Chapter 55 : A Dance of Shadows and Doubts
Chapter 55
Johannes Schulz was not oblivious to Edward Windsor’s subtle maneuvering—his calculated proximity to Edith, his attempts to extract something buried deep within her guarded heart.
Edward, too, harbored doubts about Johannes’ relationship with Edith. Thus, it became Johannes’ quiet mission to dispel those suspicions, to keep the fragile balance of truth from shattering.
As far as he knew, there had been no ties—no whispers, no glances exchanged—between Isaac Prim and Edward Windsor. That alone offered Johannes some solace.
But still…
“It’s too close,” he muttered, his voice low and edged with quiet warning, his gaze fixed on Edward as he stood beside Edith. His arm brushed hers—too deliberately.
Should he separate them?
“Ma’am.”
At his voice, both Edith and Edward turned simultaneously. A spark danced in Edward’s eyes.
“A saboteur appears,” he said with a grin.
“Isn’t it you who stands between us?” Johannes responded coolly, slipping an arm around Edith’s shoulders and drawing her close. She trembled beneath his touch.
“I see,” Edward murmured, unbothered. With an almost bored elegance, he slipped his hands into his pockets and added, “I heard you’ve been preoccupied lately. A name came up… Noah Weber, was it? One of your men in the navy, stirring trouble.”
He let the words drip like poison from his tongue.
“During that train fire incident…” His eyes flicked to Edith, lips curving into a sly smile. “I heard the Duchess was severely injured. But how fortunate—she recovered.”
He paused, savoring the tension.
“And if I recall correctly, that same day, young Noah displayed some remarkable deductive skills at the scene. Seemed quite capable.”
Silence stretched. Johannes remained quiet, unreadable.
Edward narrowed his eyes, sensing resistance—no, more than that: condemnation.
He pressed on. “The train accident had nothing to do with me. My alibi is clear, as you well know.”
Strange, how he insisted on innocence no one demanded. The guilt pressed too heavily not to spill.
Johannes, who had listened in silence, now parted his lips slowly.
“Why would I suspect that you, of all people, would place my wife in harm’s way?”
“What?”
“We’ve concluded our investigation,” Johannes said evenly. “You had no ties to Noah Weber. Your alibi holds. You’re clean.”
Edward’s expression soured. He realized it a moment too late—he’d been ensnared in Johannes’ game from the beginning.
A soft chuckle escaped Edward’s lips. “I see… I suppose I was so used to your suspicion that I defended myself reflexively.”
The schedule at Barberin Castle proceeded with unexpected ease—almost too smoothly.
On the train back to Mussen, Edith’s thoughts drifted to the earlier exchange between the two men.
“What did you and Edward talk about?” Johannes asked abruptly, his gaze leaving the window.
‘Was there… even a single mention of Johannes Schulz in that letter?’
His words lingered, twisting inside her. Unease blossomed. She couldn’t bring herself to confess everything. With a touch of guilt, she offered a half-truth.
“Nothing serious. The same empty talk… He always wonders if you’re good to me. Meaningless nonsense.”
“Is that so?”
His voice carried quiet doubt.
“I just felt… a bit burdened, that’s all.”
Johannes straightened, clearly unconvinced. But Edith couldn’t tell him—not when Edward’s insinuations hinted at a connection between Johannes and her father’s death.
‘There’s no use…’
A shadow fell across her thoughts.
The deeper she delved, the darker it became. Clues blurred into questions, and the man known as the fixer returned to mind.
“By the way,” she blurted, “what happened with that problem solver? Last time you said he’d give me the answer I wanted.”
Johannes tilted his head, amused.
“It’s a trick. Every visitor brings a problem that feels unsolvable. He pretends to know everything, then raises the price with each answer.”
“Ah…”
She blinked, dazed.
She had foolishly believed he might know about her father, about the letter. She had imagined him omniscient—a god in human form.
With a deep breath, she smoothed her hair—though it wasn’t disheveled.
“But… you’ll let me ask him anyway? Right?”
He didn’t answer at first.
“You said you’d go to the herbal market again soon. Let me accompany the navy next time they investigate.”
“…Very well.”
“Thank you.”
She turned to gaze out the window, watching the countryside blur past.
Then Johannes spoke, his voice low. “About what happened in the throne room…”
She looked at him, startled.
“…I’m sorry. That wasn’t the response I should’ve given to the King.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected him to revisit that moment.
His jaw was tight. The apology sat heavy between them.
“…It’s fine,” she replied softly. “I was embarrassed, but I would’ve understood. If the Duke had handed me over to the King… I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
She averted her gaze, her voice tinged with forced calm.
Disappointment wasn’t her privilege to show.
Silence fell again. Then their eyes met—blue and brilliant, flickering like a dying star.
‘Why does he look… so alone?’
Johannes chewed his lip. His voice trembled faintly.
“…Aren’t you disappointed?”
Did he doubt her now?
She searched his face, uncertain. Was he questioning her loyalty… or burdening her with his?
“Of course,” she said. “But I understand—it’s not that simple.”
“‘Of course’?”
“Yes. You told me once—there’s a reason you chose me. We agreed to trust each other. Like a true married couple.”
Did that satisfy him?
His expression changed—flickering with something unreadable. She brushed his hair from his brow.
“I know how shrewd the King is,” she added. “He was watching me. I’m sure I looked like a woman afraid of being torn from the man she loved.”
The King’s position in Docilia was unstable.
He was greedy. Reckless. And when the treasury dried up, he slaughtered innocent alchemists to save face.
Only the invention of smokeless gunpowder had preserved their fragile place.
But in this war-torn moment, even that wasn’t enough.
The King needed a scapegoat.
And what better than a Duke—beloved, admired—made a fool in front of all?
A sacrifice to restore royal favor.
She saw it now.
Yet Johannes did not seem pleased with her reasoning. His lips curled, voice laced with irony.
“Fortunately, she looked fragile. As though she truly loved me.”
“I’m glad it showed. The King said people like me are rare. I just wanted to meet his expectations.”
Her smile was faint. Sharp. Slightly mischievous.
Johannes stared at her, puzzled—then laughed under his breath.
And from that moment, he said nothing more.
Not on the train.
Not at the station.
Not even upon returning to Castle Evanstein.
