Chapter 205
Waaah!

The carriage jolted violently. The night was already dark, and with the heavy rain pouring down, the horses’ galloping felt precarious. Romandro peered anxiously out the window, barely able to see a thing.

“Could Barsabe really be dead?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hmph. We weren’t close, but it still feels unsettling. Maybe it’s because the last thing she did was save Viviana. Beric will be troubled when he wakes up. For now, it’s best to keep this under wraps. Sigh… such a young, promising talent lost like this.”

“…She probably has no family.”

“Ah, yes. After Petreo died, she lived alone.”

The body had been found not far from the city center, on the outskirts. Judging by the route, it seemed she couldn’t escape directly toward the palace from the Maelidaily building and had to take a detour. Likely, she fled through alleyways to avoid dragging innocent citizens into the chaos.

Ian rested his chin on his hand, watching the rain streak down. She had died for the empire. Yet, for a final night honoring her, the mood was unbearably grim.

Splash!

The carriage wheels cut through puddles. Normally, they would have arrived within the hour, but the harsh conditions delayed them by thirty minutes. In the distance, a faint light appeared.

“We’re here!”

“Careful! The roads are slippery in this rain!”

The guards held lanterns, their light flickering. The coachman tightened the reins slowly, and Romandro was the first to step down and open an umbrella. Despite the effort, their hair and shoulders were soaked in an instant.

“Greetings. I’m the security officer for Chetur District 2.”

“Ian Hielo from the Ministry of Magic.”

“An honor to meet you. Please, follow me.”

The guards bowed politely and led the way, umbrella in hand. Under a makeshift tent, familiar faces came into view: knights from the palace guard and Jaret. Some stood smoking with their backs turned, others crouched beside the body. Jaret simply stared.

“Captain Jaret.”

“……”

The silence was heavy, cruel, colder than the pouring rain. Jaret, drenched, greeted Ian with a hollow look. The guilt of having lost both his close friend and her daughter weighed on him, threatening to break him.

“Remove the cloth.”

“That… it might be hard to look at.”

“Remove it.”

Ian’s firm command left no room for hesitation. The guards pulled back the wet cloth. Romandro shut his eyes tightly, unable to bear the sight, and Ian furrowed his brow.

“This is…”

Horrific. The mangled flesh looked like rotting meat, the damage so severe it was impossible to identify. No wonder they couldn’t confirm the identity—the face was unrecognizable.

“As you can see, identification is difficult. We only know it’s a woman, probably in her early twenties. If she hadn’t been wearing the palace guard uniform, this would have been treated as an unclaimed body.”

Drip, drip.

The rain filled the gaps in the guards’ words, so heavy it drowned out even the sound of someone crying.

“Beric came back just as mangled.”

Jaret noticed the wounds on the body were similar to Beric’s. He covered his face and turned away. Romandro, in a gesture of mourning, took a gold coin and placed it on the corpse.

“Romandro.”

“Sniff… huh?”

Romandro was quietly sobbing now, sniffling as he looked back at Ian.

“Do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When you interrogated Petreo in the Hielo territory.”

“I wasn’t there. You and Beric handled it, didn’t you? Sigh Knight, your sacrifice supports Bariel. Thank you. Farewell!”

At the mention of Petreo’s name, Jaret reacted, though it was unclear what he wanted to say.

‘The face is crushed, yes, but more than that…’

“Melted” seemed a better description—like when Petreo wore the poison ring. Ian nodded to a guard.

“You.”

“Yes?”

“Put your finger in the corpse’s mouth.”

The guard froze, horrified. Handling a whole corpse was bad enough, but this mangled one? Yet Ian didn’t retract the order, and with the palace guards’ silent pressure mounting, he had no choice. He donned gloves tightly, muttering curses under his breath.

“Like this?”

“Ian, what are you doing? Please don’t dishonor Barsabe any further. This concerns her honor.”

One of the guards stepped forward, pleading, but Ian dismissed him firmly.

“Deeper. Deeper.”

“Ugh… like this?”

“Are the teeth intact?”

“Uh, just a moment.”

The guard fought back nausea as he checked the corpse’s teeth with his fingertips: front teeth, lower teeth, canines, molars.

“Yes. All intact.”

“Molars intact?”

Romandro, who had been holding back tears, asked in surprise.

At his unusual reaction, Jaret sensed something was off, though he didn’t know why. He didn’t know that Beric had smashed Barsabe’s molars. Only her roommate knew, but that person was on duty at the emperor’s quarters and wasn’t here.

“What does the molar matter?”

The guard asked, confused. Romandro shouted excitedly.

“Don’t you know? Well, it’s not something to blab about! Beric once pulled out Barsabe’s molars! No, that’s not quite right—he smashed them to bits! That’s why Beric used to call her ‘Molar.’”

“Is that true?”

“I swear on my life! Even my wife, who last saw Barsabe, heard about those molars.”

“Then this body…”

“Is not Barsabe.”

