The train carrying the two stopped at Trieste Station after four hours. Although they had only just crossed the border, the atmosphere of the train station alone made it clear that they were in a foreign country.
The station was so bleak that it was almost dreary. It was a far cry from the bustling and lively Bintgarh station. Passengers who got off the train changed to carriages or horses and went their separate ways. Angie looked around.
“Michael, where is Uncle Jerome?”
“Well, I don’t think they’ve arrived yet... I’ll leave a letter at the ticket office, so we can go first. Trieste isn’t as car-friendly as Vintergard, so we’ll have to take a carriage.”
Angie hesitated for a moment and then nodded. She was worried and disappointed because she thought Jerome would be waiting, but she didn't show it.
Even after getting off the train, the carriage continued on for a while. Michael was very attentive to her, making sure she was comfortable, and even took off his jacket to make a cushion for her to lean on.
Angie was dozing off from fatigue when she looked out the window of the carriage door. The carriage was running along a long river road. Suddenly, she had a strange feeling.
“Michael. Is that river the Trave River?”
“Right. How... do you know?”
She had seen it on a map of Trieste. If her memory served her right, beyond the border between Trieste and Vintergar, from the train station, the Trave River, the longest river in the country, began, but it ran south rather than north to the capital, Hedestad.
“If the map is not wrong, that river should flow south. Could it be that the coachman got the wrong destination? We should stop the carriage right now...”
“No, Angie. We’re on the right track.”
“What? But the direction of the Trave River is...”
“We are not going to the capital.”
Michael continued speaking calmly. Angie looked back and forth between him and the window in embarrassment. She didn't see Michael take a handkerchief out of his bosom.
“We're going to Te Deum. To the Blackwell Estate in the south that I mentioned before.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not going to Hedestad! Kyle is now locked up in the capital’s royal prison, not Te Deum...”
Angie couldn't continue. Michael pressed the handkerchief against her mouth. A strong chemical smell wafted from her nose. Angie bit her lips tightly to keep herself from losing consciousness. But it was no use. Her vision was rapidly becoming blurry.
“Uh... Ugh... Ugh...”
She couldn't understand why Michael was doing this. Even as she was losing consciousness, she was shocked that the man she trusted was trying to deceive and harm her like this.
“I’m sorry, Angie.”
The soft tone continued dreamily.
“Just sleep for a bit and I’ll be there.”
Clear purple eyes shone through the wet green eyes. Michael whispered again as if he was truly sorry.
“I promise. Nothing will happen to you. We can be happy at Te Deum. So don’t worry about anything.”
Srrrr, her eyes closed. Angie couldn't stand the strong chemicals any longer. Michael was holding her gently and whispering something to her.
I love you, Angie.
She tried to shake him off, but she couldn't. In her head, she was screaming, "Please!", but he couldn't move. Angie eventually collapsed in his arms. Michael held her in his arms, who had become as quiet as a doll and stroked her hair before taking off her brown wig.
On her shoulders, which were still as if she was sleeping soundly, her dazzling blond hair flowed like a waterfall. Michael stroked her hair gently and repeatedly tangled the golden thread-like hair around his fingers. An eerie satisfaction rose in his purple pupils that revealed their true colors.
The Blackwell Mansion in Hedestad had been dark and quiet for several days. On the first floor of the Blackwell Tower, a tower facing the mansion, two men and women sat in a gloomy atmosphere. They were Baron Samuel Dervan and Duchess Leticia.
Leticia couldn't overcome her impatience and got up from her seat and paced around the room frantically. She had bitten her fingernails so much that the rose powder she had applied to them was scattered on the floor and around the tea table.
“Uncle, what happens to us now? How long will Kyle have to be interrogated?”
“The situation is not good. Fortunately, the suspicion of treason does not lead to an investigation into the mansion due to insufficient evidence. If we had been careless, we could have been in big trouble.”
“The Emperor’s funeral is in a week! If Kyle isn’t released by then, aren’t we all in trouble?”
