Kyle...!
What happened? After Michael, Leticia, and now even Kyle. Was it not just Leticia, but Kyle's confidant who was behind Michael?
Angie sat down and buried her face in her hands. But soon she gritted her teeth and got up. She was so worried about what would happen to Grandma Catherine while she was here, and where and what kind of situation she was in right now that she was going crazy. She couldn't ask Michael for help. Kyle wouldn't leave him alone.
After much thought, she tore off a blank sheet of letter paper. She scribbled a few words with a pen and laid it on the bed.
Outside, the horse neighed. There was no time. She crumpled up Kyle’s letter, put it in her bosom, and hurriedly opened the back door. Sure enough, a carriage had stopped. Far away, from the lake and the square, the chatter of people, the delicious smell of something roasting on the fire, and the loud laughter of children chasing dogs drifted in.
As Angie approached, the coachman, his hat pulled down low, nodded. She climbed into the carriage without a moment’s hesitation. Only after the wheels began to roll did she worry about Michael, who was waiting for her. She hoped that nothing would happen to him. And to Grandma Catherine and Aunt Line, too.
She was confident that nothing would happen to Martin and Bryn. The Armitage family's security was very tight, and fortunately, Uncle Willem had the money to hire the best people in Vintergar.
So Noah would be okay. He would definitely be safe. They had to be completely ignorant of Noah, now and in the future.
God, please... Please protect my baby. I don’t care what happens to me. I can handle anything, so please just make Noah and my family safe.
Angie clenched her hands together, shaking like convulsions. She couldn't have been more sincere. If they were wrong, she wouldn't be able to live anyway. Noah, who was more precious than her own life, was even more so.
Angie took a small pouch out of her bosom. Then she opened the door and tilted it out of the carriage window. The blue powder fluttered in the wind like blue snowdrops. She sprinkled the powder at intervals, lest it be a disaster if it fell.
The carriage stopped at the roadside after a long drive. The coachman made her get out of the carriage and led her to a car waiting nearby. It was a much larger car than the one Bryn and Uncle Willem owned. This time, there was no way to sprinkle powder. Unlike the carriage, the car did not have a driver's seat and a back seat blocked off.
Another unidentified driver drove a little further and arrived at Graz, a spa town located in the middle of the road between Lebanon and the capital. Graz, which has recently been gaining popularity as a vacation spot for wealthy citizens, was showing signs of development similar to the capital, with newly built hotels and resort facilities popping up one by one.
Angie hid the evidence by throwing the bag containing the powder into a trash can near the fountain in the square while the driver was distracted by pedestrians. The town was bustling even on the night she arrived. The excitement of the National Day festivities had not yet subsided, and well-dressed people were moving between the square and the palatial hotels, social clubs, spas, and banquet halls, chatting brightly.
Angie couldn't come to her senses. A strong sense of incongruity came over her, that Kyle was waiting for her in this fancy resort town. Maybe it wasn't Kyle, but someone else. There are plenty of people who can imitate someone else's handwriting.
The car passed through the bustling city center and entered a large park. An old mansion appeared in the distance. Only then did she realize that it was private property surrounded by a forest. The car stopped and the driver opened the door for her while she was still in a daze.
Angie got out of the car and looked up at the huge mansion. Her heart pounded with a sense of foreboding. The grand Gothic mansion reminded her of Blackwell Heights on Cullinan Island in the past. The strange resemblance became even more evident the moment she stepped inside.
The interior of the mansion was quite different from the rapidly developing Citadel and from the resort city with its new buildings. It was as if the clock had been turned back and the war had begun. In her lost memories, the interior of the Citadel's old palace spire, which the little girl Amber Wynn had first seen when she accompanied her parents to the capital, was just like this.
The red-carpeted corridor continued on endlessly. Angie followed the driver with a calm face. When it was like this, she didn't even feel afraid. Maybe even the sense of fear had been numbed, and a distorted calm had taken its place.
The driver finally stopped at the end of the hallway, in front of a grand door. On both sides of the door were carved scenes of a mythical warrior God with a sword and shield, slaying a gigantic monster. The door swung open. The warrior God, with the tip of his sword, stuck in the monster’s neck, split in half, revealing the room inside.
