TSSAH 06

Chapter 06

Killian Knox’s proud right-hand man, and one of the seven executives, DuPont Clancher, tilted his head.

*’Strange. I’m sure I was in the middle of reporting that finding Helena Morton was proving too difficult…?’*

Had he, without realizing it, said something like ‘finding Morton is a piece of cake’?

He’d been pulling all-nighters for ten days straight now, so it was about time he started spouting nonsense.

No, even so, he couldn’t have said that to His Grace… could he?

A cold voice pierced DuPont’s dazed ear.

“DuPont.”

“Yes?”

“Find her and bring her here.”

Ah, so he hadn’t misspoken after all.

His Grace simply didn’t care.

What he thought was the tenth day had actually bled past midnight into the eleventh day of sleeplessness, and even the meticulous DuPont Clancher’s sanity was beginning to crack.

“I want to find her, of course. But whether she’s sunk into the ground or vanished into the sky, I can’t catch a single lead on her whereabouts. She definitely arrived at the border village, but after that, there’s no trace.”

“Are you saying an executive of Knox is more incompetent than Helena Morton? That was quite a long speech.”

“But…”

“Your tongue is too long.”

DuPont quickly shut his mouth.

At least he knew his tongue was precious. Fearing he might inadvertently meet Killian’s eyes, he bowed his head and began brainstorming every possible method to find ‘Helena Morton.’

And then, his mind, deprived of proper rest for eleven days straight, finally produced a blunder.

“Ah, come to think of it, Kane should be somewhere near that area. If you permit me, I could track Kane and have him conduct a further investigation into Helena Mort—”

Oops.

DuPont Clancher clamped his mouth shut again.

He’d brought up Kane’s name.

This time, he was genuinely worried about the safety of his tongue.

Kane Degrave. The captain of the elite guard, the Praetorian Guard, and the shadow that guarded Killian closest.

But the world called Kane Degrave by a different name: Killian Knox’s Hound.

While all of Knox’s executives pledged loyalty to Killian, Kane was different in kind. He was the type who, at a single command from Killian, would slit his own throat without a moment’s hesitation.

That man had left behind a single short letter and departed for the Kingdom of Crolin—an event no one had anticipated.

Sure enough, Killian’s expression, which had been relatively soft, had cooled into icy stillness.

It seemed Kane still hadn’t sent a single letter to His Grace, either.

*’Has that bastard Kane truly lost his mind?’*

He was the only one within Knox strong enough to cross swords with Killian, so he probably wasn’t dead somewhere… No, actually, it might be better if he were dead and unable to return.

“There must be a valid reason Kane suddenly crossed the border. He’s not the type to easily leave His Grace’s side…”

“He’d better have one.”

Killian cut him off with an ambiguous remark. Then, with a soft splash, he rose from the bath. Water, heavy with a sharp, spicy scent, sloshed and spilled over the edge of the tub.

DuPont, who had deftly stepped back, handed him a robe. Killian shrugged it on loosely and walked straight out of the bathroom. Hundreds of subordinates had already withdrawn without a trace, leaving the mansion’s corridors quiet. His wet feet strode boldly across the floor.

His steps led downward, descending, until finally, he set foot on the stairs leading to the underground prison.

“Y-Your Grace!”

The guards at the prison entrance, startled by the sudden appearance of the Duke of Knox, tried to offer their salute, but a quiet glance from DuPont, following silently behind, stopped them. The message was clear: don’t make a fuss, just open the door.

*Clang—!*

As the iron door swung open, Killian’s stride as he entered was leisurely.

*Tap, tap.*

He didn’t bother to muffle his footsteps. At the sound, the prisoners, who had been groaning in pain all day, held their breath.

Killian walked for a while before finally stopping in front of one particular cell. It was the cell housing the man who had been paid to smuggle a spy into Knox—the spy Killian himself had torn in two.

“Ugh… ugh…”

The man, barely able to make a sound, crawled backward, trying to get away from the cell bars, but soon hit the stone wall. Realizing he couldn’t escape, his bulging eyes turned towards the thick iron bars.

It was a paradoxical hope—that the very bars that had held him captive would now protect him.

But that hope didn’t last long.

*Clunk.*

As Killian’s hand touched them, the iron locking mechanism broke with a pathetic sound, giving way.

“Hhng, ugh.”

Bright, vivid terror spread across the prisoner’s contorted face. Killian gazed at it with an impassive expression, then stepped inside the cell.

DuPont remained outside the bars. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, he watched the scene of flesh being torn and crushed, and thought:

*’Is it almost time for the eclipse?’*

So that’s why His Grace was personally dealing with the spy. He clicked his tongue in self-reproach for his incompetence in not noticing sooner.

