Translator: Nox

Chapter 8

Katrin staggered down the stairs. Beyond the wide-open doors, she saw the black carriage the Marquis had arrived in. One of the men who had been following the Marquis stepped ahead for the first time to open the carriage door, and the Marquis climbed inside with a fluid, effortless grace. His indifferent attitude clearly radiated the cold detachment of a man who had finished his business and had no reason to look back.

Katrin didn’t dare call out to him and came to a halt. Oscar, who hadn’t spared her a single glance from the beginning, asked as soon as he entered the carriage.

“The key.”

“We are marking it now.”

While Simon, who had followed Oscar into the carriage, sat opposite him and answered, the door closed. The carriage began to move as if it sensed its master’s intent.

As the carriage pulled away, the light spilling from the mansion receded, and Oscar was submerged in shadow. Draped in darkness, he looked like a grim reaper—or perhaps like darkness itself. Simon held his breath and kept his posture small before his master.

Only the sound of the wheels rolling over the stone path disturbed the silence. In the gloom, Oscar murmured.

“Interesting.”

He wasn’t being sarcastic. Resting his elbow on the window frame and stroking his chin, a peculiar light flickered in Oscar’s eyes.

“How interesting.”

It had been an absurd day, having been spectacularly stabbed in the back by an idiot. But as they say, when one door closes, another opens; something completely unexpected had fallen right into his lap.

Pelfe Bank, Vault No. 5555.

By now, it had become something of an insurance policy—nice to have if it opened, but no great loss if it didn’t—but there was a time when he had been frantic to find that key.

That damned vault had been created the year his father, the late Marquis Reinhardt, died. The traitor who had betrayed his father and led him to his death was a man who had once served as an agent for the Marquis Reinhardt family.

Codename: Peter.

Vault No. 5555 belonged to him.

Peter knew better than anyone how relentless and cruel his former comrades were, and exactly how they dealt with traitors. That was why he had created a safeguard to prolong his own life, secretly setting up a vault at Pelfe Bank and hiding his leverage inside.

If only Reinhardt hadn’t been at the vanguard of the war on behalf of the Luxen royal family at the time; if only the Marquis hadn’t died; if only the core agents hadn’t perished on the battlefield alongside him.

Or, if the heir Reinhardt left behind hadn’t been a mere six-year-old boy. If the only adult left to lead the family in his stead, the Marchioness, hadn’t abandoned even her son and left as if she had been waiting for her husband to die.

Peter would never have been able to escape across the Norfolk continent in the first place.

In the end, Oscar had caught him. But he had lost him.

To be more precise, it wasn’t even clear if he had actually lost him. The ship transporting the man alive had sunk.

Circumstantially, he was likely dead.

But at that time, Oscar couldn’t accept that. The circumstances were far too harsh for him to simply write off the death of the traitor who had ruined his family as a mere probability.

He didn’t need probability; he needed clear evidence. Moreover, back then, he had desperately needed that vault. He needed the family funds inside just to rebuild his ruined house.

So, he had ordered his men to bring back the body and the key, his command bordering on a tantrum.

Time passed, but there was no news. Then, about three years ago, a report came in from a dispatched agent who had been tracking Peter ever since his disappearance, concluding that the man was presumed dead. It stated there was a high probability that he had been buried at sea along with the key.

The young Marquis, who had ordered the man’s capture out of sheer spite, had grown into a man nearing thirty.

Time had changed many things.

Vengeance against a bastard who might be dead or alive could no longer take priority over the countless matters requiring his immediate attention, and the family wealth in that vault—once so desperate a need—was now a trivial sum to him.

However, there was the document presumed to be inside.

A single document Peter had likely put there as a lifeline, believed to be correspondence exchanged with the late King of Luxen.

There were many excuses, justifications, and methods to seize the King of Luxen by the throat. But the most definitive method might very well be inside that vault. Was that not why the King of Luxen was secretly contacting the President of Pelfe? Thus, he did need it, even if only as insurance. But now that the key had appeared in the hands of some woman, the vault was something he absolutely had to open himself.

