Chapter 38 Answers

  The crimson sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the capital city of the Uruk Kingdom. As darkness settled, candles and magical lanterns flickered to life, illuminating the bustling streets.

  At the castle, sentry knights patrolled the walls, their armor glinting under the dim light.

  A shadow moved silently between the patches of darkness, pausing as a knight passed by. The rhythmic sound of footsteps gradually faded into the distance. Hidden in the low light, Iryoku watched the guard's retreating figure before shifting his gaze toward the clearing between the outer wall and the castle itself.

  Crouched low, nearly crawling along the ground, he suddenly dashed forward with unparalleled speed, his movements eerily silent. In an instant, he reached the castle wall, took a precise step, and leaped high into the air, soaring effortlessly to the third floor. His fingers caught the edge of a window with a firm, soundless grip. Carefully, he pried it open and slipped inside, landing without a single noise.

  His face remained expressionless as he moved slowly through the dimly lit hallway, his every step measured and controlled.

  Suddenly, a presence approached. Reacting instantly, he sprang upward, pressing himself against the ceiling, his body melting into the shadows.

  A maid walked down the corridor, balancing a tray with two cups and a teapot. Something about her seemed familiar. Remaining undetected, he crawled across the ceiling like a spider, following her silently.

  The maid stopped before a grand door, where two knights stood on guard.

  "I've brought tea for Her Majesty and the Count," she said politely, bowing slightly.

  The knights exchanged glances, their lecherous gazes lingering on the maid before they wordlessly opened the door.

  Taking advantage of the moment, Iryoku slipped inside, his presence nearly invisible.

  Inside, a spacious room stretched before him. A grand table sat at the center, its polished surface reflecting the warm candlelight.

  But what immediately caught his attention was the large painting on the wall—an intricate web of connected points.

  His eyes narrowed.

  I was right… he thought. The drawings are similar.

  The image stirred a memory—Deborah’s lair.

  However, this wasn’t why he was here.

  Shifting his focus, he looked toward the head of the table, where a blonde woman sat elegantly—Princess Agnes.

  Iryoku’s expression darkened as he analyzed the scene before him. Behind her stood a knight, though it wasn’t Joseph.

  Seated beside the princess was a fat man in fine noble attire, sipping tea with an air of satisfaction.

  "That’s right, Lady Agnes," the nobleman said, setting down his cup. "The kingdom is getting back on track…"

  "Thanks to my counsel, you're doing a much better job," the fat noble remarked, his eyes shamelessly roaming over Agnes' body as he took another sip of tea.

  "I hope you haven’t forgotten my request," he continued, his tone laced with expectation.

  The princess, her face bright and carefree as if she had no worries, responded smoothly, "Of course, Lord Maxwell, but please give me some time. They are currently out on an important mission."

  Maxwell chuckled, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

  Suddenly, a knock came at the door. One of the knights opened it, allowing a servant to step inside. The servant bowed respectfully before speaking.

  "Excuse me, Princess Agnes, Count Maxwell—the preparations are ready, Your Highness."

  Agnes' expression remained unchanged, her smile unwavering. With graceful poise, she stood up and gave a polite bow.

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  "Excuse me, Lord Maxwell, but it's time for my magic studies," she said before turning and walking out, accompanied by a single knight.

  Iryoku, hidden within the shadows, considered following her.

  But he stayed.

  Left alone, Maxwell finished his tea, setting the cup down with a smug grin. Then, his expression twisted into something ugly.

  "I hope that little mongrel bitch knows her place," he sneered, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "The only thing she’s good for is following orders and serving."

  He let out a disgusting, wheezing laugh before sneering, "Those three beauties will be mine… I can’t wait to break them."

  His laughter echoed as he sauntered out of the room.

  Unseen, unnoticed, Iryoku was no longer on the ceiling.

  Only two deep handprints remained embedded in the stone above, where the sheer force of his grip had crushed the rock.

  Princess Agnes arrived at a room on the upper floors, her face still adorned with the same serene smile.

  Turning to the knight behind her, she spoke gently, "You may leave. I’ll be occupied studying in my chambers."

  The knight bowed and departed, leaving her alone.

  As soon as the door closed, her expression shifted. The mask of cheerfulness faded, replaced by something far more serious.

