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Chapter 23
Dovak was caught in deep hesitation.
The man’s words were undeniably sweet. It might be his last chance to make up for everything.
But trusting a stranger whose identity he didn’t even know felt unsettling.
More importantly, this man had already once stabbed him in the back.
What if trusting him only led to an even worse hell?
Everything was uncertain.
After long hesitation, Dovak forcefully shook off Martini’s hand.
“I don’t need it.”
Martini internally screamed at the sudden firmness.
Ah, why?! Why?! We were just getting somewhere!
With no idea why Dovak had changed his mind, Martini was stuck on how to persuade him.
All he could clearly see was the suspicion in Dovak’s eyes.
Martini quickly scrambled for a solution.
He felt bad 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 to earn Dovak’s trust.
“I have the promissory note written under your name.”
“W-what…? Why is that in your possession…!”
All the color drained from Dovak’s face.
Martini continued without hesitation.
“It’s even a promissory note for money borrowed from the Night Bluebird.”
It was unbelievable. Dovak was so shocked he couldn’t respond.
“I don’t exactly get along with them. So for that reason alone, I can help you. Do you still not need my help?”
Dovak’s strength gave out and he collapsed to the ground.
His face was blank.
A noble who had lost both honor and pride now looked like a fragile candle in the wind.
“Please allow me to help you.”
Martini repeated 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 convinced.
Martini suppressed a triumphant smile and looked at him kindly.
“First, can you tell me exactly what happened?”
Dovak exhaled deeply and closed his eyes.
Everything that had happened until now flashed through his mind in chaos.
With a trembling voice, he began to explain how he had ended up here… and how he had fallen into such overwhelming debt.
* * *
Martini returned to Perbet Street with light steps.
He looked satisfied, as if he could finally sleep peacefully now that the job was done.
But his buoyant mood stopped abruptly.
A suspicious figure wrapped completely in a robe was walking toward him from the opposite direction.
Even in Perbet Street, where all kinds of people gathered, someone that strange stood out.
Martini immediately recalled the earlier client who had enraged Rosalyn with that letter delivery job.
Ah, it’s definitely that person.
Should I greet them? Or will they get annoyed if I recognize them?
While he hesitated, the distance between them quickly closed.
There was no more time for indecision.
Martini stepped forward with a bright smile.
“Hello. We meet again.”
The person immediately stopped.
The distance between them was just enough that they could reach out and touch.
A person with sharp instincts.
Impressed, Martini quickly regained his composure and spoke warmly.
“I’m really sorry about last time. Our master isn’t usually that cruel or heartless… she just occasionally—very occasionally—gets a bit harsh. I hope you won’t take it to heart.”
His voice was soft like a spring breeze.
Normally, when he apologized like this, people would smile it off.
Or at least demand some form of compensation.
Either way, things usually resolved.
But this time was different.
The robed figure gave only a slight nod—and then stepped far away.
A cold reaction.
In fact, they even pressed themselves against the wall as if avoiding a filthy rat.
Martini blinked blankly.
Wow… they really rejected that?
He felt unexpectedly dismissed.
Did they really have to show that much disgust?
It felt excessive.
Martini 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 strange 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 type to waste attention on someone who ignored him.
So he continued on his way.
Soon, he arrived at 44 Perbet Street and carefully opened the door.
The moment he stepped inside—
A card flew straight at him.
“Eek! Master! It’s me! Martini!”
He ducked hurriedly, covering his head.
“I know.”
From inside the reception room came a blunt reply—and another card flew.
“Eek! Master! If you throw cards like that, they’re basically throwing knives! I’ve told you—one of these days I’m really going to die like this!”
Martini dodged sideways and shouted, his hair already a mess.
But Rosalyn, resting her chin on her hand, casually flipped another card as if she hadn’t heard him.
It felt like talking to a wall.
Martini sighed.
Honestly, if you didn’t like the job, you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place! Tch!
Of course, he couldn’t say that out loud.
Instead, he quietly picked up the fallen card.
“Until when is this due?”
Rosalyn looked at him with irritation and held up two fingers.
