The Fake Madam Disappeared

“Yes, understood. Also…” Johann reported on what happened this morning.

“Who was it?”

“Her name is Marinda,” Johann added, “She was the handmaid that came with Madam when she got married.”

Edmund could vaguely recall Marinda from his memory, the maid standing next to Daphne.

“So, the Young Master wants to personally carry out the punishment.”

“Tell him to do as he pleases.”

After a brief silence, Edmund asked, “But is it true that Daphne truly extended such kindness to that handmaid?”

The incident was puzzling to Edmund.

“Yes.”

“Then this handmaid…” Edmund’s lips quivered, “Is she close to Daphne?”

“I also find it odd that she wasn’t Madam’s personal maid, but I guess she was.”

By the words ‘I guess’ meant they didn’t know for sure.

Even after interrogating every handmaid who had attended to Daphne, the answer was always the same: “I don’t know.” No one knew anything about Daphne.

Despite having served her for five years. Despite being their Madam for five years. There was nothing they knew.

Just as Edmund was recalling the maid who had reported Daphne’s disappearance to him—

“Your Excellency, I have something to say.”

“Speak.”

As soon as Edmund said that, Johann responded without hesitation, “We must withdraw the search party.”

“Why?”

“I think The Emperor will soon notice.”

His reason was devoid of any personal sentiment.

With no results to show, the number of search party members kept increasing as time passed. No matter how quietly they moved, it was inevitable that they would catch the Emperor’s attention, who was keeping an eye on the North. If the Emperor heard about the Madam’s disappearance, the situation they had feared would undoubtedly unfold. There was no reason to reject the proposal.

Yet Johann felt tense under Edmund’s unwavering gaze.

“Alright, tell them to withdraw.”

“Your Excellency, if we don’t withdraw… pardon?”

But Edmund’s words were not what Johann had expected. Accepting Johan’s suggestion, Edmund added, “Withdraw the search party. And bring Nick Archer to me.”

Johann involuntarily raised his head.

Nick Archer – the king of the Empire’s underworld, controlling gambling, the slave market, and the guild of mercenaries. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for money. However, Nick was currently imprisoned, accused of an attempted assassination of the Emperor.

In other words, Edmund was ordering him to break Nick out of prison.

“Your Excellency, I’m afraid that’s…”

“I already overlooked the fact that you joined forces with Alec, so don’t argue with me any further.”

Johann flinched, his shoulders trembling. He then lowered his eyes and gulped.

Alec had come to him this morning and asked Johann to tell His Excellency that the search was meaningless. Johann agreed, and there was the convenient excuse of the Emperor. Of course, that excuse wasn’t a lie. As the search expanded, the likelihood of catching the Emperor’s eye increased.

Though Edmund accepted Johann’s opinion, he issued an unexpected additional order that was almost impossible to execute. Realizing that further persuasion would be futile, Johann decided not to argue any more.

“It would take at least a month to get Nick Archer out without anyone noticing.”

“Three days.”

“That’s Ruvuz Prison, Your Excellency.”

Johann mentioned where Nick was being held, not because he doubted Edmund’s memory, but because the task seemed impossible. Ruvuz Prison was an infamous fortress in the middle of a desert, known for having no successful escapees in its hundred-year history.

“It would take more than one month to plan for a perfect escape.”

“It doesn’t matter if you get caught,” despite Johann’s plea, Edmund was firm, “So, get Nick out in three days.”

“... Understood.”

Johann had no choice from the start. Realizing this too late, Johann bowed obediently and left the office. One of Johann’s subordinates, who had been waiting, approached him. Johann, as if steeling himself, quietly gave his order.

“... Are you serious?”

Even though his subordinate questioned him, Johann’s resolve did not waver.

“Bring him here as soon as possible. Without The Emperor’s knowledge.”

‘All of this is for His Excellency’s sake.’

Johann suppressed his anxious feelings and reminded himself.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Young Master, please calm down.”

Vent tried his best to calm down his Master, but it only irritated Damian even more.

“Calm down? Vent, do you really think this is the time for me to do that?”

Vent rolled his eyes, “There’s no need for you to get worked up.”

“What?”

Vent began to explain one by one.

“It’s not like she stole it, and besides, didn’t the Madam lend it to her herself?”

Damian was rendered speechless. Vent’s words were spot on, but why was he so angry? No one could conjure up an answer to this feeling.

“Oh, His Excellency passed on the word that you can give her the punishment as you want.”