  Letting out a quiet sigh, she finally allowed herself a moment to relax.

  Princess Agnes sat at her desk, flipping through the pages of an old book, her eyes scanning the words carefully. She had read this passage countless times before, yet she went through it again, absorbing every detail.

  After some time, she placed the book down and reached for the green gemstone hanging around her neck. Holding it tightly, she closed her eyes and began chanting a spell over her own body. A faint glow surrounded her, growing brighter with each passing second before slowly fading back into nothingness.

  "That should be all for today," she murmured to herself.

  Standing up, she made her way to her bed and changed into more comfortable clothes for the night. She lay down, her lustrous blonde hair shifting to reveal her distinctive, pointed ears. Her breathing gradually slowed, becoming steady as she drifted toward sleep.

  Then—a sound.

  It was small, barely noticeable, but enough to snap her eyes open. Instinctively, her hand reached under her dress, fingers wrapping around the handle of a hidden blade.

  She turned her head toward the source of the noise.

  Her book had fallen to the floor.

  Slowly, cautiously, she slid out of bed, her bare delicate feet making no sound against the cold floor. The room was bathed in pale moonlight streaming in from a nearby window, casting long shadows across the walls.

  A chill crawled down her spine.

  Just as she turned to react—

  A large hand clamped tightly over her mouth, gripping her face with force.

  Another seized her wrist, preventing her from wielding the dagger.

  Her eyes widened in shock as panic surged through her veins. An assassin?

  A shadow loomed over her, its presence overwhelming, suffocating.

  "Don't move," a hoarse, weary voice warned.

  Something about it felt oddly familiar.

  Before she could struggle, the man quickly pried the dagger from her grip and tucked it away at his belt.

  "You wear the mask of someone who wouldn't hurt a fly," the voice muttered, rough and unsteady. "But I knew that wasn’t true."

  He stepped forward into the moonlight.

  Agnes' breath hitched.

  A young man stood before her, dressed in simple, worn villager’s clothes. His body was thin, almost gaunt, as if he had gone too long without proper rest or nourishment. His unkempt hair hung in messy strands over his face, with patches that refused to grow due to old burns. Faint stubble lined his jaw.

  His face was a battlefield of scars and burn marks, each one a silent testament to the hardships he had endured.

  Yet, despite the exhaustion evident in his features, his eyes…

  They burned with an intensity that had never faded.

  Sharp. Unyielding.

  Lord Iryoku… you’re alive... she thought, recognizing him.

  A wave of relief washed over her, and her body relaxed slightly as the initial fear subsided.

  Slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth. She couldn't help but notice the roughness of his skin—his palm covered in scars and calluses, evidence of a life hardened by battle.

  Then, in a voice deep and heavy with exhaustion, he spoke.

  "Where are they?"

  His expression remained serious, bordering on madness—desperate, as if he had been searching for this answer for far too long.

  Agnes’ eyes wavered. She had known this question was coming the moment she recognized him.

  Yet, when it finally came, all she could do was lower her gaze and mutter softly, "I... I don't know."

  Iryoku’s expression remained unreadable, his tired yet piercing eyes locked onto her.

  His voice came again, colder this time. "Are they alive?"

  Agnes hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly. She still couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

  "I don't know…" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Then—

  A sharp crack echoed through the room.

  Her head snapped to the side as a powerful slap landed across her face, the force of it knocking her off balance. She collapsed onto the floor, her body twisting as she caught herself on her hands. A burning sting spread across her cheek, a deep red imprint of Iryoku’s hand already forming.

  For a moment, there was only silence, save for her unsteady breathing.

  Slowly, she lifted her upper body, her fingers pressing against the throbbing pain on her face. Her wide, shocked eyes flickered upward, searching for his.

  But the dim lighting of the room cast heavy shadows over Iryoku’s features, obscuring most of his face—except for his eyes.

  Those deep, furious eyes burned through the darkness.

  Without a word, Iryoku grabbed a chair and dragged it in front of her, the wooden legs scraping against the floor. He sat down, his posture rigid, his expression unrelenting.

  Leaning forward slightly, he spoke again, his voice low and demanding.

  "Tell me what happen?."

  His gaze never wavered.

  "That day…" Agnes began, her voice quiet yet heavy with remembrance.