Chapter 374
Meanwhile, Timothy panted heavily as he sprinted up the steep forest path. The metallic taste of blood rose in his throat, but he didn’t stop moving.
How had he, once a proud diplomat confidently passing through checkpoints, ended up sneaking back into his own country like a fugitive?
“Hah… hah…”
After running for some time, he finally leaned against a tree, gasping for breath. Yet inside, he still felt torn apart, shredded by confusion.
He recalled that when he escaped the Burgos camp, whether by coincidence or not, the commotion caused by the synthetic monsters at the rear had distracted the guards’ attention somewhat.
Hasha… was it him? Was he the one who helped him? If so, then it must have been a trap.
“Damn it.”
But there was no turning back now. He had disobeyed a general’s order and fled the camp—an offense punishable by immediate execution under military law.
First, he needed to return home and confirm that his family was safe. Then, he could seek help from trusted allies and decide his next move. As long as his family was unharmed, what else truly mattered?
Though he had fled the battlefield under suspicion, he had lived his entire life for Burgos. The king was cold but shrewd. Surely he wouldn’t sentence him to death over a single mistake. Most likely, he’d be stripped of his position or lose part of his body.
That would be bearable. As long as his family lived.
He could endure that much.
Tap, tap!
Swish!
As he descended the forest slope, a park adjoining the residential area came into view. The sun was fading, casting a dim light. Unlike the warm glow that bathed Klipford’s leaves, the night in Burgos was cold, barren, and lonely.
Pulling his hood low, Timothy slipped into a familiar alley. The closer he got to his mansion, the more the atmosphere felt strange—was it just his imagination? He checked the half-open front gate and stepped inside cautiously.
“Darling?”
Creak.
No sign of life. Flowerpots and clutter lay toppled in the entryway. Dozens of footprints marred the floor, and the carpet and sofa were overturned.
Timothy’s breath caught.
This can’t be… What on earth happened here?
Suddenly, he sensed movement. Instinctively, he drew his sword and caught whoever entered the living room with his left hand. The sharp blade pressed tightly against the intruder’s neck.
Clang! Bang!
“Ahh!”
“Who are you?”
“Sir Timothy! It’s me!”
The man before him was one of his subordinates.
Blood trickled down the man’s neck. Timothy stared at him, stunned, stammering as he spoke. Still, he didn’t loosen his grip on the sword.
“What… what happened here?”
“I should be asking you that, sir. The palace raided the mansion, accusing Prince Damon of treason. They took your entire family to the royal palace.”
“What?”
Only then did Timothy’s strength drain from his hands. The subordinate wiped the blood from his neck. A heavy sigh escaped Timothy’s lips, but there were more urgent matters.
“Last time, Nakasta went on a covert mission to Klipford, right?”
“Nakasta? Yes.”
“I think he’s the one who reported you. He’s taken your place at the palace now. Did anything happen when you were in Klipford?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“This makes no sense. To cause such chaos based solely on Nakasta’s word, without any evidence… You’ve served the palace for years, haven’t you?”
“What about my wife? And my son?”
Amid the turmoil, Timothy’s first concern was his family’s safety. Whatever conspiracy Nakasta had spun, the king had accepted it—but the most important thing was whether his family was alive.
The subordinate hesitated, running a hand through his hair.
“Tell me!”
Bang!
“Sir Timothy, there’s no time. The palace knows you deserted. Soldiers will be sent to the mansion. You can’t be caught. You know better than anyone what happens to traitors.”
“I can’t leave my wife and son behind. I will see the king. This is a misunderstanding. I swear, I never betrayed Burgos.”
Timothy’s voice was rough, as if he’d swallowed sand.
The subordinate kept glancing outside nervously, gripping Timothy’s shoulder. He had come ahead to the mansion after hearing the news, but if anyone found out he was helping Timothy, he’d be in trouble too.
“Sir Timothy, I’m sorry, but it’s too late to clear this up.”
Timothy shook his head slowly, silently begging him not to say those words.
“Your wife and son… they’re both dead.”
“…”
“There was no interrogation. They were tortured and executed immediately upon arrival at the palace. There’s no official proof, but the king is convinced of your betrayal. You need to escape now and save your life—”
Timothy collapsed to his knees, dizzy and unable to stand. How could King Damon do this? Not listen to a single word he said? Above all, he had never betrayed his homeland. What had the king seen to believe otherwise? He thought the king was wise, but was he really so foolish, so rash, so cruel?
“Sir Timothy!”
The subordinate stomped his foot, trying to lift him. The palace’s security would only tighten with time, especially as they searched for Timothy. There was no time to waste.