Ian said firmly. His comrades couldn’t help but let out small cries of relief.

Barsabe was still alive!

This wasn’t her body!

They patted each other’s shoulders, sharing a brief moment of comfort, as if they had been brought back from the dead.

The guards nearby, having pulled back the cloth properly, asked again.

“Then who is this?”

“I think Barsabe did this to the face. The poison from the ring Petreo used causes this kind of reaction. And the uniform is hers, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. Barsabe’s name is embroidered on it.”

“She mutilated the corpse and dressed it.”

One by one, Barsabe’s actions began to take shape. Jaret, deep in thought, murmured a question.

“Why?”

“To end the pursuit.”

Ian glanced around. They were on the outskirts, surrounded by small factories. Few people lived here, and it was a suitable place to stash goods. Following Ian’s gaze, the palace guards looked as well.

“There were four in black armor. Barsabe must have known she couldn’t face them and kept running. To stop the chase, her death had to be faked. Where was the body found?”

“Buried in that trash heap over there.”

“Not visible at first glance, but easy to discover. If the enemy had killed her, they’d have hidden the body so well it wouldn’t be found.”

Boom! Crack!

Lightning flashed as the rain intensified. Thunder rumbled, briefly illuminating the dark surroundings. Ian’s sharp features glistened wetly.

“But the body was found within a day, and here we are.”

“Are you saying Barsabe called us?”

“There’s something here…”

A signal from Barsabe. A sign that she couldn’t move easily, a cry for help. Ian muttered, watching smoke rising here and there.

“That’s what we’ll find out now. Do you think Barsabe sacrificed innocent citizens to fake her death?”

“Impossible!”

She was a knight. Sworn to the palace and her beliefs. She would rather be trampled by the enemy than kill innocents to buy time. Everyone here was certain of that.

“Barsabe is not that kind of person!”

“Is that so? Then the answer is clear. This body is someone Barsabe deemed worthy of death.”

Someone who deserved to die. Likely a subordinate of Haiman, their enemy. More precisely, one of the black-armored pursuers. One of the men wiped rainwater from his face, confused.

“I don’t know. What on earth is going on?”

“Neither do I. Until we hear it from Barsabe herself, we can only guess. To sum up—”

Romandro cleared his throat and quietly retrieved the gold coin from the corpse, wringing out his soaked handkerchief. The rain poured down so heavily the umbrella was useless.

Whoosh.

“Barsabe is nearby. And there’s something here, in Chetur District 2.”

Unlike the guards, who swallowed nervously, the palace guards’ expressions hardened fiercely. They understood their comrade was still alive.

Jaret, head bowed, muttered in a low voice.

“Everyone.”

“All present, attention!”

Snap!

The drenched Imperial Guards placed their hands over their chests, saluting the palace with solemn respect. Each of them could feel their hearts pounding beneath their palms—a heartbeat fueled by hope that Barsabe was still alive.

“From now on, we will conduct a search from Sector 1 through Sector 4 of Chetur. Priority is the capture and rescue of Barsabe.”

Snap!

Swish!

Their disciplined footsteps sent water splashing up around them. The sentries, spears raised, stepped back cautiously, then quickly covered their mouths in awe.

These were no ordinary palace guards. They were the Emperor’s closest protectors—the divine warriors sworn to defend the empire.

Buzzing softly.

Though their skill levels varied, they were all magic swordsmen. Jaret, acknowledging unofficially that the black armor was linked to Haiman, added a command.

“If there’s any connection to Haiman, report even the smallest detail. And if anyone stands in your way, do not hesitate to subdue them. Remember this well: we are the heart of Bariel.”

The Imperial Guards, protectors of the Emperor, carried their dignity like armor. To think they would let anyone harm their own—Barsabe—and simply let it pass was arrogance beyond measure. Whoever pierced their heart would be repaid in kind.

Snap!

Tap tap tap! Swish!

After their final salute, they dispersed swiftly like shafts of light. Only the streams of water tracing their paths remained as proof. Silence fell over the streets in an instant.

The sentries awkwardly called out to Ian.

“Sir, should we request reinforcements?”

“…No. You stay here and guard the bodies.”

If Haiman had made this place a hideout for their armored forces, the city guards couldn’t be trusted either. Judging by their reactions, it seemed unlikely… but in any case, moving as discreetly as possible was best.

Ian brushed wet hair from his face and looked back at Jaret.

“I’ll send a support request to the palace.”

“Please do.”

One of the three commanders, Riama, had fallen. Though she’d shattered dozens of suits of armor in her death, it only proved how formidable the enemy was. It would be safer to have Veols join them as well.

Ssshh.

Drawing his sword, Jaret stepped slowly into the dark alley. The rain masked the sound of his footsteps, making him seem like the ghostly silhouette of a restless spirit.

Ding—ding—

Tap tap tap!

From afar, the clock tower chimed quietly, marking the hour past midnight. Another day slipping away into night. The Imperial Guards pressed onward through the downpour.

To save their comrade—Barsabe.