“Yes, Your Majesty. I understand perfectly what you mean.”
Oscar slipped a hand into his jacket and drew out an envelope. He approached the dais, placed it carefully on the steps, then stepped back.
An envelope left by a man who used even possession as bait. Though the King knew it was bait, his gaze was inevitably drawn to it.
“I promise there will be no further cause for your concern. I sincerely apologize for inadvertently troubling Your Majesty.”
“What is this?”
“A form of apology.”
“I will not open it. Take it back.”
“Then burn it.”
At the calm indifference of his reply, the King glared at Oscar.
“Think of it as something brought by a crow. Whether you burn it or read it, the crow would not know.”
“…….”
“Whether you use it as a card, or never realize you hold a card, or decide it is not a card at all—that is entirely Your Majesty’s choice.”
Cold eyes.A voice stripped of emotion.
The arrogance radiating from the tall man—who would undoubtedly smile and say he understood even if the envelope were burned on the spot—was overwhelming.
The King clenched his fist without realizing.
The young Marquis, nearing thirty, had no weakness. For a weakness to exist, something precious and indispensable must be present. This man had none. A steel company? That was his greatest weapon, not a weakness.
Use it as a card. Or never know you have one. His composure—his indifference to any outcome—made the King want to curse.
Yet he could not bring himself to order it burned immediately.
Which meant he, too, was being played.
—
Inside the envelope left at the feet of the King of Felpe lay detailed records of the Grand Duke Baden’s corrupt dealings during his months as Governor.
For a King who wished desperately to remove that eyesore, it was an offer he could never refuse.
Secrets survive only when there is no one left to share them with.
The moment Baden betrayed him; Oscar had never intended to let him live.
—
As Oscar exited the audience chamber, Simon, waiting outside, fell into step beside him. Once outdoors, Oscar took out a cigarette and lit it. Simon began reciting the schedule.
“Your meeting with Count Holton is in thirty minutes. Your appointment with Chairman Titan is two and a half hours after that.”
“What about the ones captured?”
Through the acrid smoke, Simon stepped closer.
“They haven’t opened their mouths yet.”
“…….”
“Would you like to see them later?”
Oscar nodded twice and descended the long stairs, passing through Felpe’s palatial glass corridors. Nobles chatting in clusters fell silent as he passed. As a striking beauty passed by, everyone's gaze followed like iron drawn to a magnet, yet no one dared to approach.
Oscar ignored them all indifferently and boarded his carriage.
To him, the world was divided into only two things.
Purpose.And that which was not.
People, objects, insects—when they were not his purpose, they were the same.
Inside the carriage, Oscar leaned his head against the seat and took a long drag from his cigarette.
“What was the King’s reaction?”
“How else?”
A cruel smile touched Oscar’s lips. Simon asked no more. Soon, news of Grand Duke Baden’s expulsion—or death—would arrive. Perhaps both.
Still lounging in the same posture, Oscar asked lazily,
“Did she go to Felpe Bank?”
Simon, just in case, had ordered the wolves hourly reports on Seo-ah. Deciding to maintain that frequency, he answered immediately.
“No. She said she will visit the bank after purchasing necessary items through merchants. She is likely buying them now.”
Oscar crushed his cigarette in the ashtray.
Indeed. Going as she was would have been inconvenient. How she had obtained clothes that looked half a century old was a mystery. And a winter coat in midsummer?
The woman’s face—full of suspicious details—flickered through his mind like an afterimage. Her flushed cheeks, hands, and ears. Her out-of-place questions about time.
A laugh escaped him, uncertain whether it was mockery or amusement.
With a face like that… how much could she possibly hide?
“You said the translated identification would take a week?”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Bring it to me the moment it’s ready.”
Oscar extended his hand. Simon, as if already waiting, placed a thick stack of documents into it.
There were always an overwhelming number of things to do.
The man who had been a troublesome visitor before the King of Felpe in the morning wore the face of a charming business partner by noon. As the day drew to a close, he became a cordial acquaintance expanding his networks.
Between those hours, reports of the woman’s movements arrived.
By the time his final appointment ended, night had fully fallen.
Oscar boarded the carriage and extended his hand. Simon immediately handed him a slip of paper.
— No movement after dinner.
Oscar crushed the meaningless report and set it aside. Simon added,
“She asked whether Your Excellency would return to the hotel.”
Oscar’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“When is she coming?”
The very question he had considered unworthy of attention now returned to him.
No one else would dare be curious about his whereabouts. Even if they were, they would never voice it. Yet her hesitant question, delivered with those clear brown eyes, snagged faintly at the edge of his nerves.
“She asked if I was returning to the hotel?”
“Yes. They did not think it necessary to report, but it was the first thing she asked. So, they did.”
That odd question—like someone standing a step apart—left the faint afterimage of the woman lingering longer than expected. The peculiar trace circling his thoughts vanished as the carriage stopped before a derelict building.
Oscar put on gloves he normally avoided. They were bothersome. Then he stepped down from the carriage. Hands in his pockets, he walked into the lightless structure, skipping broken steps on the jagged staircase.
“Your Excellency.”
Figures positioned along the underground corridor bowed. Oscar passed them without pause.
“Ugh… ugh… ugh…”
Moans that raised the hairs on the spine trembled through the stale air.
Wolves bowed as he advanced with steady steps. The one at the very end opened the door for his approaching master. A grating metallic sound cut through the corridor. At once, the thick copper scent of blood seeped outward.
Oscar took a slow drag of his cigarette and entered in an instant.
A man—no longer distinguishable as living or dead—was bound naked to a chair. Yet the one who had ordered him carved like meat remained unmoved.
A wooden chair sat opposite. Oscar kicked it aside with his toe and stopped before the man’s knees, where raw flesh lay exposed. His expensive shoes sank into pooled blood. He did not care.
He inhaled once more, studying the assassin. Then with his left hand, he lifted the slack jaw.
The once-ferocious mercenary now had eyes emptied of will.
“P-please… ugh…”
Oscar removed the cigarette from his lips.
“A secret collaborator of the Luxen royal court.”
The assassin’s eyes, swollen like a goldfish's, widened involuntarily.
“Yes…?”
Oscar nodded within the veil of smoke. His grip tightened. The assassin instinctively knew the last card of his survival had just been removed.
“One who sees the world with his eyes closed.”
The man tried to speak, but no coherent sound formed.
Oscar blinked once. Twice. Then released the jaw he had been holding with brutal force, as if by magic.
In that instant, the assassin’s hope vanished completely. The assassin, realizing this instinctively, thrashed about as if in a seizure.
“I—I was ordered by the Beta Mercenary Group—please—ugh!”
As the wolves shoved cloth into his mouth to stop him from shouting for mercy, Oscar casually removed his gloves and threw them on the floor.
"We already know that."
Then, without a second thought, he left the interrogation room.
"Dispose of him and bury him."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Oscar stepped out of the building that felt like a fragment of a fallen kingdom. Behind him lingered the metallic stench of blood and the sound of dying breath.
He boarded the carriage in silence. Simon followed, issuing further instructions to the Wolves before stepping in beside him. The two-person carriage rolled forward without sound.
Inside, amid the acrid trace of smoke and blood, the two men opened documents and began reviewing them—
as if nothing at all had happened.
—