TSSAH 08

Chapter 08

A few minutes earlier.

“Information on Helena Morton has come in.”

DuPont approached and reported.

Killian raised his gaze to check the time. It was almost time for Deacon Gold to bring one of Knox Merchant Guild’s business partners. This was someone who had repeatedly requested to meet Killian, saying it could help with the recent disruptions in trade with the Kingdom of Crolin.

If it were the usual Killian, he would have called DuPont back in about an hour.

“I’ll return in a momen—”

DuPont, sensing His Grace had a prior engagement, realized his mistake and began to withdraw, but then stopped. Killian had reached his hand out toward the report.

The intelligence department’s report, which had become DuPont’s responsibility as of yesterday, passed into Killian’s hands.

*Knock, knock.*

“Your Grace, the Duke.”

It was around that time that Deacon knocked on the office door.

Instead of Killian, who was absorbed in reading the report on Helena Morton, DuPont granted them entry.

“Helena Morton is dead?”

Killian asked, furrowing his thick brows.

“Yes. Her funeral was held in Wickes a week ago.”

It was news from a spy embedded in Wickes. After searching for Helena Morton for the past year, Wickes had finally killed the avenger of the former Count.

“The coffin was carried out of the mansion, and a new headstone was erected in the Wickes family cemetery.”

“A headstone?”

“Yes. Engraved with the name ‘Helena Wickes.'”

“Giving a funeral to the betrayer who killed their boss, and even putting up a headstone bearing the Wickes name.”

Killian twisted his lips and muttered mockingly.

“The new alpha of those wolf pups.”

The new alpha of the wolf pups—a jibe at Wickes’ symbolic crest, which was a red wolf.

“It seems they want to mark their territory, claiming Helena Morton as their own.”

Killian’s eyes turned cold.

“But Helena Morton’s death itself seems highly likely to be a fabrication.”

“Of course.”

Helena Morton was not the kind of woman to die so easily. Edward Wickes’ funeral was a declaration of sorts—that he would no longer hold Helena Morton accountable for killing Benedict Wickes. So, if the day came when Edward Wickes sought her out, she would no longer be Helena Morton. Having held a funeral, Helena Morton was already a name belonging to the dead.

*’Edward Wickes has probably hidden Helena Morton somewhere only he knows…’*

Killian had gotten that far in his thoughts when he moved. As he turned around and took a step back, a figure in his sweeping field of vision kicked high into the air. The tip of that foot, aimed precisely at his chest, held a blade about the length of a finger, glinting with a cold, blue light.

*Shing—!*

Beside him, DuPont unsheathed his weapon, a chain.

*’Too late.’*

Killian’s brief judgment brought his gaze to the ankle of the Green Merchant Guild’s master, flying toward him. The insect had been leaking killing intent toward him ever since appearing at the office door. All the wretch needed was a mouth to spit out information. One unnecessary leg would easily be separated from his body.

*Thwack!*

If the assassin hadn’t been violently shoved aside by someone at the last moment, causing him to stumble…

“Gah!”

A scream and a *crack!* echoed through the office. An operative who had appeared out of nowhere had struck the off-balance assassin’s jaw with an elbow. As the Green Guild Master’s eyes rolled back from the heavy blow to his vulnerable lower jaw, the operative moved swiftly again.

*Crunch!*

They decisively stomped and broke the blade protruding from the tip of his shoe. The back of the operative looked noticeably small, and Killian’s eyes narrowed.

“Your Grace!”

“Your Excellency!”

Deacon Gold and the knights who had been nearby rushed over, their faces pale.

“Argh! Let go of me!”

While DuPont’s chain bound his legs and the knights clamped on shackles, the assassin screamed and thrashed. But that was only effective if the surprise attack had worked. With his limbs pinned like a mounted insect, it was meaningless struggle.

“Killian Knox! I must kill you! I will, I will!”

The Green Guild Master’s eyes instantly became bloodshot, and drool dripped from his mouth.

“You devilish bastard, burn in hell! You will soon—!”

Killian, listening to the curses aimed at him with a blank expression, kicked the assassin’s head.

*Thud—!*

“Guh… ooh…”

The Green Guild Master’s eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness. A gag was placed in his slack mouth to prevent suicide.

“Take him to the underground and keep a close watch.”

At DuPont’s command, the knights carried the Green Guild Master away like a piece of luggage.

“Your Grace, are you alright?”

