Chapter 61
Meanwhile, at the same hour.
Two figures sat in a secret room without a single window. Both wore hooded cloaks that completely obscured their faces, making it impossible to discern their gender or age at a glance.
The only furniture in the room consisted of a single desk and a chair. One person sat while the other stood, facing each other.
“This is the report on the new additions to Lady Sabine von Jerome’s social circle.”
The person sitting with a perfectly straight back held a document. Their hands were elegant as they turned the pages one by one.
“A painter, a musician, a designer…”
“Most of them are of obscure or uncertain origins.”
“I imagine so.”
“Should we investigate every single one of them…?”
As the standing man trailed off, the seated figure tossed the documents onto the desk and spoke.
“There is no need to dig into every commoner and drifter. Just narrow it down to those who are particularly close to the Young Lady—the ones she brings into the Count’s estate or even the Royal Palace.”
“Understood.”
The man bowed respectfully, gathered the papers, and left. A moment later, another person opened the door and entered. Though also cloaked in a hood, their physique was different from the one who had just departed. The newcomer closed the door and bowed toward the figure at the desk.
The seated figure stared at the bowing man for a while before abruptly speaking.
“You lost them?”
“My apologies. A sudden crowd gathered, and I lost sight of them.”
“…….”
Tap, tap, tap.
As the sound of fingernails drumming rhythmically against the desk filled the room, the bowing man held his breath.
“What did she look like?”
“Her clothing was ordinary, but her features and hair ornament were unusual.”
Tap, tap… Tap-tap-tap.
As the steady rhythm quickened, the bowing man dared to lift his head. Only after receiving a gesture to rise did he straighten his back and quickly continue.
“It was difficult to pinpoint her nationality based on her appearance. She was a woman with exotic features, likely in her early twenties. And she wore a ribbon of a style I’ve never seen before at the end of her hair—it looked like several layers of red silk with pointed ends.”
“Red silk with pointed ends?”
The voice of the person at the desk rose in a question.
“Yes. It was tied to the end of her braid.”
“…….”
Silence fell over the secret room.
After a moment, the seated figure pulled a sheet of paper and a fountain pen from a drawer and held them out with a command.
“Draw the hairstyle and the ribbon.”
The informant stepped forward cautiously and took the pen. After moving the pen over the white paper a few times as if sketching the composition, he began to draw a crude illustration.
From beneath the hood, eyes followed the tip of the fountain pen as it brought the image to life.
The pen first drew a rounded head, then a long braid trailing down from the nape of the neck, and finally a ribbon where the knot was hidden from view.
“It looked roughly like this.”
The paper was turned around to reveal the back of someone’s head.
“…….”
“Should I try to make contact again?”
When the informant asked tentatively during the lingering silence, his superior shook their head.
“The Wolves may have noticed this attempt. Leave it alone for the time being.”
“Understood.”
“Leave.”
As the monotonous command fell, the informant exited as if he had been waiting for the word. Even so, the gaze of the person at the desk remained fixed on the drawing, refusing to move.
A heavy, stifling silence flooded the small room.
Then, at some point, they slowly picked up the fountain pen and uncapped it. They began to color over the drawing.
The round head, which had been only an outline, was gradually stained black. After filling in the empty space with black ink, they drew a small butterfly at the bottom of the pointed ribbon before finally setting the pen down.
There were only black pen marks on the white paper, but to one who possessed the memory, colors seemed to overlay the image.
The white paper became a deep blue sea, and the color of the unique ribbon beneath the black hair was stained a vivid, brilliant red.
A deep blue sea, black hair, and a red ribbon.
Like the intense contrast of primary colors, a vivid memory surged back like bile.
“Peter!”
A blood-curdling scream was buried under the storm that lunged at the ship as if to crush it. In the midst of a gale so strong it felt like he would be blown away the moment he stood up, he forced himself to his feet. He approached the man who had once been his comrade, now hacked to pieces and dying. He would have died anyway, but Peter preferred to be certain.
Gripping the man’s head with one hand, Peter plunged a knife into his throat without hesitation. When he yanked the blade out, blood erupted like a fountain.
The spray of blood blurred his vision, but Peter didn’t care as he tore the necklace from the man’s neck with all his might. At the end of the chain that had been wrapped tightly around the body hung a golden key. Peter gripped the key tightly in his hand and whispered.
“Now, of all you disgusting Wolves, there’s only one left who knows my face.”
“…….”
“Your wife.”
At those words, the man with the slit throat curled his lips into a smile even in his dying moments. A sound like escaping air pierced through the harsh wind and into Peter’s ears.
Through the flashing lightning, the black clouds covering the sky, and the angry waves lunging to capsize the ship—how do you plan to survive?
Peter kicked the head of the man who was struggling to speak. The man used his last bit of strength to move his hand, but before his fingers could reach the knife, his eyes went dark and empty.
Seawater flooded over the dead Wolf. It washed away the crimson blood, and finally, it took the corpse as well.
Peter headed for the bridge. He stepped over the bodies of dead Wolves and grabbed the helm, but it spun uselessly. Furthermore, the ship was tilting and sinking. Those damn Wolves, once they realized they were losing, must have destroyed every function of the ship and even punched a hole in the hull. They would rather all die together than let a traitor live.
Peter ground his teeth and turned away.
He ran across the swaying deck without falling, heading for the stern. Fortunately, the lifeboat was still there. How could anyone escape by rowing through waves the size of houses? They likely used the strength it would have taken to destroy the lifeboat to break something else instead.
Peter tucked the key into a pocket inside his jacket. He buttoned the pocket, checked for any tears, and climbed into the lifeboat. When he pulled the lever with all his might, the hatch clattered open, and the roaring, dark sea rushed in. The released lifeboat slid out, and he grabbed the oars with everything he had.
“You think I’m going to die here?”
He crested mountain-like waves time and time again. Not knowing where he was going, he rowed with the sole purpose of surviving and escaping the black clouds that smothered the sky.
Survive.
He would survive no matter what and stand at the pinnacle of everything.
At some point, after crossing countless mountains of water, he looked up at the shadow of a wave crashing down upon him—and that was the last of that memory.
The next moment, he was lying in a strange place.
He saw a unique ceiling where rounded pieces of wood supported each other like ribs. It was far too sophisticated and luxurious to be a mere hut. The ceiling wasn’t the only thing that was unusual. The windows where light filtered through were covered with white paper, and there were curtains that seemed to adjust up and down.
His mind felt like a blank slate.
It felt like he was in a vivid dream, so he tried to slowly sit up. As he did, a heavy blanket that had been covering his shoulders slid down. Even the blanket was peculiar. The blanket, which looked as though its corners were wrapped in white cloth, was incredibly thick and heavy, and he was lying on the floor rather than a bed. A quilt even thicker than the one covering him was spread out on the floor.
“What on earth…”
It was at that moment, as he clutched his head and frowned, trying to figure out what had happened.
With a clack, the door opened. When he whipped his head around, someone was standing there with the sunlight at their back. Peter reflexively sat up and reached for his waist. He instinctively tried to draw a weapon, but the person who opened the door entered the room with a bright smile.
Peter instinctively examined the woman who entered.
She looked to be middle-aged. Black eyes, tanned skin, two deep wrinkles on her forehead, two missing teeth on the bottom right, and black hair streaked with grey. But those weren’t the only things unusual about her appearance.
