ESL Chapter 59

Whoosh.

A whip, the kind used on horses, moved like a snake and lashed viciously across the back of a man kneeling on the floor.

“Ugh… p-please… for-forgive… me… Your Grace…”

The man’s body trembled with pain. His back was so covered in whip marks that there was not a single unscathed spot, and blood seeped from every wound.

“You should have searched more carefully.”

Cheor smiled, his expression twisted, and raised the whip again to strike the man’s back. His vicious assault did not stop even after the man lost consciousness. What finally halted him as he swung the whip like a madman was Zakar.

“Hm. I didn’t know Duke Mihael had a hobby of murder.”

Cheor noticed Zakar, who had somehow slipped inside without his knowledge, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.

“…I did ask you to knock.”

Remarkably, Cheor spoke with deference to the man who looked at least twenty years his junior, and tossed the whip he had been holding down onto the collapsed man. He then walked to his desk and rang the bell upon it, whereupon servants entered and swiftly dragged the man away.

“I heard Kun was badly injured. It appears you’ve sustained a wound to your shoulder as well, Lord Zakar. What on earth happened?”

The whipping of the man who had been in charge of searching the royal palace seemed to have been effective — Cheor felt his fury beginning to subside. He pulled off the pure white gloves he had been wearing, threw them onto the desk, and asked the question. His sharp eyes had not missed the wound on the red-haired man’s right shoulder. The bleeding had stopped, but it was unmistakably a sword cut. At his question, Zakar let a languid smile curl at the corner of his lips.

“Well… let’s say a pretty, feisty little black cat scratched me. And what about you — I heard the search of the royal palace ended in failure?”

Flinch.

Cheor’s hand, which had been resting on his knee, gave an involuntary twitch.

That bastard…

Zakar’s words rekindled the fury that had only just settled. Cheor suppressed the irritation surging within him and replied without letting it show.

“I thought they might be hiding in the royal palace, but it seems not. I’m planning to raid and search the Yurasen Empire’s Teor branch at dawn tomorrow.”

“Oh~?”

Zakar moved at a leisurely pace toward the sofa and sprawled across it as comfortably as if it were his own home. It gave the impression of a great predator retreating to its den to rest. His legs were too long for the sofa, so he lifted them — boots still on — and dropped them with a thud onto the armrest. Cheor’s brow furrowed at the dirt and sand falling from the boots, but Zakar merely dangled his feet and said,

“Looks like someone else will be dying tomorrow, then.”

“…Are you trying to provoke me?”

Unable to hold back any longer, Cheor ground his teeth — and at the sight of it, Zakar grinned. Realizing only then that Zakar had been toying with him, Cheor reined in his rising anger and continued.

“Luciel and that red-eyed girl will certainly be at the Teor branch. As you previously informed me, if Luciel is connected to the Yurasen Empire—”

“…What did you just say?”

Zakar cut him off abruptly and raised his upper body. His silver eyes locked onto Cheor with piercing intensity. Remarkably, those always cold and impassive silver eyes now held an emotion Cheor had never seen in them before — something that felt like the euphoria of spotting prey, tinged even with a hint of madness. Cheor froze under that gaze, feeling a fear he could not name, and forced himself to speak.

“I said, ‘if Luciel is connected to the Yurasen Empire, as you previously informed me.'”

“No, not that part.”

What on earth is he talking about? Cheor frowned and turned his own words over again in his mind. Then he repeated them from the beginning.

“Luciel and that red-eyed girl will certainly be at the Teor branch—”

“The red-eyed girl?”

“Yes. She’s the girl who helped Luciel escape. Quite a remarkable beauty, I must say…”

Suddenly the image of that girl came to mind — her eyes downcast before him — and before he knew it, Cheor’s tongue slipped out and traced slowly across his lower lip. Just the thought of her made his lower abdomen tighten. He was inwardly vowing to find her and use her until she was utterly broken, when a murderous intent suddenly constricting around his throat jolted him into looking up.

“She is my prey.”

“…?”

“She is my prey. Do not even think of laying a hand on her.”

