“Ghk! Urrghh!”

The brutal force pressing down on his throat left Raul unable even to scream, only choking and gasping. He clawed desperately at the hands squeezing his neck, twisted his body this way and that to shake off the weight pinning him down, but it was useless—the attacker did not budge.

The unlit room was pitch dark. The figure in the black mask showed no face, but Raul knew well enough who it was.

Telior…

It wasn’t him in person, but one of the shadows, one of the avatars he controlled.

The harder the grip on Raul’s throat, the stronger the acrid stench of burning filled the room.

“Did you find a sense of loyalty a little too late?”

The man spoke with Telior’s voice, though his build and frame were different. The violet gleam flashing in the darkness told Raul that his end had come.

Whether it was fortune or misfortune, the suffocating pressure on his neck brought no pain. He recalled Gerard’s words—that he would never feel pain again.

Perhaps Gerard had known a day like this would come, and had spared him this much as a final mercy. With that faint thought, Raul slowly closed his eyes. He considered it a death far too peaceful for a traitor, and with his last breath, prayed for a forgiveness from Cassian that would never reach him.

“Steward… Steward?”

Knock, knock.

Tom knocked hard on Raul’s door. Morning had long passed, yet there was no sign of him. Ever since the day Raul collapsed in the corridor, Tom had been plagued with an uneasy feeling each time he saw him. The man once so sharp now stared blankly at nothing, repeated mistakes he never would have made before, and had begun to give away his cherished belongings—books, pens, even his notebooks and quills, which he had always treasured.

Though Tom accepted them, the gifts only deepened his unease.

“Steward!”

He called again and again, but there was no reply. He tried the handle, but the door had been locked from inside.

“No…”

His heart dropped like a stone. What if Raul had collapsed again? Bracing himself, Tom rammed his shoulder into the door. With a splintering crack, it gave way.

“Steward, are you— No! Steward!”

Tom froze for an instant at the sight inside, then rushed forward and grabbed Raul’s body, screaming. Raul hung from a noose, already lifeless.

“Steward! Please… Someone, help!”

But the body in his arms was already cold, stiff as a broken puppet.

Ciel’s recovery was so swift it was hard to believe he had endured such brutal torture. It owed partly to his naturally strong constitution, but even more to Gerard’s ointment.

Martino, who had doubted at first, now stood aghast at the miraculous results.

“How can such medicine exist… What sort of man is this Cardeine family physician?”

He stared in genuine awe at the wounds on Ciel’s body, already budding with fresh pink skin. He clearly believed Gerard to be a physician, not a mage.

“He is a brilliant scholar, a physician, and a mage,” Estella answered.

“I see… If I ever have the chance, I must meet him.”

As Martino spoke, an idea struck Estella. Watching how devotedly he treated Ciel, she thought how valuable such a physician would be in Wintfall.

“You said you were closing this hospital.”

“…Yes, that is true.”

Regret was clear on Martino’s face as his eyes swept the ward.

“This is quite a large hospital. Was there some reason you could no longer keep it open?”

At Estella’s careful question, Martino scratched his white hair with a rueful chuckle.

“I fell out of favor with the Imperial court.”

The answer came not from Martino but from his son, Angelo.

“I see… Then indeed it would be difficult to keep a hospital running in the capital,” Estella said. She thought to ask what had caused the break, but held back. A man who had turned against the Imperial court was precisely the kind of ally she wanted—and the fact that he was not on good terms with Aslan pleased her greatly.

“Yes. So once I close this place, I thought I might look elsewhere,” Martino said.

“Have you decided where to go?”

Estella asked cautiously, careful not to show haste. To push too fast might ruin everything.

“Not yet. I’ll take my time. I’ve lived a busy life; perhaps it’s time to look around at leisure.”

Wherever he went, Martino thought, it could not be harder than here. After so much hardship, peace of mind was worth more than wealth.

“In that case… would you consider coming to Wintfall with me?”

At her sudden proposal, Martino’s white brows arched high like gull wings. Yet his expression was not wholly displeased, and Estella’s heart leapt with hope. Somehow she knew—this man was the very physician Wintfall needed.

“Does Wintfall not already have a capable physician?”

Though tempted, Martino had no desire to steal another man’s post.

“Gerard has many other duties. He is far too busy to serve solely as physician. If the two of you would come to Wintfall, it would be an enormous help. Gerard himself would be glad.”

Martino glanced at his son, silently asking his opinion.

