LWRF 03

The Black Wolf (Part 3)

A few months later.

“Whew!”

Anje finally leaned back into the plush chair after staring holes into the account book.
The luxurious leather seat hardly suited such a drab office, and Anje sank into it with a satisfied smile.

The chair—crafted by a famed artisan who only produced one or two pieces a year—was something Gray had purchased for her. She had scolded him for splurging on something so extravagant, but every late night when her weary body relaxed against it, she secretly marveled.

Money really is the best.

As soon as Anje closed the ledger, Gray began setting out food on the table, as if waiting for that exact moment.

“A simple sandwich would’ve been fine. What’s with the banquet this late at night?”

Gray, unfazed by her complaint, calmly unwrapped each dish.

He placed the most appetizing—and expensive—items in front of Anje, keeping only a single sandwich slice for himself.

“This is all an investment,” he said with quiet pride once the table was set.

Anje frowned at the spread: stir-fried noodles with bean sprouts and meat, fruit juice, sandwiches stuffed with cream and sliced fruit, and fried meat. All obviously from one of the city’s top restaurants, like always.

“What kind of investment is this supposed to be?”

She picked up a fork and speared a piece of fried meat, not bothering to cut it before shoving the big bite into her small mouth. Gray, watching her, smiled softly—unusually gentle for him.

“There’s a saying: you feed someone well if you plan to eat them later.”

Anje froze mid-chew. Even she, no naïve child, knew exactly what that meant.

“Nonsense,” she mumbled through chipmunk cheeks full of food.

Gray raised both hands in mock surrender. He knew perfectly well Anje didn’t see him as anything more than a friend. He hoped that might change someday, but pushing her would only backfire.

“Can’t I even joke with you?”

“Not unless you’ve got a spare life to lose,” she shot back, turning her attention to the meal. Despite earlier protests, she was clearly determined to finish it all.

Gray quietly sat across from her and grabbed a sandwich.

“They’re saying the war is as good as lost now that Duke Syde has been captured.”

“Cough! Khhhk!”

Anje choked at the sudden mention of war. Gray quickly slid a glass of juice to her.

“See? Eat slower,” he said mildly, eyes flicking toward the newspaper.

“They’re threatening to execute the duke unless our troops withdraw immediately. What do you think?”

Despite the commotion, Gray continued, clearly interested in the duke’s fate.
It made sense—the outcome of the war hinged on whether Duke Syde lived or died.

The enemy hadn’t killed him yet because they wanted leverage for greater concessions.
The duke’s personal wealth alone was said to be astronomical, and his family’s influence stretched across the entire continent. Since the news of his capture, speculation about his fortune had been rampant.

It wasn’t Gray’s personal business, but the ripple effects in their trade world were hard to ignore.
He took a bite of his sandwich and watched Anje carefully.

Her predictions had a way of being eerily accurate.
In these chaotic times, more and more people sought oracles or temple divinations—not because those were reliable, but out of fear.

Gray had never once visited a fortune-teller or temple. He trusted Anje’s insight more.
At first he’d been amazed by her knack, but now he suspected it came from her voracious reading.

Anje sighed lightly. “This will wound the duke, yes, but…”
She closed her eyes, recalling a distant glimpse of the duke’s birth chart.

“He won’t die.”

“That’s a relief.”

If the duke were killed, the Empire would descend into turmoil.

“I was considering moving the office to another kingdom,” Gray admitted. “If the Emperor loses this war, chaos is certain.”

Anje snorted at his blatant lack of patriotism. Of course Gray wasn’t worried about the duke’s life.

“Let’s finish eating and head home.”

Most of the food had already vanished. Gray popped the last sandwich into his mouth, then hurried to clear the table.

Anje nodded and rose to fetch her coat—when a soft, deliberate knock sounded at the door.

The short, measured raps carried an ominous note.
Anje’s eyes widened. Was anyone expected?

Gray silently shook his head and approached the door, cautious. People whose business had been stolen by “the Black Wolf” sometimes came looking for revenge.

“Who is it?” he asked, hand resting on the hilt at his waist, his voice low and cold.

“I’m here to see the Black Wolf.”

“The Black Wolf only meets by appointment,” Gray replied.

A derisive chuckle came from the other side.
“Funny. No one seems to have actually seen the Black Wolf.”

Of course not. Even when Anje was right in front of them, no one imagined she was the Black Wolf. She narrowed her eyes with a faint smile.

“It’s late. Come back after making an appointment.”

“Don’t make this difficult.”

The man knocked again, harder this time. He clearly wasn’t leaving.
Gray glanced at Anje for guidance.

“Open it,” she said with a sigh. Business is business.

Anje settled not at her imposing mahogany desk but at Gray’s small, worn one.

When the door swung open, a man strode in, dark brown hat pulled low. He touched the brim in a token greeting and scanned the modest office.

The place was hardly the grand den of legend—just a small room with only two people present. Disappointment flickered across the visitor’s face.

This was Elliott, second son of an old vassal house and aide to Duke Syde.
He realized he’d likely come on a fool’s errand, rushing here on rumor and hearsay.

“Who are you?” Gray asked.

Ignoring the question, Elliott looked around.
“Only the two of you here? Where’s the Black Wolf?”

“Your name first,” Gray countered.

“Elliott Frederick. I serve Duke Syde.”

His gaze moved between the strikingly handsome man and the plain-looking woman. Something about the woman tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t place it. Just an ordinary face, he decided.

“The Black Wolf’s staff keep irregular hours,” Gray said evenly. “And I did tell you: appointments are required.”

Elliott’s eyes narrowed. The man’s handsome face smiled, but the pale blue eyes were icy.

“If I make an appointment and return, can you swear on your life I’ll meet the Black Wolf then?”

“Ha… sure,” Gray said dryly.

A troublesome client, barging in at midnight and insisting on a meeting. The duke’s last commission had been wrapped up months ago—so what was this about?

Gray almost glanced toward Anje but stopped, keeping his frown fixed on Elliott.

“I’m far more useful with my head attached,” Gray added calmly.

Elliott’s lips twisted in a faint grin. Maybe this visit wasn’t a waste after all. Unlike most informants, this one didn’t grovel or angle for a bribe.

So the Black Wolf isn’t here…

The dark-haired woman lowered her gaze, avoiding his eyes as if intimidated.

Then she must be the manager at least, he thought, turning back to Gray.

He revealed the black case in his hand.
“Forty thousand gold.”

Anje’s head snapped up at the unexpected sum, eyes meeting Gray’s in surprise. He too straightened, clearly startled.

“If you succeed,” Elliott added, “you’ll be paid the same amount again.”