Chapter 98
“What on earth happened here?!”
The butler’s furious voice echoed through the hall as he burst out of the underground prison. The coachman and maid, who had been anxiously waiting, quickly began to explain what had occurred.
“We were searching for the young lady when we caught the boy she ran after,” the coachman said. “He’s with the knight right now…”
The boy, terrified and trembling, sobbed as he confessed everything — a thug had forced him to lure Lady Marsha into a nearby alley with a ring. If he didn’t obey, the man said, he’d kill him.
“He lured her… with a ring?”
The butler frowned, not understanding. The maid hesitated, then spoke nervously.
“When the lady saw the ring the boy was wearing, she immediately asked where he got it.”
At that, the coachman reached into his pocket. “Ah, this one, sir…”
He pulled out a ring and held it up. The butler’s eyes widened in shock.
That’s…!
It was exactly as Tom had described — the unique ring with the shifting color of tourmaline.
If that was true, then everything Tom had said was real.
And that meant… the person who kidnapped the young lady… was him.
The butler no longer hesitated. He rushed back down into the underground cell and shouted,
“Tom! Take me to where this Petricks is—right now!”
***
Lucas arrived at Miles’ Wine but restrained the urge to storm straight into Petricks’s office. Instead, he descended quietly into the basement.
Behind the wine shop was a hidden passage leading to the sewers — a perfect place to dispose of things one didn’t wish to be found again.
He had the man accompanying him line up the boxes he’d brought, forming a trail from the stairs all the way down to the sewer entrance.
When the last box was set down, Lucas approached the man, whose hands still trembled violently.
The stench of sweat and grime clung to him — his filthy clothes and exhausted face a portrait of misery.
Lucas knew men like this well. He’d grown up surrounded by them — people who tried to live decent lives, yet could never climb out of the dirt.
If he hadn’t met Count Emelide’s wife, he too might have ended up like this pitiful creature. Or perhaps… he wouldn’t have survived at all.
But fate had changed.
Now, Lucas stood among the higher ranks of society. Touching something — someone — this filthy was revolting. Yet today, he forced himself to rest a hand on the man’s shaking shoulder.
“I know this is hard,” he said softly. “But it’s all for your family. You wouldn’t want to hand your wife and daughter over to those vile bastards, would you?”
The man trembled, then nodded weakly.
Lucas found him pitiful. If he hadn’t gambled, or worse, wagered his family, none of this would’ve happened. And now he wanted to act the noble husband? The righteous father?
Well, at least he’s useful to me.
Lucas handed him a pocket watch and gestured upward, toward the ceiling grate where rainwater streamed in and sunlight spilled through.
“Keep watch,” he ordered. “And don’t make a mistake. There won’t be a second chance.”
“Y–Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good. And when this is all over… tell your family how brave you were.”
The man’s eyes reddened as he nodded again, choking back tears.
Lucas turned away, suppressing a sigh, and made his way to Petricks’s office. The stench of liquor and mold filled the corridors, the clamor of the underground grating on his nerves.
On any other day, he would have scowled. But not today. Today, his face was solemn — resolute.
Because today, everything would end.
“Where’s Marsha?” he demanded the moment he entered the office.
Petricks smirked. “Straight to business, huh? What, no greeting? Where’s the contract?”
Lucas took out the document — the Western wine trade agreement — and handed it over.
As Petricks skimmed it, a pleased smile spread across his face.
“I heard from the boys you brought something with you,” he said.
Lucas shrugged. “What would I bring? Just the contract.”
“So what’s in those boxes, then? You left them by the sewer?”
“That is the wine.”
“What? You left valuable wine in that stinking place?!”
“Not much choice, is there?”
Petricks stroked his chin, thinking. Miles’ Wine was always bustling with people day and night. If Lucas had told him sooner, he could’ve cleared a warehouse—but there hadn’t been time for that today.
“Anyway,” Lucas said impatiently, “where is Marsha? Hasn’t she arrived yet?”
“I’m punctual as ever,” Petricks said smoothly, standing up and walking toward the door.
Following him, Lucas asked, “You think you can still return to Delua after this?”
“I won’t be setting foot in Stravine for a long while,” Lucas replied.
He didn’t know how long Claudio’s reach would extend, but he was certain he wouldn’t cross Stravine’s borders again—at least not for years.
Not that you can’t… but that you won’t be able to, Petricks thought, sneering inwardly.
He would soon rise far above Lucas.
While Claudio chased his fugitive shadow, Queen Beatrice would grow closer to Petricks—perhaps even return his affection.
They reached the end of the stairs, where a small door stood. Petricks unlocked it.
“Marsha…!”
Lucas ran in, panic flooding his face.
Marsha lay on a tattered sofa, motionless—pale as snow.
“What happened to her?! What did you do?!”
He cupped her face, checking her breath. She was cold, but alive—her breathing slow and steady.
“The count’s daughter had quite the temper,” Petricks said carelessly. “Had to give her more of the sedative than planned.”
“You bastard—!”
“Quiet,” Petricks hissed. “She’s only sleeping. A few days’ rest, that’s all. Isn’t that better? You were planning to take her far away anyway. If she woke up halfway, she’d cause a scene. This way’s cleaner.”
Cleaner? You think this is “better”? You think I didn’t plan for this?
Lucas clenched his jaw, swallowing the words. It was too late. What was done was done—and time was running out.
***
From his office window, Petricks watched as Lucas loaded Marsha into the carriage below.
What a pathetic sight—leaving with that useless woman, tail between his legs.
How pitiful.
He expected Lucas to climb into the carriage immediately, but instead, the man crouched down near the drain for a few seconds.
What’s he doing?
From this distance, Petricks couldn’t see clearly—Lucas’s long cloak covered his movements.
Then, after a brief moment, Lucas stood and boarded the carriage. It rolled away without hesitation.
What was that about? Petricks wondered.
The spot where Lucas had crouched was right above the sewer grate.
Probably just fixing his bootlace.
Nothing worth worrying over.
Anyway, good riddance. Rot in misery, Lucas.
Petricks smirked darkly. Marsha would eventually wake, and when she did, she’d curse Lucas for what he’d done.
He’d never earn her love—ever.
And even if, one day, Marsha learned the truth—that Petricks was the one who told her everything—it wouldn’t matter.
Lucas would never set foot in Stravine again.
By then, Petricks would be untouchable—too high, too powerful for a fugitive to ever reach.
Cry, suffer, and die in despair, you wretch.
His lips twisted into a wicked smile.
But before he could savor his triumph, one of his men burst into the room, panting.
“Boss! It’s bad! The Gloria knights—they’re coming this way!”
Petricks’s expression darkened. It was sooner than expected, but inevitable.
“So the girl vanished in the marketplace. Of course they’d come here. Stay calm—don’t draw suspicion.”
“B–But what if that kid got caught?”
“Hah. Even if they find the back door, they’ll only see a whiskey shop. They’ll never suspect—”
He didn’t finish.
A thunderous explosion ripped through the air.
The floor shook violently as the walls cracked and crumbled.
The building Petricks had so proudly boasted about collapsed in a deafening roar—gone in an instant.
…. Unlock sooooooooon!~