Chapter 97
The guards were unusually tense that morning — perhaps because Petricks had been in such a foul mood lately.
Tom had been watching the back gate every single day, wondering how he might escape unnoticed. But today, at last, a chance appeared.
“Hey, I need to hit the latrine. Must’ve had too much to drink earlier.”
“What? Me too.”
“Then let’s go together.”
“Think it’s fine to leave at the same time?”
“Who’s gonna show up at this hour?”
“Yeah, true.”
Growing careless over the past few days, the guards left their posts together. Tom didn’t hesitate. He seized the moment.
It took me too long already!
Anxious and desperate, Tom made his way straight to the Gloria household.
“Please! I beg you—let me see Lady Marsha!”
The gatekeeper, startled to see a ragged man appear so early in the morning, barked angrily,
“This isn’t a place for the likes of you! Get lost!”
Just then, the butler—who had been making his morning rounds in the garden—approached, having heard the commotion.
“What’s going on here?”
“Sir, this man showed up demanding to see Lady Marsha.”
The butler gave Tom a cold, assessing look. Anyone could see he was little more than a vagrant.
How would a man like this know Lady Railford? Maybe he saw her in the papers.
After all, reports of the Gloria family’s grand party had been in every paper for days.
He’s probably trying to con his way in. Pretend he knows her, win sympathy, and swindle some money.
Just as the butler was about to order the guards to throw him out, Tom shouted frantically,
“Please! If you tell her I’m the miner who left with her father, she’ll want to see me right away!”
The butler’s eyes sharpened. Could he really be someone from Lady Marsha’s past? And if so… was it a good connection, or a bad one?
Either way, letting a filthy vagrant wander around claiming to know her could only cause trouble.
“Take him away,” the butler ordered.
“Wait—wait! What are you doing?!” Tom struggled, but his resistance meant nothing against the guards’ strength.
Moments later, he found himself locked in the mansion’s underground prison.
Tom sat there, stunned. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy to meet Marsha—but this? Being thrown into a dungeon?
“I—I know I look suspicious, but please, this is urgent!” he pleaded through the iron bars.
The butler’s cold gaze didn’t waver. “Nothing you say will help. Keep your mouth shut until the Duke returns.”
The Duke…? That must mean Duke Claudio.
Tom’s lips trembled. He’d heard endless stories from Petricks about how cruel and terrifying Claudio was. Of course, Petricks’ hatred made him exaggerate—but still, a man like that wasn’t someone who’d waste time listening to the pleas of a nobody.
He might even kill me just for being annoying.
But death didn’t frighten Tom. What scared him was that Lady Marsha was in danger—and only he knew the truth.
Should I at least warn the butler that she’s in danger?
Yet doing so meant mentioning Lucas. And if Lucas’s name came up, Marsha’s past would inevitably come out too. As the daughter of Count Emelide, now living under the name of Lady Railford, it could ruin her.
But if I stay silent…
The butler turned to leave. Panic seized Tom.
“Lady Marsha is in danger!” he shouted.
“…What did you just say?”
The butler froze and looked back.
Swallowing hard, Tom explained everything—how Petricks, acting under Lucas’s orders, was plotting against her.
The butler’s eyes widened. “And who is this Lucas?”
Tom had expected that question. Taking a steadying breath, he began to recount the night that had started it all.
***
Four years ago.
A dark, humid forest, the moon veiled behind clouds.
“Ugh…!”
Count Emelide gasped as a blade pierced his chest.
Lucas, the man holding the sword, didn’t flinch. In fact, he looked… relieved.
Tom, his face drained of color, stammered,
“M–My Lord…?”
The Count collapsed to the ground. Trembling violently, Tom rushed to his side.
“My Lord!”
Lucas exhaled deeply, gazing up at the sky, before speaking in an irritated tone.
“Quiet down.”
“What—what have you done?! You said you only wanted to talk!”
Lucas tilted his head lazily and stared down at Tom.
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
Before Tom could answer, Petricks appeared from the darkness, accompanied by one of his men.