Two days.
A very tight deadline.
Only now did Martini understand her mood.
He forced a cheerful tone.
“Ahh… no sense of courtesy, that client. Still! I have good news, Master. Do you know what I heard from Dovak?”
He tried to lift the atmosphere.
Rosalyn’s eyebrow twitched slightly.
At least she was listening.
Martini sat across from her, becoming serious.
“Master. Do you know who first lent Dovak the money?”
“I don’t. But I do know someone’s going to die if you don’t speak quickly.”
Her fingers tapped the table.
Tap. Tap.
A chilling pressure.
Wanting to avoid being that “someone,” Martini quickly answered.
“It was a Capital Guard member. The guy I took the promissory note from—Clock!”
Rosalyn stopped.
“…What? Who?”
“Clock! The guy I got the note from in the tavern!”
An unexpected name.
Rosalyn frowned.
A Capital Guard member should be protecting the capital, not stabbing nobles in the back.
Even she, who had seen countless absurd cases, couldn’t process it immediately.
“Explain everything.”
Martini nodded and began.
“Dovak didn’t originally fall into debt because of gambling. He just needed money urgently at first.”
“He’s a noble. What did he need money for?”
“He said… it was for a gift for Bertha.”
A ridiculous reason.
And oddly pitiful for a noble heir borrowing money.
“What kind of gift costs that much…”
“I think… a ring. Not sure what kind.”
The story quickly became unclear.
Rosalyn waved it off.
“Fine. A ring or necklace—something expensive. Then?”
“While he was struggling, he happened to meet Clock.”
“Don’t tell me it was at a tavern again.”
Silence answered her.
“That bastard is a Capital Guard, and he just drinks all day? What kind of guard is that?”
Martini quickly agreed.
“Exactly! He’s terrible!”
“And he even recommended someone who could lend him cheap money?”
“Yes!”
“So that ‘someone’ was Night Bluebird? What is that guy even doing?”
But here, Martini shook his head.
Rosalyn clicked her tongue.
“Then who is it?”
A bad feeling crept in.
Rosalyn stared at Martini and sighed.
“…Just tell me it’s not that Clock bastard.”
“Correct!”
Rosalyn grabbed her hair in frustration.
“This is insane!”
Red strands tangled between her fingers.
“Promissory notes aren’t toys! So that Clock guy sold it to Night Bluebird?”
Martini shook his head again.
Rosalyn closed her eyes.
Just listening was exhausting.
“Clock bought the promissory note himself. Told Dovak to repay slowly, even gave him gambling money, and kept adding it to the debt.”
“He’s got him completely trapped.”
Rosalyn clicked her tongue.
“Then where did Night Bluebird come from?”
“Even Dovak doesn’t know.”
Rosalyn nodded tiredly.
“Of course… a guy who can’t even manage his own promissory note wouldn’t know anything.”
Martini agreed.
Rosalyn continued.
“Now we know Dovak’s side. We need the other side. That Clock bastard.”
Martini stiffened.
“Don’t tell me you want me to meet him?”
Rosalyn looked at him.
“What are you going to do? Go and get your last promissory note stolen too?”
“No, of course not!”
“Then you’ll arrange a meeting.”
“Talking won’t help much…”
“We’ll be there. Watching.”
“…Watching?”
Martini blinked.
Rosalyn tapped her chin calmly.
“Tell Dovak to set a meeting. We don’t have time.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
She pointed at the letter on the table.
Two days.
Tomorrow she had to go to the Cervelion estate.
That meant only tonight and tomorrow afternoon remained.
“No time for hesitation.”
Martini slumped.
“Do we really have to do this today?”
“Think of poor Bertha.”
That settled it.
Martini sighed and stood up.
“What if Clock refuses to meet?”
“Then we’ll tear down the guard headquarters.”
Martini went silent.
There was no arguing with that tone.
“I’ll go set it up…”
“Good. Hurry.”
Martini walked toward the door like a defeated man.
He paused once and looked back.
But Rosalyn was already focused on the letter again.
He sighed quietly and left.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