Those cold silver eyes gleamed dangerously, as if Zakar had read his very thoughts. It felt like coming eye to eye with a predator in the dark. Cheor involuntarily swallowed, and answered in a voice that trembled slightly.

“…As you wish.”

Having received his answer, Zakar settled back down with an air of satisfaction and said,

“Come to think of it, I believe I heard your wife has been searching for her nephew. Wouldn’t it be better to concern yourself with that?”

“…I’ve already sent people. If she wants to meet him so badly, I ought to extend an invitation.”

As if he had never trembled at all, Cheor’s eyes gleamed with cruelty once more.

****

Arhvina had left her family home without even informing her father, Marquis Goth, accompanied by only a handful of knights, and was now making her way toward the estate. By now, word that she was searching for Luciel would surely have reached Cheor’s ears. There was nowhere in this kingdom beyond the reach of Duke Mihael’s eyes and ears.

This, at least, I must protect…

Without realizing it, Arhvina tightened her grip around the wooden box in her hands. Even if she reached the estate, she would be found out before long — but her intention was to hold out long enough, at the very least, to find Luciel and hand him this box.

That man is not human… no human being could be so cruel…

She squeezed her eyes shut as Rosia’s trembling, terror-stricken voice echoed in her mind like a hallucination. No matter how hard she tried to forget, those sounds would not be erased from her head. Even if the girl was not his true daughter — how could anyone do such a thing? And to use her as a tool to eliminate Luciel, of all things… that poor child…

Tears welled from beneath her shut eyelids and slid down her cheeks. How had she ever come to love a man so utterly devoid of humanity? If she could turn back time, she would pay any price to do so.

“It’s not too late even now. Somehow I have to get this to Luciel…”

She murmured quietly and opened her eyes — then the carriage lurched violently and came to a sudden stop, throwing her off balance and pitching her forward. Even so, she did not let go of the box clasped tightly in both hands.

“What’s happening?!”

Alarmed, Arhvina opened the window and called out, and one of Marquis Goth’s knights shouted back urgently, slamming the window shut.

“We’re under attack, my lady! You must not come out!”

An ambush? Arhvina’s eyes went wide with shock. Had he already sent his men? The cacophonous clash of swords and screams from outside the carriage filled her with dread and desperation. And then, at some point, all of it fell completely silent.

“……!”

With a crash, the carriage door was wrenched violently open, and a masked man in black stepped in, sword dripping with blood. Arhvina instinctively pressed herself into the far corner of the carriage. But within moments her arm was seized and she was dragged forcibly out.

“Aah…!”

Pulled from the carriage, Arhvina went deathly pale at the brutal scene laid out before her, and lost the power of speech. Marquis Goth’s knights lay strewn about, bloodied, while masked men moved among them, thrusting their swords into each body to confirm the kills.

“This… this is monstrous…”

Gritting her teeth and trembling, Arhvina twisted her body with all her strength to wrench free of the man’s grip on her arm. But a woman’s slight strength was no match for his. The man stared down at her as she refused to stop struggling even so, then flung away his sword, raised his hand, and struck a precise blow to the side of her neck. At the perfectly aimed strike, Arhvina could not even cry out before she lost consciousness and crumpled.

“……”

The man who had rendered Arhvina unconscious let his gaze come to rest on the wooden box she still clutched to her chest. She had not released it even as she lost consciousness — whatever it was, it clearly mattered greatly to her. His orders from his master were simply to bring her, but the man felt instinctively that he ought to take the box as well. He bent down and reached toward it — and at that very moment, a voice from directly behind him caused his entire body to freeze solid.

“Stealing a lady’s belongings isn’t something a man should do. Ah — should I say not a man, but a dog?”

“…!”

He had no idea when the other had approached. The startled man tried to spin around and fall back — but Zender’s sword had already run clean through his heart. Without even a scream, the man’s body crumpled, spraying blood as he fell.

“My, my… blood has splattered. She’ll be frightened when she wakes.”

Zender grimaced at the blood spattered across Arhvina’s hair, face, and dress. He bent down, drew a handkerchief from inside his coat, and carefully wiped the blood from her face. Then he whispered quietly,

“It has been a long time, Lady Arhvina.”