As soon as she stepped inside, Angie felt dizzy. The room was filled with a scent that hypnotized old memories. It was a scent that had been floating in the air ever since she entered the master’s bedroom six years ago.
It was the scent of the forest. It smelled like newly bloomed flowers, wet grass, or musk. That sweet scent took hold of a corner of her memory and never left. It was a part of his image that was imprinted on her mind until she died, and she could not forget it.
The door closed behind her. The room was dark, but not pitch black. Eight golden candelabras with candles hung on either wall, dancing and swaying.
Under the candlelight, there were elaborately carved statues and wall mirrors, icons and tapestries, furniture draped in bright floral chintz. And there, sitting in the middle of the sofa, was the man.
“Come on in, Angie.”
A voice she had never forgotten for three years, a face that seemed as if it did not exist in reality, was right before Angie's eyes.
Michael quickly stopped digging the ground and shoving the body into it. There was a needle stuck in the back of Franz’s neck. It was a small needle, thin as a needle, but it was a formidable weapon.
The poison cultivated on Cullinan Island was on the ship. If it hit properly, it was a deadly weapon that would instantly paralyze the spine and stop the blood flow to the heart, causing immediate death. It was an assassination technique expertly used by Jerome, the right-hand man of Kyle, and Allen Hardy of the Shadow Guard.
“This is... !”
Only then did the realization hit him. When Angie's life was in danger, it wasn't just him who had killed Franz. The moment he threw the dagger in front of him, Allen Hardy had shot Franz with a poisoned needle from behind. And the fact that he was so oblivious to the presence of the ghost sent shivers down his spine.
“Did Kyle put it there...”
It wasn't just Leticia who had a spy. It was Kyle who had a watchdog on him. At that moment, Michael thought of Angie, who was packing up her things back home. There was no way Allen Hardy would stay still now that he knew where she was.
"Shit...!"
He covered the body with dirt or something and quickly turned around. Then he realized that Angie had not been heard from even while he was collecting the body. Michael quickly pushed his way through the trees and ran down the alley. His heart was pounding with an ominous feeling.
Michael ran with all his might. She shouldn't have been sent alone. He realized his carelessness too late and arrived in front of Catherine Beckett's house in a hurry. And he realized that he was late. The inside and outside of the house were covered in pitch-black silence.
“Angie! Where are you? Angie! Angie!”
He pushed through the front door as if he was going to break it open, and his pupils moved busily in the darkness. There was not a single ant in sight. Michael picked up a lamp, stepped inside the wide-open door, and shone the light here and there. A tattered and torn letter was left on the bed.
"Grandma Catherine is in danger. I'm going to sprinkle blue chalk powder on the road, and if anyone can help me, please follow me. The blue will stay on the road unless it rains and washes it away."
“Oh my... Angie!”
The paper was crumpled mercilessly in Michael's hands. He didn't even wonder why she hadn't called him right away. Whether it was Kyle or Leticia, whoever was holding her grandmother hostage had obviously threatened her not to ask anyone for help. Given Angie's personality, she would have tried to handle it alone.
Michael took a deep breath and ran straight outside. The town where the night market was held was still filled with a cheerful and happy atmosphere. Fortunately, there were plenty of horses and carriages left over due to the influx of merchants from outside.
It was the first time Angie had appeared in a dream since she was discovered in the waters off Cullinan Island.
Angie. Angie, where are you going? Angie, turn around!
Martin raised his voice and waved his hands vigorously. Angie was walking somewhere in a thin robe. Even in the darkness, her honey-colored hair sparkled like a jewel, scattering bright light. He called Angie again with all his might.
Angie! Stop! Come back here. It's dangerous out there.
A vague sense of anxiety squeezed his heart. It seemed as if Angie would be heading towards a cliff at the end of her steps. She stopped walking and looked back at Martin. Her eyes were empty. Unlike when they had interacted in dreams before, this was truly a dream itself. It was fortunate that it was not reality.
But why am I feeling so uneasy? Is something going to happen to Angie...?
