Chapter 71

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 71

Chapter Title: A Debt Incurred

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The lady unwrapped the dirty bandage as if she had no choice. A sticky sound echoed where the blood and cloth had fused together.

Only after spotting the fresh horizontal gash did the shadow finally lower its guard.

The blood scent must have come from that wound.

Yet a lingering unease refused to fade, and just then, the lady chattered on.

"You said you're from the royal guard, right? My husband's older brother serves in the guard too. If it's not too much trouble, could you deliver something for me? He asked to have some laundry done. His name's Ryan Arnold—"

"I'm on duty, so that won't be possible. Farewell."

The shadow withdrew hastily before its identity could be exposed.

"To the north gate—!"

The shadows vanished from the street.

Cezare regained consciousness just as the shadow disguised as a guard—Emperor Jason's spy—knocked on the door.

Bang! Bang!

Tensing at the noise, he snapped his eyes open.

He reflexively touched his face. The mask was still securely in place.

The princess apparently wasn't curious about his features. His clothes and condition remained unchanged from when he'd lost consciousness.

Cezare blinked. His vision was hazy.

What had they draped over him now?

He soon realized it was a rough cloth reeking faintly of mold and dust, covering him like a bundle of rags.

"……."

He pondered for a moment. He'd been raised in luxury his entire life.

Born and bred as an emperor's son, Cezare had never even during his mercenary days covered himself with a filthy blanket like this.

Should he kick off the blanket—shadow or no—and reclaim what little dignity he had left? The thought flickered through his mind.

But then a delicate voice rang out.

"I'm sorry, but my husband's not home right now."

Hearing her casually claim a husband she'd never even held hands with drew a scoff from him.

When she'd said she'd cut herself on cloth, he'd tensed, wondering if she'd been attacked while he was out. And when she'd lied about family in the guard to shake off the shadow, he'd been impressed.

Soon after the shadow departed, faint, ragged breaths—like those of a frightened young animal—brushed his ears.

He could tell how tense she'd been.

As the door shut, Medea slumped against it, back pressed to the wood. Dizziness washed over her; she closed her eyes for a moment.

"A princess who can do anything, it seems."

Medea looked up.

He was already sitting up, untying the filthy bandage from her hand.

"I didn't know you were such a fine actress."

The mercenary's face was still pale, but amusement laced his voice.

The cool touch of his long, straight fingers jolted her to attention.

Medea tried to pull her hand away but flinched at the sharp sting.

In that instant, he produced a vial from his bosom and poured it over the wound. Unlike his savage sword swings earlier, his movements were surprisingly careful.

A warm sensation soothed the pain immediately.

"I owe you one."

The gash on her pale hand was red and deep. The laughter in his golden eyes faded.

Gazing intently at the wound, he spoke.

"Princess, since you've saved me, I'll repay this debt someday."

His voice was gentler than ever.

With the man so close, Medea could study his face.

Even masked, his sharp jawline and refined bone structure were unmistakable. His long, straight fingers bound her wound with a clean handkerchief.

A deep, rich woody scent wafted from somewhere. Faint freshness lingered too, like a breeze through dense forest.

"How enchanting must it be out there?"

Why did a noblewoman's musing from some banquet echo in her mind?

"Wipe that blood off first and talk. You look a fright."

Medea swallowed a hollow laugh, realizing the scent was his.

'What an irritating presence, down to the smallest detail.'

An outsider, no matter what.

"Looks like you have some unwelcome guests."

The mercenary seemed to have anticipated the thugs' arrival.

The empire's assailants were targeting only him. Had he drawn them here?

Since when had Baldina become a playground for Kazen rabble?

Her calm green eyes swept over him coldly.

"Then let's discuss what I want now. Stay out of Baldina from here on."

Her tone was icy, as if slaying the beast together, self-harming to hide him—all that had never happened.

Displeasure etched her haughty, slightly uplifted chin.

He replied with an ambiguous smile.

"Noted."

As if that was all, Medea rose.

"Until next time, Your Highness."

Bang! The door shut without a reply.

The street, now rid of the thugs, lay deserted.

"Your Highness!"

Medea soon met Neril.

"I saw the signal. I should have come sooner... It took time to slip away from the chaos."

Neril, in the carriage, fussed over Medea. Seeing the wound on her hand darkened her face dramatically.

"Did this happen fighting the beast? Have you been treated? It might scar. Shall I summon the palace physician?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry. It's just surface-deep; the inside's mostly healed."

Medea patted Neril's shoulder reassuringly.

"My apologies, Your Highness. No matter what you say, I should have stayed by your side from the start..."

"I said I'm fine. It would have been worse if you had."

The study held Facade's leader, after all.

"Pardon?"

"Never mind. I'll explain later. Anyway, what about the count's mansion fire?"

"It's still raging. Guards and firefighters arrived late, paralyzing the entire district around Zone 2. The count's people are virtually wiped out—burned alive or slain by assassins."

Silence fell at Neril's words.

"But Your Highness... your expression is grim. Was the Regent Duke's name missing from the signatures?"

"No, look. It's right at the top. Then Samon and all his cronies below."

Medea drew a scroll from her bosom.

"This will bring down the duke. Keep it safe."

This document would prove decisive at a specific moment.

When the rebels breached the palace, it would expose the Regent Duke's ambitions to the world.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Taking the scroll, Neril studied her mistress's face once more.

Tonight, amid the mansion blaze and assassin incursion, the princess had secured what she wanted.

Yet worry clouded her features.

"Remember those assassins at the count's mansion, the ones with white cords tied on?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Even to me, their swordsmanship seemed no amateur's."

"You saw right. They used the imperial family's sword style."

They'd tried to kill Facade's leader.

"Baldina's meager forces can't compare to the empire's, so these loaches run wild as if it's theirs. Peleus needs to return here soon."

Medea sighed, rubbing her temple.

Glancing out the carriage window, she saw the pale dawn breaking.

Peleus was out there somewhere under that sky.

"I need to find a way to help Peleus end the war quickly."

Claudio Ducal House.

The Regent Duke, hearing the news late, struck Samon's cheek hard.

"Do you even realize what you've done?"

Crash!

The teacup he hurled shattered.

"I told you not to act rashly—! You said you'd only burn the mansion!"

"He's the wretch who even got the old hag executed. If he hadn't smuggled away the servants as his playthings, this wouldn't have blown up! Father, don't you remember what he did to your children at that grand banquet?"

Samon spat out his true feelings.

"Even so, you shouldn't have been so brutal! How do you think the survivors will talk about your father now? Did it never occur to you they'd brand him a monster who slaughtered allied families wholesale?"

Was his son always this shortsighted?

The Regent Duke clutched his throbbing head.