Killian Knox’s Dragon Eye was a profound mark of the dragon’s blood. Throughout history, members of the Knox bloodline were occasionally born with the eye of the Golden Dragon, but none had ever survived to adulthood. The human body was far too fragile to contain the power of the draconic blood.

Yet Killian Knox had survived.

No one knew why. At some point, he simply began wielding the dragon’s power at will.

But that leash was only half-effective. Sometimes, the dragon’s blood would consume Killian. At those times, the dormant instincts of the dragon would awaken, making Killian more cruel, thirsting for blood, and abandoning himself to slaughter.

Only a very few close aides knew of this period—it was called the ‘Eclipse.’ A name that symbolized the family crest and signified the time when the moon, representing the Duke of Knox, was shrouded in black.

And it seemed this upcoming Eclipse was not far off.

*Crack—!*

After finally tearing off one of the prisoner’s limbs, Killian tossed the appendage onto the prison floor and spoke.

“DuPont.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Find Helena Morton.”

*He’s bringing her up again, even in a situation like this?* DuPont inwardly pitied Helena Morton, whose whereabouts were still unknown.

“I shall obey your command, Your Grace.”

Hearing his loyal retainer’s faithful answer, Killian turned and left the prison.

*Tap, tap.*

Walking through the dark underground prison, leaving crimson stains on the floor, Killian suddenly became aware of the blood scent that clung thickly to his entire body. And naturally, he recalled the sharp, spicy scent that had filled the bath. A half-baked floral scent couldn’t cover the smell of blood. It would only make it more repulsive.

As if well aware of this fact, Killian thought of the small, somewhat indistinct-looking operative who, among the many fragrances, had chosen Geltus. The one who had brought it to the bath.

“There are too many rats in the mansion.”

Throughout his walk towards the lake in the forest to cool his seething bloodlust, Killian spent a considerable amount of time thinking about those ‘rats.’

The day after the midnight commotion.

Today, too, I was on my way to the checkpoint.

But a silly grin kept escaping me.

“Ah, what a fine day.”

After that unfortunate encounter with Killian Knox last night, I’d half-panicked. I knew Killian Knox—from rumors, from intelligence reports, countless times over. But facing the reality of the man made of flesh and blood was a completely different experience.

He was so threatening, the head of Knox, that I almost unconsciously raised my killing intent, forgetting I was undercover.

“Whew.”

Even recalling it now sent a shiver down my spine. But once I calmed down a bit, a shift in thinking occurred.

*It was terrifying, sure… But hey, I’m alive, aren’t I?*

I carefully felt around my neck; my head was still firmly attached to my shoulders.

*And our eyes met properly.*

Killian Knox had only stared piercingly at me, showing no particular reaction. If he’d known I was someone hiding my true identity, would he have left me alive this long? Even if he didn’t kill me on the spot, he’d at least have dragged me to the underground prison, interrogated me about who I was and why I’d infiltrated the mansion, and naturally, torture would have followed.

But I was perfectly fine. After looking me straight in the eye, the only thing Killian Knox said was:

“Release the fragrance.”

That was all.

So, naturally, I thought this:

*Maybe Killian Knox didn’t find anything particularly suspicious about me either.*

Thinking about it, that made sense. Killian Knox had an uncanny ability to sniff out spies infiltrating the organization and traitors harboring thoughts of betrayal.

*But I’m neither, right?*

So it was clear that Killian Knox’s famous Dragon Eyes were useless against me. My disguise was perfect, and I’d secured a good position within the operational unit. I didn’t have to fear being discovered by Killian Knox anymore.

Now, I was invincible.

“Hehe.”

Even seeing the checkpoint in the distance, I kept laughing—I must be in a really good mood.

“I have a good feeling about today, somehow?”

Maybe there will be fewer visitors today. Or maybe the kitchen staff will bring over some leftover snacks. Sometimes the maids from the kitchen would bring sweet desserts. Come to think of it, it’s been a while since they last came by. Maybe today will be that day.

Lost in such pleasant thoughts, I approached the checkpoint with a light step.

Just then, a man getting out of a carriage and walking towards the checkpoint building caught my eye.

More precisely, it was his gait.

*Thump, thu-mp.*

There was a subtle difference in the rhythm of his steps on each side—too fine for an ordinary person to notice. It felt terrible having to forcefully awaken the sharp senses that had fallen asleep during the peaceful daily life at Knox, a peace incomparable to before.

“Good feeling, my ass.”