What happened? After Michael, Leticia, and now even Kyle. Was it not just Leticia, but Kyle's confidant who was behind Michael?
Angie sat down and buried her face in her hands. But soon she gritted her teeth and got up. She was so worried about what would happen to Grandma Catherine while she was here, and where and what kind of situation she was in right now that she was going crazy. She couldn't ask Michael for help. Kyle wouldn't leave him alone.
After much thought, she tore off a blank sheet of letter paper. She scribbled a few words with a pen and laid it on the bed.
Outside, the horse neighed. There was no time. She crumpled up Kyle’s letter, put it in her bosom, and hurriedly opened the back door. Sure enough, a carriage had stopped. Far away, from the lake and the square, the chatter of people, the delicious smell of something roasting on the fire, and the loud laughter of children chasing dogs drifted in.
As Angie approached, the coachman, his hat pulled down low, nodded. She climbed into the carriage without a moment’s hesitation. Only after the wheels began to roll did she worry about Michael, who was waiting for her. She hoped that nothing would happen to him. And to Grandma Catherine and Aunt Line, too.
She was confident that nothing would happen to Martin and Bryn. The Armitage family's security was very tight, and fortunately, Uncle Willem had the money to hire the best people in Vintergar.
So Noah would be okay. He would definitely be safe. They had to be completely ignorant of Noah, now and in the future.
God, please... Please protect my baby. I don’t care what happens to me. I can handle anything, so please just make Noah and my family safe.
Angie clenched her hands together, shaking like convulsions. She couldn't have been more sincere. If they were wrong, she wouldn't be able to live anyway. Noah, who was more precious than her own life, was even more so.
Angie took a small pouch out of her bosom. Then she opened the door and tilted it out of the carriage window. The blue powder fluttered in the wind like blue snowdrops. She sprinkled the powder at intervals, lest it be a disaster if it fell.
The carriage stopped at the roadside after a long drive. The coachman made her get out of the carriage and led her to a car waiting nearby. It was a much larger car than the one Bryn and Uncle Willem owned. This time, there was no way to sprinkle powder. Unlike the carriage, the car did not have a driver's seat and a back seat blocked off.
Another unidentified driver drove a little further and arrived at Graz, a spa town located in the middle of the road between Lebanon and the capital. Graz, which has recently been gaining popularity as a vacation spot for wealthy citizens, was showing signs of development similar to the capital, with newly built hotels and resort facilities popping up one by one.
Angie hid the evidence by throwing the bag containing the powder into a trash can near the fountain in the square while the driver was distracted by pedestrians. The town was bustling even on the night she arrived. The excitement of the National Day festivities had not yet subsided, and well-dressed people were moving between the square and the palatial hotels, social clubs, spas, and banquet halls, chatting brightly.
Angie couldn't come to her senses. A strong sense of incongruity came over her, that Kyle was waiting for her in this fancy resort town. Maybe it wasn't Kyle, but someone else. There are plenty of people who can imitate someone else's handwriting.
The car passed through the bustling city center and entered a large park. An old mansion appeared in the distance. Only then did she realize that it was private property surrounded by a forest. The car stopped and the driver opened the door for her while she was still in a daze.
Angie got out of the car and looked up at the huge mansion. Her heart pounded with a sense of foreboding. The grand Gothic mansion reminded her of Blackwell Heights on Cullinan Island in the past. The strange resemblance became even more evident the moment she stepped inside.
The interior of the mansion was quite different from the rapidly developing Citadel and from the resort city with its new buildings. It was as if the clock had been turned back and the war had begun. In her lost memories, the interior of the Citadel's old palace spire, which the little girl Amber Wynn had first seen when she accompanied her parents to the capital, was just like this.
The red-carpeted corridor continued on endlessly. Angie followed the driver with a calm face. When it was like this, she didn't even feel afraid. Maybe even the sense of fear had been numbed, and a distorted calm had taken its place.
The driver finally stopped at the end of the hallway, in front of a grand door. On both sides of the door were carved scenes of a mythical warrior God with a sword and shield, slaying a gigantic monster. The door swung open. The warrior God, with the tip of his sword, stuck in the monster’s neck, split in half, revealing the room inside.
