Chapter 06
“Don’t make bets on something like that.”
Le Sene’s voice was laced with open disdain. But Alex didn’t even blink. If anything, the cold reaction only egged him on.
“What’s the matter? Scared you’re gonna lose?”
“Hardly.”
“Liar.”
As Alex let out a low cackle, Le Sene bit the bait hook, line, and sinker, just as he always did. Alex really had a knack for pushing people’s buttons; all it took was that specific, obnoxious smirk of his to rile Le Sene up.
“Fine then. I’m wagering two gold coins that it lasts a month,” Le Sene declared.
With his opening bid, the spark caught, and the rest of the room instantly caught fire.
“Put me down for two weeks and two days. There’s no way it lasts a whole month.”
“No, think about it. The guy already held out for two weeks. He might actually be someone formidable.”
A formidable guy? Who spends his time digging into other people’s private business?
The thought crossed a few minds, but then again, the man they were talking about was none other than Kite—the Grand Master of the ‘Gracias’ Knights Order, better known to the world as the Mad Dog. In more ways than one, he was an incredibly alluring target to investigate. The excitement in the room steadily mounted.
They say birds of a feather flock together. If the other members heard that, they would have vehemently denied it with a straight face, but deep down, their temperaments weren’t all that different from Kite’s. The only remotely sane person among them was Serene, the Vice Master.
Naturally, a furious Serene tried to step in and put a leash on the rowdy knights, but Kite raised a hand, waving him off.
“Leave them be.”
“But Grand Master!”
“They need a little entertainment like this to get by.”
“We are a holy order of knights, sir.”
“Knights are allowed to have some fun too. Let’s leave the rigid formality at the door for today.”
With that, Kite rose from his seat and walked over to the window. Even now, that familiar, lingering gaze was pinned on him. Out in the distance, past the rows of street trees, he could faintly sense a presence. He considered lunging out the window to give chase right then and there, but there was no guarantee he’d catch the culprit. The intruder always behaved like a terribly skittish rabbit.
“Tch.”
It was annoying. Thoroughly irritating. Yet, the spy didn’t seem like a professional, and they hadn’t actually caused any harm yet. As wildly unpredictable as Kite was rumored to be, he wasn’t the type to beat someone senseless without a proper reason.
Everyone called him a mad dog, but even a mad dog had a method to his madness.
Evelyn clutched her pounding chest, trying to catch her breath.
I swear he just looked right at me.
But she quickly shook her head. It was impossible. She was standing a considerable distance away from the mansion; even someone with the sharpest eyesight would struggle to spot her.
It was a ridiculously far distance for a stakeout, but considering who her target was, she couldn’t afford to be anything less than hyper-vigilant. After all, she had seen exactly what happened to the unfortunate souls who crossed the Grand Duke.
The most prominent example was a certain information broker—the very man who had been forced to show the inside of his mouth during their first encounter.
I really don’t want my teeth pulled out.
Evelyn was merely a lady from a penniless noble family in the countryside. Her life had been entirely peaceful. She had faced a few tight spots here and there, but she had never been seriously hurt. And she intended to keep it that way.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Evelyn peeked out from behind the tree trunk once more. This time, she didn’t feel the weight of any gaze.
It really was just my imagination, right?
Thank goodness. Evelyn let out a long, sweeping sigh of relief, leaning against the bark. She stayed tucked away for a long while, only leaving her post among the street trees after the lights inside the mansion finally died down. Now, it was time to put her other preparations into motion.
She had spent countless days agonizing over this while watching the Grand Duke. Eventually, she had arrived at a grim conclusion: sending a letter to warn him of the danger was utterly pointless.
Given his sweeping fame and notoriety, the Grand Duke received an astronomical mountain of mail every single day. Anything sent by an unrecognized name was promptly intercepted and destroyed by the servants before it could ever reach his desk. No matter how many warnings Evelyn penned, they would just end up as kindling.
Approaching him in person to deliver the message was equally out of the question. The guards posted at the gates would throw her out before she could even open her mouth.
But I still don’t want to give up.
This was the one thing her grandfather had desired so desperately. Refusing to throw in the towel, Evelyn kept searching for a loophole.
Danger was closing in on the Grand Duke, yet delivering the information was impossible. Even if she somehow managed it, the chances of him actually believing a stranger were practically zero. What on earth was she supposed to do in a situation like this?
To clear her head, Evelyn began listing out loud the things she knew for certain, ticking them off on her fingers one by one.
“First, I know exactly when the Grand Duke will be in danger.”
The Emperor’s birthday banquet. After having her dreams verified multiple times, she was absolutely certain of the date.
“The problem is, I don’t know anything else.”
