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Chapter 13
That night.
“I-I’m sorry. Ugh…”
A man in a black hood knelt down, groaning in pain from a kick to the shin.
It was the dead of night. Everyone was asleep, and even the moon was hidden behind clouds, casting not a single glimmer of light.
A little ways from the mansion, on an empty road devoid of life, a man stood, looking down at the one kneeling before him.
“Sigh…”
The man let out a frustrated sigh and swept his long bangs back.
Between his bandaged index fingers, strands of pitch-black hair slipped free.
In that moment, a glint of icy blue flashed in his otherwise black eyes.
“I warned you not to be noticed.”
His low, resonant voice was chilling.
The kneeling man trembled with fear and bowed so low his nose nearly touched the ground.
“I was careless. I’ve committed an unforgivable sin. But please, just one more chance—urk!”
The man, now pale as a sheet in the summer night, couldn’t finish his plea.
His body slumped sideways and collapsed to the ground.
Chris, who had merely snapped his fingers, looked down at the dead man’s hand now touching his shoe with clear disgust and kicked it away.
“You’re late. Apologies.”
Another man, who had appeared quietly, removed his hood and knelt on one knee before Chris.
A long scar ran vertically across one of his eyes, his face darkened by the shadows of night.
“Clean it up.”
The cold command slipped from Chris’s mouth like he was brushing off trash.
The kneeling man quickly gestured, and others hidden in the darkness emerged, swiftly removing the body.
Soon, only two figures remained on the empty road.
“The task I gave you?”
“My apologies. Nothing has been uncovered yet.”
Chris exhaled shortly at the unsatisfactory answer, and the man in robes calmly offered his neck.
“Find out first if they’re affiliated with the Temple.”
Yet, Chris didn’t execute him like the other.
Feeling a deeper sense of duty and gratitude, the man bowed deeply.
“Yes. Understood.”
“The schedule?”
“It will proceed without delay.”
“Good. You may go.”
“…Shall I treat your injury?”
At that, Chris glanced down at his bandaged finger.
She had wrapped it anew, yet it looked no different from the first time—clumsy and messy. Though blood stained the bandage, the wound was properly treated, and the bleeding had stopped.
He stared at his finger wrapped in layers of gauze for a while, then let out a quiet laugh in the darkness.
“No need. Dismissed.”
“As you command.”
The man pulled his hood over his head once more and disappeared into the shadows.
“Just how much does our lady really know?”
With a glint of amusement in his eyes, Chris returned to the mansion as if nothing had happened.
Beneath the pagoda tree, Sasha quietly watched Chris’s retreating figure, keeping her presence hidden.
At last, a new tenant had arrived on the third floor.
“If anything’s inconvenient or you need anything, just let me know.”
Vendia offered a warm smile to the third-floor tenant.
“You really work hard.”
Ron, once again dressed in extravagant clothing, passed by and threw in his usual snide comment.
He clicked his tongue and shook his head as if pitying her.
Why didn’t he just go about his business instead of nitpicking? A quick glance confirmed he was wearing yet another new outfit—she’d never seen him wear the same thing twice.
Ignoring him, Vendia maintained her smile as she faced the new tenant, Cecilia.
The woman, who was around 29, had no surname. The lack of a surname indicated she wasn’t a noble.
“…Yes.”
Cecilia gave a slight nod, expressionless and uneasy, like someone who had forgotten something important. She kept glancing around nervously.
Vendia noticed but didn’t let it show. If she made her uncomfortable, the woman might run off.
All Cecilia had with her was one large trunk.
Seeing a chance to score points, Vendia kindly offered the key in her hand.
“Is this all your luggage? If you have more, I can help carry it up.”
“It’s fine.”
The friendly gesture was met with a curt response.
Cecilia handed her an envelope of money and practically snatched the key away.
Startled, Vendia flinched slightly.
‘Her hand’s freezing.’
The moment their fingers brushed, Cecilia’s touch felt ice cold—far from normal human warmth.
In her excitement about collecting rent, Vendia hadn’t noticed earlier. But now she saw Cecilia was about the same height but very thin.
Her cheeks were sunken, dark circles prominent under her eyes, lips chapped and pale.
Noticing Vendia’s gaze, Cecilia clenched her hands tightly and bit her lip.
“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Mind your own business.”
Cecilia glared at her, hefted her trunk, and disappeared into the mansion.
Even as she entered, she stayed alert and wary.
“She’s really unfriendly. And rude.”
Sasha stopped sweeping and walked over, grumbling.
“Maybe she’s just introverted.”
Vendia couldn’t take her eyes off the retreating figure. The way Cecilia kept scanning her surroundings, and those cold hands… Something about her felt off.
“S-suspicious. S-should we keep an eye on her?”
Chris, who had been on guard duty because of his injured finger, chimed in.
Finding both of them amusing, Vendia chuckled.
“Unwanted attention can be a nuisance.”
Realizing she had a point, they both nodded silently.
Sasha went inside to make lunch, and Chris left to patrol the area.
Left alone, Vendia moved to sit in a shaded rocking chair.
“Excuse me!”
A sudden visitor.
She looked up to see someone standing at the front gate.
The distance made it hard to see his face, but he wore a green uniform.
A silver emblem shaped like an owl’s face gleamed on his shoulder in the sunlight.
‘The police?’
Vendia recognized it instantly. The uniform marked him as a member of the Empire’s police force.
She tensed at the unexpected official visit.
Was it because of Ron? Or… had the Rose family reported her, and now the police were here to arrest her?
But how would they know?
Her identity was no longer Vendia Rose—it was simply Dia now.
Thanks to Denros, she was living under a completely new name and background, making it difficult to trace her.
Difficult, but not impossible.
At least the officer hadn’t spotted her yet.
As she debated whether to flee, a luxurious carriage pulled up and stopped at the gate.
The coachman quickly opened the door, and the officer bowed a full ninety degrees to the person getting out.
“You’ve arrived, my lord!”
“Haha. Yes. Soon to be marquis, anyway.”
“Of course! Who else but Lord Baldini could inherit House Heden!”
Their exchange was clearly audible in the quiet yard.
The man, Baldini, who was receiving such deference, had thinning hair slicked back in a tidy 2:8 part.
With his narrow, slanted eyes, blunt nose, and greasy lips, he looked to be in his early forties.
Judging by his flashy clothes and rings adorned with gemstone-sized jewels on every finger, he was clearly flaunting wealth.
‘Heden?’
That was the name of the territory in the commercial district, The Line, she had visited recently.
The name she’d found familiar.
But why would someone from Heden show up here?