Shaking his shoulder, the subordinate shouted, “Pull yourself together!”
“I want to see the bodies. The bodies.”
“I’ve seen them! And—”
Biting his lip, the subordinate pulled something from his pocket: strands of hair from Timothy’s wife and son, stained faintly with blood. He had tried to cut a clean piece, but with so many eyes watching, he had to hurry.
“I’m sorry. There were too many guards to do this properly. Please keep these close to your heart. I know you didn’t betray us. But the situation is what it is. I’ll do my best to take care of their remains.”
Those executed for treason were often torn apart so thoroughly that no trace remained. Even if their souls returned, they could never come back to life. Their names would be forever marked as traitors in Burgos’s history.
“If you find a safe place, contact me. I’ll send you what remains. Gather what you can quickly. I have a horse ready, so leaving the capital won’t be a problem.”
Night had fallen, but the sounds of footsteps outside hadn’t lessened. More guards patrolled the roads.
The subordinate urged Timothy on, who moved instinctively. He grabbed his wife’s portrait and his son’s well-worn toy from the table. Then…
Rattle.
Deep in a drawer, he found the Bariel travel pass.
Burgos had surely issued a warrant for his arrest in other countries as well. Only two places were safe: Klipford and Bariel. Klipford was at war, so there was only one real option.
‘Did Lord Ian know all this?’
Had he given him the pass knowing this would happen?
Timothy’s feelings were tangled—neither grateful nor resentful. He carefully pocketed the pass and looked around the house once more. Until he’d fled from Klipford, he hadn’t fully grasped the situation, but now it was painfully clear.
He would carry this memory vividly.
He would never forget.
“Sir Timothy!”
Tap, tap!
The subordinate’s urgency pushed Timothy to move again. He climbed to the second-floor study and rifled through the bookshelves. Having served Burgos for so long meant he knew the country deeply.
Despite Lord Ian’s pass, the Bariel palace was currently without him. He would have to prove his worth there to find a place.
Bang!
“What’s going on here?”
“W-what do you mean? I came looking for Timothy after hearing he deserted. He doesn’t seem to have come home. The palace?”
Noise came from downstairs—guards had arrived. The subordinate deliberately made a commotion, and Timothy tied the important documents to his body before leaping out the window.
Thud!
“Huh?”
“What was that sound?”
“Where did it come from?”
Timothy recognized the saddle the subordinate had arrived on—it was the kind used by the foreign ministry. He mounted the horse and pulled the reins.
Neigh!
Clatter, clatter!
“It’s Timothy! Hey! Over there!”
Familiar roads flashed past Timothy’s eyes—the place he’d known from birth, the place he thought he’d live and die. Now, a place he could never return to, nor wished to.
He pressed his hood down tightly and leaned low. He had to hurry—before his family’s bodies were further desecrated, he had to reach Bariel and ask for help.
“King Damon… how could you do this to me? Didn’t you know the weight of the life I gave to you? What did my wife do? What did my child know to deserve this? Without hearing a single word from me…”
Grief turned to bitterness, bitterness to rage. His life felt like it had evaporated, leaving only traces behind.
His wife’s portrait and his son’s toy—those were the only proof that Timothy had lived, and that he still lived.
Tap, tap!
Thanks to the efforts of the other Foreign Ministry agents, Timothy was able to make surprisingly smooth progress all the way to the border. He could feel his horse growing weaker beneath him, but he couldn’t afford to stop. Far ahead, the Bariel border checkpoint came into view.
“Stop! Slow down!”
The Bariel flag fluttered wildly as Timothy’s pace slowed. Glancing back, he saw no one chasing him. Relief washed over him, but it was tinged with bitterness—this was Gera, the homeland that would abandon him just as he was about to betray it.
“You’re from Burgos? You probably know the war between Burgos and Clifford has made border checks stricter. First, dismount, remove your cloak, and step back. Your ID?”
Timothy obediently slid off his horse and pulled back his hood. The border guards flinched in unison. His face was streaked with tears—though he seemed unaware he was crying.
Silently, Timothy showed them the travel permit Ian had given him. The guards examined the Ministry of Magic’s seal, then questioned him to verify its authenticity.
“Well, well, this is from the Minister of Magic himself. Are you a noble? My apologies for not recognizing you. No need to show ID or fill out paperwork. You may enter immediately.”
“The permit is for three people. Are you traveling with others?”
Before Timothy could answer, a stamp approving his entry was slammed onto the permit.
Was it really this easy? Timothy took the permit back with a weak hand and stood there for a long moment. Once he crossed this line, he would never be able to return to Burgos.
Tears streaming down his face, he whispered, “…Alone.”