Chapter 46
A shadow fell over the dark, damp underground passage.
With every step came the sound of water splashing beneath his boots.
Even so, the shadow moved without hesitation, descending all the way to the bottom of the stairs.
“Has Your Highness arrived?”
The man standing beneath a flickering torch bowed deeply toward the shadow.
The light revealed the face hidden in darkness — it was none other than Zigmund.
“The man?”
“I’ve made sure he’ll speak without hiding anything.”
At the cold tone of Zigmund’s voice, the man hurriedly replied.
Zigmund passed him without a glance and continued walking.
He soon arrived at a prison secured by a thick iron door.
The moment he stepped inside, a sharp, metallic smell of blood filled the air.
Ignoring it, Zigmund’s gaze went straight to his target — a gang leader hanging limply against the wall, his body battered and broken.
A subordinate followed in behind him and roughly shook the man awake.
“Ugh…”
As the gang boss groaned and blinked into consciousness, Zigmund spoke.
“Who was it?”
The man’s body trembled as he lifted his head.
His face was so disfigured it was almost unrecognizable, and his eyes were unfocused.
“B–Baron Preang…”
The trembling confession made Zigmund’s eyes narrow.
As he’d suspected — exactly the name he’d expected to hear.
“What was his purpose?”
“T–That… I don’t know…”
The man’s shaking voice didn’t sound like a lie.
It seemed Zigmund would have to ask the baron himself to know the rest.
“What happened to the others?”
He turned to one of the subordinates waiting nearby.
“They’ve been dealt with.”
So none of the thugs who’d attacked Arnulf and fled the alley had made it back to Baron Preang.
Zigmund turned away without a hint of regret.
* * *
Arnulf blinked blankly.
His mind was still hazy, as if he hadn’t properly woken up yet.
When did I even fall asleep?
He clearly remembered seeing the sky outside brightening.
Now sunlight slanted across his face, but he didn’t even register the glare.
Then, almost absently, he moved his arm.
His fingers brushed the corner of his eye, then traced slowly downward — across the bridge of his nose, pausing at the tip, and finally over his lips.
“…I can’t believe it. I really can’t believe it.”
It had been in the quiet, candlelit hours of the night.
The surroundings were still, and every word had been clear in the silence.
Zigmund’s voice — low, gentle, yet filled with an almost stunned disbelief.
“You don’t look anything like him. But just knowing he’s in here…”
Arnulf’s chest tightened as the memory came back — the warmth of Zigmund’s touch as his lips traced his own.
He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again.
“…I’ve gone mad.”
What else could it be?
His heart was still pounding wildly — it couldn’t just be from what happened last night… could it?
He lifted his hand from his lips and pressed it to his chest.
No, it wasn’t an illusion — his heart really was racing.
All because of that night.
“Hah…”
Unable to bear it any longer, Arnulf sat up abruptly.
He swung his legs off the bed and headed straight for the washroom.
Standing before the mirror, he faced the reflection he’d grown used to —
a pale face, well-shaped features, green eyes, a slender frame, and red, wavy hair.
Nothing resembled the man he once was.
He lifted his hand again and touched the mirror, tracing his reflection as if confirming it wasn’t a dream — his eyes, his nose, his lips… then frowned.
“How could he look at this and still recognize me?”
If it were him, he would never have known.
This was unmistakably Josef’s body, through and through.
Then his gaze fell to the necklace around his neck —
a platinum ring adorned with a blue diamond.
Of course. That was the reason.
The gift Zigmund had given him — one he couldn’t bring himself to throw away and had kept close to his heart.
“Lord Josef! You’re already awake?”
Startled by the voice behind him, Arnulf quickly turned.
Finn stood there, looking surprised.
Arnulf hastily tidied his clothes and splashed water on his face.
“Weren’t you tired?”
And no wonder — he’d stayed by Zigmund’s bedside until dawn, only falling asleep when morning was nearly breaking.
Finn had assumed he’d sleep until late afternoon.
Yet here he was, awake before lunch.
But then Finn’s expression shifted to concern.
Arnulf’s eyes were still red, as if he’d been crying.
“Did you not sleep well?”
“No… I did.”
It wasn’t true. He’d barely dozed off, his mind too full to rest.