“Wintfall… isn’t that the domain plagued by monsters?” Angelo asked cautiously.

No one in this world liked monsters. Estella braced herself for his refusal and nodded.

“Yes. They appear often—”

“Then it’s exactly where a physician is most needed!”

Angelo’s eyes lit up like a miner who had struck gold.

“That’s right,” Estella answered slowly, the boy’s eagerness reminding her of Gerard.

“Father, what’s there to think about? Let’s go to Wintfall! And you even have ties with the Marquis, don’t you?” Angelo said, seizing on her proposal at once and even bringing up a hidden connection.

Surprised, Estella’s curiosity about Martino only deepened.

“You know my father?” she asked.

“We crossed paths when I was young. It was long ago. The Marquis has surely forgotten.” Martino smiled sheepishly, scratching his graying head.

“In any case, I’m eager to meet the one who made that ointment. How remarkable he must be… I can hardly wait.”

At last Estella realized the sense of familiarity she had felt from Angelo—it was Gerard’s influence she had been reminded of. She smiled brightly.

“You’ll be friends quickly. He’s fussy, but he’s a good man.”

To have saved Ciel and now gained such valuable allies for Wintfall was more than Estella could have hoped. Better still, Ciel could continue to be treated on the journey home. They could set out for Wintfall with far lighter hearts than when they had come to the capital.

Raul’s sudden death plunged Wintfall Castle into mourning. None was more shaken than the Marquis himself, who had spent his life with him at his side.

“Raul would never make such a choice,” Cassian said heavily, gazing down at Raul’s body lying as if asleep on the bed.

In recent days Raul had seemed unlike himself, and there had been hints of some matter between him and Estella. Yet Cassian had not asked. If it was a matter between them, he thought, it was not his place. Or perhaps he simply did not want to face the truth. Now he regretted it bitterly.

Gerard, too, could not believe Raul had chosen death by his own hand. Estella had told him plainly that Raul had no right to such an end, and Raul had seemed to accept it. He had even looked like a man repenting his choice. Why then? What could have deepened his guilt so suddenly to the point of breaking?

“I will examine him,” Gerard said, stepping forward. Cassian silently gave way. He trusted Gerard, who had uncovered the truth of Katrin’s death, to find the truth here as well.

Gerard knelt at the bedside and drew back the sheet. Raul, already gaunt, looked even more pitiful drained of life. A wave of helpless pity made Gerard sigh.

He did not first look at the marks around the neck, but at Raul’s half-closed eyelids. Lifting one gently with a fingertip, he saw faint petechiae beneath the pale skin. Too uniform, too light to be the result of burst vessels.

“Hmm…”

Gerard checked the other eyelid, then lowered his gaze to the neck. At first glance there was only the rope mark, but soon he noticed something else: beneath the blue bruise lay a faint blackened trace, as if scorched.

Frowning, Gerard drew a small pair of tweezers from his bag and scraped lightly. A faint smell of burning rose.

“Raul did not take his own life,” Gerard declared as he stood.

Cassian’s face hardened.

“Then who… Could it be the same as what we found in Katrin’s chamber?” His voice cracked with dread, unwilling images forcing their way into his mind.

“Yes. It is the work of the same mage.”

At the unhesitant reply, Cassian closed his eyes, then exhaled slowly. His chest tightened as memories of Katrin and Alexis’s countless crimes flooded back. Blind fool—he had failed to see what was happening right beside him, tormenting Estella, Luka, and his wife. And now he was repeating the same mistake.

He could not run anymore. He could not remain a weak father forever depending on Estella. He had to face the truth.

“Then… Raul betrayed me after all?”

It took all his will to say it aloud.

“That is not for me to answer,” Gerard said. Matters of Raul’s betrayal were for Estella herself to reveal to the Marquis. He was no more than a third party.

“Estella… already knew, didn’t she.”

“That, too, I cannot say.”

Gerard chose silence.

“…Haah.”

Cassian felt the weight on Estella once again, and his own heart sank. How long would he show her only his weakness? He despised himself for it.

“Tom.”

“…Yes.”

Tom’s face was pale as death. Raul’s sudden passing was shock enough—but to think he had hidden still more secrets left Tom utterly at a loss.

“Search Raul’s room and office, every corner. If you find anything unusual, report it at once.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Hearing Cassian’s furious tone, Tom bowed deeply.

Soon after Raul’s body was carried away and Tom began his search, a letter arrived from the capital.

Chapter 169

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