Chapter 53
[Yes, Hera Wintail.]
Along with the prophecy’s answer, Hera heard a clanging sound in her ears.
It was the sound of a blade hitting the floor.
“You bastard!”
Immediately, Merriot punched the man in the face, knocking him unconscious.
The man collapsed holding the handle of the sword, which had broken in half.
It all happened right in front of Hera.
Hera took a deep breath to calm her startled heart and lowered her hands.
Merriot, panting heavily, checked on Hera.
“Are you hurt?”
“No…”
“Hah, my heart can’t take this.”
Seeing that Hera was unharmed, Merriot slumped down on the spot.
He let out a deep sigh, his head hanging low.
After a moment, once his heart had somewhat calmed, Merriot lifted his head and looked at the unconscious man in front of him.
“The sword broke, huh?”
Hera had found it strange when the man had charged as if to strike her with the sword and then suddenly stopped—the sword had snapped.
But the way it broke was truly odd.
She had never seen a perfectly intact longsword split in two like that.
“How did it break so cleanly?”
Merriot muttered, touching the broken blade with his fingertips.
He had heard of such things happening if the tempering wasn’t done well, but this was as if someone had cut it neatly.
It was a bizarre occurrence.
“Your Highness! Miss Emilia!”
Just then, Hendrick appeared, snapping Merriot out of his thoughts.
Like a wild animal, Hendrick leapt nimbly to the ground.
“Wow, I came just in case, but you handled four of them by yourself?”
They couldn’t be called fully trained, though not completely incompetent either—more like expensive lackeys.
Merriot stood and lightly tapped Hendrick on the forehead.
“Next time, come sooner, just in case.”
“Who’s stopping me?”
Merriot glared, and Hendrick immediately shut his mouth.
“Take these guys away. I’ll handle the investigation myself.”
Merriot turned his head toward Hera.
“You come along too.”
The Loranga estate, even after a long absence, was still old and gloomy.
“Does this mansion even have a dungeon?”
Merriot and Hendrick brought the unconscious operative downstairs.
When Hera followed, she saw a cellar filled with a damp atmosphere and iron-barred cells.
She had heard of some regional lord estates having underground prisons, but it was rare for city noble estates under central royal authority.
Noticing Hera’s tense posture against the wall, Hendrick brought a chair from the corner.
It was dusty from lack of use.
Hendrick smiled brightly, brushing off the dust with his sleeve.
“Sit here and watch. It might take a while.”
Hera felt reassured by Hendrick’s kind words, even if she wasn’t sure what he intended.
Since the operative was already captured, there was nowhere to run, making interrogation easier.
Being a high-ranking noble, Merriot would have no trouble persuading an ordinary operative—whether by threatening with his title or bribing with money…
Thunk—
“Ugh…!”
Contrary to Hera’s expectations, Merriot shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked the operative squarely in the chest.
The unconscious man fell from the chair with a loud crash, screaming.
Merriot grabbed him by the collar and sat him back on the chair.
It was a crude, straightforward method of interrogation.
“Now that you’re awake, let’s have a little chat.”
The operative, dazed, glanced around, clearly confused about why he was suddenly in a dungeon.
“What… what do you want from me?”
Realizing the situation was highly unfavorable, he spoke with a face full of fear.
“What’s your name?”
“Lu… Luni.”
“Luni. I won’t ask anything difficult. I just want you to answer a few questions.”
Merriot dragged the old chair close and sat directly across from the operative, knees almost touching, staring him down.
The pressure was psychological, and sweat ran down the operative’s forehead.
“What exactly are you doing at the Underbridge?”
“What I’m really doing? You saw it yourself. I find adoptive families for illegitimate children. Aren’t you the ones pretending to be a fake couple to investigate?”
“Is that so? Then, what’s the name of the adoptive family?”
“Wh… why are you asking that?”
The operative was visibly flustered.
According to the oath, no one was supposed to ask the names of families adopting illegitimate children.
Raising his eyes, he tried to defy Merriot.
Unaware that his behavior made him look even more suspicious.
“I’m just doing a good deed. Isn’t it better for illegitimate children to live comfortably in a proper household than to grow up unhappy?”
“Not wrong.”
“Excuse me…?”
“There’s some sense in what you’re saying. But what you’re really doing isn’t that, is it?”
Merriot raised his hand, and Shane slipped a few documents into it.
He flipped through the papers right in front of the operative.
“Look what I found.”
Merriot held the documents up to the operative’s face.
They contained the names and personal details of the families to whom the operative had sent illegitimate children.
The operative went pale.
“The family you sent the children to… according to reports, it’s a large family?”
Merriot spoke slowly, as if carving each word into the operative’s ear.
“But the eldest son died. Second son missing. Third daughter died. Fourth daughter died. No one in that household has ever seen a child grow up.”
He turned to the next page.
At the center was the name of the girl who had started this investigation.
“Youngest daughter, Rina Baker—went missing a few days ago.”
Before heading to Underbridge instead of Hendrick, Merriot had instructed Shane to investigate the illegitimate child operative.
Finding out that Rina was adopted by a middle-aged couple running a fish stall in Fesil Market took about three hours.
Neighbors found it strange that illegitimate children placed with the Bakers were dying or disappearing one by one, but no one reported the couple.
No institution existed to listen to the poor market people.
The operative shook violently, shaking his head.
“It… it’s not my fault.”
“Be careful with that word ‘not my fault.’ I know exactly who did this.”
Merriot decided to bluff a little.
Since the operative was panicked and not thinking clearly, deceiving him was easy.
Even Shane would have too little time to find the operative’s backers.
Merriot, with his usual calm expression, clouded the operative’s mind.
“Is it alright? If it backfires on your side?”
The operative’s pupils widened.
Who was interrogating him?
And where was this place?
The mansion’s thick pillars confirmed it was a noble estate.
Here were a blond man of unknown status, two male assistants, and a seemingly well-behaved woman pretending to be Mrs. Cauccini.
Not a single familiar face.
‘A noble? Or a subordinate of some noble, like me? Which noble made me their target?’
The operative’s mind raced, but he had no clear plan.
Finding the Bakers indicated extraordinary intelligence.
He knew he was vastly outmatched.
‘Could this be a noble family power struggle?’
The operative deduced in his mind.
The noble he served was from a highly influential family.
When asked what he’d do if ‘this’ was discovered, he had confidently said the city guard would never catch him.
The operative assumed he had connections with the city guard.
Could this be due to factional struggles within the city guard?
Maybe the trap was set to catch the noble’s weakness.
‘No wonder this blond man knew his identity.’
Thoughts spiraled in the operative’s head.
Tentatively, he asked Merriot,
“Are… are you from the city guard? Is this a factional dispute? I haven’t heard anything.”
At the mention of the city guard, Merriot’s eyes glimmered.
Any clue made interrogation easier.