At that moment, someone knocked on the firmly closed salon door. Leticia was startled, as it was a tower used for some kind of meeting. However, the soft knocking sound was familiar.
“This is Louis.”
Leticia opened the door and greeted her. But it wasn’t Mrs. Dunst standing in front of the door. A large figure wearing a gray hood was swinging something in his hand quickly. Blood spurted out like a fountain. Leticia realized a few beats later that it was coming from her own chest.
“Huh... Ugh...!”
Bloodshot eyes scanned the back of the villain. The sentries standing in front of the tower were nowhere to be seen. Leticia clutched her chest and vomited blood again. Another scream rang out from behind her as she fell. She didn’t have time to look back, but it was clear that it was her uncle.
The place where the Baron and Duchess had fallen was instantly transformed into a pool of blood. The assailants wiped the bloody sword with a cloth and threw it into the flames of the fireplace.
The assassination was over in a ridiculously short time. No matter how defenseless and sudden the attack was, there was no way such an attack could have been possible within the Duke's territory. It was impossible unless it was done by an insider.
“Are you done?”
Louis Dunst, who had been standing back, lowered Cloak's hat and looked around the room.
“Do not leave any evidence behind, and dispose of the body outside the territory as I said before. Just like they were attacked by the anti-communist group on their way back from the palace.”
The villains nodded. They were all members of the so-called Shadow Guard, who always guarded Kyle's back like shadows. Among them, only Allen Hardy and Michael Randle were not there for their own reasons.
Louis left the bloody scene and walked back to the main building. The letter from Michael she had received at Te Deum a few days ago came back to her mind. If she could finish just one more today, she would have to return to Te Deum too.
In any case, the capital's territory was nothing more than an empty fortress. The main assets had long since been gradually transferred by the Duke to overseas bases. And the family's most valuable treasures, jewels, and records of the Black Mass were all in the Te Deum.
"Louis. I am on my way back to Te Deum now. Unfortunately, the Duke seems hopeless. However, the Blackwell family must be protected, just as the late Edward so desperately wanted. It seems that a major cleanup is needed."
In that 'clean up' were Baron Samuel Dervan, who had shown his ambitions not only for Eternity but also for the dukedom itself, and two women who had been branded useless to Eternity: Duchess Leticia, who had been married for nearly three years but had no heirs, and Charlotte Randall.
The child's absence was not the fault of either of them, but that truth was completely overlooked. Louis walked along the cold stone floor, lost in thought.
Now Louis was sure. Lord Kyle had no interest in Eternity. She did not know the reason whether it was because he had no desire for eternal life or to try it himself as a test subject. But she did not want to know. There was no need to know.
Any useless piece in Eternity should be discarded, even if it's the Queen. If there's a replacement for the Queen, it doesn't matter if there's no real Queen. Fortunately, they had another perfect successor to replace Lord Kyle.
“Your eldest son, Edward, whom you left behind without knowing... Legally, he is an illegitimate child, but if Grand Duke Winston changes the law, he could become a legitimate child.”
Louis returned to the main study and took out the desk cloth embroidered with Kyle. Then, she took out another cloth and marked with chalk the place where the new embroidery would be placed, Mikyle. Then she rubbed it out with her hand and rewrote it in the old spelling.
On the white cloth, the word Mikyle was written in a faint blue.
An hour later, Charlotte Randall was lying on the bedroom floor, gasping for breath. Blood was seeping from her lips, leaning to one side, between her fingers, clutching her teacup as if she were going to break it. The front of her maid’s uniform was soaked with the tea she had just drunk. Tears were streaming from her eyes, wetting her cheeks.
“Ugh...gasp...”
Charlotte sobbed silently. Her trembling eyes were filled with other emotions besides the pain that started from her neck and spread through her body, and the fear that she was dying.
Why on earth... Who me... What for...
The sorrow of being poisoned without knowing the reason resonated bitterly in the lonely room. It was unbelievable. She had hoped that she might become the next Duchess soon, but now she was facing the path to hell.