“Is this the place?”

The carriage stopped at a high-end entertainment district not far from the Amang Rose mansion. The soft glow of the district’s lights cast shadows across Oscar’s brow.

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

A cold sneer touched Oscar’s eyes as he stared at the grand brothel.

“Watching other people have sex once was enough.”

“I’ll send the boys to bring her out.”

“No.”

Something that used to haunt his vision every time he closed his eyes; something he had desperately yearned to hold in his hands.

Was this not the key to the vault that he couldn’t find no matter how much he scoured the world?

Oscar swept his hair back and stepped out of the carriage. The staff of the entertainment district bowed politely toward him as he descended from the terrifyingly elegant carriage. No one stopped him; he was clearly a VIP no matter how one looked at him.

Entering the space filled with the cheap scent of powder, perfume, and vulgar laughter, he habitually placed a cigarette between his lips.

“This place is expensive. She must have a lot of money.”

Simon replied as he provided a light.

“That doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Oscar stared at Simon.

“If she’s not a guest?”

“……”

Oscar let out a hollow laugh and asked.

“Ah, is she a courtesan?”

Simon hesitated for a moment on how to answer, then replied in a businesslike tone.

“You could say she’s about to be in that position.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed, but Simon did not add anything further.

---

About 30 minutes ago.

“We’ve arrived!”

Seo-ah, who had hurriedly climbed out with her luggage, was lost for words as she looked up at the imposing, massive mansion. Staff in uniforms moved about their posts, and she could sense the presence of many people inside the mansion, felt almost as a collective weight.

“It is an inn with many guests.”

“Ah…”

It certainly looked that way. The problem was, she had no idea how much a night’s stay at an inn like this would cost.

So, the money I have left is…

As she felt the pouch of money inside her coat, the doors—which looked twice as tall as two grown men—opened, and a middle-aged woman stepped out. She approached with a kind smile.

“Welcome.”

Seeing the woman’s expensive-looking attire, Seo-ah’s anxiety grew.

“Um… I’d like to stay for the night. Do you happen to have a vacancy?”

After asking, she fidgeted with her clothes for no reason.

Would they really accept a guest dressed more shabbily than the staff guarding the door? Still, it seemed like even if that man from earlier tried to find her, he wouldn’t be able to just barge in here…

“Of course.”

A kind voice cut right through her trailing thoughts.

“Please, come in.”

The eyes she suddenly met were curved in a gentle smile. Seo-ah habitually tilted her head down and asked again.

“Could you tell me how much it is for a night?”

A picture-perfect smile remained in her partial field of vision. The woman seemed to think for a moment, letting out a small ‘hmm,’ before speaking.

“Normally it’s quite expensive, but a room was just canceled. Everything was prepared, the bedding and all, so it was quite a dilemma when they canceled so suddenly. If you take that room, I’ll give it to you at a discount. 100,000 Kerete, how does that sound?”

100,000 Kerete.

The train ticket was 20,000 Kerete, the carriage was 100,000 Kerete, and now the inn was 100,000 Kerete for a night? The prices were so inconsistent she couldn’t tell what was reasonable. Was the carriage a scam?

“I’d rather have a guest than leave the room empty, so I’m giving you a deal.”

Seo-ah’s gaze drifted outside the mansion. There lay the unfamiliar city, where darkness lurked.

When she turned her head back, she saw the inn glowing with a warm, inviting light.

For a stranger in a strange land, there was no other choice.

“Yes, thank you.”

When she turned to pay the coachman, the owner stopped her, insisting that the inn usually paid the drivers who brought guests. She then gestured for someone. A man who appeared to be a staff member ran over, took Seo-ah’s luggage, and politely guided her inside.

When Seo-ah glanced back while following the staff member, the innkeeper was still smiling at her.

For the first time since arriving here, Seo-ah smiled, touched by the innkeeper’s kindness.