Chapter 140
The Emperor, walking slowly out of the ship, turned over the shifting board once more in his mind.
Lionel was dragging his still-unrecovered body all the way here.
And that, too, urgently, without even proper preparation.
If so, it couldn’t be the secret letter alone.
Lionel Edmund Valheim was not the type of man to act so recklessly.
Then what reason could possibly paralyze the cool reason of such a man…
The Emperor narrowed his eyes, trying to grasp Lionel’s true intent.
Just then. Among the Imperial soldiers who spotted the Emperor stepping onto the dock, a knight stopped and paid his respects.
“Your Majesty.”
“The secret letter. Has it been found?”
“Not yet, Your Majesty. However, there was a report just now that a woman in a wheelchair was seen near the dock.”
“A woman in a wheelchair, you say, just now?”
The Emperor’s narrowing eyes widened briefly, then gradually curved into an arc.
It was the smile of a man who had found his answer.
‘So this is it.’
The dead duchess.
Lionel was clearly coming here in search of that woman.
‘So she really was alive.’
The Emperor’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the railing along the dock.
Tap.
Tap.
After several such movements, a new order fell from the Emperor’s mouth.
If what the knights had witnessed truly was the Duchess Valheim.
Then, before catching the prey, the bait had to be recovered first.
“Comb the area around the dock thoroughly. Find the woman in the wheelchair first.”
***
The fact that the Emperor was closing in on his throat meant nothing at all to Lionel, in this moment.
He simply buried his forehead against Agnes’s shoulder.
Their breaths brushed against each other, very close.
It was the briefest of contacts—no more than a few seconds—before Agnes pushed him away again.
But even that fleeting peace was not permitted to Lionel.
“Please… let go of me.”
At Agnes’s small hand pushing against his shoulder, he had no choice but to lift his head again.
At that moment.
The chaotic sound of footsteps ringing out beyond the alley jolted him back to reality.
The voices of knights drifted in from beyond the corner of the alley.
“But if it’s a woman in a wheelchair, wouldn’t that be Duchess Valheim? Why on earth would he order us to search for a dead woman.”
“That’s what I’m saying. And here I thought he wanted us searching for some document.”
“But what could that document possibly be, that he’d come all the way out here just to find it?”
It was the idle chatter of loose-lipped knights.
But those few words alone were enough. It seemed the Emperor had gone beyond mere suspicion and was now certain that Agnes was alive.
If things were left as they were, Agnes would be in danger.
Lionel’s eyes sank in an instant.
The instinct to keep Agnes tied to this place rose all the way up his throat, but Lionel suppressed it.
What mattered now was not his own feelings.
It was Agnes’s safety.
Lionel steadied his breath with difficulty, and forced his expression, at least outwardly, into something composed.
“…I know you won’t be glad to see me, but let me help you get away from here.”
Lionel’s words were closer to a request.
That attitude of his, as though laying the choice before her, felt strange to Agnes, if anything.
Wiping the moisture still lingering on her cheek with the back of her hand, Agnes pressed her lips tightly together.
She, too, had heard what the knights were saying, and she knew that stepping out of the alley rashly would be foolish.
Agnes lowered her gaze for a moment, then lifted it again.
“Is the document the Emperor is searching for the secret letter?”
Lionel’s eyes trembled faintly.
“How do you know that?”
“…So it is.”
Agnes slowly raised her hand and pressed it against her chest.
A rustling sensation, along with the faint brush of crumpled paper, came from within her inner pocket.
Why the Emperor was pursuing her.
How he had found out she was alive.
There was no time to question any of that.
What mattered most right now was getting away from this place.
If what the Emperor sought included not only her, but the secret letter as well, then the situation was clearly quite precarious.
Biting her lip repeatedly, Agnes tried her best to keep her voice steady.
“…Just help me get away from the dock.”
Even simply standing face to face with Lionel like this was difficult enough, but there was no other way.
Getting herself out of this dock alone, in a wheelchair, was impossible.
She didn’t want to admit it, but right now, Agnes… needed Lionel’s help.
That was the reality of it.
“If that’s what you want, gladly.”
***
Answering as though he’d been waiting for exactly this, Lionel reached out his hand.
To retie Agnes’s loosened scarf.
But Agnes flinched, without meaning to, at Lionel’s large hand approaching her, and turned her head away.
At that gentle gesture of refusal, Lionel’s hand froze in midair.
After hesitating for a moment, Lionel let his expression fall and withdrew his hand.
