IJEBPSCLB 32

chapter 32

Compared to the north, the western region was relatively warm, and summer had already crept in.

The trees, thick with green leaves that filtered the sunlight, grew densely, filling the sky.

The bright sunlight couldn’t penetrate through the leaves, leaving the forest dim and shadowy.

“The north must be colder than here.”

A sudden gust of wind blew, and leaves fell from the trees, rolling across the forest floor.

Marie watched the branches sway back and forth, heavy with green leaves, as if welcoming summer.

“I wonder how Ariel is doing.”

For the first time, she felt concern for someone else.

Her life had never allowed her the mental or physical space to worry about anyone else—and truthfully, she didn’t want to.

Even taking care of herself was overwhelming enough.

Everyone carries their own life stories, and like everyone else, hers had been far from ordinary.

“Angelus.”

The old stronghold in the east, once held by one of the many branches of the leopard clan, had vanished.

Taken by the power struggles among the other branches.

At that moment, the semblance of an ordinary life—just slightly better than others—was shattered.

The moment the mansion burned was still vivid in her mind.

“Go! If you survive, our family survives.”

“That’s right. Leave us and go, Marie.”

“We’ll find a way out later.”

Perhaps because she instinctively felt that the promise of “finding a way out later” was a lie, the child hesitated.

“Go!!! Now.”

At that moment, her parents pressed her fearfully to flee.

With those words, she ran from the mansion, and the moment she stepped outside, it was engulfed by a massive inferno. The monstrous fire, growing larger by the second, devoured the house as if possessed by hunger.

Crash.

And in that instant, the mansion collapsed.

The red light of the fire shimmered against young Marie’s blueberry-colored hair.

What the massive blaze left her with was neither an inheritance sufficient to live on nor a person to care for her—but only the nonexistent name of the Angelus family.

Now, even when the family name was mentioned, most had no idea which family it was—a family that had disappeared.

For a six-year-old girl, the inferno was brutally cruel.

Thus, the child hardened herself and blocked any unnecessary emotions toward others.

“Angelus? Why is Angelus here?”

One day, while wandering the streets through the dark alleys, the child was taken in by Ian.

He recognized that she was the last surviving member of the Angelus family.

She was loyal to him above anyone else and never questioned his words.

But when she was first ordered, as an Aint, to care for a cat, she didn’t understand.

Why her among so many others? Had her lord abandoned her?

Yet the moment she first saw the cat, she realized that she and the cat were somehow alike.

Seeing the cat made the tightly closed faucet of her emotions turn on, letting a few drops leak, as if memories of her childhood were reflected in the cat.

Though left alone, the cat had not given up and lived energetically—a sight she admired.

Perhaps unknowingly, she had begun paying more attention to the cat.

Being with the cat made her feel herself faintly smiling, and her voice and mannerisms toward it became unexpectedly gentle. Ariel, in turn, carefully observed her feelings and understood them with surprising accuracy.

“Even after being picked up in a state of displeasure and brought to Cadellion, the cat must be managing until I return from my work.”

“It’s amazing the cat’s head didn’t get torn off too.”

Indeed, it wasn’t the type of cat that would die easily—even if other humans or beastmen were attacked.

“Because the cat is quick to assess situations.”

Remaining calm and analyzing the situation rationally while surrounded by assassins was no small feat, especially with murderers aiming to kill you.

Ordinary beastmen, even in human form, would panic and lose rational thought. They would freeze, run around screaming, or collapse in tears.

Ordinary beastmen were killed that way by assassins.

Yet the small, black-furred Ariel, despite facing assassins several times her size, neither cried nor panicked.

“She assessed the situation calmly instead.”

The little cat seemed to know she couldn’t help, standing aside, rolling out of the way as blades flew, and observing with calm, calculating eyes.

A cold, intelligent assessment.

“Small, but strong.”

Unlike those in front of her.

“If she hadn’t spoken carelessly, she might not have died so horribly.”

“But she probably didn’t have the mental capacity to notice that.”

Marie stared expressionlessly at the corpses before her.

They were the people related to the assassins who attacked Ariel that day—and the spies who had fled Cadellion.

She nudged the corpses with her foot.

There was no trace of sympathy in her eyes.

They were eyes as indifferent and emotionless as when observing insect corpses.

