Chapter 455

The coachman, who had been steadily but unhurriedly holding the reins, furrowed his brow. Up ahead, right in the middle of the hill the carriage was about to pass, stood a woman. Her appearance was shabby, her clothes plain and unremarkable. There were hardly any houses around—had she come deep into the forest to pick flowers?

Since the distance was considerable, it seemed easy enough for the woman to step aside. Still, the coachman, wary just in case, grabbed the flag and waved it.

Swish!

“Why are you doing that?” a voice asked.

“There’s someone standing up ahead.”

“She’ll move out of the way, right?”

“She’s been standing there the whole time. If the carriage stops for no reason, it could upset Lord Rutherford. We have to be careful.”

“True. I glanced over and it looked like he just fell asleep.”

“Hey! You there! Come down from the hill to the side!”

Fearing Rutherford might wake, the coachman didn’t blow his whistle but raised his voice instead. It was useless. Was she deaf? As they got closer, the coachman’s frantic hand signals grew more urgent—and then he realized the woman was staring straight at them.

Gasp!

Something was off. The coachman quickly grabbed the other flag and signaled to the riders behind him. There was trouble ahead.

Soon, mounted knights sped up and appeared before the coachman.

Clatter, clatter!

“There’s a woman up ahead! But she’s not moving aside! Could this be a trap?”

“Slow the carriage, but don’t stop!”

“Yes, understood!”

Swish! Hiiing! Clatter, clatter!

The knights pressed themselves close to their saddles, cutting through the wind with practiced ease. It was a familiar scene. Their lord, Rutherford, had many followers but just as many enemies. There were often attempts to block his path, to evoke sympathy and carry out assassinations, or to set traps.

The knights kept their guard up and unleashed their magic.

Ziiing!

“Wait a moment!” one knight suddenly raised his sword, signaling the others to hold back. Though the woman was draped in rags, there was a certain dignity about her—and a face that seemed familiar. The horses slowed at the knight’s signal.

The woman bit her lip tightly and spread her hands wide, as if to prove she meant no harm. And that meant she knew who the owner of the carriage was.

“Who are you?”

“I wish to see Lord Rutherford.”

“So, who exactly are you—”

The woman pulled back her robe, and one knight muttered under his breath.

“Melania Hyman?”

“The name Hyman has long vanished from this world. I am simply Melania. Tell your lord that, and I’m sure he will want to see me.”

Melania? The heiress of the Hyman family, who had once held the purse strings of Bariel’s financial world? The knights exchanged glances.

It was impossible not to know. Aside from the royal palace, the Hymans were Bariel’s greatest financiers and important clients to the merchant house Rutherford led. Though those were days gone by.

Still, the name Hyman was not easily forgotten, and so was Melania, the family’s sole heiress.

“Do you have proof that you are truly Melania?”

“I lost half of my identity when I lost my family name. Why would I carry such proof? Your lord knows my face—that is proof enough.”

What to do now?

The knights looked down at her from their horses. They could have ignored her as just another madwoman spouting nonsense.

But the carriage’s speed had noticeably slowed, and once it stopped, Rutherford would surely ask questions. Then they’d have no choice but to report this woman.

“We will search you.”

“Do as you please. You may strip me if you must.”

The knight’s eyebrows twitched.

Her attitude only made her seem more credible. The heiress of a noble house, second only to the royal family in prestige, who had lost everything—if she clung to petty pride, that would be laughable.

After a quick search, the knight pressed the tip of his sword against her back and nodded.

“Follow us. Our lord has urgent business to attend to. If he is angered by the carriage stopping, you may have to offer your breath in apology.”

Feeling the cold steel against her spine, Melania took slow, deliberate steps. The coachmen had already dismounted and bowed low beneath the driver’s seat.

Among them stood a man, straight-backed, his long hair tied back, wearing a loose robe—Rutherford himself. He was about to light a cigarette when he noticed the unfamiliar woman.

“What’s this? Thought you’d caught some wild animal blocking the road.”

“She claims to be Lady Melania. She caused a commotion and made the carriage stop, Lord Rutherford.”

“Melania?”

Rutherford knew well enough that if it were anything serious, his men would have handled it before it reached him. Bringing her here meant he wanted to observe carefully. He leaned forward and studied Melania’s face.

At his casual scrutiny, Melania lifted her chin stiffly and lowered her gaze. Such a look was unthinkable when her family was still powerful.

Rutherford circled the carriage once, then nodded as if he’d noticed something.

“The mole on your neck is still there, my lady.”

“…It’s been a long time.”

Melania’s face flushed slightly, as if embarrassed by the familiarity, but she showed no outward sign. She had expected this man’s nature.

“Yes. I heard the news. The Hyman family was struck by a storm. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be by your father’s side, Duke Hyman?”

