Chapter 27
“Consider this ball a preparation for him.”
The gazes of Duke Valdeck and Sigmund collided in the air. The purple eyes shimmered with an unpleasant light.
“I will handle it myself.”
With the cold words, Sigmund turned away. He felt the duke’s gaze on him but did not slow his pace.
He left the mansion without looking back, feeling a tightness in his chest.
He was determined to find out anything about Arnulf’s death, by any means necessary. That was why he had not refused when Baron Preang tried to lure him using Joseph as bait.
Fortunately, he had gathered some useful information through competent subordinates. Through this, he realized that by investigating the relationships between Joseph, Ziben Acht, and Baron Preang, he could figure out why Arnulf had suffered such a fate.
But now, Sigmund’s focus was no longer on uncovering the secret of Arnulf’s death.
He had learned that someone he thought he would never see again was close by.
He wanted to see them immediately.
Naturally, Sigmund quickened his pace. Once the thought crossed his mind, he felt it was now or never.
However, only servants were in Joseph’s mansion.
“Where is Prince Joseph?”
Finn, startled by Sigmund’s sudden appearance at this late hour, answered with a blank expression.
“He’s out.”
Sigmund’s eyebrows twitched. It wasn’t exactly very late, but the servant’s dark expression caught his attention.
“Where to?”
Finn hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to answer. But recalling the recent atmosphere between the two men, he made up his mind.
Finn himself had not liked the prince’s outing today, especially since it had been arranged by Ziben. In fact, he secretly wished Sigmund had come to bring him back.
“I’m not sure exactly, but he said he’s meeting Baron Preang.”
“Baron Preang?”
Finn nodded quickly.
“Yes. After someone named Ziben came to see the prince, he went out to meet Baron Preang.”
Finn deliberately emphasized that it was because of Ziben that the prince had gone out. Sigmund glanced at Finn, who seemed almost antagonistic, then nodded.
“Understood.”
He had no further business there. Sigmund spun around and began moving away. Finn scratched his forehead while watching him stride off.
“The more I think about it, the more curious it is. Seeing Sigmund’s behavior lately… it’s strangely reminiscent of how he used to follow Arnulf back at the academy.”
No, that couldn’t be.
Finn quickly shook his head, realizing it made no sense even to think so.
The world seemed distorted. Misty, blurry, and slightly swaying.
Arnulf shook his head, trying to regain focus, but it only worsened. The vision grew blurrier, and maintaining his balance became difficult.
It felt like he had drunk heavily.
But that was impossible. Arnulf was not the type to drink enough to feel intoxicated. Years on the battlefield had made him extremely disciplined, avoiding anything that would weaken his body.
He had only drunk two glasses of the liquor that Baron Preang had offered.
“Something’s wrong.”
Arnulf calmly assessed his condition. There was no other plausible cause. It felt as if Baron Preang’s constant chatter was coming at him, but he could hardly hear it.
It was like being underwater, and his patience began to erode rapidly.
Suddenly, the place became unbearably stifling.
“I… need to… focus…”
Even the words he uttered were slow and weak. Arnulf sensed someone grabbing his arm, but he shrugged it off. All he could think about was getting out of there. His breath grew shallow, confirming that his condition was deteriorating.
He staggered forward, each step causing his weakened body to bump against the hallway walls, yet he felt no pain. If he stopped, he might collapse completely, losing consciousness. Only his strong willpower prevented that.
After some distance, he suddenly felt cool air on his face. His steps instinctively led him there.
“Ah!”
He stumbled into something solid. As he nearly collapsed, two arms caught him.
“…Fr—”
Arnulf heard someone call his name, but his vision was blurry, and his mind foggy. He didn’t even realize how he had responded.
Had he said “yes”? Or shook his head?
He didn’t even know who had caught him. He only sensed a familiar presence, then his strength drained completely, and he lost consciousness.
By contrast, Sigmund’s expression shifted subtly when he saw Arnulf. He recalled the response he had just heard.
“Arnulf.”
The call had elicited a response.
“Why.”
A short, indifferent word. It was enough to shake Sigmund to his core.
“Is it really… you?”
No answer came to the second question. It didn’t matter; the person who could resolve his curiosity had already passed out.
Sigmund then remembered the earlier scene. Arnulf had staggered as if drunk, failing to notice him, then collided and collapsed unconscious.
“Not like you at all.”
Had he drunk excessively? Did he think it was acceptable now?
Sigmund’s displeasure was evident. The orderly, proper Arnulf acting like a reckless rogue like Joseph was unsettling.
Sigmund adjusted his hold, one arm under Arnulf’s thigh, the other at his back, and carried him. Arnulf’s head naturally rested against Sigmund’s chest.
It would have been difficult in the past—Sigmund and Arnulf were similar in height and build. This difference highlighted the change in their current situation.
Sigmund’s gaze shifted as two burly men appeared.
He immediately recognized them: the thugs Arnulf had encountered when saving the old man and child in the alley.
‘Why are they here?’
Judging by the situation, they seemed to be Baron Preang’s men.
“What is the meaning of this?”
One thug spoke up quickly, noticing Sigmund’s icy gaze.
“The person you’re holding is our guest. Hand them over.”
His tone was insolent, his expression brash.
“I will take him.”
Sigmund replied coldly and spun around, refusing to let them intervene.
“Hey!”
The thug tried to block him, face hardened. Even by his expression alone, it would be intimidating, yet it had no effect on Sigmund. The raised eyebrow from Sigmund alone made the thugs tense.
Just as the two thugs hesitated, a new voice spoke.
“It would be difficult for you to just leave.”
With a slight tinge of mockery, Sigmund frowned and looked at Baron Preang, who appeared grinning.
“Baron.”
Sigmund’s call drew a meaningful expression from Preang.
“Look at his current condition.”
Sigmund checked Arnulf immediately, noticing the difference from before: his cheeks were noticeably flushed.
“Hah…”
As if long-awaited, his sealed lips parted with a long exhale. The breath carried a subtle sweetness mixed with moisture.
“Come this way, Sir Sigmund.”
Preang spoke as if expecting this. But Sigmund did not move in the direction Preang indicated; he instead left the building entirely, heading toward the main road.
“Sir Sigmund? Sir Sigmund!”
Preang called after him, realizing the situation, but Sigmund did not stop. His attention was entirely on Arnulf.
Anyone could tell this wasn’t a drunken state. Something else had happened.
Sigmund stopped a passing carriage, lifted Arnulf inside, and gave instructions to the driver.
“To the nearest hotel.”
The carriage soon stopped in front of a brightly lit hotel. Sigmund paid promptly and entered, instructing the manager to show them the best room.
The manager, though initially surprised, quickly regained composure.
“This way, please.”
Sigmund followed, feeling heat from Arnulf’s forehead. Sweat dampened his skin and cheeks, now even redder, radiating warmth.
“Hhh…”
Arnulf’s heated breath escaped through parted lips, causing Sigmund to flinch and stop. His gaze was fixed on the glossy lips.
Earlier, he had crossed a forbidden line he had never touched before. His patience, already short, became even shorter.
As Arnulf exhaled with sweet-scented breath, Sigmund’s head tilted downward. Just as their lips were about to meet, a familiar voice interrupted.
“Here we are.”
Sigmund lifted his head, meeting the manager’s gaze. The manager tensed under Sigmund’s icy purple eyes. He had no memory of the previous situation; the gaze alone was enough to cut through him.
Sigmund passed by the manager, issuing one more authoritative order.
“No one is to enter.”
