Translator: Nox

Chapter 5

A Confusion of Identities

“What crime have I committed to deserve a jail cell?”

Merran had been upstairs tending to Classie, but her brief trip down the steps was interrupted by the startling sight of a royal sentry.

“This is the guardhouse, not a dungeon,” the soldier replied, his tone icy. Even though he denied it was a prison, his rigid posture suggested he was preparing to haul her off to one regardless.

“There is no practical difference! Everyone is aware the guardhouse contains a holding cell. Why are you suddenly dragging my lady there? What exactly is she accused of?”

Anna stepped forward, physically shielding Merran as she shouted her defiance at the man.

“The details will be disclosed at the appropriate time,” the guard stated, his voice devoid of warmth.

Remaining composed, Merran asked, “Am I permitted a moment to make myself presentable?”

To her relief, the man gave his consent for her to change.

“It is unnecessary. Her temperature hasn’t dropped yet,” Merran murmured to herself while fastening her spherical buttons. She reflected on the previous evening’s festivities. While she had poked a bit of fun at Classie, surely nothing she said constituted a criminal offense.

The gala had been pleasant and calm for nearly everyone—with a single exception.

“Is this Florence’s doing? Has she fabricated some charge against me?”

Dread pooled in Merran’s stomach as she pictured Florence’s murderous stare. Despite her claims of being a devoted friend to Merran’s aunt, Florence had harbored a grudge against Merran since the girl was only eleven.

Anna draped a charming fur-lined cloak over Merran’s shoulders and shook her head. “That seems unlikely. Miss Florence is known for being remarkably principled—almost to a fault.”

“Principled? A truly moral person doesn’t pick on children. She was saying terrible things to me even back then.”

“Does that truly matter? She is a companion of my aunt, which should make me like family to her.”

Anna held Florence in high regard, but her primary devotion was to Classie and Merran. She knew better than to defend Florence if it meant upsetting her mistress.

“Would you like me to come along?” Anna asked with a worried expression, offering Merran her bonnet.

Merran checked her silhouette in the large waist-high mirror, adjusting her posture.

“No, stay here,” Merran said, offering a brave grin before stepping out.

She felt certain that her own wit and bravery would be enough to untangle this mess.

Fifteen minutes after Merran marched into the guardhouse with her head held high, Kishin received word of her arrival. He dropped his pen and exited his office to conduct the interview.

However, someone had already slipped into the room ahead of him. It was Dernick.

The intrusion was entirely calculated. Dernick had made an arrangement with the strange woman who kept an arsenal in her purse; he wanted to ensure Kishin didn’t lose his temper, particularly with him.

Standing outside the cramped questioning room, Dernick did a quick sweep of the hallway and rapped on the wood. The moment a female voice answered, he darted inside.

The chamber was dimly lit, making it difficult to discern the woman’s features at first. Assuming Kishin had apprehended the correct suspect, Dernick took the seat opposite her.

“Listen, we need to make sure our stories match—”

He choked on his words, freezing the moment he saw her face clearly.

Merran wasn’t bothered by his stunned silence. She was accustomed to men losing their train of thought when they looked at her. Still, she had to admit she had never seen a man quite this handsome.

Her confidence surged. She had come to resolve a legal misunderstanding, but finding such an attractive investigator who seemed utterly smitten made the task feel effortless. He was looking at her as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“Sister Mary?” he whispered.

“You were acquainted with my mother?”

“Mary Kalashi Omel. Good heavens, you are her child?”

Merran wavered. She wondered how old this stranger actually was. He looked no older than her, yet he spoke with the nostalgic tone of a distant relative.

Suddenly, the man’s large eyes began to shimmer with tears.

“Why on earth are you crying?”

Merran reached out in confusion, but the man with the silver hair only offered a melancholy smile.

“Your mother saved my life. Did she never tell you about me?”

“A savior? My mother?”

“It’s true. A decade ago—”

Just as he was about to explain, the door creaked open. A sharp, authoritative voice cut through the air.

Merran stood up, thinking the order was for her.

“Sit down. He’s talking to me,” the silver-haired man clarified.

When the door clicked shut again, Merran sat in a state of total bewilderment. Nothing about this situation made sense. After a moment of internal debate, she leaned in and pressed her ear against the door frame.

It was useless. Kishin had already hauled Dernick far down the corridor, ensuring their argument remained private.

“What do you think you’re playing at?”

Kishin struggled to keep his hands off Dernick’s collar. His friend was a nuisance, but he was incredibly slippery; not even the high-ranking guards had seen him sneak past.

“I told you quite clearly that I would handle the identification myself.”

“Oh, stop. Is this really the time for a lecture? You should be thanking me, not throwing a fit.”

Kishin’s brow furrowed in irritation. He reached out, noticing the dampness on Dernick’s face.

“You’ve lost your mind. How am I supposed to report this behavior to His Grace?”

Kishin sighed in exasperation, but Dernick merely laughed and brushed his hand away.

“I’m perfectly fine. Actually, I feel better than I have in years.”

“This must be some lingering effect of dark sorcery…”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Dernick countered.

He kept the rest to himself: And I finally found the right person.

Dernick’s motives hadn’t started out as pure. He had been looking for a way to repay Lady Mary, not necessarily to find her offspring. But seeing the girl who looked so much like his old benefactor stirred a protective instinct in him. He was determined to build a bond with her.

As a small smile played on Dernick’s lips, Kishin’s scowl deepened.

“What do you mean, ‘wrong’? Explain yourself.”

“The hair is the wrong color entirely.”

“Her hair?”

“Yes. Lady Merran is a blonde. The woman with the weaponized handbag had much darker tresses.”

“Then why are you blaming me? You’re the one who brought the wrong girl in!”

“If you knew what color hair we were looking for, why didn’t you speak up sooner?”

The joy Dernick had felt moments ago evaporated into a petty argument. Kishin was certain Phils had bungled the entire operation, letting the real culprit slip away. Phils, however, was quick to defend his work.

“Sir Kishin, I promise you, Merran Omel was the only person who fit all three of your requirements.”

Dernick chimed in, “What were these requirements, exactly?”

Phils gave Dernick a frosty look before answering.

“The three points you gave Sir Kishin: she had to be a noblewoman at the Laveberton gala on November 30th, she had to be in her early to mid-twenties, and she had to have been traveling in a coach on Balowal Road between ten and eleven at night.”

Now that he’d found Mary’s daughter, Dernick was suddenly very interested in the logistics.

“The Omel household has three daughters, don’t they? Are you certain you checked the right one?”

“The residence I checked was No. 12 Hod Street, Sir Dernick. That isn’t the Omel estate; it’s her aunt’s home. Merran Omel is staying there currently. If you’re suggesting the aunt is the suspect, her age doesn’t fit the profile at all.”

Dernick shrugged innocently. “Maybe the woman with the handbag just looks very young for her age?”

“The aunt wasn’t even on Balowal Road that night,” Phils pointed out.

Kishin had heard enough. He cut the debate short.

“That’s enough. I will personally go and verify every residence along that road. It will be more efficient.”

Phils looked dejected. “What are we supposed to do with Lady Merran?”

“I’ll take her home,” Dernick offered immediately.

Kishin grabbed Dernick’s arm before he could bolt, refusing to let the situation get any more chaotic.

“No. You are staying with me.”

“Why?” Dernick complained. He had been looking forward to talking to Merran about her mother. But the look in Kishin’s eyes told him there was no room for negotiation.

“Because you are the only one who can identify the actual suspect.”