Chapter 80 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝
✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖𝟎 ✦
❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝❞
⟪𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.⟫
𓆩⟡𓆪───────𖤐───────𓆩⟡𓆪
By now, Shaton had disappeared from view—blended once more into the shadows like smoke in the wind. She must have retreated to a distance, observing me quietly from afar.
I turned my eyes to the rusted sign marking the entrance of the street:
JWOK DISTRICT 1
The Jaywock District—an underbelly of the city—where ramshackle homes leaned on one another like drunks sharing secrets. Narrow alleys twisted through the gloom like veins, their paths dimly lit by sparse streetlamps. Every window was veiled in threadbare cloth, each wall a canvas of time and poverty.
It was, frankly, a place one ought not to visit.
But it was daytime. And as far as I recalled, the people here weren’t malicious.
Jaywock had never witnessed any serious crimes—at least, none that had made it into memory.
Yet something about this place sent a chill racing down my spine.
Déjà vu.
Words I had once read in a novel resurfaced with a clarity so sudden, it stole the breath from my lungs:
“The J-Wok area was not a place where many people visited. But our hero was brave, and she had faith that she could catch the criminal.”
A scene from the very novel I’d once read.
It began with a newspaper.
“It was a refreshing morning. She read about another murder. Her sense of justice flared like wildfire.”
And then—
“She decided to first look at where the murder occurred in Mussen. While searching through old newspapers, her eyes were drawn to a case from May 7th, 1825—a murder in a Jaywock tavern.”
May 7th.
Today.
I stood frozen.
Why now? Why here?
Could this be fate nudging me—offering a chance to intervene?
There was only one tavern in Jaywock.
Could I prevent a murder?
The thought was reckless. But my instincts screamed to follow it.
It was still early afternoon. There wouldn’t be many around.
And I wasn’t alone. My escort was close—silent but deadly. Surely I’d be safe if I just stepped inside for a moment.
The criminal, after all, usually hunted alone.
If I intruded, maybe I’d disrupt the plan. Maybe I’d buy the victim time.
Even a skilled killer would struggle to dispatch three people without error.
So—I ran.
My steps echoed down the broken pavement as I marched forward, and at last, I saw it:
A wooden sign, swaying above the tavern’s entrance.
But just as I approached the shadowed stairwell… I froze.
No sound came from below.
I hesitated.
Was my memory wrong?
Was I making a mistake by being here?
But to come this far, and retreat? That would be cowardice.
And if I was wrong—if the event in the novel diverged from reality—then maybe that would mean Johannes wasn’t the killer after all.
I swallowed the dryness in my throat.
Then—I stepped down into the darkness.
𓆩⟡𓆪───────✦───────𓆩⟡𓆪
The tavern door creaked open beneath my touch.
And in that instant—
Our eyes met.
A man stood just inside the threshold, hood drawn low, shadow cloaking his face.
I froze.
Like prey caught in a hunter’s gaze.
My mind screamed shout!—call Shaton!—run!
But my body wouldn’t move. My voice faltered, choked by terror.
Behind him, a motionless figure lay sprawled—lifeless.
A corpse.
I couldn’t breathe.
His hood shifted slightly, revealing a glint of pale hair. My breath caught.
Then—
Our eyes locked.
Blue.
Brilliant, sharp blue.
“…Johannes…?”
The name left my lips without thought, like a betrayal.
He flinched.
A pause.
Then, like a man recovering his composure, he scoffed softly.
And in that moment—that fleeting, damning moment—a familiar scent wafted toward me.
Mint. And burnt leaves.
…Cigarettes.
Johannes smoked that same scent.
My hand twitched—wanting to rip the hood away.
But my limbs were stone.
He passed me without a word. Without even touching me.
Just… vanished.
𓆩⟡𓆪───────✦───────𓆩⟡𓆪
I stumbled up the stairs, heart in disarray.
Before I could catch my breath, Shaton was there—running toward me.
“My lady!”
Her eyes searched me in panic.
“…Chase him,” I gasped, pointing in the direction he fled. “There’s… someone dead. That man…!”
But she shook her head.
“My orders are to protect you.”
“I’m not hurt. I’m fine. Please…!”
“It’s the police’s duty to pursue criminals.”
“He saw my face.”
For the first time—her eyes narrowed with true concern.
“…Understood.”
And like a flash of light, she was gone.
𓆩⟡𓆪───────✦───────𓆩⟡𓆪
I collapsed to the ground.
My body trembled. I couldn’t stop it.
I saw him.
Not from afar.
Not in passing.
I stood face to face with the killer.
And I lived.
A miracle.
Eventually, I flagged down a passerby and asked him to report to the police.
Time passed slowly.
Too slowly.
Finally—sirens.
In this neglected district, there was no local station. But word had spread, and a crowd began to form.
“…Are you the one who reported it?”
A man in uniform approached me. His voice was brisk.
I nodded.
“You’ll need to stay for questioning.”
I complied.
There wasn’t much I could give—gender, eye color, hair shade. Nothing more.
“Let’s check the basement.”
Before descending with the officers, I glanced toward the alley.
Still no sign of Shaton.
Had she caught him? Had she… seen his face?
Could it be Johannes?
His build. His eyes. That scent.
Everything matched.
“Ha…”
Just then—
“Princess?”
I turned.
A familiar voice, firm and clear.
Edward Windsor.
His face was stern—cold.
“What brings you here, madam?”
𓆩⟡𓆪───────✦ 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝… ✦───────𓆩⟡𓆪