“Just do it yourself.”

“What? Me?”

Now that his anger had subsided, Damian passed the responsibility to Vent. Though Vent grumbled about already having too much to do, Demian casually ignored him.

“You're asking me to handle something you could easily pass on to His Excellency? That’s too much.”

“Vent.”

“No, but frankly, you can do it yourself, Young Master. You were the one that mistook that handmaid for Madam… gah!”

“Get up.” Damian grabbed Vent by his collar and lifted him up. “It’s been a while since we had a sparring session.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Vent’s awkward smile faded when he realized his Master wasn’t joking.

“Are you serious?”

Instead of answering, Demian changed into his sparring gear and headed to the training grounds. Vent reluctantly followed after him, his body trembling.

“Young Master, you knew very well that you’re on a completely different level than a normal human being like me, right? I don’t want to leave this world at my tender age. Please be understanding, Young Master.”

“Shut up and pick your sword.”

He immediately lunged forward. Soon after the sparring session began, Vent was sprawled like an eagle on the ground, gasping for breath. While Vent was on the verge of passing out, Damian, who hadn’t even broken a sweat, sat on a rock, calmly tending to his sword.

Damian had inherited his swordsmanship skills from his father and had been recognized by renowned masters across the continent by the age of twelve. They even said there was nothing left to teach him.

In contrast, Vent was a scholar through and through. He barely knew enough swordsmanship to protect himself, so he was never a suitable rival for Damian.

“Y… Young Master”

Vent dragged his body as he crawled over. As Vent’s hot breath puffed right in front of him, Damian used his sword’s sheath to create some distance.

“Stay right there. Don’t come near me.”

“Who do you think… put me in this state… pant.”

Despite grumbling, Vent obeyed Damian’s command and stayed put.

“Huh? I’ve never seen that sword before.”

After catching his breath, Vent’s eyes widened as he looked at the sword Damian was polishing.

“It has a preservation spell. Did you get it as a coming-of-age gift?”

“It was mixed in with the other gifts.”

“Wow, this is so expensive…! Who gave it to you?”

Though Vent was a scholar, he had a keen interest in swords, and the sword brought a sparkle to his curious eyes.

“This is an exceptional sword. It’s enchanted with both preservation and enhancement magic. It’s worth as much as an entire noble family’s fortune.”

“Really?”

Damian raised the sword, examining it closely.

Among the many gifts piled up in the corner, this one stood out the most. It felt as if it was custom-made for his hand. The sword even seemed to complement Demian’s swordsmanship, which Edmund often critiqued, as if it had been made by someone who knew Damian well.

“It must have been the Duke. No one else knew you this well.”

“... Is that so?”

“His Excellency is a mystery. He seems so cold and emotionless, like there’s no one else in the world as detached as him.”

The young heir felt uneasy. He had already received a coming-of-age gift from Edmund. However, he thought it was just another gift.

“Oh, Young Master, I recently heard a rumor.”

Vent told him about the missing painting.

“Well, I doubt they’ll find it. How could they, when they don’t even know when it was lost?” Vent shrugged. “Anyway, it’s really unfortunate… that Madam is missing. No one works harder than her…”

Vent clamped his mouth shut like a clam. Damian, who had been half-listening to Vent’s words, turned his head, puzzled.

“Why did you suddenly stop talking?”

“Huh? D-Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

Vent laughed playfully, “Oh, come on, when did I ever? Oh, by the way, did you hear this? So…”

As the conversation naturally shifted topics, Damian narrowed his eyes.

‘Madam?’

The word he overheard caught his attention. But Daphne and Vent had no significant interactions.

‘I must have misheard.’

Damian dismissed it casually.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Ssszzzz.

Edmund lit a cigarette. As it began to burn, he took a deep drag, filling his lungs with heavy smoke.

Hoooo.

He exhaled just as deeply, and thick smoke blurred his vision.

Even as the smoke clouded his sight, Edmund didn’t blink an eye. What truly caught his gaze were the ink-stained divorce papers and the letter beside them.

Taking another deep drag from his cigarette, Edmund suddenly picked up the letter and examined it closely.

The contents of the letter were brief and concise. There were no words of confession or sentiment – only matters concerning the divorce papers. The letter was unusually thick for such a short message.

With a sense of urgency, Edmund crushed the cigarette into the ashtray and hastily opened the letter. He removed the note inside and, with a knife, tore open the back of the letter paper.