“Where’s Zigmund?”
When he’d woken, Zigmund was nowhere to be found — only Arnulf remained in the bedroom.
“Huh? He went back home.”
Finn tilted his head, looking puzzled.
Arnulf froze mid-motion, towel in hand.
“He went back? In that condition?”
“Yes. He said not to wake you.”
“Did he… say anything else? Never mind.”
Arnulf stopped himself mid-question, shook his head, and wiped his face dry.
But when he noticed Finn watching him with a curious expression, he paused.
“Finn?”
“Ah—! N–No! Nothing, sir!”
Startled, Finn jumped at being called.
It wasn’t that she’d been staring at him — she’d been lost in thought.
In truth, she’d been remembering Zigmund that morning, when he’d left Arnulf’s room.
He’d looked… satisfied — almost glowing.
Strange, for someone who’d been so severely injured.
Like a predator who’d just eaten its fill.
She hadn’t known what had happened inside the room —
but now, she thought she could guess.
And that made her even more curious about Arnulf’s reaction.
“What’s wrong?”
“N–Nothing. I was just worried since Lord Zigmund left so suddenly.”
“Ah…”
Arnulf frowned slightly and nodded.
Even the doctor had said his wounds were serious.
And yet, he’d left without a word while Arnulf slept.
“I should check if he made it home safely.”
As Arnulf stepped out of the washroom and headed for the dressing room, Finn followed hurriedly.
“You’re going out right away?”
“Yes.”
“At least have something to eat first!”
It was reasonable — after all, Zigmund had likely gone home to rest.
But Arnulf had already changed clothes.
“I won’t be long.”
He patted Finn’s shoulder reassuringly, though she still looked displeased.
Zigmund’s condition worried him, and there were things left unsaid between them.
With those thoughts settled, Arnulf headed for the door —
only to run into someone he least wanted to see.
“Well, well, Josef! You actually look happy to see me today?”
Ziven grinned lazily and waved.
“Ziven.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Who else, huh? You’ve missed me, admit it.”
He sauntered up and slung an arm over Arnulf’s shoulders —
only for Arnulf to brush it off and step back.
Ziven blinked, then smirked.
“No need to be so stiff. Anyway, it’s still before lunch, right? Come on — my treat.”
He must have guessed Arnulf was about to go out, and made the offer as if it were obvious.
But Arnulf had no intention of going with him.
“Next time. I have somewhere to be.”
“What? After I came all the way here? You’re ditching me?”
The tone implied that his time mattered more — that Arnulf should prioritize him.
He’d always been like that.
That was the kind of dynamic Josef and Ziven had — a lopsided one.
Arnulf regarded him silently.
At first, he hadn’t cared. Then, Zigmund’s situation had kept him distracted.
But now, he realized it was time to cut this man off.
Ziven was nothing but trouble — he couldn’t understand why Josef had ever kept him around.
“Ziven Acht.”
The moment Arnulf spoke his full name, Ziven froze.
He’d only said the surname, yet there was something in Arnulf’s voice that made the air tense.
“…What?”
“Don’t come here again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t like things that make me lose control — alcohol, drugs, anything.
And if someone dares do that to me against my will, they’ll pay the price.”
Ziven’s face stiffened further as realization dawned.
Arnulf knew.
He knew that at the last gathering — when Baron Preang had been there — Ziven had drugged his drink.
And Arnulf’s warning made it clear what would happen if he ever tried it again.
That should be enough of a warning, Arnulf thought and started to walk past him—
“Hey. You shouldn’t speak so carelessly.”
A hand clamped hard on his shoulder, and Ziven’s voice dropped, suddenly sharp.
Arnulf turned his head, expression flat.
Ziven’s lips curved into a half-smile.
“Surely you don’t think forgetting means you’re free of blame… for Prince Arnulf’s death, do you?”
Arnulf froze.
Ziven had just said his name — Arnulf — in connection to his own death.
“What did you say?”
“You haven’t forgotten whose man Baron Preang is, right?”
Of course not.
“Just remember — even if Her Majesty the Queen chose to cover it up, there are still people who doubt you.”
Ziven patted Arnulf’s shoulder twice, almost mockingly, then turned and walked away.
