Chapter 111 : Whispers Between Shadows and Smoke
Chapter 111 : Whispers Between Shadows and Smoke
Ahin fell into my arms with a weight that seemed to carry every sleepless hour of the night. Her chest heaved in frantic, tremulous waves, and her reddened eyes shimmered with exhaustion and fear.
“I thought something had happened to you… Do you know how worried I was?”
Her voice cracked. I felt the chill of guilt seep into my bones as I cradled her trembling hand, warm and damp with tears.
“I’m sorry, Ahin.”
There was no excuse worthy of her devotion. No words sufficient to undo the torment she must have endured in silence, replaying horrors that never came to pass, but felt no less real.
If I had been hurt—or worse—Ahin would have borne the consequences. Not for failing in duty, but for trusting me too much.
I gently stroked her back, drawing her into the solace of my arms until her sobs slowly stilled.
“Let me see you,” she whispered as she stepped back. Her fingers brushed over my arms and face in a frantic, tender inspection. “Thank goodness… you’re not hurt.”
Her brow lifted in confusion, eyes wide.
“Were you… were you worried about me?”
“Of course I was!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t sleep a wink. Why would you disappear like that? Was I not dependable? Did I—?”
“No, Ahin. It wasn’t that.”
I shook my head, desperate to stop her spiraling thoughts.
“There was something I needed to do alone. I didn’t mean to shut you out. I’m sorry.”
Her concern warmed me more than she knew, but another question quickly took its place.
“But… how did you know we’d be here? This isn’t a train station. It’s not even a common road for carriages.”
She bit her lip, her voice trembling.
“A man… someone sent a message to the Duke’s estate.”
“A message?”
Ahin inhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose, sorting through memories.
“Deacon Gunner received it. He was told exactly when you’d arrive here.”
I looked toward the vanishing trail of our carriage.
The shadow of suspicion returned, heavier now.
Could it have been Giltheon?
“Gunner seemed to know the man. He trusted him without hesitation,” Ahin added, and then hesitated. “But there was something else… the man wanted money. He said he’d share information about the Duke and Duchess only if he was paid.”
My eyes flicked toward Sir Fret, who had drifted closer to Johannes.
“Sir Fret agreed?”
She nodded.
Yes. That had to be Giltheon.
Sir Fret must have recognized him, even in disguise. It was a problem solver’s trade to exchange secrets for coin.
But Ahin wasn’t finished. She leaned close, her voice low.
“There’s more. On my way here, I met a man. He deliberately approached me and said to give you this.”
She pressed something into my palm.
“He told me his name was Giltheon.”
The air left my lungs.
“Giltheon? He said that to you?”
“I thought I’d been deceived. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“No, Ahin… it’s not your fault.”
So, it hadn’t been the driver. Giltheon had a helper. That much was now certain.
Ahin, being a lady’s maid, was an easy and discreet target. In noble society, maids were often overlooked—trusted with little, and replaceable. To Giltheon, she was the perfect conduit.
“And one last thing,” Ahin added cautiously. “He said… you can come with a tail. Whatever that means.”
A cryptic message. An invitation masked in shadow.
I unfolded the note:
We will soon be opening a space at an art museum on the 4th Avenue in Buten, so go out without being noticed.
Miriam Cams
Far across the land, in the somber halls of Barberin Castle, the King sat with a restless expression as Christian remained silent before him.
His brow twitched.
“They say Duke and Duchess Schultz have disappeared. Do you know anything, Christian?”
“Nothing of consequence,” she answered lightly.
His lips curled in irritation.
“You knew and failed to report it?”
Christian smiled with cool poise.
“I presumed Your Majesty was already informed. It didn’t seem significant to the royal family.”
The King drummed thick fingers on the throne.
Christian added, “The Duchess vanished on a train to Böln. The Duke, upon hearing this, went after her. I imagine they’ve reunited by now.”
The King’s narrowed eyes glinted.
“So the wives now vanish of their own accord? What lack of discipline is this?”
Christian winced internally. Another nonsensical diversion.
‘Is he becoming senile?’
But now was not the time to reflect on royal decay.
“What truly matters,” she said, “is the growing pressure from the victorious nations. War reparations cannot be delayed much longer.”
At that, the King’s eyes sharpened.
“Yes. And we must shift public sentiment. No more distractions using Duke Schultz. We need something greater.”
Christian replied evenly, “The Royal Department Store’s grand opening is approaching. That may serve.”
A flicker of excitement danced in the King’s eyes.
“Perfect,” he hissed. “If we pair it with a spectacle—something to seize their attention—then let the crowd look elsewhere.”
His voice dropped to a whisper of scheming.
“Yes… something dazzling… something unforgettable.”
