Chapter 87 : Whispers of Disappearance and the Weight of Shadows
Chapter 87 — Whispers of Disappearance and the Weight of Shadows
Ahin awoke to the jarring grasp of rough hands shaking his frame.
“…Lady?”
His eyes fluttered open, only to be met by a visage twisted in urgency and fear.
“Where has the Duchess gone?”
“Yes? Of course…” Ahin blinked repeatedly, massaging the numb nape of his neck as the fog of memory slowly lifted, recalling fragments of the recent past.
“…I am truly sorry.”
“I must disembark here.”
His last recollection was of my stern expression before I had rendered him unconscious.
“The authenticity of your handwriting remains uncertain,” the voices muttered, “but for now, we cannot dismiss the possibility of kidnapping.”
The train had already arrived at Böln station, and before him stood the escorts from the mansion, voices rising in bewilderment.
“Kidnapping on a moving train? Absurd! We never left the guest room’s threshold—how else could someone have entered?”
“But there’s no other explanation for your disappearance. How do you explain that I entered the cabin as soon as the train halted and found you gone?”
“You left a note!”
One agitated servant brandished the paper vigorously.
Nearby, others debated urgent measures—alerting the mistress and conducting an exhaustive search.
Ahin’s eyes widened as the pieces aligned—Madam had not been kidnapped!
Anger and shock surged through him as he addressed the bickering men carefully.
“I… actually, Madam…”
“What is it? What did she do, truly?”
Caught in the grip of hesitation, Ahin weighed truth against discretion. At last, he resolved to speak.
Crouching, he murmured,
“I faintly remember… It’s strange—I cannot recall falling asleep, yet when I opened my eyes, my lady wore a look of confusion. Thereafter, I found her staring vacantly out the window…”
He faltered, poised to relay the last moments before his blackout, when a thunderous shout broke the tense silence.
“The director has vanished as well!”
An ominous realization dawned, and the guards exchanged troubled glances.
At the naval headquarters, Johannes Schulz received the shocking news of Edith’s disappearance just as the train docked at Böln.
“The Duchess is missing. The institution’s head is nowhere to be found.”
The report seemed a mockery of reason. Impatient, Johannes commanded the immediate release of all personnel and slammed down the receiver.
“Is this the work of Old Mrs. Russell?”
Perhaps the royal family had conspired with her.
She was the one who chartered the train—could this be her design?
But how does one vanish within the confines of a sealed carriage?
Reports noted the train had slowed intermittently.
The note confirmed Ahin’s safety and promised Edith’s swift return.
Piecing together Ahin’s last words before collapse, it became clear—
Edith Schultz had disappeared by her own will.
Johannes’ brow furrowed deeply, roused from thought by a knock at the commander’s door.
“The mail has arrived.”
The crisp voice shattered the tense silence. Before Johannes could grant entry, the door swung open.
A man bearing the postman’s cap strode in, clutching a parcel.
“Special delivery. Shipping fee: five hundred rubles.”
He set the mail upon the desk with a sly grin, to which Johannes responded with cold disdain.
“Enough with your jests.”
“…What prank am I pulling? Five hundred rubles, please.”
Johannes raised an eyebrow.
“Your gait gives you away, Giltheon.”
The postman tilted his head, amused.
“What’s wrong? Can’t fool the duke. It’s a side gig—postman.”
Johannes chuckled despite himself.
Truly, the timing is inconvenient.
He had recognized Giltheon the moment he stepped into his office. That cursed man was entwined in Edith’s disappearance.
Though the journey from Böln to here takes hours, Giltheon’s antics defied logic and time.
“Is this your handiwork? Or your fault? What prank this time?”
“No, I merely fulfilled a request. Fetch the mail, pay five hundred rubles. Don’t want to pay? I can retrieve it downstairs. Shall I sign for you?”
Giltheon grinned and forged Johannes’ signature on the receipt.
“Go check it out.”
Johannes seized the envelope, and upon noting the sender, his expression darkened further.
“Max Russell.”
A name long forgotten—yet one indelibly etched in memory.
“How do you know Max Russell? No, rather—Max Russell…”
“He lives. Under the name Isaac Prim.”
Johannes’ eyes narrowed.
“I’ve tangled with this man too many times to forget.”
“Do you comprehend the gravity of your words?”
If Giltheon had delivered mail in Isaac Prim’s name to Edith, or hinted at his existence, her disappearance made a haunting sense.
Whenever my father’s affairs were involved, I charged forward without hesitation. More so, with the possibility that he lived.
“It may not be mere nonsense. Open the letter.”
With a heavy breath, Johannes read aloud:
To Commander Shultz,
It has been long since my last greeting. You must be astonished to receive this letter, or perhaps doubtful if I am truly Isaac Prim.
But I write because the time has come for me to act.
I sent you a message before; if you divorce Edith, I will reveal the true culprit.
Yet you ignored my warning, even dubbing Evanstein Castle as ‘Prim Wood.’
Thus, I must intervene, for you have endangered Edith.
I know why you married my daughter—to achieve your aims through Old Mrs. Russell.
But know this: Old Mrs. Russell will never change. She disowned her only son for marrying a commoner, never searching for him—even though the woman he loved bore his child.
You think lightly because you have not witnessed her cruelty firsthand.
I do not wish my daughter harm, nor that she be thrust into unbearable trials.
Let Edith live a normal life. I implore you.
—Max Russell
Johannes slammed the letter down, grim.
Isaac Prim, thought lost to the world, lived—and for reasons unknown, hid in shadows.
Was this the cause behind Edith’s and my forced divorce?
Unclear as the link was, Johannes’ sole concern was her disappearance.
Now was no time for distractions.
With a silent resolve, he closed his eyes.
Fixer Giltheon—somehow allied with Isaac Prim, or Max Russell.
And Max Russell had his reasons for this letter.
If Edith was endangered, Johannes was collateral insurance.
Johannes clicked his tongue.
Even Giltheon could not steal Edith from a moving train.
Besides, Edith’s life as a commoner left her ill-equipped for a reckless leap, no matter how slow the train crawled.
Her disappearance made no sense.
Suddenly, a sharp blow struck Johannes’ head.
Damn it.
The reasons behind his marriage to Edith no longer mattered.
He wiped sweat from his brow.
There was but one truth—
Edith remained somewhere on that train.
