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Chapter 22
Dovak was thrown into deep hesitation.
The man in front of him was offering words that sounded dangerously sweet. It might be his last chance to make up for his mistakes.
But trusting a stranger whose name he didn’t even know was unsettling.
More importantly, this man had a record—he had already once stabbed Dovak in the back.
What if trusting him led to something even worse than what he was already facing?
Everything was uncertain.
After agonizing over it, Dovak forcefully shook off Martini’s hand.
“I don’t need it.”
Martini’s mind screamed at the sudden firmness.
Ah, why?! We were just getting somewhere!
With no idea what had triggered the rejection, he was suddenly stuck on how to persuade him.
All he could tell was that Dovak’s eyes were full of suspicion.
Martini quickly scrambled for a solution.
He felt sorry for Dovak, but he was just as desperate.
If he returned empty-handed, there was no telling how furious Rosalyn would be.
So he couldn’t back down here either.
In the end, Martini decided to reveal one of his cards in order to earn Dovak’s trust.
“I have the promissory note written under your name.”
“W-what…? Why is that in your possession…!”
The blood drained from Dovak’s face in an instant.
Martini pressed on without hesitation.
“It’s even a loan document from the Night Bluebird.”
It was unbelievable. Too shocking for Dovak to even react properly.
“I don’t exactly get along with them, you see. For that reason alone, I think I can help you. Do you still not need my help?”
Dovak’s strength gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground.
His expression was hollow.
A noble who had lost both honor and dignity now looked like a flickering candle in the wind.
“Please allow me to help you.”
Martini repeated himself in a calm, sincere voice.
Dovak bit his dry lips again and again.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“…How… can you help me?”
At this point, he was practically already halfway convinced.
Martini swallowed a triumphant smile and looked at him gently.
“First, can you tell me exactly what happened?”
Dovak let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.
Memories of everything that had happened swirled chaotically before him.
With a trembling voice, he began to speak.
How he had ended up like this… and how he had fallen into such overwhelming debt.
* * *
Martini walked lightly back toward Perbet Street.
He looked pleased, as if he could finally sleep peacefully that night now that his mission was complete.
But his steps, so light they felt like he might float away, soon came to an abrupt stop.
A suspicious figure, wrapped head to toe in a robe, was walking toward him from the opposite direction.
Even in Perbet Street, where all kinds of people gathered, someone that peculiar was rare.
Martini immediately thought of the client who had once enraged Rosalyn with that letter delivery request.
Ah, that’s definitely that person.
Should I greet them? Or would they hate being recognized?
While he stood there debating, the distance between them shrank rapidly.
There was no more time for hesitation—only action.
Martini stepped forward with a bright smile.
“Hello. We meet again.”
The person immediately stopped walking.
The distance between them was just enough that they could reach out and touch hands.
A person with sharp instincts.
Impressed, Martini quickly composed himself and spoke warmly.
“I’m really sorry about last time. Our master is not normally that cruel or heartless… well, occasionally—very occasionally—she can be a bit harsh. I hope you haven’t taken it to heart.”
His voice was soft, like a gentle breeze.
Normally, when he spoke like this with a properly apologetic expression, people would laugh it off and accept it.
Or at least demand some compensation.
Either way, things usually got resolved.
But this time was different.
The robed figure gave only a slight nod—and then stepped far away.
It was a strangely cold reaction.
In fact, they even pressed themselves against the wall as if avoiding a filthy rat.
Martini blinked blankly.
Wow… they’re really refusing this?
He felt strangely rejected.
Was it really necessary to act that disgusted?
It felt unfair the more he thought about it.
He scratched his cheek awkwardly.
As the figure moved away, the hem of their robe swayed, revealing low-heeled shoes beneath.
Unusually low heels.
That’s odd… some kind of weird preference? Is that why the Duke of Cervelion liked them?
He thought about it briefly, but didn’t dwell on it.
He wasn’t the kind of person to obsess over someone who ignored him.
With that, Martini continued on his way.
Soon he arrived at number 44 Perbet Street and carefully entered the building.
The moment he stepped inside—
A card flew straight at his face.
“Gah! Master! It’s me, it’s me—Martini!”
He ducked quickly, covering his head.
“I know.”
From inside the reception room came a flat response—and another card flew.
“Eek! Master! If you throw cards, they turn into throwing knives! I’ve told you this so many times—one of these days I’m really going to die from one of your ‘jokes’!”
Martini rolled to the side to dodge it, then shouted with messy hair.
But Rosalyn simply rested her chin on her hand, idly flipping another card, completely ignoring him.
It felt like talking to a wall.
Martini sighed deeply.
Honestly, if you didn’t even like the request, you shouldn’t have accepted it in the first place!
Of course, he could never say that out loud.
Instead, he picked up the fallen cards and spoke carefully.
“When’s the deadline this time?”
Rosalyn looked at him with displeasure and held up two fingers.
Two days.
A very tight deadline.
Now Martini finally understood why she was in such a foul mood.
He forced a bright tone.
“Ahh… no sense of courtesy, that client. Still, I have good news! Do you know what I heard from Dovak?”
Trying to lift the mood, he gestured energetically.
Rosalyn’s eyebrow twitched slightly.
At least she was interested.
Martini sat down across from her, becoming serious.
“Master. Do you know who first offered Dovak the loan?”
“I don’t, but I do know someone’s going to be in danger if you don’t speak quickly.”
Her fingers tapped the table—tap, tap.
A chilling pressure.
Not wanting to become that “someone,” Martini hurriedly answered.
“It was a member of the Capital Guard. The guy whose promissory note I took—Clock!”
Rosalyn stopped moving her hand.
“…What? Who?”
“Clock! The guy I took the promissory note from in the tavern!”
That was an unexpected name.
Rosalyn frowned deeply.
A Capital Guard officer should be someone who protects the capital—not someone who backstabs nobles.
Even she, who had seen countless absurd cases, couldn’t understand this immediately.
“Explain in detail.”
Martini nodded seriously and began.
“Apparently, Dovak didn’t originally fall into debt because of gambling. He just needed money urgently at first.”
“He’s a noble. What could he possibly need money that badly for?”
Rosalyn frowned.
“He said… it was for a gift for Bertha.”
A ridiculous reason.
And yet, strangely pitiful for a noble heir to be borrowing money for.
“What kind of gift requires that much money… honestly.”
“I think… it was a ring. Not sure what kind though.”
The explanation quickly became uncertain, and Martini scratched his head awkwardly.
Rosalyn waved it off.
“Fine. A ring, a necklace—something expensive. Then?”
“While he was worrying about it, he happened to meet Clock.”
“Don’t tell me it was at a tavern again.”
Rosalyn’s cold voice made Martini avert his eyes.
Silence confirmed it.
“That bastard is a Capital Guard officer, and he spends all his time drinking? What kind of guard is that?”
Martini quickly chimed in.
“Exactly! He’s a terrible guy! And he even recommended someone to Dovak who could lend money cheaply!”
“He really does everything, doesn’t he… so that ‘someone’ turned out to be Night Bluebird? What kind of person is that?”
But at that point, Martini shook his head seriously.
Rosalyn bit her lip in frustration.
Her body leaned forward unconsciously, drawn in by irritation.
“Then who is it?”