“What’s with all the noise? There may be no houses nearby, but still!”
The subordinate raised a torch to check the Count’s body.
“He won’t last long.”
“You should’ve finished it with one strike,” Petricks said with a smirk.
Lucas replied coolly, “I did it on purpose. He doesn’t deserve an easy death.”
“Hah! You’re a nasty one, aren’t you?”
Petricks laughed.
Then he turned to his man.
“Make it look like a robbery. Take anything valuable.”
The subordinate rifled through the Count’s belongings and even removed a ring from his hand.
“This one looks pricey.”
“Idiot,” Lucas snapped. “That gemstone’s too rare. It’ll be traced the moment it hits the market.”
The man scowled. “Who are you calling an idiot? You’re the one killing people over a woman. That’s even dumber.”
“…What did you just say?”
“Seriously, women aren’t that hard to get. Just take what you want. Especially nobles—they value purity so much it makes it easy. Or are you… incapable?”
The man chuckled crudely—until Lucas’s blade slit his throat in one clean motion.
Blood sprayed across the ground. He died instantly.
“Hey!” Petricks barked, running a hand through his hair. “You just killed my man! Do you know how many people I need to haul all this stuff across the border?”
“Ha. You mean that wagon of liquor?” Lucas muttered.
“You idiot! The travel permit has two names on it! I need another person with me!”
He couldn’t risk being caught smuggling or sneaking across illegally—it was too dangerous.
“And who’s supposed to clean up the body, huh?! You think it’s easy to dispose of a corpse?”
Petricks’s furious gaze landed on Tom, who was trembling like a leaf.
“…Well, that solves it.”
He strode toward Tom. Tom thought his end had come—but instead, Petricks said,
“Hey, you. Swap clothes with him.”
Tom blinked. “W–What?”
“Are you deaf? Switch clothes. Now.”
“Y–Yes, sir…”
The moment Tom changed into the dead man’s clothes, Petricks mutilated the corpse’s face beyond recognition.
“Lucky you,” Lucas said coldly. “If you’d been a little taller or shorter, we wouldn’t have had this option.”
Then, with a calm voice that sent chills down Tom’s spine, Lucas added,
“Don’t think too badly of me. Thanks to you, your family’s debt is gone. I’ll make sure they’re provided for. But…”
His eyes gleamed white in the darkness.
“The moment you betray me—your entire family dies.”
From that night onward, Tom was forced to live as Petricks’s underling. It was a nightmare. But because of that, he’d overheard Lucas’s latest, horrifying plan.
When Tom finished, the butler looked utterly bewildered.
The daughter of Count Emelide—Lady Marsha—was living as Lady Railford? And the man who murdered her father is trying to abduct her again?
It sounded insane.
“I can’t take your word for it without proof,” he said at last.
“I have proof,” Tom insisted, trembling.
“Documents linking Petricks to Lucas—evidence of human trafficking, murder, gambling, and more.”
He pulled a bundle of crumpled papers from his waistband. The butler, though hesitant, unfolded them—and his eyes went wide.
Every page detailed countless crimes.
“And there’s proof they killed Count Emelide too,” Tom added.
“What proof?”
“In Petricks’s office, you’ll find a very peculiar ring—set with a tourmaline gem that fades from green to red. That ring belonged to Count Emelide.”
Tom’s voice shook as he recalled their conversation from that night:
“Up close, it’s even nicer. Must be worth a fortune.”
“It’s the Emelide family’s heirloom—made into a wedding ring. There’s no other like it.”
“Can’t even sell or show it off. What a nuisance.”
“Search his office before he makes a move,” Tom urged.
The butler pressed a hand to his temple, feeling a headache coming on. Claudio was away, and acting on Tom’s words alone could be reckless.
I’ll have to consult Lady Railford first…
Just then, someone burst down the stairs.
“Butler!”
It was Marsha’s maid—her face pale with panic.
The butler’s heart sank. “What is it?”
“It’s terrible! The lady—she’s gone!”