Charlotte's hand, which had been holding her neck, fell to the floor. Her face, too, was pressed against the carpet, her eyes wide open.
The station was so bleak that it was almost dreary. It was a far cry from the bustling and lively Bintgarh station. Passengers who got off the train changed to carriages or horses and went their separate ways. Angie looked around.
“Michael, where is Uncle Jerome?”
“Well, I don’t think they’ve arrived yet... I’ll leave a letter at the ticket office, so we can go first. Trieste isn’t as car-friendly as Vintergard, so we’ll have to take a carriage.”
Angie hesitated for a moment and then nodded. She was worried and disappointed because she thought Jerome would be waiting, but she didn't show it.
Even after getting off the train, the carriage continued on for a while. Michael was very attentive to her, making sure she was comfortable, and even took off his jacket to make a cushion for her to lean on.
Angie was dozing off from fatigue when she looked out the window of the carriage door. The carriage was running along a long river road. Suddenly, she had a strange feeling.
“Michael. Is that river the Trave River?”
“Right. How... do you know?”
She had seen it on a map of Trieste. If her memory served her right, beyond the border between Trieste and Vintergar, from the train station, the Trave River, the longest river in the country, began, but it ran south rather than north to the capital, Hedestad.
“If the map is not wrong, that river should flow south. Could it be that the coachman got the wrong destination? We should stop the carriage right now...”
“No, Angie. We’re on the right track.”
“What? But the direction of the Trave River is...”
“We are not going to the capital.”
Michael continued speaking calmly. Angie looked back and forth between him and the window in embarrassment. She didn't see Michael take a handkerchief out of his bosom.
“We're going to Te Deum. To the Blackwell Estate in the south that I mentioned before.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not going to Hedestad! Kyle is now locked up in the capital’s royal prison, not Te Deum...”
Angie couldn't continue. Michael pressed the handkerchief against her mouth. A strong chemical smell wafted from her nose. Angie bit her lips tightly to keep herself from losing consciousness. But it was no use. Her vision was rapidly becoming blurry.
“Uh... Ugh... Ugh...”
She couldn't understand why Michael was doing this. Even as she was losing consciousness, she was shocked that the man she trusted was trying to deceive and harm her like this.
“I’m sorry, Angie.”
The soft tone continued dreamily.
“Just sleep for a bit and I’ll be there.”
Clear purple eyes shone through the wet green eyes. Michael whispered again as if he was truly sorry.
“I promise. Nothing will happen to you. We can be happy at Te Deum. So don’t worry about anything.”
Srrrr, her eyes closed. Angie couldn't stand the strong chemicals any longer. Michael was holding her gently and whispering something to her.
I love you, Angie.
She tried to shake him off, but she couldn't. In her head, she was screaming, "Please!", but he couldn't move. Angie eventually collapsed in his arms. Michael held her in his arms, who had become as quiet as a doll and stroked her hair before taking off her brown wig.
On her shoulders, which were still as if she was sleeping soundly, her dazzling blond hair flowed like a waterfall. Michael stroked her hair gently and repeatedly tangled the golden thread-like hair around his fingers. An eerie satisfaction rose in his purple pupils that revealed their true colors.
***
The Blackwell Mansion in Hedestad had been dark and quiet for several days. On the first floor of the Blackwell Tower, a tower facing the mansion, two men and women sat in a gloomy atmosphere. They were Baron Samuel Dervan and Duchess Leticia.
Leticia couldn't overcome her impatience and got up from her seat and paced around the room frantically. She had bitten her fingernails so much that the rose powder she had applied to them was scattered on the floor and around the tea table.
“Uncle, what happens to us now? How long will Kyle have to be interrogated?”
“The situation is not good. Fortunately, the suspicion of treason does not lead to an investigation into the mansion due to insufficient evidence. If we had been careless, we could have been in big trouble.”
“The Emperor’s funeral is in a week! If Kyle isn’t released by then, aren’t we all in trouble?”
At that moment, someone knocked on the firmly closed salon door. Leticia was startled, as it was a tower used for some kind of meeting. However, the soft knocking sound was familiar.
