Chapter 96 : Where Firelight Meets Secrets
✦ EPISODE 96 ✦
“Where Firelight Meets Secrets”
Herzburg lay in an eerie hush—
A silence so profound it felt as if the town itself were holding its breath.
Leaning against the timeworn doorway, Johannes Schulz let his gaze sweep across the landscape, his thoughts anchored in the memory of her voice moments before she disappeared inside the old house.
‘I believe I should go in… alone.’
It had been nearly two hours since she’d stepped into the house without him. The crimson sun now dipped low on the western horizon, bleeding its final light across the world.
Through the dusty glass, he watched Edith, still seated at the worn table, scribbling furiously into a notebook. For hours she hadn’t moved. Her dedication was unwavering.
Isaac Prim… no—Max Russell… he must’ve left something.
Johannes pressed a pen between his lips, then dragged a tired hand down his face. His fingers trembled ever so slightly.
Why am I so on edge?
Not even during the cruelest days of battle had he known such restless unease. He raked his hand through his tousled hair, his breath caught in an invisible snare of doubt.
Had Max Russell left a final message—a warning—for Edith to stay away from him?
No. That wasn’t the point.
The true question was: Why did he care so deeply?
His only intention had been to preserve a cordial, amicable relationship. Nothing more. Nothing that might stray into something deeper.
And yet—there it was. A sharp, unfamiliar ache bloomed in his chest. Something that should not have taken root.
It was almost laughable.
If Edith were to turn away from me now… if she refused to even hear my explanation…
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, slamming his boot against the dirt.
When he looked again, she was rummaging through the dresser, her posture tense, her shoulders tight.
And that was the moment he realized: he was an impatient man.
Perhaps, he always had been.
He just hadn’t known until now.
Without hesitation, he stepped inside.
The house was in disarray—papers, relics, half-open drawers. But what caught his eye was a small collection of picture frames hanging on the wall… and within them, a seal.
The unofficial insignia of Lucas Schulz, his father. The former Duke of Schulz.
Why… is that here?
His eyes narrowed instinctively. Was this man truly a friend?
Moving closer, he found Edith utterly absorbed in her task—so focused, she hadn’t noticed his presence.
Her long, dark hair swayed gently with each breath. Even from behind, he could sense her expression: brows furrowed, eyes alight with fire and thought, locked in battle with memory and meaning.
Then, his gaze fell to a letter near her elbow.
And he read the words that shattered his heart.
[If you haven’t let go of your regrets, then let me be clear: marrying that man is a mistake.]
The world seemed to tilt beneath him.
The seal, the past, the war—it all faded. Only one thought remained:
She regrets marrying me.
“What are you looking so hard for?” he asked without thinking, his voice low and edged.
The words spilled out unfiltered—careless.
He hadn’t realized until now how deeply Porche Max’s cryptic words about Lucas Schulz had taken root in his mind.
The appearance of that old seal… the letter…
All of it whispered the same bitter suspicion:
Edith might be in greater danger than he feared.
The moment I widened my eyes in stunned realization—ready to push Johannes away—
Ting!
Instead of a thunderous blast, there came the hollow clang of empty metal.
I froze.
Johannes merely tilted his head, his face unreadable, almost expectant.
Porche Max stared, dumbfounded.
“W-what…!”
He frantically pulled the trigger again.
Ting. Ting.
The same metallic hollowness echoed.
No bullets. No threat. Only failure.
In his panic, Porche Max jerked the gun up to inspect the magazine.
“You’ve clearly never handled a real weapon,” Johannes said coldly.
“You can’t even estimate its weight.”
“…What?”
And then, with the calm cruelty of a soldier, he reached into his coat and produced a single bullet.
He smiled.
“Next time, check if it’s loaded.”
Before the man could react, Johannes moved with swift precision, slamming the side of the gun into his neck.
A grunt.
Then silence.
Porche Max crumpled to the ground like a felled statue.
As I stared in disbelief at the man sprawled on the floor, Johannes spoke behind me:
“I removed the bullets when I took his coat. I suspected his intentions—and wanted to observe.”
So that was it… I should’ve questioned the moment he took that coat.
“He may have been bold,” Johannes continued, “but he lacked finesse. I doubt he even had a real motive.”
“…I’m still trying to make sense of it. Is what he said… about the accusation… is it true?”
“We’ll have to dig deeper,” he said softly.
He examined the house once more, searching the corners, the backyard, before finally dragging the unconscious man outside.
Before leaving, he turned to me.
“Don’t disappear on your own again. Stay inside.”
It seemed he intended to confine the man in a shed… but he didn’t return for a while.
When he did, he muttered something grim.
“I can’t handle this. This town is far too closed. Who knows what might happen?”
And then—without hesitation—he reached for my hand.
My breath caught.
It was instinct. A pure desire—please… don’t let anyone die.
“Of course,” I said quickly. “Killing is wrong. And also…”
I looked up at him.
Our hands were still intertwined.
Startled, he tightened his grip.
“Oh—I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to pull away.
But he didn’t let go.
I bit my lip and spoke.
“You may have misunderstood. I did trust the Duke. He… he handled it his way.”
“I didn’t accuse you of anything,” Johannes said gently, a faint smile on his lips.
Still, it felt like I was making excuses.
Because I’d seen how he’d unravelled over his father…
“…Anyway.”
He gazed down at me. His sea-blue eyes were a tempest of thought, but when he blinked, they calmed—like waves settling after a storm.
His lips parted.
“I don’t want you to take matters into your own hands.”
“Yes?”
“It’s true—I gave you that gun, to protect yourself. But still…”
He squeezed my hand again. His voice softened.
“When you’re with me… please don’t do anything dangerous.”
A pause.
“Isn’t it my duty, as your husband… to keep you safe?”
I parted my lips, uncertain. He smiled, a gentle, warm smile that only deepened my confusion.
Everyone told me to stay away from him. That he was dangerous. But inside me… a forbidden feeling was growing. Quietly, recklessly.
Maybe he was only being kind… out of obligation.
But the ache in my chest said otherwise.
His expression shifted—stiffened.
I tried to force a smile, but it twisted in pain. Quickly, I withdrew my hand and turned away.
“Did I do something wrong?”
His voice was hesitant—softer than I’d ever heard it.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“I’m just… tired.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder and led me to the sofa.
“Let’s stay here tonight,” he said, looking into my eyes. “We’ll investigate more tomorrow.”
I nodded slowly, mind still spinning.
“The house has been empty for years. I doubt there’s any proper bedding. I’ll start a fire—it’ll be warmer soon.”
“Thank you.”
He frowned slightly, as if my words bothered him.
He seemed like he wanted to say more… but he turned away and went to light the fire. The gentle crackling soon filled the silence, warming the cold corners of the room.
I sat on the sofa, watching him move.
Then he paused in front of a painting.
A black eagle, its wings knotted with ancient patterns.
“May I take a closer look at this?” he asked, his voice unusually sharp.
I nodded.
He lifted the frame, turned it over—
And something hidden fell to the floor.