The incident where seven noble houses were simultaneously executed for treason had spread beyond Bariel’s borders to Gaia. The seven houses of Bariel’s center were the continent’s top aristocrats. Their influence in culture, politics, and economy was undeniable.

So Rutherford asked: if the Hyman family was guilty of treason, shouldn’t all its members have been beheaded and returned to the earth? Why was Melania still alive? He smiled with interest.

“There are few who could secretly release a traitor against the royal family. The royal court wouldn’t do it. The only one who comes to mind is your childhood friend.”

The illegitimate son Ian. A boy who had risen from the borderlands of Bratz to become the Minister of Magic at the royal palace.

Melania clutched her skirt tightly and bowed her head.

“That is something I cannot speak of.”

“That’s fine. Silence is consent. It means the same as what you just said.”

Melania couldn’t quite define the feelings she had for Ian. Nostalgia for childhood, the enemy who destroyed her family, and yet the savior who spared her life and gave her a chance.

Her survival was proof that Ian had defied the royal family. One day, that could be used to strangle him—but not now. It wasn’t a card she could play yet, so she waited for the right moment.

“Please, come inside, my lady. Since the carriage stopped suddenly, it’s not the best place to settle. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

Creaaak.

Rutherford held the carriage door open and gestured for Melania to enter. His impatience at delays was clear.

Melania moistened her dry lips and stepped carefully inside.

Creaaak! Bang!

As the door closed, Rutherford gave a silent signal to his men. Clark drew his sword, and the coachmen quickly returned to their seats, ready to depart.

“So, how did you end up here?”

The carriage was filled with an exotic scent. Melania felt the wheels begin to turn and leaned toward the window.

“…I came looking for Lord Rutherford. At first, I heard news from Luswena, so I went there.”

“Not because you had ties there?”

“The Hyman family was wiped out for treason. My cousin in Luswena wouldn’t help me. It would only give them an excuse to act.”

“Hmm.”

Rutherford lit his long pipe, silently urging her to continue. Melania realized the scent filling the carriage came from it.

“After some searching, I heard you went to Torlun.”

“Impressive. You have a knack for gathering information, my lady.”

“I was worried about going alone, but I wasn’t sure if it was an opportunity or something else. You’re returning because of the war, right?”

“You’re not alone.”

“…Excuse me?”

“You came with a shadow, pretending not to know.”

Thwack!

Rutherford’s pipe swiftly brushed Melania’s cheek, clinking sharply against the glass. Then, from somewhere, a commotion erupted.

Startled, Melania straightened up, eyes darting in confusion.

“What on earth was that…?”

“Do you think Ian would just say goodbye and let you go? I planted a shadow behind you. Your movements have been reported all the way up. What was the last village you stopped at before here?”

“I-I’m almost there. It was a very small place.”

Melania keenly noticed how Rutherford addressed Ian’s name with an unusual familiarity. The smoldering cigarette passed close by her ear, trailing down along her neck and brushing over her shoulder.

“You didn’t have to come looking for me; you’ll see me soon enough. That’s why it’s so hard to deal with the lowborn—they’re quick to forget favors and think everything they have is because of themselves.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

Rutherford didn’t seem inclined to explain, only offering a faint, knowing smile.

“So, anyway. What brings you here?”

“I—”

“You’re not here to ask for help, are you? I don’t take future IOUs. Though I was acquainted with Duke Hyman, there’s no reason for me to extend a hand to a fallen noblewoman.”

Melania’s words, about asking for help and knowing better than anyone the limits of Hyman’s resources, caught in her throat. Cruel as it was, it was all true.

Rutherford puffed on his cigarette, filling the silence.

“…I offer myself.”

“Oh, my lady, I’m sorry, but I—”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Rutherford tried to brush it off with a sly refusal, but Melania frowned, as if telling him to hold his tongue. For the first time, a spark lit in her eyes.

With an amused smile, Rutherford shrugged, silently inviting her to continue.

“I offer you my ‘existence.’ Honestly, I don’t fully understand. I’ve heard rumors that you’re active on the Burgos side and have significant stakes in the war down south. But your true purpose is a mystery, so I don’t know what you want. However—”

Melania took a steadying breath before speaking.

“You’re a merchant lord, Rutherford. You want to hold everything you can get your hands on. Aside from the crown prince, the most powerful figure in Bariel right now is Minister Ian Hiel. And the one thing that could shake him—that’s my ‘existence.’”

The mere fact that she had sent back a traitor alive was a powerful card. It was the strongest leverage to unsettle Ian, who held the ministerial seat.

Rutherford exhaled a plume of smoke toward her, as if he’d been waiting for those words. His blue eyes gleamed through the drifting haze.