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Chapter 88
Johannes Schultz would never forget the moment when the darkness of defeat seeped entirely into the Schultz Ducal House.
No matter how many victories he secured on each battlefield, Docilia’s tide of defeat showed no sign of turning. As days passed, supplies dwindled and the soldiers’ morale sank further. No matter how many requests were sent to the higher-ups, only the same order came back—wait. No concrete solution ever arrived.
To make matters worse, as the war dragged on, the season when everything upon the sea froze began to approach. The colder it became, the worse the soldiers’ health grew.
In the end, Docilia—who had started the war proclaiming it would devour all surrounding nations—was defeated in no time.
I knew this would happen.
The hundreds of thousands of soldiers who had marched out returned home as only a few tens of thousands. It was nothing short of a catastrophic result.
And then, the affairs of the family that had been neglected due to the war came back like arrows striking them head-on.
The royal family, fearing they would be held responsible for defeat after being caught embezzling military funds for their own luxury, shifted all blame onto the Schultz Duke’s house—accusing them of misappropriating massive national funds on their behalf.
Johannes was now on the verge of losing not only his mother—already taken by the royal family—but possibly his father as well.
The prestige of the Schultz Ducal House also began to crumble rapidly.
The moment he saw his father blaming only himself, Johannes Schultz set a single goal.
He would bring down the royal family.
Johannes needed to bring someone into his side—someone the royal family would fear.
Thus, he first attempted to approach the elderly matriarch of the Russell Marquis House.
Of course, there was no guarantee that the famously sharp-tongued old woman would cooperate with him.
“Why has the young lord of Schultz, who should be recovering from war fatigue, come to visit this old woman? Surely you haven’t come to ask me for help.”
As expected, she was not easy to deal with. She had already cut off any possibility of asking for assistance.
Even after visiting Bueln, the Russell matriarch did not particularly welcome Johannes. But he had not come expecting things to go smoothly in the first place.
With the royal family already disliking him intensely, the fact that she did not throw him out outright was almost fortunate.
Johannes spoke.
“Of course not. I merely finished my affairs and wished to pay you a visit.”
“Is that so? It warms this lonely old woman’s heart to know someone still cares for her.”
“Not at all.”
Johannes smiled.
The Russell matriarch soon led him to the reception room.
“Please wait here for a moment. I will have my attendants bring tea. If you have anything to say to me, you may speak over tea.”
“Thank you.”
Just as she turned to leave the reception room—
By coincidence, a worn portrait slipped from her arms.
Johannes immediately picked it up. The moment he saw the face drawn in it, his expression turned cold.
“Please give that back!”
The Russell matriarch hurriedly snatched it away.
“…Is this your son, the one who passed away?”
“Yes.”
She quickly tucked the portrait back into her arms. Johannes, still stiff-faced, narrowed his eyes.
The Russell matriarch’s only son, Max Russell.
He had heard countless rumors about Max Russell over the years.
He was said to have been so introverted from childhood that he never appeared in high society, and that he suddenly vanished after falling in love with a common woman, betraying the grandmother who had raised him with devotion.
Later, the Marquis House announced that he had returned as a cold corpse. There were even rumors that the Russell matriarch herself had killed him for betrayal…
But no one knew the truth.
However, it seemed the announcement of his death had not been true after all. Whatever the details were, no one knew.
Johannes relaxed his hardened expression and said to the old woman,
“That said, you seem to be desperately searching for him.”
The Russell matriarch flinched, then quickly left the room as if unwilling to hear any more nonsense.
Johannes, from her reaction, became certain.
Max Russell bore a striking resemblance to someone he knew.
And so he thought—perhaps this was a gift from fate for his revenge.
Being curled up for a long time in a train seat—especially in a cramped space where one could barely move—was insanity.
The corridor outside the cabin had been in chaos the entire time due to my disappearance. I considered stepping out midway, but I couldn’t.
I had finally found a clue that might lead me to my father. I couldn’t afford to throw away hope right in front of me.
Time passed like that.
After lying curled up for a long while, I only got up once the outside finally went quiet.
“Ugh…”
A groan escaped me.
My whole body was stiff. Every muscle felt like it was screaming for mercy.
That damn bastard. He could’ve at least suggested another way. I’m never doing this again.
While cursing internally, I looked up—and saw a face I should not have seen.
“What are you doing here?”
Johannes Schultz let out a long sigh and held out his hand.
“If that bastard said anything, you should’ve just shot him in the head instead of listening to his nonsense.”
“…Where is the sign?”
I muttered awkwardly, glancing at Johannes.
In the end, we arrived at Wittenburg Station together.
The man who was presumably my father had told me to go alone, but since Johannes had already found me, there was no helping it.
“I won’t ask why.”
Johannes had said that too.
Did he also know my father might still be alive? Is that why he understood me?
I looked down the hill near Wittenburg Station. Soon enough, I spotted the old wooden signpost exactly as Gilteon had described.
“This way.”
Following the sign, we soon found a street vendor. It stood out immediately—placed awkwardly, painted bright red against an overwhelmingly green landscape.
I approached the stall. An old man was staring at me intently from a distance, just as Gilteon had said—balding halfway.
I carefully greeted him.
“Um… hello. I was told to come here. Do you know someone called Gilteon, the fixer?”
The old man didn’t answer. Instead, he silently held out his palm with a somewhat grumpy expression.
“Oh—!”
I quickly took out two notes from my pocket and handed them over. He examined them carefully, then took a bundle from the stall and pulled out a key with a red ribbon attached.
“Is this the house key?”
The old man nodded.
“Then where do I go with this address?”
He raised his bony hand and pointed downward. It seemed to lead toward Herzburg.
“Thank you.”
I immediately walked with Johannes along the path the old man had indicated.
The road to Herzburg was longer than expected.
Even though I wasn’t particularly unfit, my feet were already starting to hurt.
Barely suppressing curses that tried to slip out, I finally saw the village in the distance.
An old settlement preserving all its ancient architectural styles—there wasn’t a single modern building in sight.
The place my father had called me to was a village of alchemists.
Do people even live here…? And yet, it still functioned as a village.
But an unsettling feeling was unavoidable. A place I could only imagine as being stained with the blood of countless people…
At the village entrance, a torn Docilia flag hung from a branch, swaying in the wind. Beneath it were words written in red—curses and hatred scrawled across the surface.
I swallowed hard, tension rising in my throat.
This is kind of scary…
Why would my father come to a place like this…?
Carrying that question, I stepped deeper into the village. From all directions, people watched us with wary eyes.