“This is Louis.”
Leticia opened the door and greeted her. But it wasn’t Mrs. Dunst standing in front of the door. A large figure wearing a gray hood was swinging something in his hand quickly. Blood spurted out like a fountain. Leticia realized a few beats later that it was coming from her own chest.
“Huh... Ugh...!”
Bloodshot eyes scanned the back of the villain. The sentries standing in front of the tower were nowhere to be seen. Leticia clutched her chest and vomited blood again. Another scream rang out from behind her as she fell. She didn’t have time to look back, but it was clear that it was her uncle.
The place where the Baron and Duchess had fallen was instantly transformed into a pool of blood. The assailants wiped the bloody sword with a cloth and threw it into the flames of the fireplace.
The assassination was over in a ridiculously short time. No matter how defenseless and sudden the attack was, there was no way such an attack could have been possible within the Duke's territory. It was impossible unless it was done by an insider.
“Are you done?”
Louis Dunst, who had been standing back, lowered Cloak's hat and looked around the room.
“Do not leave any evidence behind, and dispose of the body outside the territory as I said before. Just like they were attacked by the anti-communist group on their way back from the palace.”
The villains nodded. They were all members of the so-called Shadow Guard, who always guarded Kyle's back like shadows. Among them, only Allen Hardy and Michael Randle were not there for their own reasons.
Louis left the bloody scene and walked back to the main building. The letter from Michael she had received at Te Deum a few days ago came back to her mind. If she could finish just one more today, she would have to return to Te Deum too.
In any case, the capital's territory was nothing more than an empty fortress. The main assets had long since been gradually transferred by the Duke to overseas bases. And the family's most valuable treasures, jewels, and records of the Black Mass were all in the Te Deum.
"Louis. I am on my way back to Te Deum now. Unfortunately, the Duke seems hopeless. However, the Blackwell family must be protected, just as the late Edward so desperately wanted. It seems that a major cleanup is needed."
In that 'clean up' were Baron Samuel Dervan, who had shown his ambitions not only for Eternity but also for the dukedom itself, and two women who had been branded useless to Eternity: Duchess Leticia, who had been married for nearly three years but had no heirs, and Charlotte Randall.
The child's absence was not the fault of either of them, but that truth was completely overlooked. Louis walked along the cold stone floor, lost in thought.
Now Louis was sure. Lord Kyle had no interest in Eternity. She did not know the reason whether it was because he had no desire for eternal life or to try it himself as a test subject. But she did not want to know. There was no need to know.
Any useless piece in Eternity should be discarded, even if it's the Queen. If there's a replacement for the Queen, it doesn't matter if there's no real Queen. Fortunately, they had another perfect successor to replace Lord Kyle.
“Your eldest son, Edward, whom you left behind without knowing... Legally, he is an illegitimate child, but if Grand Duke Winston changes the law, he could become a legitimate child.”
Louis returned to the main study and took out the desk cloth embroidered with Kyle. Then, she took out another cloth and marked with chalk the place where the new embroidery would be placed, Mikyle. Then she rubbed it out with her hand and rewrote it in the old spelling.
On the white cloth, the word Mikyle was written in a faint blue.
An hour later, Charlotte Randall was lying on the bedroom floor, gasping for breath. Blood was seeping from her lips, leaning to one side, between her fingers, clutching her teacup as if she were going to break it. The front of her maid’s uniform was soaked with the tea she had just drunk. Tears were streaming from her eyes, wetting her cheeks.
“Ugh...gasp...”
Charlotte sobbed silently. Her trembling eyes were filled with other emotions besides the pain that started from her neck and spread through her body, and the fear that she was dying.
Why on earth... Who me... What for...
The sorrow of being poisoned without knowing the reason resonated bitterly in the lonely room. It was unbelievable. She had hoped that she might become the next Duchess soon, but now she was facing the path to hell.
Charlotte's hand, which had been holding her neck, fell to the floor. Her face, too, was pressed against the carpet, her eyes wide open.
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