FJ 29

Chapter: 29

A group boarding the train all at once was bound to stand out—especially on a train that wasn’t very crowded.

That startled me.

For a split second, Juliet was shocked by the sight of men rushing in with swords at their sides. But almost immediately, she realized she had been mistaken.

The swaggering group that boarded the train was nothing compared to real knights—just a ragtag bunch.

They wore uniforms that looked convincing and carried flashy swords, but to Juliet’s trained eye—accustomed to the knights of a ducal house—their builds were lacking, and their movements sloppy.

“Ahem.”

“Count, please sit over here.”

The man who appeared to be their leader was a short, middle-aged man with a distinctly sleazy look about him.

So I startled myself for nothing.

Juliet sighed behind her teacup.

But… are weapons even allowed on trains?

As she tilted her head in doubt, the dining car door flew open just as expected, and the conductor hurried in, flustered.

“I’m very sorry, Count, but carrying long swords inside the train is prohibited.”

“What?”

“Please hand over your weapons, or you’ll have to disembark. Other passengers are feeling uncomfortable, so for now, if you’d just step outside—”

“Uncomfortable?!”

The stocky middle-aged man sprang to his feet. A count, apparently. The moment Juliet realized that, a painfully familiar troublemaker routine began.

“Have you said everything you wanted to say? How dare a lowly commoner claim I make people uncomfortable? Do you have any idea how much money I spent on this pathetic train?”

“It’s not about that, sir—those are the regulations—”

“Ahem! Do you even know who this is?!”

One of the count’s underlings barked, stepping in aggressively.

“Our lord is Count Hilven!”

It felt like watching a third-rate stage play unfold right in front of her.

Passengers seated in the dining car stared wide-eyed at the spectacle.

“Our Count Hilven is the closest confidant of Count Caspar—the next Grand Lord of the South! Show some respect!”

“Pfft—”

Juliet, who had been sitting quietly like the others, nearly choked.

Count Caspar?

The unexpected name caught her off guard.

Count Caspar—wasn’t that the idiot who had picked a pointless fight with her at the capital’s grand temple just the other day? Priscilla’s fiancé, no less.

What a small world.

Juliet frowned and wiped her lips.

The conductor, however, looked as though he had no idea who Count Caspar was.

“Wh… who is that?”

“What?! You don’t know Count Caspar, son of His Grace the Marquis of Guinness, future Grand Lord of the South?!”

“C-Count Hilven, please calm down for a moment—”

Juliet looked at the stammering conductor with some sympathy.

If Count Caspar truly was backing this blustering count—or baron, or whatever he was—then his arrogance at least made sense.

Caspar himself was nothing more than a fool born to the right parents, but his father, the Marquis of Guinness, was another matter.

The Guinness family was one of the ruling Grand Lord houses of the South, and the marquis was a close confidant of the Emperor—a political heavyweight no one could afford to ignore.

“The valuable goods you loaded into the cargo car earlier? They belong to the Marquis of Guinness as well!”

Juliet had no idea why the so-called confidant of the future Grand Lord of the South had come all the way east to cause trouble like this.

But Priscilla—and her fiancé Caspar—were names Juliet preferred to avoid at all costs.

She quietly lowered her veil again.

What a mess.

Judging by the way the train began moving, it seemed the conductor had no choice but to concede and escort Count Hilven’s group to the front cars.

But the truly strange thing happened at the very next stop.

This stop wasn’t long—just enough time to load some cargo.

Instead, another group boarded all at once, just like before.

…They’re big.

There were around fifteen of them. Unlike Count Hilven’s men, they carried no swords—but their physiques were impressive. Nearly on par with ducal knights.

While watching them board with widened eyes, Juliet locked gazes with the largest among them—a powerfully built middle-aged man—and flinched.

He might even be bigger than Sir Cain.

Pretending to sip her tea calmly, Juliet recalled her former escort knight.

The strangers paid no attention to Juliet beneath her veil.

Instead, they frowned, covering their mouths and noses with their robes, as though the dining car reeked.

All Juliet could smell was sweet butter.

“……There’s no doubt. Lord Roy is on this train.”

Lord Roy?

Juliet hadn’t meant to overhear.

“Spread out quietly and search. Lord Roy is nearby.”

The sharp-featured middle-aged man who seemed to be their leader issued the order.

It appeared they were searching for someone.

When the train began moving again, the suspicious group quickly and silently moved toward the front cars—completely unlike Count Hilven’s loud entourage.

Once they left the dining car, Juliet hesitated.

Was this train always this crowded?

Didn’t they say tickets were expensive, so there wouldn’t be many passengers?

Her instincts warned her that something troublesome was coming.

Juliet blinked calmly, her mind racing.

Should I run back to my cabin and lock the door?

But what if Count Hilven’s people are still blocking the corridor?

And my scones…?

<Contract. Person.>

“Hm?”

Suddenly, without being summoned, two butterflies fluttered into view.