Along with a murmur, almost a whisper to himself.
“…At least this time, I’m glad I wasn’t too late.”
With those words, Lionel pressed his lips shut and quickly scanned their surroundings.
Moving with the wheelchair would be far too slow.
Having made his decision, Lionel folded up the wheelchair and pushed it, as if hiding it, in among a pile of clutter at the end of the alley.
Then he immediately lifted Agnes into his arms.
He’d noticed it just before, too, but Agnes’s body had grown far too light in the time he hadn’t seen her.
At the faint weight of her, as though she might vanish at any moment, Lionel clenched his jaw.
This time, Agnes, too, let herself be held by Lionel without much resistance. As if she knew this was the best choice.
And so the two of them made their way out of the alley, heading toward the dock’s exit.
But several knights had already completely blocked off the path leading to the exit.
The way out of the dock was, in effect, sealed off.
Without hesitation, Lionel changed direction.
Toward the ships the knights had already finished searching.
Since most searches didn’t double back to check a place already passed over, Lionel, who knew that habit better than anyone, aimed for that gap.
Even as he moved, Lionel kept turning his body, here and there, to keep the cold sea wind from reaching Agnes.
It was after a few more steps like that.
The sound of a sword being drawn came from behind them. A knight had caught up to them.
“Stop there. I’ll need to see your face.”
“…..”
“If you don’t turn around, I’ll attack. Show your face!”
Before he knew it, the knight had closed the distance to within arm’s reach.
In that moment of razor-thin tension, Lionel reached out a hand to seize the man’s sword.
Feeling threatened, the knight swung his blade quickly.
It was a clumsy enough attack that Lionel could easily have dodged it.
But the blade, flashing as it cut through the air, was aimed at Agnes.
Just before the blade reached the white skin of Agnes’s hand, Lionel twisted the arm he’d meant to seize the sword with, and took the blade full-on instead.
Slash.
The blade cut deep across his arm, and blood sprayed up.
“Ugh.”
Lionel barely managed to swallow the groan rising up his throat.
“…! Lionel!”
A sharp scream tore from Agnes’s mouth.
But Lionel only pulled her in tighter, all the more firmly. So that she wouldn’t see his wound.
“I’m fine. It only grazed me.”
He said that to reassure Agnes, but the burning pain spread up his arm, arriving late.
Recognizing Lionel, the knight swallowed hard with tension and steadied his grip on the sword.
“Duke Valheim. Who is the woman you’re holding right now?”
“Do I have some obligation to answer that question?”
“It is His Imperial Majesty’s order. To arrest the duchess.”
“Ha.”
Laughing fiercely, Lionel’s foot struck the knight’s knee precisely, and a short, dull impact rang out.
Along with the sound of bone twisting, the knight’s balance gave way.
Not missing the chance, Lionel seized the knight’s collar roughly with the arm not holding Agnes.
And shoved him straight against the wall.
Thud.
With a heavy blow, the knight’s body went slack.
But there was no time to catch his breath—shouts from other knights burst out, not far off.
“Over there!”
Several of them were already closing in on this spot.
Lionel, reaching for the pistol at his waist, bit out a curt curse.
“Damn it.”
The wound had cut deeper than he’d thought, and his arm wouldn’t obey him properly.
The hand on his injured side trembled faintly.
“Lionel.”
But the instant Agnes called his name, Lionel, afraid she might notice his condition, shoved his trembling hand inside his jacket.
“Over there, near where the white ship is moored, there’s somewhere we can hide.”
Lionel lifted his head at once.
Confirming the direction Agnes had pointed to, he moved that way immediately.
At the far end of the dock stood a small storehouse. A place for storing anchors and ropes.
When Agnes gave a small nod, confirming this was the place, Lionel pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Within, crates full of thick rope were stacked densely.
He scanned quickly through the gaps between them, then pushed his way into the narrowest space at the very back.
No sooner had they hidden themselves than the sound of knights’ footsteps passing outside the storehouse could be heard.
It had been a hair’s breadth.
As the noise outside gradually grew distant, only the creak of wooden planks remained within the storehouse.
At a distance close enough for their breaths to mingle, Lionel bit down on the inside of his cheek.
Otherwise, he felt certain a groan would esca
pe him.
Forcing strength into his furrowing brow, Lionel struggled to maintain a composed expression.
But despite that effort, Agnes’s gaze slowly dropped downward.
To Lionel’s blood-soaked clothes, and the hand hidden in his pocket.
“…Why did you do that? You could have dodged it.”