The arms of the corpses moved weakly as her foot nudged them.

With joints twisted, her push made them move grotesquely.

“Late.”

Not just a step late, but maybe three steps.

The corpses’ crushed faces and twisted joints gave the appearance of flailing hands.

They were displayed in the forest, horrifically mangled, as if anticipating someone’s arrival.

“You’re too late.”

A perfect deception.

Such corpses were not only found in the west.

According to reports, the same grotesque corpses were found deep in forests along the northern borders, under steep cliffs along the southern borders, and in caves in the east—assumedly killed by the same type of beastmen.

“They killed anyone with connections to the assassins.”

Though only a few had ties to the assassins who came for Ariel, anyone with information had vanished without a trace.

The corpses were strategically placed at regional borders, leaving no clues.

The corpses were perfectly destroyed, from head to toe.

Meticulous.

Even someone investigating the corpses would find no gaps.

Suspicious, indeed.

Few had the ability to conceal evidence so thoroughly.

“Better go check the village.”

The east and west, where the power transitions occurred, had stabilized quickly.

No, it wasn’t just stability—it seemed they had always been in balance.

Everything moved as precisely as clockwork, like well-meshed gears.

There were no villages with notable anomalies.

Marie tore her gaze from the corpses and quickly walked toward the village.

Her new form disappeared as swiftly as she did.

Nothing seemed odd, which made the situation itself suspicious.

Something felt wrong, her instincts shouted.

She recorded every fact except for the feeling that something was amiss: the grotesque corpses in the border regions, and that no villages showed any noticeable changes.

“…I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is Ariel eating all three meals properly?

She mustn’t be picky, but I worry because she really dislikes carrots.

…Also, I hope to send word that I’m doing well too…”

Ian’s expression darkened as he read the telegram.

A message that usually took her one page had stretched to three. Two of those pages were about Ariel.

For someone who only reported necessary matters, this was unusual.

‘After Louise, now Marie has been recruited too.’

“…No significant anomalies. Both eastern and western villages appeared as usual, not in chaos…”

‘No skilled military knights have died suddenly recently.’

After reading this, Ian ordered a search for sudden deaths or suspicious deaths among the high-ranking knights of each family.

But no capable knights from the east, south, west, or maritime regions had recently fallen ill or died under suspicious circumstances.

At least three high-ranking knights worth mentioning.

Where had they come from?

“…That’s all. I will report to my lord in person shortly.

Oh, and please tell Ariel not to be picky about carrots.

Sincerely, Marie.”

Ian burned the letter in a candle.

The flame flared, engulfing the paper, then settled.

“May I ask what Marie said?”

“She’ll tell you soon.”

‘She leaves out the key parts, as usual.’

Alan took it lightly, as was often the case.

The important part:

Alan glanced at Ian and carefully asked,

“When ‘that day’ comes, what will Ariel do?”

Ian’s expression hardened.

“When exactly do you expect it?”

“Tomorrow or the day after.”

“Has the time come already?”

His cold, blue gaze softened.

“Leave Ariel alone. In my room.”

“Yes, understood.”

Ariel might really die this time.

By Ian.

His arrival had energized the mansion.

‘Perhaps you fed her because, as they say, a ghost looks beautiful if well-fed before death.’

Alan’s expression darkened slightly.

But he said nothing else.

An aide’s role is to assist the lord, not interfere.

A thin, invisible line—crossing it was forbidden.

Especially important in Cadellion.

Even more so for Ian.

“Keep others out as usual. If you don’t want to watch people die…”

He curved the corner of his eyes, cold, and smiled.

“Of course, I don’t care if other beastmen die, but it bothers you, doesn’t it?”

‘Please stop smiling when in a bad mood.’

The icy expression from his youth would have been better—less terrifying.

Alan swallowed his thoughts and spoke casually,

“Yes, understood.”

Knock, knock.

A rapid knock came from outside the door.

It wasn’t a polite knock—after knocking, the office door flung open.

Louise strode in toward Ian’s desk.

“Miss, what manners are those—bursting in at any time—”

Then, in a rare urgent voice,

“Ariel is sick.”

She was so alarmed she could barely catch her breath.

“Seriously.”

At that, Ian’s pen stopped mid-motion.

“She can’t move a single leg.”