<Forest. Beast. Smell. Unpleasant.>

<Not. Human.>

<Here. Let’s leave.>

Forest beast smell?

Juliet tilted her head.

What do they mean by forest beast?

Were they talking about that group in robes?

Before she could ask, the dining car door burst open again.

“Thank you for waiting! I’ll hand them out one by one!”

A cheerful young attendant appeared, carrying a large tray.

At the scent of freshly baked scones, the uneasy passengers perked up like meerkats, craning their necks.

Grown adults waiting neatly with sparkling eyes—it was quite a sight.

The tray reached Juliet’s seat.

Then—

Crash!

From the front cars came the sound of something splintering, glass shattering, shouted curses, and swords being drawn.

Holding her plate, Juliet knew instantly.

A clash had clearly broken out between Count Hilven’s men and the large group that had boarded earlier.

“Aaah!”

A distant scream rang out, and the front door of the dining car flew open.

“Damn it! Nobody move!”

“If you want to live, get down! Get down now!”

Three men burst in with swords drawn—all of them Count Hilven’s subordinates.

They blocked the door to the front cars, threatening the passengers.

Terrified, the passengers screamed and dropped flat to the floor as ordered.

The men quickly scanned the room, shoving and menacing people with drawn blades.

Crash!

Amid the chaos, the tray overturned, sending freshly baked scones scattering across the floor.

“…….”

In the middle of the pandemonium, only Juliet remained seated, holding a small empty plate.

Everything had happened in an instant.

“H-Hey now, let’s put the swords away and talk this out—”

“Shut up!”

One of the men seized a hostage to assert control.

Someone he could overpower easily.

He pressed his blade to the hostage’s neck and shouted confidently.

“If you don’t want to see her head roll, you’d better stay still!”

“…….”

The man likely had no idea what he’d just done.

The “easy” hostage he chose was Juliet—still holding her empty plate.

* * *

“Aaaah—!”

The passengers knelt on the floor, backs turned, trembling in terror.

Moments later, they squeezed their eyes shut at a horrific scream behind them.

They assumed the frail hostage had resisted and been killed.

Those bastards…!

Shaking with fear, the passengers raged inwardly at the attackers’ cruelty.

They prayed the poor woman had at least died quickly.

But then—

What crawled desperately into their view was a masked man.

“S-S-spare me—!”

The hostage-taker thrashed in terror as though he’d seen something unspeakable, then passed out cold.

“…Huh?”

The passengers cautiously turned around, more confused than ever.

The men who had threatened them so boldly just minutes ago—all of Count Hilven’s subordinates—were sprawled unconscious on the floor.

Standing unharmed among them was a single veiled woman who looked utterly harmless.

Juliet did not explain anything.

She only cast a brief, regretful glance at the scones littering the floor.

Tch.

Then she cracked open the door leading to the front cars and peeked out.

As expected, chaos reigned outside—Count Hilven’s sword-wielding men tangled in violent combat with the large, robed group.

With a sigh, Juliet released several butterflies through the gap.

“Huh?”

“What the— Aaaah!”

She let the excited butterflies swarm the train.

That should buy some time.

They wouldn’t be forcing their way back into the dining car anytime soon.

Ignoring the screams, Juliet calmly shut the door.

She needed to think.

Leaning against the door, she followed her instincts.

There had to be a reason Count Hilven’s men had rushed into the dining car and taken hostages the moment fighting broke out in the front cars.

—

“The valuable goods in the cargo car belong to the Marquis of Guinness.”

—

Juliet remembered Count Hilven’s boast.

Just before boarding, he had loaded an enormous piece of cargo.

And then there was the second group—

—

“Spread out quietly. Lord Roy is nearby.”

—

They were clearly searching for someone.

Then Juliet noticed something.

“…….”

Directly opposite the front door was another door—leading to the rear cargo car.

Juliet’s eyes narrowed.

Simple.

The reason Count Hilven’s men had sealed off the dining car—the path to the cargo hold—

Was because the “goods” behind that door were none other than “Lord Roy.”

Without hesitation, Juliet moved.

She hated getting dragged into trouble—especially trouble unrelated to her.

But the train failing to reach its destination was her problem.

Better to return “Lord Roy” to the forest beasts quickly and end this mess.

Just what did they load in here?

“Ggh….”

One of Count Hilven’s fallen men—the one who had taken her hostage—groaned weakly.

Juliet stepped on his back without mercy and threw open the cargo door.

Creeeak.

The door opened easily, but the inside was darker than expected.

She waited for her eyes to adjust.

At first, she saw nothing unusual—

…Wait. Bars?

Juliet’s eyes widened.

Of course there was no other cargo.

Filling the entire cargo space was a massive iron cage—something meant for transporting savage carnivores.

Clank. Heavy chains rattled.

Something moved in the darkness beyond the bars.

Then Juliet flinched.

A pair of enormous yellow eyes glared at her from within.

“…A wolf?”