Killian didn’t answer. He was just staring intently at something.

“Your Grace?”

Puzzled, DuPont followed his gaze downward. Beside where the assassin had been lying until a moment ago, a young boy was sitting on the floor. Killian’s golden eyes were unmistakably fixed on that small figure. A boy, sitting on the floor of the Duke’s office.

*Rip—*

A small, tearing sound reached DuPont’s bewildered ear. The boy, who looked young but was clearly a member of Knox, was tightly binding his forearm with a long strip of cloth torn from his own clothing.

“Huh…? You’re that one from yesterday?”

DuPont realized it belatedly and widened his eyes. But the boy remained curled up, focused solely on binding his arm.

“What on earth are you so—”

DuPont frowned and approached the boy. It seemed the boy had been injured while subduing the assassin. There was a wound above his wrist, cut by the blade.

But the color of the wound was strange.

“Poison?”

The flesh around the bleeding wound was already turning black. Startled, DuPont recalled the emergency antidote stored somewhere and moved to rise.

“Ah, damn it. Too late…”

The boy, muttering something quietly, slumped sideways and collapsed.

Upon opening my eyes, I saw a white, high ceiling.

Where is this?

“Are you coming to your senses?”

At the unfamiliar voice, I raised my head and quickly assessed the other person. Mid-thirties, platinum blonde, dark blue eyes, delicate features. He looked neat, but his clothes were made of the finest silk from the Luman Estate in the Western Continent, and he wore a star-shaped badge on his collar—a badge only Knox executives could wear.

*’Why is Deacon Gold here?’*

The last thing I remembered was getting a small wound and being poisoned while taking down the Green Guild Master, so this must be Knox’s infirmary. Since Deacon Gold was one of only seven executives, he could enter anywhere except the Duke of Knox’s bedchamber, so the infirmary wasn’t off-limits, but…

“What are you doing?”

“I was waiting for Operative Runelck to wake up.”

That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?

“Why would the Guild Master be waiting for some—”

“Well, that’s…”

Just as Deacon Gold was about to answer, the sound of light, shuffling footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway. It was a very small, quiet sound that ordinary people wouldn’t have heard. Though Deacon Gold ran his own guild, he was skilled enough to be a Knox executive, so he seemed to have detected the approaching footsteps and looked toward the door.

*Creak.*

A young woman with roughly tied-up brown hair entered, gave a slight nod of her head toward Deacon Gold in greeting, then approached me and asked.

“Operative Runelck Aines?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

I tried to sit up as I answered, but Deacon Gold was still hovering too close, making it awkward.

“Um, Guild Master Gold. I need to sit up.”

“Ah, shall I help you up?”

“No, it’s not that. I’d appreciate it if you could just step back a little.”

“…Oh.”

Deacon Gold finally seemed to grasp the situation and awkwardly pulled up the corners of his mouth as he sat properly on the chair beside the bed. I quickly sat up from the bed and pretended to straighten my clothes while checking my body’s condition.

I didn’t see my black hair, my chest was flat, and my clothes were intact, so fortunately, the artifact didn’t seem to have been deactivated. Well, if a low-ranking operative suddenly turned into a woman, I’d have woken up in the torture chamber, not the infirmary.

As I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, the physician spoke.

“That was a close call, Operative Aines.”

“Yes.”

“I said it was a close call?”

*Well, obviously.* I subdued a madman trying to kill Killian Knox and got poisoned in the process. I tried to gauge the physician’s intention in repeating the same words to me after I’d just regained consciousness, and then it hit me.

*’Ah, she wants a thank you.’*

There are people like that sometimes—those who, even after doing what they’re supposed to do, crave recognition.

I bowed my head toward the physician.

“Thank you. Thanks to you, I’ve saved my life.”

“No, that’s not what I mean!”

The woman, as if frustrated, thumped her chest and glared at the innocent Guild Master.

“This is Doctor Valeska Hinchel, the head of the medical ward.”

I knew that well. The young genius physician known as having the ‘hands of a god,’ Valeska Hinchel. Incidentally, she was also Killian Knox’s longtime friend and personal physician. I remembered how thoroughly meticulous she was—I’d had a hard time getting even a single piece of information from the medical ward because she ran it so tightly.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Runelck Aines—”

“Yes, yes, Operative Aines. Don’t you realize what the problem is right now?”

*…Surely she didn’t try to undress me while I was unconscious?*

A chilling thought made me break out in a cold sweat.