Chapter 152: The Fall of the Fox: When Blood Stains Royal Silk
Chapter 152
“The Fall of the Fox: When Blood Stains Royal Silk”
“Edward Windsor. From this moment forward, you are under arrest for suspicion of involvement in the Mussen serial murders.”
There was no room for error. It was Johannes—unmistakably so—standing tall, clad in navy uniform, his pistol unwavering, aimed at the man once thought untouchable. His voice was as cold as steel, devoid of hesitation.
“Johannes…?”
I stared at the crimson trail blooming across the fine carpet. My mind struggled to comprehend what was unfolding. Was this real? Or some cruel illusion?
“What madness is this…?”
How had he entered the Marquis’s residence undetected? What possessed him to shoot Edward Windsor—right here, now?
I glanced around, stunned. The room, once echoing with shallow civility, now sat breathless.
Old Mrs. Russell had collapsed to the floor, her composure shattered, her face pale and drained of dignity. Her lips trembled, but no sound emerged.
Johannes, however, did not so much as flinch. His gun remained fixed on Edward’s skull, as though he were aiming not at a man, but at every lie the monarchy had dared to tell.
‘No—!’
I wanted to scream. To stop him. But the weight in my throat was paralyzing. Not a single sound escaped my lips, not even a breath of protest.
Was I… terrified?
No. It wasn’t fear—it was shock. Pure and raw.
‘Why is he doing this now…?’
But the fog lifted. Johannes Schulz was not a man who acted on impulse. This was not rage. This was judgment, sharpened and deliberate.
He had promised—no matter the cost, he would come for me.
‘But not this soon…’
Hadn’t it been less than a day since I arrived here? The distance from Baden to Börn alone would require half that time… Edward wouldn’t have informed him.
No, this wasn’t a leak from Edward. This had Johannes’s network written all over it.
‘Someone in the royal court must have tipped him off…’
But… how did he know Edward was the murderer?
Was it a guess he had hidden beneath layers of restraint all along? Or had he found irrefutable proof while I was locked inside this web?
My thoughts stopped abruptly. Johannes pulled the trigger—again.
“Aagh!”
Edward’s scream tore through the room. He had crawled, dragging his broken legs across the floor, and now lay near my feet, clutching the wounds, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes and a face soaked in tears.
I took a step back, instinctively.
“S-Stop!”
It was then that Old Mrs. Russell shrieked, finally snapping from her stupor. She struggled to rise, her expression contorted with disbelief and indignation.
“…Duke Schulz! What in God’s name are you doing?! Have you lost your senses, firing at Prince Windsor?!”
Her voice cracked. Yet no servant appeared. No one moved to aid her.
“Guards! Guards!”
Her call echoed—pointless. The tightly sealed doors remained still. The once-opulent drawing room had become a prison.
Edward whimpered. Mrs. Russell gasped for air. But not a single one of her sons-in-law dared move.
My instinct told me that door would not open unless Johannes himself willed it.
I stepped away from Edward’s writhing body and turned to look at the man in uniform.
He hadn’t looked at me once… and yet I felt his presence like a shield. This was no act of madness.
‘He’s come as a naval officer…’
That uniform wasn’t just for show. The mansion—its servants, guards, perhaps even the estate itself—was under his control.
While I felt a flicker of relief, Mrs. Russell’s voice rose again, shrilly.
“Johannes Schulz! Answer me! Are you insane?!”
Only now did he shift his gaze, glancing at her as though her words were dust in the wind.
“I am perfectly sane.”
She reeled, clutching her chest.
“You shot royalty! Do you even understand what you’ve done?!”
“I held back,” he said coolly, “out of courtesy to an old woman.”
“You… outrageous—!”
Red with fury, she staggered to her feet and stormed toward him, her fists clenched with trembling rage.
She opened her mouth to speak—
“Edward Windsor is a suspect in the Mussen serial murders. Didn’t you hear me the first time?”
Mrs. Russell blinked, stunned. “Suspect…?”
The words echoed in the silence like a dropped blade.
She laughed, hollow and bitter.
“Have you lost your mind? You barge into a noble home wearing a uniform—and dare call this justice? This is treason, Duke!”
Johannes reached into his pocket. From within, he drew a sealed document.
An official arrest warrant—stamped by the naval court.
Her hands shook as she accepted it.
Her face paled. Slowly, her eyes darted from the paper to Edward, and a dreadful realization began to dawn.
Perhaps… just perhaps… this wasn’t a lie.
“It’s both tragic and pathetic,” Johannes said, his voice low, “to be deceived so thoroughly by the very man who murdered your son.”
“………”
“There is more than enough evidence. Stand in my way, and I’ll arrest you as his accomplice.”
Mrs. Russell’s expression crumbled. She stepped aside—silently.
Only then did Johannes look at me.
I felt my body exhale, my chest finally ease—
—but before I could smile, my vision tilted.
A sharp pain from the poison coursed through me. The world spun. Then faded.
Earlier, at the gates of the Russell estate…
Johannes stood still, gazing down at the man kneeling before him. Subdued, cuffed, and silent.
Giltheon.
Or rather—the youngest of them. The betrayer.
“I lost,” came the familiar voice, laced with irony.
Johannes recognized him instantly. The stance. The tone. That cruel smirk. No mistaking it.
He thought of the last words of the others—their quiet sadness, their disbelief.
‘We always knew she longed for freedom.’
‘We hoped she wouldn’t betray us… but maybe we were just lying to ourselves.’
Johannes didn’t pull the trigger. Not yet.
Giltheon chuckled.
“So this is it. I was utterly defeated.”
“………”
“The navy’s here. Isaac must have woken up. And it seems… the tide has turned.”
Still no answer.
“They wouldn’t have spoken otherwise. My brothers were loyal. Exceptionally so.”
Johannes’s silence was thunderous.
“You hesitate. Why? Because we’ve met before? Spare me.”
The final words grated on Johannes’s nerves. His eyes narrowed.
“I feel nothing for you.”
His voice dropped to a deathly whisper.
“You lost, Giltheon. Completely. And thinking I’d show you mercy… was your final miscalculation.”
He raised his pistol, pressed it to Giltheon’s temple.
And fired.
