The baron's hands trembled as he gripped his blanket tightly. This wasn't acting anymore—he was utterly dumbfounded.
"Where is his body? Take to it imdiately!" he bellowed, already dreading the implications.
The body was not hard to find. John's lifeless form dangled from a rope in the middle of the hallway.
"The maid who ca for morning cleaning found it first and fainted on the spot. Soon after, another servant stumbled upon her and the body before raising the alarm…" the butler explained. But his words fell on deaf ears as Baron Harald stared at the scene, his face red with rage, veins bulging as if ready to burst.
"Who dares…" he growled through clenched teeth.
If the culprit had simply killed John and hidden the body, he might have tolerated it. But to boldly display the corpse in the hallway? It was nothing short of a direct mockery of the baron himself.
"What's all this commotion about?" a calm voice interrupted.
"...!" The baron turned sharply to see Sylas and his companions approaching the scene, their expressions a mix of curiosity and nonchalance.
"For sothing like this to happen overnight… Southern regions, truly fascinating," Sylas comnted.
"I did ntion, as soone born here, that this is how the South typically operates," his knight added, feigning ignorance.
Their casual banter only fueled the baron's frustration. He clenched his fists tightly, suppressing his fury. It has to be them, those brazen culprits, acting so shalessly!
With great effort, the baron forced himself to respond calmly. "This is not a sight suitable for your lordship. Perhaps you should retire to your quarters."
But Sylas shrugged casually. "I was bored anyway. Might as well take a look. It's not as if it'll hurt to see."
The veins on the baron's forehead throbbed at Sylas's insolence. Before he could respond, Max stepped forward, inspecting the body.
"This wasn't death by hanging," Max declared. "The victim was killed first, then strung up."
"…Who are you? Step back and don't interfere," the baron snapped.
"Co now, let take a closer look. I used to conduct post-mortems back in the day," Max replied nonchalantly.
"Post-mortems? Were you with the city guard?" the butler asked, astonished. Experts capable of determining the cause of death through examination were exceedingly rare, even in large territories.
"Well, sothing like that," Max said, kneeling to examine the body further. After a mont, he whistled in admiration. "Impressive. The neck was snapped cleanly, with no other injuries. This ans the killer subdued him instantly."
"Is that so?" the baron asked, his suspicion mounting.
"The victim didn't even put up much of a struggle. It's practically an art form. There's no doubt the killer is a skilled assassin," Max added.
"But why would such a killer target a re servant?" the butler asked, perplexed.
"That, I can't say for certain. But this wasn't a sneak attack. The killer subdued him head-on and kept him alive for so ti afterward," Max mused, circling the body like a predator.
The baron's eyes narrowed. That gait…!
The way Max moved—heels slightly lifted, steps so light they barely touched the ground—it was unmistakable. It was the sa silent stride John had claid to have mastered as part of the Black Moon's techniques.
But how does he know those techniques?
Realization struck the baron like a thunderclap. The assassin's precision, John's silent death, and the unnoticed display of the body all painted a clear picture.
He's an assassin too!
Though the baron now understood the truth, proving it was another matter entirely. And even if he could, what motive could he claim? It wasn't as if John's actions wouldn't implicate the baron himself.
Grinding his teeth audibly, Harald turned away, his anger boiling over. Continuing to watch this farce was maddening. Sylas noticed the baron's retreat and chuckled quietly before heading back to his quarters, leaving only the servants and Max, who continued his examination.
"Look at this mark. The victim likely felt no pain, dying instantly. It speaks to the killer's extraordinary skill," Max remarked.
"Fine, fine, but can you identify the culprit already?" the butler asked impatiently.
"Patience. This is all part of the process," Max replied, his tone almost gleeful. "Now, here's what's truly remarkable. If you examine this part…"
In his study, Baron Harald gripped his hair in frustration. At first, his thoughts were consud by anger, but anxiety soon took its place.
This is bad. If things continue like this, I'm dood.
He had assud that keeping Sylas confined within the estate ant control was his. But events had taken an unexpected and ominous turn.
The plan to isolate him from his allies has failed. Poisoning him is no longer an option. And now John, my sole assassin, is dead. A surprise attack is out of the question.
The only remaining path depended on Sylas's whims, which was a precarious gamble. If the plan failed, the consequences would be dire.
Damn it, it's no longer about the prize. I have to kill him to survive my lord's wrath.
Christophe, Sylas's superior, was infamous for his ferocity, rivaling that of the previous count. If Sylas left the estate alive, Harald knew he wouldn't escape retribution. The thought of his head being separated from his body wasn't far-fetched.
Driven to the edge, the baron bit his nails anxiously before making a decision. There's no other way. I'll have to use that thod.
It would cost a fortune, enough to destabilize his entire estate. But compared to incurring the wrath of his liege, it was a price worth paying. Resolutely, Harald retrieved a piece of paper from beneath his desk and penned a letter. The recipient was the branch manager of the White Jewel rchant Guild, which had recently established a branch in his territory.
-"About the item you previously recomnded I purchase. Is it still available?"
The response arrived that evening, filled with enthusiasm.
-"Of course! If you desire it, I can have it sent imdiately. Naturally, paynt must be settled beforehand."
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