She didn’t know who the assassins were, why they were attacking, or what the ultimate fate of the Grand Duke would be if he fell. If the heavens were going to give me prophetic dreams, they really could have been a bit more thorough, she grumbled to herself.
Evelyn let out a frustrated sigh, but then a sudden thought struck her. What if the Grand Duke simply stayed inside his mansion for the entirety of the festival? His estate was heavily fortified and incredibly secure.
“No, that won’t work.”
It sounded like a decent idea at first glance, but she quickly dismissed it. Even if she sent a threatening letter warning him of a specific date, a man like the Grand Duke wouldn’t just meekly lock himself away. Besides, he probably received death threats on a daily basis anyway.
Honestly, it would be much more effective to just kidnap him and lock him up somewhere safe herself.
Evelyn blinked as the train of thought reached its destination. It was a bit radical, sure, but… it didn’t actually sound like a bad idea.
Her grandfather used to say that if you want to protect someone, you have to be prepared to make some sacrifices. In this case, the only thing she had to sacrifice was her law-abiding citizenship.
“Hey, that’s actually a great method.”
Much later in life, Evelyn would look back on this moment and wonder what on earth had possessed her to leap to such a wild conclusion. She would rationalize that she had simply been utterly exhausted from the grueling schedule of stalking the Grand Duke and gathering intel. But to actually go through with it!
Perhaps, just for a fleeting second, she had been possessed by her grandfather’s eccentric ghost.
Once Evelyn made up her mind to confine the Grand Duke, she began moving with frantic urgency. Since her kidnapping target was a man of immense power and stature, her plan needed to be absolutely flawless. For the first time in her life, she desperately wished she could clone herself.
She spent her days shadowing Kite as he moved about the capital, and used every single second of her remaining free time prepping for the confinement. Choosing the location hadn’t been difficult at all; her grandfather’s old basement was perfect. However, even though the basement was suspiciously well-stocked with a bizarre variety of items, it still lacked a few finer comforts.
If a human being was going to live there comfortably, she needed to furnish it properly. Since the estate’s caretaker never ventured down into the dark cellar, her first task was a massive cleanup.
She dusted away years of grime and laid down thick, warm carpets over the frigid stone floor. Fortunately, a bedframe was already down there, so she only had to swap out the old sheets for fresh linens. Next came the food. While there was a dedicated pantry packed to the brim with preserved rations, this man was technically her benefactor. She couldn’t just feed him stale crackers; he deserved good, delicious meals.
Ordinarily, a noble lady would never dream of learning how to cook, but Evelyn was an exception. Her grandfather had dragged her through fields and mountains during her childhood, teaching her a handful of survival skills.
Quail wrapped in clay and roasted over embers, thick stews made from grain powder and dried jerky, roasting freshly caught game whole, and preparing wild mushrooms and berries. Because mountain nights were brutally cold, she had also learned the art of brewing a piping hot, hearty stew.
I used to make those for Grandfather from time to time, she recalled fondly.
Whenever she did, he would swallow a spoonful and give her a proud thumbs-up.
“You’ve got a real talent for cooking, kiddo.”
Of course, he might have just been showering her with empty praise because she was his beloved granddaughter. But still, if someone complimented your food, didn’t that mean it was at least edible?
Evelyn gave a small, self-conscious cough. Fortunately, the capital’s central market sold every ingredient imaginable, so sourcing fresh food wasn’t going to be an issue.
The real problem lay elsewhere. Her grandfather had always emphasized that a person cannot survive on mere food, clothing, and shelter alone.
“A man needs proper entertainment to keep his sanity, after all.”
It was a valid point. Knowing the Grand Duke’s volatile personality, there was no telling what kind of havoc he might wreck if he got bored, so she decided to find something to help him pass the time.
Maybe some board games?
But there weren’t many games a person could play entirely by themselves. Evelyn quickly scratched that off the list; if the Grand Duke asked her to play a two-player game with him, she knew her nerves would utterly collapse. Instead, she settled on buying books.
But I have absolutely no idea what genres he likes to read.
Worrying over the dilemma, Evelyn decided to stop by a bookstore to browse. Anxious about leaving any sort of paper trail that could be traced back to her later, she sought out a cramped, dusty secondhand bookshop tucked away in a quiet back alley.
From her observations, the shop was far less popular than the mainstream stores due to its ancient, worn-out inventory. Furthermore, the elderly shopkeeper frequently forgot things, likely due to his advanced age. In other words, it was the safest place in the city.
Tinkle.
A small, brass bell chimed softly overhead as Evelyn pushed the creaking wooden door open.
“Welcome, dear,” the bookstore owner greeted her, a warm, genial smile spreading across his wrinkled face as he pushed himself up from his rocking chair.