As soon as she stepped inside, Angie felt dizzy. The room was filled with a scent that hypnotized old memories. It was a scent that had been floating in the air ever since she entered the master’s bedroom six years ago.
It was the scent of the forest. It smelled like newly bloomed flowers, wet grass, or musk. That sweet scent took hold of a corner of her memory and never left. It was a part of his image that was imprinted on her mind until she died, and she could not forget it.
The door closed behind her. The room was dark, but not pitch black. Eight golden candelabras with candles hung on either wall, dancing and swaying.
Under the candlelight, there were elaborately carved statues and wall mirrors, icons and tapestries, furniture draped in bright floral chintz. And there, sitting in the middle of the sofa, was the man.
“Come on in, Angie.”
A voice she had never forgotten for three years, a face that seemed as if it did not exist in reality, was right before Angie's eyes.
***
Michael quickly stopped digging the ground and shoving the body into it. There was a needle stuck in the back of Franz’s neck. It was a small needle, thin as a needle, but it was a formidable weapon.
The poison cultivated on Cullinan Island was on the ship. If it hit properly, it was a deadly weapon that would instantly paralyze the spine and stop the blood flow to the heart, causing immediate death. It was an assassination technique expertly used by Jerome, the right-hand man of Kyle, and Allen Hardy of the Shadow Guard.
“This is... !”
Only then did the realization hit him. When Angie's life was in danger, it wasn't just him who had killed Franz. The moment he threw the dagger in front of him, Allen Hardy had shot Franz with a poisoned needle from behind. And the fact that he was so oblivious to the presence of the ghost sent shivers down his spine.
“Did Kyle put it there...”
It wasn't just Leticia who had a spy. It was Kyle who had a watchdog on him. At that moment, Michael thought of Angie, who was packing up her things back home. There was no way Allen Hardy would stay still now that he knew where she was.
"Shit...!"
He covered the body with dirt or something and quickly turned around. Then he realized that Angie had not been heard from even while he was collecting the body. Michael quickly pushed his way through the trees and ran down the alley. His heart was pounding with an ominous feeling.
Michael ran with all his might. She shouldn't have been sent alone. He realized his carelessness too late and arrived in front of Catherine Beckett's house in a hurry. And he realized that he was late. The inside and outside of the house were covered in pitch-black silence.
“Angie! Where are you? Angie! Angie!”
He pushed through the front door as if he was going to break it open, and his pupils moved busily in the darkness. There was not a single ant in sight. Michael picked up a lamp, stepped inside the wide-open door, and shone the light here and there. A tattered and torn letter was left on the bed.
"Grandma Catherine is in danger. I'm going to sprinkle blue chalk powder on the road, and if anyone can help me, please follow me. The blue will stay on the road unless it rains and washes it away."
“Oh my... Angie!”
The paper was crumpled mercilessly in Michael's hands. He didn't even wonder why she hadn't called him right away. Whether it was Kyle or Leticia, whoever was holding her grandmother hostage had obviously threatened her not to ask anyone for help. Given Angie's personality, she would have tried to handle it alone.
Michael took a deep breath and ran straight outside. The town where the night market was held was still filled with a cheerful and happy atmosphere. Fortunately, there were plenty of horses and carriages left over due to the influx of merchants from outside.
***
It was the first time Angie had appeared in a dream since she was discovered in the waters off Cullinan Island.
Angie. Angie, where are you going? Angie, turn around!
Martin raised his voice and waved his hands vigorously. Angie was walking somewhere in a thin robe. Even in the darkness, her honey-colored hair sparkled like a jewel, scattering bright light. He called Angie again with all his might.
Angie! Stop! Come back here. It's dangerous out there.
A vague sense of anxiety squeezed his heart. It seemed as if Angie would be heading towards a cliff at the end of her steps. She stopped walking and looked back at Martin. Her eyes were empty. Unlike when they had interacted in dreams before, this was truly a dream itself. It was fortunate that it was not reality.
But why am I feeling so uneasy? Is something going to happen to Angie...?
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