

The man nodded in agreement and immediately hoisted a large milk container onto his shoulder and went down to the kitchen.

The merchant smiled contentedly at the sight. The porter he had hired a few days ago was taciturn and worked extremely well.

‘A rare young man in today’s world.’

He had already seen how diligently the man had worked during their days together. Because of this, the merchant no longer paid attention to him and went to find the butler.

Not knowing what the new worker was doing during that time.

Baron Stanford sat leaning back on his reading sofa, reaching for the whiskey glass on the side table. Next to the whiskey bottle, which was already showing its bottom, lay a letter sent from Army Headquarters.

Ryan Wilgrave, Philip Osborne death confirmed.

Pain crossed the Baron’s face again as he read the short sentence. Though he swallowed the whiskey like water, the burning sensation going down his throat couldn’t erase the pain curled up in his chest.

Dying in enemy territory. Nothing particularly unusual for a soldier. Some even considered such a death honorable and desired it. Baron Stanford had been one of those people. What could be a more ideal death than dying while fighting for one’s country as a soldier? That’s what he had thought, but when faced with the death of a child dear to his heart—a child he had cherished like his own son—all such thoughts crumbled away.

“Should I have stopped him?”

“Ryan Wilgrave, how about joining the army when your promised time with the Earl ends?”

“The army?”

“Yes. I think you’ll live longer if you join the army.”

At first, when sending Ryan to Blissbury, the Baron himself didn’t expect him to stay there long. Still, he sent him hoping he would spend some time away from the capital in peace, but didn’t Ryan end up staying for months and even actively participating in investigations there?

“That’s why I was worried.”

That he would finally settle somewhere to catch criminals.

To Baron Diamond Stanford, he was a more painful finger than his own children.

He recalled the place where he had first sent Ryan. The monastery where an enemy spy had infiltrated as a priest and was to be captured. Because they had infiltrated with a small elite group, catching the spy wasn’t easy. When they missed him while the soldiers were searching according to plan, the injured spy had managed to escape.

Unable to let him escape again, all the priests on the opposite side bowed down, but one tripped the fleeing spy’s ankle. Then, he was the first to pick up the fallen knife and placed it on the fallen child’s neck to prevent his escape.

The Baron had been impressed by movements faster than those of any ordinary soldier. That was the first meeting between the Baron and Ryan.

Afterward, when the boy said he wanted to go to an orphanage, saying let’s play a few more pranks, the Baron learned about the boy’s background. Roughly, through personal investigation, he discovered that he was the illegitimate child of the Earl Wellace’s family, and that he was virtually imprisoned in the monastery because of the family’s generational devotion to Orthodox teachings.

‘The Earl Wellace’s family would do that.’

In every era, there are those who faithfully adhere to superstition and blind faith. Those with a talent for making noise always stand beside those with power, encouraging their anxieties and turning those anxieties into trust toward themselves.

To Baron Stanford, the priests were merely frauds, but to believers, they were considered God’s representatives, and they had the solid backing of the Earl Wellace’s family.

‘The first son is studying law…!’

Knowing the Orthodox well, seeing the illegitimate child who had jumped in like a winning horse in this country, he could guess how they would react. So Baron Stanford made an offer to Ryan.

Meanwhile, Baron Stanford alone observed those who came to check on Ryan, disguised as devotees coming to pray on set dates. They were searching for Ryan around the monastery walls. The Baron had seen some of them before. They were men who had been forced to retire from the army for treating their subordinates cruelly. Watching them from a distance, the Baron spoke again.

“You know, the Orthodox that Lady Wallace believes in always insist on offering living sacrifices at the end of their rituals. They say that’s how the ritual is completed.”

Strange murder cases occasionally occurred in the capital. The police would investigate, but when they deemed it beyond their capabilities, they sometimes sought the army’s help. However, such investigations never properly concluded. Evidence would disappear, witnesses would vanish, and the cases would fizzle out.

But the Baron knew. That the Earl’s family, and sometimes members of the Orthodox, were involved in these matters.

And each time, the Baron felt powerless. Because there was nothing more he could do. And each time, he thought, if only he knew who would be their sacrificial lamb, he would have saved them somehow…

But now, finally, an opportunity had come.

“Don’t you want to see the face of Earl Wallace and those who pushed you here through disguised threats contort?”

At his proposal, Ryan silently nodded. Afterward, the Baron, visiting the monastery earlier than Ryan’s scheduled departure date, hid him in luggage and took him out.

And immediately enlisted him in the army, placing him directly under his command. The name Ryan Sof was created then. Naturally, the Earl Wallace’s family was in an uproar. If Ryan had left the monastery, he would have simply returned to the slums. Of course, if they recognized a nobleman, they would try to capture him, but by then it would have been too late. But suddenly he disappeared without a trace. And when he reappeared, Ryan was in a place where they could no longer reach him.

Recalling the past, Baron Stanford picked up his whiskey glass again with a sigh. At that moment.

With great force, his neck was pushed down to the floor. The attacker precisely gripped the vital point of his neck to prevent him from making a sound.

‘Who dares’

To enter his mansion and target him? Then the attacker spoke in a rough voice, almost whispering.

“I had to come to ensure the completion of Ryan Wilgrave’s disposal.”

The Baron was enraged at the choking voice. He was furious that those who had killed Ryan now sought to kill him too. In his fallen state, the Baron struggled to speak.

“Did you kill Ryan? You hell-bound bastards! Take my curse with you!”

His voice, full of anger, was soaked with deep despair and sorrow. At that moment.

Like a lie, the hand choking his neck released.

The Baron, though confused, quickly rose to throw a punch at the attacker. Although he thought what strength could an old man have, he couldn’t bear to stay still even if it drove him mad.

The attacker stepped back and lowered his hood.

“I’m sorry, Ryan.”

At that moment, the Baron’s eyes widened.

“I’m sorry. I had to check from the beginning who might be watching. So Philip and I had to pretend to be dead…”

The Baron’s fist landed on Ryan’s face as he was speaking, removing his clothes. He shouted with a trembling voice.

“You bastard! If you were alive, you should have contacted me!”

The Baron finally burst into tears. Then, embracing Ryan, he repeatedly murmured thanks to God.

Ryan patted the Baron’s shoulder and said.

“Let’s postpone our reunion greetings for now and I need your help first.”

“Help? With what?”

“I need to establish contact.”

Ryan’s eyes sparkled.

A trap is needed. A bigger trap to catch them all.