That night, Reinhardt’s wolves prepared to depart Felpe from their respective positions. The original plan had been to remain in Felpe for several more days, but unexpected news forced the remaining schedule to be cancelled.
It was a night in which only the foreigner, whose body had been tense all day, slept as if she had fainted.
The secretly busy night passed in an instant.
As pale, dim light began to seep through the window, Oscar washed his body in cold water. He roughly dried his hair and put on a freshly ironed shirt. The wolves, having completed their departure preparations, gathered one by one. Among them was Abel Sting, dressed as though he could step onto a stage at any moment.
Soon, as early light filled the window’s depths, Oscar and Simon coordinated the final operation with the combat team. Simon then gestured toward the room where the woman was staying and ordered someone to wake her.
Oscar’s gaze, which had been fixed on the map spread across the large table, shifted to the back of the agent walking toward the woman’s room.
Behind the agent’s sturdy frame, receding with steady footfalls, the background seemed to shift. Thump. Thump. The agent stopped. Through the slightly open door, a woman who did not belong here quietly emerged.
Not only Oscar’s gaze, but everyone’s attention turned toward her.
Wearing a beige trench coat, she held a suitcase with both hands. With eyes that seemed to grope beneath the surface, she looked at the wolves stationed around her. Then, as if she had found him, she lowered her head.
Oscar returned his gaze to the map on the desk.
“I think this is enough.”
“Yes, sir.”
The timing was right. There was no reason to linger.
Oscar picked up the jacket draped casually over his chair and walked toward the woman. Abel, who had been waiting to the side, followed immediately.
In the dawn light, the woman looked pale. She lowered her head.
“Good morning.”
Oscar stopped a few steps from her and gestured toward Abel, who had stepped forward.
“We’ll have breakfast on the train. We should arrive in Luxen around noon.”
As he finished speaking, Abel took his place beside him. Oscar noticed the woman’s gaze, which had seemed submerged, shift toward Abel. He watched her and smiled faintly.
“From now on, you’ll accompany me wherever I go.”
Within his field of vision, Abel smiled charmingly. Oscar walked between them. The waiting wolves opened the suite door. At that moment, Abel Sting’s operation began.
“Good day?”
A voice that would make anyone turn, even another man, called from behind.
“Hello.”
“I am Abel Sting. Please call me Abel.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Shall we go, then?”
“…No, I’m fine.”
“Please, don’t mind.”
Subtle attention gathered among the wolves at the smooth voice and peculiar exchange of Reinhardt’s foremost flower snake. Among them, Oscar, who had given the order, glanced back while putting on his jacket.
He watched his subordinate extending a hand like a savior to the naïve stranger with amused eyes.
Seeing the two together, it felt as though they would be sharing a bed in two weeks, let alone a month.
But the next moment, Oscar had to clamp his jaw to suppress laughter.
“Then…”
The woman, who was expected to place her hand carefully in Abel’s, instead hesitated—then slipped the suitcase handle she was holding into Abel’s hand.
“Thank you.”
Before Abel could react, she bowed, offered her thanks, and turned to walk toward Oscar.
She continued to act in ways Oscar did not anticipate.
The top flower snake, abruptly reduced to a porter, wore a priceless expression.
Everyone except Simon clenched their jaws to hold back laughter. Abel opened and closed his free hand once, then shrugged lightly, sending Oscar a relaxed look that said, ‘Don’t worry.’
Oscar looked at the woman standing demurely a few steps behind him. Perhaps because she stood among men built like mountains, she seemed even smaller.
When he caught her profile, a red ribbon adorned the ends of her hair. Unfamiliar things tended to draw the eye.
And that ribbon, like its owner, did exactly that.
Oscar turned his gaze forward without a word and stepped ahead. The door opened in time with his stride, and he walked through without hesitation, hearing the faint footsteps following behind.
From today, Abel would submit reports on the woman’s every movement. Soon, those reports would include how she fell for Abel. That had always been the conclusion of Abel’s reports until now.
What would this woman look like in those reports?
The question drifted around Oscar like cigarette smoke, then vanished with a faint sting.
—
The Reinhardt wolves had originally been a border-guarding army. Their organization therefore closely resembled soldiers conducting special missions.
They moved organically, with specialized units for combat, reconnaissance, intelligence, and transport, each maximizing its particular skill. Beneath each unit were further subdivided structures.
For instance, the intelligence division included a geographic intelligence team that scouted enemy territory and mapped building interiors, and a spy team whose primary mission was infiltration and long-term embedding deep behind enemy lines.
And under that spy team—
“Miss.”
Seo-ah, gazing out the rapidly passing window, turned her head at the pleasant voice from across the seat. The first thing she saw upon turning was a brilliant golden hue.
Abel sat where direct sunlight poured in. His hair, catching the light, shimmered like spun gold.
Because of Oscar’s words that she would accompany him wherever he went, Abel had not left her side since boarding the train. Moreover, his escort doubled as service, as he continued offering her small courtesies.
“Aren’t you hot?”
“……”
“Why don’t you take off your outer layer? We still have a long way to go.”
—
From a distance, the wolves let out quiet sighs at the sight of Abel Sting shining as if beneath stage lights. It felt as though the carriage itself was illuminated by sunlight reflecting off his blond hair.
“He deliberately sat there.”
“So, there are people who do their jobs this easily.”
“Senior, shouldn’t he be paid less? It’s unfair that we risk our lives while he just shows his handsome face in the sun.”
At their muttering, Simon replied without expression.
“Then why don’t you try it?”
“Ah… that’s difficult. How can we imitate that slick expression?”
“Exactly.”
That was his skill.
At Simon’s heartless answer, the wolves twitched their brows and shrugged. Then, as if by shared agreement, they turned their attention back toward the stranger and the flower snake.
Oscar, leaning against the train wall and reviewing documents Simon handed him, also glanced in their direction. He shared the wolves’ thoughts regarding his diligent subordinate.
He could guess the woman’s expression without seeing it. Abel Sting, bathed in sunlight, was dazzling. Just as Oscar thought that the safe might open faster than expected, and returned his attention to the documents—
Abel was smiling.
He wore a silk shirt as expensive as Oscar’s. Several buttons were undone, revealing the tight structure of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the shadows of thick forearms. In that state, he looked only at the woman seated opposite him.
It was immediately clear why Abel Sting required so little time to secure his targets.
Abel shaped a peculiar expression he had perfected after meeting a certain countess. The corners of his smiling lips softened downward. The tension in his eyes relaxed. An expression like enchantment settled into place.
The countess, who had claimed to love her husband dearly, had once stared at him as if spellbound, her face reddening, her composure dissolving, until she finally asked why he was looking at her that way.
It was not only the countess. Every one of Abel’s targets asked the same question.
Why are you looking at me like that?
And that was always the end.
Whether proud, melancholy and devoid of joy, or deeply in love with another, they all surrendered after that question.
—